Mum.., I mean Bom..., I mean Mumbai

Here I am. I have sucessfully arrieved on a completely new continent. I want to apologize to all of you who are sending me lovely emails, to which I am not responding (of which?) . I am getting them and loving them, and I want you to keep them coming. My first photo was of a local man taking a pictures of me (no, not account of my breathless beauty; my hair gets me A LOT of attention these days.) and at his back are the gates of India. Its magnificient. I came a little unprepared though. I didnt have a lonely planet ( essential), and I had no idea where I wanted to go after the first night, which was prearranged. But all is dandy now. Im in the Colaba, and I already had a samosa, thank you very much. Its strange not to say Jambo and Asante ( hello and thank you in Swahili), but Namaste is sounding pretty great. I was walking along a main road today, just breathing in the city, which is nice and humid, not exactly my favorite weather, and I found myself stepping in stride with an ancient old man dressed in white with a white turban. He looked at me on account of my white skin and of course, the hair, then we caught eyes walking side by side and smiled to each other. A group fo young men walking the opposite direction saw this moment, and erupted into hoots of laughter and cheers for the old guy. It was hilarious. Someone, no, a few people told me that India experienced for the first time would be a shock to my system. Its not so bad, maybe it takes a few days, but when I stepped out of the air conditioned airport at midnight, my glasses fogged. It seemed strangely appropriate. Got to run. Off to see about trains tommorow for Rajasthan and Elephanta island.

Simbas and Bananas

They wake us at 11:00, four hours after we have fellen asleep; its time to go. We are told not to carry too much water despite the grueling nine hour hike that lies before our weary feet; -25 degree celcius is too cold to stop for bathroom breaks. We walk single file, without talking. Rests are infrequent and short. Any stumble or disagreeable sound merits a steely glare from our leaders who percieve all in the darkness; they need us healhty for the severly arduous climb. Sounds like slaves being led through cruel living condisionts, doesn't it? I can't believe I actually paid for this, I keep thinking.
I've never quite understood mountain climbing. Life is about the journey, not the destination, right? Well, I was lured to the snowy faces of the 5900 meter behemouth lovingly referred to simply as "Kili". Mt. Kilimanjaro rarely peeks out from behind the shrouding clouds, which, considering its size and influence on the country around it, seems impossible. A mile away, you'd never know it was there on a cloudy day. The Uhuru summit peak is actually a few hundred meters higher than Everests' Base Camp, a fact revelaled to me at the foot of the mountain. Shit, I think.
Climbing 5900 meters brings us through three vastly different ecosystems. We hike from the Marangu gate to the Mandara huts which sits at 2700 meters goes through steamy rainforest. Mandara to Horombo huts at 3700 meters leads us through a desert climate. The last trail to the Kibo huts at 470o meters before the Uhuru peak is a misty lunar landscape that brings one to contemplate, rather uncomfortably, that if nature fails to survive at these heights, what deludes us in to expecting that we can?
So, I think we can all agree that oxygen is pretty rad, right? Not having it SUCKS. Our bodies function properly with an oxygen-blood count of somwhere over 100-- most people " at altitude", that being over 3000 meters, have to cope with a count of around 40. Easing your body into an oxygen poor atmosphere must be done very carefully, so we practically crawled up the moutain. Cold molasses moves faster than we did. I would never expect that physical exhaustion wouldn't take place on a five day hike up a mountain, but by the last day, my muscles were barely sore. The trump card lies, of course, with the height. Common ailments, simple activities and everyday conversation are steeped in altitude sickness. If you don't pee every five minutes, you are not drinking enough water and are subsequently suffering fgrom sever dehydration. A common headache is a sign that your brain lacks enough oxygen to function on a basic level. Quick bursts of pathetically small amount of energy, i.e. turning over in your sleep, putting on your socks or taking a gulp of water require huge gasps in order to replace lost air.
On the final sday when we woke from our midnight trek to catch the sunrise at the summit, I was a pack-a-day smoker breathing through a long thin straw, stumbling and swaying like a hungover drunk with ski poles; the patented Kili shuffle. Thank god for those walking sticks, though. Mre than once I was bent over with my forehead resting on the handles , arms dangling and posts splayed like a narcoleptic deer passed out on his own antlers.
Thought process at this point are either left foot, right foot, left foot... or absurdities to take your mind off the chalenging hours that lie ahead. I took the seond approach. I struggled through the alphabet in spanish, though this took ages on account of sever disorientation. Then I tried naming actors whose first and last name began with the same letter for each letter in the alphabet. The alphabet seemed like a nicely methodical thing to focus on.
Each hiker necessitates five helpers-- Two porters that charge up the mountain with about 25 kgs on their head, zooming past us without so much as breaking a sweat. One cook that is clearly trained in pushing energy-saturated foods at us; obscene mountains of bread, potatoes, rice and pasta (carbs equal energy, you know), foods loaded with water like oranges and watermelon to sneak our water intake up to five liters a day and just enough salt to allow our bodies to absorb the exhorbent amounts of water and render all food completely tastless, yet strangely satisfying. Our guide Joseph and his assistant Good Luck monitored our food intake like we were training sumo wrestlers or healing anorexia patients.
When I did finally reach the summit with Josephine the Irish and Sonja the German ( hi girls!) yet not beating Saint Vinnie and Puffy Orange ( hello our friendly SA representatives) after passing people being rushed down to safer altitudes on wheeled contraptions or even piggybacked by virulent guides, I felt truly empowered. I was capable to doing anything, I was invincible! I had conquered the highest peak in Africa, despite dangerouldy low amounts of oxygen, walking alongside people who had achieved much higher mountains. I laughed and danced, and then I sat and cried, trying to catch my breath from the dancing.

Kilimanjaro 0, Paige, 1

I DID IT! I F@#$ING DID IT! Oh shit it was hard. I cried at the top. Goodbye Africa! I will miss you greatly, but there are bigger Asian fish to fry. I leave to night for Nairobi, and then after the Springbok game, I fly to Joburg for one night, then Mumbai. Ill write you all from there with gory details about that beast of a mountain. love you.

Happy Birthday Dad! / Random Observations

I dont think I will ever go back to jeans again. These pants I have dry in half an hour with no sun and no wind. Incredible. I have never been so terrified of mosquitos in my life. Each one seems to represent Malaria. Their buzz just sounds like "dizzzzzeazzzze". Im that girl who runs from anything smaller than the tip of her little finger. How obnoxious. Since Obama is Kenyan, a popular topic of conversation between me and a Kenyan or Tanzanian is who I am voting for. THey seem to like my answer. Those of you who dont already know, I shaved my head into a mohawk. THe David Beckham comment is now up to 17, but I did get Judd Nelson from Breakfast Club (hi Thomas the German), Mr T, and some Brazilian soccer player called ROnaldo. DOnt know him. Mohammed the Saudi from my tour group, whose english is a bit dodgy, called me "man chicken" (he was going for rooster, which of course I now know how to say Arabic and Swahili). Because of my new skull, I have to put sunscreen on the sides. Its cold up there without any hair. In the supermarket the other day, I saw a sign describing general items in the asile. "Haberdashery" was on that list, along with "Manchester" Very confusing. In Zanzibar, a muslim girl asked if I wanted to take her picture, then asked me for a dollar. Start em young, eh? THey also tend to ask for pens. Dont get that one yet. You know how the French are obsessed with dogs, and are so allowed in fancy restaurants? Well, in EAst Africa, cats wind around your feet in restaurants. I kinda like it. Cant say as much for some other people in my group. Kat (ironic) the Brit claims they all have rabies. Isnt it ironic that only like 13% of Americans have a passport, but we have all of these roots all over the world that we have no interest in seeing? Meanwhile, other countries whose inhabitants are not mutts like most Americans (ok, maybe just myself) are fascinated by other peoples cultures. Dont get it. I loove sharing random moments with strangers. After I talked to my dad on his birthday, I told a man in line at the post office. He wasnt as excited as I had hoped. Its the backpackers that are fantastic at feigning interest. They know what its like not to discuss tiny moments of excitement. The more I travel, the more I write and the less pictures I take. Rugby is so hard core and American Football seems so foolish now that Ive been exposed. I mean, rugby players wear nothing but a little pathetic foam hat, and football players wear all that padding! Plus, when a rugby player is at the bottom of a five men pile up, there is no time out. Hes gotta suck it up. Its my new favorite sport. Why is it that street food is supposed to be so dangerous, but its the best cheapest true food to be found when you travel? Needless to say, Ive dabbled. Ok, Im in Moshi now, left the group this morning, (hi guys!) and am off to Mt Kili the day after tommorow. Dont worry, I got a beanie and a nice coat. We saw the tip of it yesterday, and sure enough, the thing is covered in snow. Natalie gave me her minging sleeping bag, so I should be pretty set. Missing the Olympics, which is sad. It on TV in my hotel room in Hindu, so, that will have to do. I probably wont get to write until I get back off the mountain, and even then, I fly out for Joburg that day. The next morning, I leave for Mumbai, India, so you wont hear from me in a while. Wish me luck!

Zanzibaaaaar!

No one here seems to know Tenacious D. Oh well. Zanzibar is amazing. Within an hour I was sad to know that I just had a few days here. We stayed in Stone Town for one night, the northern beaches for two nights and here we are again in Stone Town. Yesterday I went snorkeling off of the town of Nungweni, and had freshly grilled fish on the powdered sugary beaches. Today was the first time I witnessed my first bribe to corrupt cops, as well. Very exciting. Apparently, Martin our tour guide sticks out as an obvious Kenyan in Tanzania, and because of ill feelings, is subject to being targeted by the local pigs. We were stopped for a routine check, and Martin was asked to get out. They were clearly hassling him, be they were speaking in Swahili, and we were all totally lost. He had to get into their car, and drove behind us for about ten minutes until we got to the police station. Our driver had to pay 300 USD to get us off, and Martin got back into our truck, extremely pissed. He insists that Kumuka contacted the Commision of Tourism, who apologized profusely and will return the money. Hmm. Sounds unlikely to me. We said goodbye to the Spaniards, and will be leaving tommorow for Dar Es Salaam for my last night with the group. After that, it will be a few nights in Moshi, then onto Mt Kilimanjaro. Insanity insues.

Acacia

Let me tell you about the Acacia trees that grow all over Kenya and Tanzania. The ghastly yellow allergy-inducing atrocities taht I'm accustomed to seeing pop-up along any Santa Cruz roadside bear no ressemblance to these beauties tat draw almost as much fascination from me as teh animals tat co-exist with them. They are the quinessential "African" tree. Practically the only flora on the vast dry plains, looking at one conjures up nostalgic childhood memories of alone cheetah relishing in its shade or a family of giraffe enjoying its fruit as the setting sun is interesected by its gnarled trunk. Through they are fairly tall, its a squat-looking tree with a concave plate of a canopy, always tilting precariously as if threatening to slide off the circus performers stilts if not regularly spun. The leafy roof rests on the branches trhat seem to buckle out into hinged elbows and sprawl outward as if struggling to support the akwardly distrbuted weight. The ochre earth in the Ngorongoro crater is thrown up and coats half the tree, leaving it and the brown landscape uiniformily dusted like a messy flour fight, substituted with paprika. Some varities grow menacing, two-inch-long-needled vines to protect against afofmentioned giraffe and which leap out to attack thuroughly distracted tourist; natures watchdog. Iridescent birds I only expect to see amongst enormous vibrant flowers of the Amazon make peculiar homes in other varities still (there are tons) below the acacia's bowing canopy. The branches sag under the weight of the nests as they stack on one another like furry beads on a necklace. I could easily gush in this manner about many other plants here, but I must go. You see, Zanzibar awaits.

Ish Ish

I have discovered that there is a Stop N Shop in Arisha Tanzania. Not our East Coast favorite, but nonetheless. I have a bit more time now, but the blog will still be a little scattered. Here is a list of all of the animals I have seen thus far on my safari adventure- Giraffe (Rothschild and Maasai), Whildebeast (lots of em- they look like old men with beer bellies), Zebra (natures mystery to me- how do they hide from pretadors?), Thompsons Gazelle, Baboons (broke into camp and ate all our mayo and bananas), Impala, Guineafowl (my personal fav), Duiker, Duik-duik, Topi, Ostrich, Lion (oh yeah, male, female, teenagers, babies, eating a Wildebeast, sleeping, hunting, the works), Ostrich, Eland, Warthog, Genet (look it up- its basically a big cat), Hartbeast, Vulture, Water Buffalo (peered at us all night long during the night of the baboon fiasco), bat-eared dog, Eagle, Defassa Waterbuck, Heron, Elephant (see Lion above- minus the Wildebeast part, and hunting, unless you call tree munching as hunting), Vervet Monkey (super cute- hang babies under their bellies when they run, but are sneaky- have lost multiple bananas and cookies), Egyptian Goose ( like pigeons here- beautiful), Cheetah (no, it wasnt running, but rolling in the dirt like a house cat), hippo, White and Black Rhino (yet they are both black in color, hmm), Jackal, umm, and tons of birds. Go look up the Superb Starling. Our tour guides dumped us with a smaller tour where we were broken up to drive in swift little land rovers over the Ngorongoro Crater and the famous Serengeti. They butt up against each other, so you literally just leave one and enter another. There are 14000 sq kilometers to be had in the Serengeti. We didnt see it all. Its big and dry and flat and mysterious. You are certain that you will arrive at that pile of rocks over there sooner or later, but it takes days. Its a wonder we see animals at all there. Our drivers name was Simba. That is all to report on that anomaly. I saw someone who was wearing a Jamaica Plains shirt. We had a nice little excited moment talking about the homeland, since I am the only American in the group, as usual. There are Saudis, Irish, British, Spanish, French, and Aussies. And little ol' me. I get picked on a bunch. There is a really popular song here right now, and its all about Barack Obama. His face is plastered all over Kenya, its hugely comical. We are camping every night, and waking up before sunrise everyday, so, yes Megan, I did get to see a sunrise. On our way back to Arusha today SImba stopped and we bought some red bananas which are special to the area. Smaller than ours, and much sweeter. The meat is even a bit pink. Mohammed is teaching me Arabic, and Joseph is teaching me Swahili. Wanna little lesson? A habari yasibohi ( this is phonetic people) - Good morning in Swahili. Zubda- butter in Arabic. Ok, thats it for now. Ive got serious camera envy. There are people here with insane cameras, and although mine works just fine, they can get close to things I cant see easily. Note to mom- the Spanairds tell me that a car jack in Spanish is gato. Strange. There are these blue sheets that are hanging all over the Ngorongoro, and apparently they are drench in insecticide for the Tsetse, who are attracted to the dark blue, but the male ostriches legs turn pink when he sees a lady he likes. Just a little color observation. I need to go, but Ill check in when I arrive in Dar Es Salaam in two days, or in Zanzibar in three. Please continue to leave comments people! I thrive off of them.

So, a Saudi, a Kenyan, an American and an Irish sit down to a pot of Arabic tea, and ...

I have ABSOLUTLY NO TIME to explain to you the things Ive seen. But here we go in no particular order whatsoever. I saw a cheetah, you know, family, those things I used to idolize and draw constantly? Loads of pictures of it rolling around in the dirt. Classic. I saw a San Jose Sharks jersey on a Kenyan- this place is MUCH more third world than SA, and they recycle clothes better than I do. I ended up buying Malaria pills- my tour mates scared me into it, but now I have enough for SE Asia. Its very strange to travel with other people. I almost miss the loneliness, and I find myself wandering off by myself sometimes just to get a little alone time. Twisted, I know. I saw a group of lions eating a wildebeast. Amazing. I ate at Carnivores, voted one of the top fifty best restaurants in the world. Its like Brazil in Puerto Vallarta, for those of you in the know. THey walk around with swords stuck with exotic meats, and they just slide it down onto your plate until youve had enough. I had Croc and Ostrich balls. MEATballs. I went bike riding in the Hells Gate National Park-the only NP where you dont have to be in a protective vehicle. Our transportation ( and some peoples bed) is called Leopard. THere are only three gears, the ride is bumpy as hell, and its a bright blue army truck. I love it to death. The US dollar and the Kenyan Shilling is accepted everywhere, which complicates absolutely everything, but Ive been sticking to the Shilling for the novelty of the thing. There are two Saudi guys on our trip, and they tell me that they can understand Swahili, because Arabic is the basis of Swahili. I brushed my teeth with a stick the other day. Not because I had to, but there is a tree called a toothbrush tree, and some people, like our cook Joseph, doesnt even use tooth paste. It tastes like REALLY strong ginger. Its wonderful. I have to go. Catch up with you again in, well, who knows. Off to Tanzania tommorow, then Zanzibar, the Mt Kili. BRING IT ON.