Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Derby
On my first Saturday in Serbia my friends took me to see "The Derby". It is the rivalry between the top two soccer teams in Serbia (both of who are from Belgrade). It is Partisan aka gravediggers and red star aka heros. The teams were both formed after the second world war and have always carried a vague political connection. The fans have always been devoted. Since the breakup of the former Yugoslavia and the many wars throughout the Balkans the fans have become more violent. The hooligans are mostly in their late teens and early twenties. A group of people who's parents lived well and who are now prisoners in their own country unable to make enough money to do the things they want to do. The soccer games have provided an outlet for this frustration over the last 15 years, however a very dangerous and often deadly outlet. In recent years there have been a few deaths. There are often fights of 50 people vs 50 people before games (all can be seen on youtube), people have been shot, and recently a hooligan got 10 years in jail for stuffing a burning flair down a police officer's throat.
One of my friends, Ivan, was at a game a few years earlier. He apparently was not cheering loud enough so a group of people started punching him and chasing him through the stands. I was told this story on our way down to the game and, to say the least, it did not put me at ease. Four of us went to the game Edin, Ivan, Vladi, and me. Vladi and Ivan bought seats on the sides where the neutral fans go to watch the game in peace. Edin however wanted me to really experience The Derby how it should be experienced and he took me into the heart of the Gravediggers (his team). We were in the southern end zone bleachers with about 10,000 wild and crazy fans. We pushed our way through to be in the absolute middle.
I would not go so far as to say I was scared but a little nervous yes, cautious yes. I was in the middle of a group of 10,000 angry young people. People who were angry for not having the opportunities that they deserve. People who have seen their politicians pull them into war after war. People who are furious at the west for recognizing Kosovo's recent independence (Kosovo is historically the heartland of Serbia. Most of the Serbian history, masques, etc is in Kosovo) and who burned the United States Embassy in Belgrade in February (). Well, with all of this in mind I planned on making sure I cheered the loudest and jumped the highest.
No alcohol is allowed within 1 mile of the stadium. Starting from about a mile away from the stadium there were cops in riot gear stationed in pairs every 20 feet (head to toe armor with batons, guns, shields, helmets, and masks). As we got closer to the the field the cops were stationed every three feet. There were over 2500 cops in riot gear in total. The games have recently turned more violent and the country was determined to not allow this game to turn deadly.
As soon as the game began the fans erupted. A banner showing their allegiance to their team was passed over our heads. The banner was like nothing I have ever seen before. It was 75 yards wide and 50 yards long. It stretched over all of our heads and almost the whole end zone. On the sides people lit colored flares and everyone chanted the Gravedigger songs. After about ten minutes the banner was taken down and we watched the game. The whole time all the fans were on their feet cheering loudly. The cheers were directed not towards their team but towards the fans of Red Star. Calling them every insult that one could think of. I chanted right along with them all. Following along in Serbian yelling loud but not loud enough that people could tell I had no idea what I was saying. I was hoping for a Gravedigger victory, not so much because I was a fan but because I did not want to be amongst this crowd if they lost.
The Gravediggers did indeed win, 2-0. After the second goal was scored the fans went crazy. They lit flares on fire and threw them at the cops that were surrounding the field. In between the stands and the field were bushes where fans had put flags. These flags and bushes caught fire from the flares. The cops rushed forward to put out the fires and the fans in return pulled the seats out of the ground and threw them on top of the police.
When the game ended everyone filed out of the stadium. The riot police were everywhere making sure the fans of the two opposing sides could not go near each other. We made our way to the car and headed back home. The game was a fun time and I felt I learned a great deal.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Hiking in Bulgaria
In people's lives there are great decades, great years, and great months. These however are all made up of great days. Today was a great day. I had one of the best days of my life today hiking through the mountains at 7500 feet among pristine lakes and patches of snow on Pirin mountain in south west Bulgaria.
The weather was a perfect fall day: crisp air, clear sky, and plenty of sunshine. Pirin mountain is a group of sharp peaks, granite rocks, green valleys, and many beautiful lakes. I was with my Bulgarian friend Miro and a friend of his. I arrived in Bulgaria a few days ago and was staying at Miro's house in a college town in the mountains. Today he was going to show me his backyard: Pirin mountain. I feel most at home and most at peace when I am walking the mountains with no one talking to me except for the rivers whispering their song in the distance and the wind blowing through the trees. The mountains are my church.
We followed the trail for an hour or so and saw some beautiful lakes nestled in among the peaks. The path was getting steeper but I still wanted more physical exhaustion. I could see the peak we were headed to in the distance and I left the trail to hike straight up the face of the mountain hand over foot leaping among the granite rocks. I reached the peak 2 hours later and could see the Bulgarian mountain chain stretch on in all directions. The valleys below were scattered with lakes of a color I had never seen before. It must have been a combination of my physical exhaustion and the beauty of the mountains but I felt a peace come over me that I have rarely felt. It made me feel totally at ease and happy with my life. Standing on that peak I began to think about all the everyday things that people worry about and how we spend so much time worrying about the things we cannot control.
As I stood on that peak the economy of my country and many other countries was collapsing. People's lives savings are disappearing, students are losing their student loans (something that has caused me some consternation). Standing on that peak it made me realize that things are going to happen the way things are going to happen. Things will either get worse or they will get better but all the worrying in the world cannot change things. It is like the mountains I was looking at: they were there before and they will be there long to come. It does us no good worrying about the things we cannot control. Life is short and we need to make the most out of every minute we have on this planet. Today I had a great day. When I am on my deathbed I want to be able to say that I lived a great life. In order for me to do that I know I need to pack in as many great days as possible.
****************************
Miro and Boris joined me shortly after on the peak and we all looked at each other with the knowledge that we were experiencing something amazing. On the opposite side of the peak from where we came from there were two small lakes surrounded by soft green fields. We decided to hike down to them and eat our lunch. At this point I had been in Bulgaria about 4 days and all the food I had eaten was grown within a 10 mile radius of my friends house. Our lunch was one of the best meals I have ever had. After 3.5 hours of hiking anything would have been great but this lunch was amazing indeed. We had fresh feta cheese, homemade bread, delicious tomatoes and cucumbers, Bulgarian sausage, and letanica (best described as Bulgarian bruceta). We washed it all down with spring water from a nearby stream. After we ate I lied down on the grass and dozed off under the afternoon sun.
When I awoke it was time to head down the mountain. On the walk down I had more time to take in the views surrounding me. Today was a day I will not soon forget
The weather was a perfect fall day: crisp air, clear sky, and plenty of sunshine. Pirin mountain is a group of sharp peaks, granite rocks, green valleys, and many beautiful lakes. I was with my Bulgarian friend Miro and a friend of his. I arrived in Bulgaria a few days ago and was staying at Miro's house in a college town in the mountains. Today he was going to show me his backyard: Pirin mountain. I feel most at home and most at peace when I am walking the mountains with no one talking to me except for the rivers whispering their song in the distance and the wind blowing through the trees. The mountains are my church.
We followed the trail for an hour or so and saw some beautiful lakes nestled in among the peaks. The path was getting steeper but I still wanted more physical exhaustion. I could see the peak we were headed to in the distance and I left the trail to hike straight up the face of the mountain hand over foot leaping among the granite rocks. I reached the peak 2 hours later and could see the Bulgarian mountain chain stretch on in all directions. The valleys below were scattered with lakes of a color I had never seen before. It must have been a combination of my physical exhaustion and the beauty of the mountains but I felt a peace come over me that I have rarely felt. It made me feel totally at ease and happy with my life. Standing on that peak I began to think about all the everyday things that people worry about and how we spend so much time worrying about the things we cannot control.
As I stood on that peak the economy of my country and many other countries was collapsing. People's lives savings are disappearing, students are losing their student loans (something that has caused me some consternation). Standing on that peak it made me realize that things are going to happen the way things are going to happen. Things will either get worse or they will get better but all the worrying in the world cannot change things. It is like the mountains I was looking at: they were there before and they will be there long to come. It does us no good worrying about the things we cannot control. Life is short and we need to make the most out of every minute we have on this planet. Today I had a great day. When I am on my deathbed I want to be able to say that I lived a great life. In order for me to do that I know I need to pack in as many great days as possible.
****************************
Miro and Boris joined me shortly after on the peak and we all looked at each other with the knowledge that we were experiencing something amazing. On the opposite side of the peak from where we came from there were two small lakes surrounded by soft green fields. We decided to hike down to them and eat our lunch. At this point I had been in Bulgaria about 4 days and all the food I had eaten was grown within a 10 mile radius of my friends house. Our lunch was one of the best meals I have ever had. After 3.5 hours of hiking anything would have been great but this lunch was amazing indeed. We had fresh feta cheese, homemade bread, delicious tomatoes and cucumbers, Bulgarian sausage, and letanica (best described as Bulgarian bruceta). We washed it all down with spring water from a nearby stream. After we ate I lied down on the grass and dozed off under the afternoon sun.
When I awoke it was time to head down the mountain. On the walk down I had more time to take in the views surrounding me. Today was a day I will not soon forget
Off the the Balkans
So I have embarked on my last exploration before I head back to school to get my MBA in international business at Thunderbird ( www.thunderbird.edu). I've decided to go to Eastern Europe. It is a part of the world I have never seen before and a place I can learn a lot. Traveling is my biggest passion and I love to travel for many reasons. I have always been fascinated by history (my college major) and by traveling you can get a feel for history first hand. I think it is very important to learn about different cultures. The more we learn about the world and the people living in it the better understanding we can have with each other. This understanding is vital for the world to avoid war upon war that accomplishes nothing except to create more hatred and animosity.
From my summers working in Nantucket I have made close friends scattered throughout the Balkans. I arrived in Serbia in the end of September and my friends Edin, Vladi, and Ivan picked me up in Belgrade. We drove to their hometown of Novi Sad, the 2nd largest city in Serbia, about 2 hours north. In Serbia, much like many places throughout the world, people live with their parents until they get married. In many catholic countries people do this out of custom. Here in Serbia people do it because they have no other option. The average salary is 400 USD per month. To rent an apartment it would cost more than half of that. You add in food and other necessities and it becomes impossible.
My friends found an apartment for me to rent in downtown Novi Sad. It is on the main Boulevard on the 17th floor and overlooks the whole city. Behind the city the mighty Danube roars by. All of the bridges over the river are less than 7 years old. They were built to replace the older bridges that were bombed by the US military in 1999.
Serbia has gone through a rough time in the last 20 years since the break up of the former Yugoslavia. They have had wars in Bosnia, Croatia, and Kosovo. They have had despotic rulers, Foreign super powers bombing them, and their country has been fragmented. Their economy has collapsed and shows no signs of improvement.
In spite of all of this the people are resilient. My friends grew up playing basketball while bombs were dropping all around them. Now everyone seems to just want to forget the past, forget the fighting, and move forward. Everywhere I go everyone is friendly to me. People go out of their way to show me around and to answer my many questions about their country and their history. Serbia is indeed a gorgeous country.
My goal of this trip is to learn as much about this region as I possibly can... and of course to have some fun while I'm doing it.
From my summers working in Nantucket I have made close friends scattered throughout the Balkans. I arrived in Serbia in the end of September and my friends Edin, Vladi, and Ivan picked me up in Belgrade. We drove to their hometown of Novi Sad, the 2nd largest city in Serbia, about 2 hours north. In Serbia, much like many places throughout the world, people live with their parents until they get married. In many catholic countries people do this out of custom. Here in Serbia people do it because they have no other option. The average salary is 400 USD per month. To rent an apartment it would cost more than half of that. You add in food and other necessities and it becomes impossible.
My friends found an apartment for me to rent in downtown Novi Sad. It is on the main Boulevard on the 17th floor and overlooks the whole city. Behind the city the mighty Danube roars by. All of the bridges over the river are less than 7 years old. They were built to replace the older bridges that were bombed by the US military in 1999.
Serbia has gone through a rough time in the last 20 years since the break up of the former Yugoslavia. They have had wars in Bosnia, Croatia, and Kosovo. They have had despotic rulers, Foreign super powers bombing them, and their country has been fragmented. Their economy has collapsed and shows no signs of improvement.
In spite of all of this the people are resilient. My friends grew up playing basketball while bombs were dropping all around them. Now everyone seems to just want to forget the past, forget the fighting, and move forward. Everywhere I go everyone is friendly to me. People go out of their way to show me around and to answer my many questions about their country and their history. Serbia is indeed a gorgeous country.
My goal of this trip is to learn as much about this region as I possibly can... and of course to have some fun while I'm doing it.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Hair
About a month before I was ready to get on the plane and head to Africa I shaved my head and stopped shaving my face. I did this for a few reasons but I think the main reason was more simple than the reason I told everyone: I did it because I could. I knew that for the next few months it would not matter how I looked. I was going to have no boss, no professors, no girlfriends, no need to keep my hair and beard neat. So, I let it grow.
About two weeks into the trip after a lot of talk Caroline and I decided to give ourselves a haircut. We were in a small beach village where hippos wandered the streets at night. Sitting around listening to music with about 10 other people we decided bring out the buzzers we had bought earlier in the day. I ran to the car in a torrential down pour to retrieve them from the trunk (3 hours later when we returned to the car we saw I had left the trunk wide open). We asked for volunteers to cut our hair and an English bloke named Mike who was working behind the bar stepped up to the plate.
I did not really know what I wanted to do with my hair or beard but I said I wanted it to look ¨crazy¨. Everyone sitting around wrote down their ideas on a piece of paper and we drew from a hat. It was to be a mohawk for my head and a fu-man-chew for the beard. Caroline started off with a mohawk as well and then shaved it all off.
I fell instantly in love with my new style. It was fun. It was something wild and outrageous and it did not matter. Well, in Africa it did not matter, and that brings me to the purpose of this entry. We had two weeks left in South Africa (including a short trip to Lesotho) before we headed up to Namibia. During those two weeks I did not get one comment nor one weird look. And for those of you who saw me upon my return... I looked awfully strange (see pictures below). The first comment I received was when we were crossing the border from South Africa to Namibia. The South African border guard asked me for my drivers license and passport which I handed over gracefully. She studied my picture and my face for a while and then she broke into a huge smile. She returned my documents and told me she loved my new style.
The next two weeks we traveled through Namibia and did not receive another comment nor sidewards glance - not too surprising however, we were traversing dirt roads through the most uninhabited country in all of Africa. After Namibia the road brought us to Botswana where things started to get interesting. In order to reach Botswana we had to drive south from the Caprivi strip through a Nature Reserve full of wild animals. It seems now that in the people´s minds, for the rest of the trip, I was one of those wild animals.
After crossing the border our first stop was a grocery store to put some kind of food in our bellies. It just so happened that we arrived on the grand opening of the grocery store. It was the first of its kind for, at the least, 100 kilometers. People had come from all over to see the newest addition. As we walked into the store everyone s eyes shifted to me. Unlike Thailand, where Thai people will never stare at another person, everyone stared and laughed. It was not so much that they were laughing at me... well, actually they probably were. But not in a malicious way. Little kids would stare and point, teenagers would slap me five, or pat me on the back, and girls would giggle and pass me furtive glances. -at this point my mohawk was about 3 inches long in the middle and shaved on the side. Each of the 3 parts of my fu-man-chew was extended from my chin about 2 inches.- The grocery store was interesting. When we got back to the car we laughed, empty handed because the grocery store was barely stocked, and marvelled about how things had changed since the first month.
We continued our journey to Maun which is the staging point for heading into the magical Okavango Delta. As in most of the rest of our travels through Africa, when we arrived in Maun we were the only white people around. The -tourist town- as it was described was nothing more than a reasonably large village that was falling apart- or had already fallen apart. The houses were made of beer cans and mud. You could tell that at one point someone had attempted to put pavement on the streets but were not too successful. We pulled in to a parking lot, parked the car, and got out to walk around. As we walked through the parking lot we could see people from far away looking at us. It became comical when we got to the crowded sidewalk. I walked ahead of Caroline and weaved through the people. Everyone, literally everyone, was staring at me with a huge smile on their face. People were laughing and poking their friends who were already staring. Girls in buses were yelling out of the window. Caroline had the best view of all walking a few steps behind me. She described it as if my hair and beard were a magnet pulling everyones eyes to my hair. As she walked behind me it was like a wave of people following me through the town.
This general reaction occurred throughout Botswana, Zimbabwe, and Zambia. While crossing back into Zimbabwe from Zambia I had an interesting interaction with the border guard. After trying for 20 minutes to get the border guard to let us into his country for free he asked me the name of my haircut. He said he wanted to have the barber give him the same haircut and beard. He gave me a piece of paper and had me write it down.
My nickname among most people we met in these three countries turned into -Mr. T-. I would be walking down the street and people would yell, -hey Mr. T- It was pretty amusing. People would tell me how much I looked like Mr T and I would usually respond, -yeah but he is more tan than I am-. No one ever seemed to get the joke.
As soon as we crossed back into South Africa people stopped commenting on my hair style. The different reactions to my hair style say something about the different cultures. I still had one more country to go to and that was my native country, the USA.
After being back in the US for a week or so I had a wedding to go to. After the wedding we were at a bar having a drink. I was sitting down outside by myself when a guy came and sat down next to me. He started talking to me and then he said to me -
Im a skinhead, do you know what that is.
I was blindsided by his comment and did not know what to say so I responded with a grunt that I did not know.
Do you know who the Nazis were
Yes I responded
Well, I am a current day Nazi
I could not believe what had just happened. I was ashamed that someone would mistake me for a Nazi. I have not really told anyone abut that conversation because I was too embarrassed. Needless to say, the next day I shaved my mohawk and my fu-man-chu. It is interesting, I traveled all throughout Africa and was greeted with smiles by my hairstyle and then when I get back to my own country it was seen has a symbol of hatred. Reactions to my hairstyle definitely say something about different cultures.
About two weeks into the trip after a lot of talk Caroline and I decided to give ourselves a haircut. We were in a small beach village where hippos wandered the streets at night. Sitting around listening to music with about 10 other people we decided bring out the buzzers we had bought earlier in the day. I ran to the car in a torrential down pour to retrieve them from the trunk (3 hours later when we returned to the car we saw I had left the trunk wide open). We asked for volunteers to cut our hair and an English bloke named Mike who was working behind the bar stepped up to the plate.
I did not really know what I wanted to do with my hair or beard but I said I wanted it to look ¨crazy¨. Everyone sitting around wrote down their ideas on a piece of paper and we drew from a hat. It was to be a mohawk for my head and a fu-man-chew for the beard. Caroline started off with a mohawk as well and then shaved it all off.
I fell instantly in love with my new style. It was fun. It was something wild and outrageous and it did not matter. Well, in Africa it did not matter, and that brings me to the purpose of this entry. We had two weeks left in South Africa (including a short trip to Lesotho) before we headed up to Namibia. During those two weeks I did not get one comment nor one weird look. And for those of you who saw me upon my return... I looked awfully strange (see pictures below). The first comment I received was when we were crossing the border from South Africa to Namibia. The South African border guard asked me for my drivers license and passport which I handed over gracefully. She studied my picture and my face for a while and then she broke into a huge smile. She returned my documents and told me she loved my new style.
The next two weeks we traveled through Namibia and did not receive another comment nor sidewards glance - not too surprising however, we were traversing dirt roads through the most uninhabited country in all of Africa. After Namibia the road brought us to Botswana where things started to get interesting. In order to reach Botswana we had to drive south from the Caprivi strip through a Nature Reserve full of wild animals. It seems now that in the people´s minds, for the rest of the trip, I was one of those wild animals.
After crossing the border our first stop was a grocery store to put some kind of food in our bellies. It just so happened that we arrived on the grand opening of the grocery store. It was the first of its kind for, at the least, 100 kilometers. People had come from all over to see the newest addition. As we walked into the store everyone s eyes shifted to me. Unlike Thailand, where Thai people will never stare at another person, everyone stared and laughed. It was not so much that they were laughing at me... well, actually they probably were. But not in a malicious way. Little kids would stare and point, teenagers would slap me five, or pat me on the back, and girls would giggle and pass me furtive glances. -at this point my mohawk was about 3 inches long in the middle and shaved on the side. Each of the 3 parts of my fu-man-chew was extended from my chin about 2 inches.- The grocery store was interesting. When we got back to the car we laughed, empty handed because the grocery store was barely stocked, and marvelled about how things had changed since the first month.
We continued our journey to Maun which is the staging point for heading into the magical Okavango Delta. As in most of the rest of our travels through Africa, when we arrived in Maun we were the only white people around. The -tourist town- as it was described was nothing more than a reasonably large village that was falling apart- or had already fallen apart. The houses were made of beer cans and mud. You could tell that at one point someone had attempted to put pavement on the streets but were not too successful. We pulled in to a parking lot, parked the car, and got out to walk around. As we walked through the parking lot we could see people from far away looking at us. It became comical when we got to the crowded sidewalk. I walked ahead of Caroline and weaved through the people. Everyone, literally everyone, was staring at me with a huge smile on their face. People were laughing and poking their friends who were already staring. Girls in buses were yelling out of the window. Caroline had the best view of all walking a few steps behind me. She described it as if my hair and beard were a magnet pulling everyones eyes to my hair. As she walked behind me it was like a wave of people following me through the town.
This general reaction occurred throughout Botswana, Zimbabwe, and Zambia. While crossing back into Zimbabwe from Zambia I had an interesting interaction with the border guard. After trying for 20 minutes to get the border guard to let us into his country for free he asked me the name of my haircut. He said he wanted to have the barber give him the same haircut and beard. He gave me a piece of paper and had me write it down.
My nickname among most people we met in these three countries turned into -Mr. T-. I would be walking down the street and people would yell, -hey Mr. T- It was pretty amusing. People would tell me how much I looked like Mr T and I would usually respond, -yeah but he is more tan than I am-. No one ever seemed to get the joke.
As soon as we crossed back into South Africa people stopped commenting on my hair style. The different reactions to my hair style say something about the different cultures. I still had one more country to go to and that was my native country, the USA.
After being back in the US for a week or so I had a wedding to go to. After the wedding we were at a bar having a drink. I was sitting down outside by myself when a guy came and sat down next to me. He started talking to me and then he said to me -
Im a skinhead, do you know what that is.
I was blindsided by his comment and did not know what to say so I responded with a grunt that I did not know.
Do you know who the Nazis were
Yes I responded
Well, I am a current day Nazi
I could not believe what had just happened. I was ashamed that someone would mistake me for a Nazi. I have not really told anyone abut that conversation because I was too embarrassed. Needless to say, the next day I shaved my mohawk and my fu-man-chu. It is interesting, I traveled all throughout Africa and was greeted with smiles by my hairstyle and then when I get back to my own country it was seen has a symbol of hatred. Reactions to my hairstyle definitely say something about different cultures.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Zimbabwe
For the first 7 weeks of the trip I was trying to decide what to do about Zimbabwe. It is a country that I have wanted to see (there are not many that I don't want to see actually) but their political situation is far from stable. Robert Mugabe, the President of Zimbabwe, is one of the most corrupt leaders in the world. He has illegal diamond minds in the southern parts of the D.R.C., he uses terror to rule his country, he drove has driven his country into poverty yet he continues to grow richer.
In the 1990s he started a policy of land reform to appease the veterans of the war for independence who were threatening to revolt. Before the controversial land reform Zimbabwe had promises to be the "the bread basket of Africa". It has fertile lands and good weather to grow a variety of crops. All the the farms however were owned by the white population. Mugabe started taking the land from the white people (who had stolen it in the first place) and redistributing it to the blacks. This became controversial because he was giving huge farms the country depended upon to veterans who had no education about farming. Long story short the new land owners were unable to farm the land, foreign investment pulled out of the country and inflation started at an alarming rate. Inflation got so out of hand that in the mid to late 90s Mugabe started a policy of price fixing. He told shop owners and manufacturers the price that they had to sell goods.
This in turn momentarily fixed the inflation for the consumers because their money could now buy products but the shop owners were often times selling at a loss. At this point any remaining foreign investment in the country pulled out. The situation today is scary. Zimbabwe has the highest inflation in the history of the modern world. There is no petrol in the country; if you want to drive through Zimbabwe you have to bring petrol with you because you will be unable to find it in country. The country is at a point where it needs a major change. Unfortunately change African style usually (but not always) comes with massive bloodshed and civil war.
Knowing all this beforehand throughout my entire trip I was going back and forth on whether or not I was going to go to Zimbabwe. I asked anyone who knew much about the situation their thoughts and they almost all said they would not go anywhere near the country right now. I am a very safe and cautious traveler constantly aware of my surroundings. For most of the trip I was sure I would not go to Zimbabwe but when we got close something inside me said it was OK. We were only going to go 75 km into the country to a town which used to be a big tourist center. We had heard that Victoria Falls was most amazing from the Zimbabwe side (the falls borders both Zambia and Zimbabwe) and we were eager to see first hand the state the country was in.
We filled up our gas tank, hid all of our valuables (we did not have many), and headed into Zimbabwe. We only saw a small strip of the country but it was absolutely gorgeous. It was a country full of baboon, baboons, and more baboons. There are literally baboons everywhere. At one point we had to walk through a group of about 30 baboons and some so close we could reach out and touch them.
We stayed in Victoria Falls which is a town bordering the waterfall it took its name from. The desperation in the city was rampant. People were friendly but it was obvious that they had nothing. We went into the grocery store only to find empty shelf after empty shelf. There was barely anything to eat. There is no ketchup in the country neither is there Coca-Cola.
Inside of Victoria Falls you have to pay for everything with US money yet you cannot get US money inside the country. There are two different exchange rates: the official and the unofficial. The official rate ( that which you will get at the banks, ATMs, and other government regulated places) is $1:30,000 Zimbabwean dollars. The unofficial rate is $1:2,000,000 Zim Dollars. The inflation rises everyday. It is a strange thing, you have to pay in US dollars but there are no US dollars to be found. You will never get change in green backs.
Between Caroline and myself we had about $200 USD which we had been traveling with for emergencies. Once inside of Zimbabwe we quickly found out we needed to be spending the USD. We spent about 5 days altogether in Zimbabwe and went through our USDs. We also had a couple hundred dollars in travelers checks. When we attempted to leave Zimbabwe to head to Zambia we ran into our first problem. We needed to pay $100 USD each for the visa to enter Zambia. We had no more USDs but we had our travelers checks. The problem however is that we could not cash our travelers checks inside of Zimbabwe. Long story short we convinced the Zambian border guards to let us enter their country illegally so we could go to a bank, get us money, and return to pay for our visas. Three hours later (and a couple of gallons of sweat) we returned to the border and paid for our visas.
We spent about a week inside of Zambia visiting Caroline´s cousin and his family. Upon return into Zimbabwe we had to buy another visa. We however spent about 15 minutes negotiating with the border guard to allow us to only have to pay half price. Eventually he gave in and we returned to Zimbabwe to retrieve our car and head back to Jo-burg.
Crossing from Zimbabwe to Zambia you have to go through a place called ¨no man´s land¨. It is a strip of land 2 kilometers long between the two countries that does not belong to either country (hence the name). Along this road (we were traversing it on foot) there was a long line of trucks carrying goods into the country. The truckers were outside of their trucks guarding their goods. As mentioned before the country was full of baboons and in no man´s land they seemed to migrate. The baboons were taking advantage of the truckers situation and were raiding the trucks to get to the precious food cargo. The truckers were in groups throwing rocks at the baboons. It was a comical situation to say the least.
In the 1990s he started a policy of land reform to appease the veterans of the war for independence who were threatening to revolt. Before the controversial land reform Zimbabwe had promises to be the "the bread basket of Africa". It has fertile lands and good weather to grow a variety of crops. All the the farms however were owned by the white population. Mugabe started taking the land from the white people (who had stolen it in the first place) and redistributing it to the blacks. This became controversial because he was giving huge farms the country depended upon to veterans who had no education about farming. Long story short the new land owners were unable to farm the land, foreign investment pulled out of the country and inflation started at an alarming rate. Inflation got so out of hand that in the mid to late 90s Mugabe started a policy of price fixing. He told shop owners and manufacturers the price that they had to sell goods.
This in turn momentarily fixed the inflation for the consumers because their money could now buy products but the shop owners were often times selling at a loss. At this point any remaining foreign investment in the country pulled out. The situation today is scary. Zimbabwe has the highest inflation in the history of the modern world. There is no petrol in the country; if you want to drive through Zimbabwe you have to bring petrol with you because you will be unable to find it in country. The country is at a point where it needs a major change. Unfortunately change African style usually (but not always) comes with massive bloodshed and civil war.
Knowing all this beforehand throughout my entire trip I was going back and forth on whether or not I was going to go to Zimbabwe. I asked anyone who knew much about the situation their thoughts and they almost all said they would not go anywhere near the country right now. I am a very safe and cautious traveler constantly aware of my surroundings. For most of the trip I was sure I would not go to Zimbabwe but when we got close something inside me said it was OK. We were only going to go 75 km into the country to a town which used to be a big tourist center. We had heard that Victoria Falls was most amazing from the Zimbabwe side (the falls borders both Zambia and Zimbabwe) and we were eager to see first hand the state the country was in.
We filled up our gas tank, hid all of our valuables (we did not have many), and headed into Zimbabwe. We only saw a small strip of the country but it was absolutely gorgeous. It was a country full of baboon, baboons, and more baboons. There are literally baboons everywhere. At one point we had to walk through a group of about 30 baboons and some so close we could reach out and touch them.
We stayed in Victoria Falls which is a town bordering the waterfall it took its name from. The desperation in the city was rampant. People were friendly but it was obvious that they had nothing. We went into the grocery store only to find empty shelf after empty shelf. There was barely anything to eat. There is no ketchup in the country neither is there Coca-Cola.
Inside of Victoria Falls you have to pay for everything with US money yet you cannot get US money inside the country. There are two different exchange rates: the official and the unofficial. The official rate ( that which you will get at the banks, ATMs, and other government regulated places) is $1:30,000 Zimbabwean dollars. The unofficial rate is $1:2,000,000 Zim Dollars. The inflation rises everyday. It is a strange thing, you have to pay in US dollars but there are no US dollars to be found. You will never get change in green backs.
Between Caroline and myself we had about $200 USD which we had been traveling with for emergencies. Once inside of Zimbabwe we quickly found out we needed to be spending the USD. We spent about 5 days altogether in Zimbabwe and went through our USDs. We also had a couple hundred dollars in travelers checks. When we attempted to leave Zimbabwe to head to Zambia we ran into our first problem. We needed to pay $100 USD each for the visa to enter Zambia. We had no more USDs but we had our travelers checks. The problem however is that we could not cash our travelers checks inside of Zimbabwe. Long story short we convinced the Zambian border guards to let us enter their country illegally so we could go to a bank, get us money, and return to pay for our visas. Three hours later (and a couple of gallons of sweat) we returned to the border and paid for our visas.
We spent about a week inside of Zambia visiting Caroline´s cousin and his family. Upon return into Zimbabwe we had to buy another visa. We however spent about 15 minutes negotiating with the border guard to allow us to only have to pay half price. Eventually he gave in and we returned to Zimbabwe to retrieve our car and head back to Jo-burg.
Crossing from Zimbabwe to Zambia you have to go through a place called ¨no man´s land¨. It is a strip of land 2 kilometers long between the two countries that does not belong to either country (hence the name). Along this road (we were traversing it on foot) there was a long line of trucks carrying goods into the country. The truckers were outside of their trucks guarding their goods. As mentioned before the country was full of baboons and in no man´s land they seemed to migrate. The baboons were taking advantage of the truckers situation and were raiding the trucks to get to the precious food cargo. The truckers were in groups throwing rocks at the baboons. It was a comical situation to say the least.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Year in review
I have gone through many changes in my life over the last year and have seen and learned many things. I have lived with some of the richest people in the world and some of the poorest. I have lived aboard a sail boat, paid rent on two islands and two countries on two different continents. I have traveled through 12 countries and am now in the airport headed to Costa Rica where I will spend the next few months. I have seen some amazing things and have been through some difficult situations.
I started 2007 with a good career in a successful business in Hawaii. Decided I was cheating myself and my dreams so I quite my job and to travel the world. A few weeks after I left my job I jumped on a sail boat and set sail for California. After many mishaps we had to throw in the towel and return to Hawaii. Once back on the paradise island I bought a one way ticket for Thailand, rented an apartment in Bangkok and quickly settled into life in the capital.
While in Thailand I dined on frogs, squirrels, and bee larva while trekking through the remote northern Thailand jungles. I commuted on long tail boats in the canals of Bangkok, practiced yoga daily with my big brother (actually smaller but he looks much older), and snorkeled the waters of the Thai islands.
I have ridden on motorcycles through the congested streets of Kathmandu dodging cars, people, buses, and cows. I have trekked the spectacular Himalayan mountains led by Sherpas I bunji jumped the worlds 2nd highest bunji jump 4 kilometers south of Tibetan border (little did I know at the time that 5 months later I would be seeing the worlds largest bunji jump in Africa).
I spent 4 months bar tending in Nantucket one of the most exclusive islands in the world. With the money I made there I jumped on a plane and headed to Africa. Once in Africa I rented a car, bought a map, and put the rubber to the road. I traversed 8,000 miles of this massive and awe inspiring continent. I walked among Zebras, listened to wild lions drinking water 15 feet from me, drove through packs of African wild dogs (one of the rarest and most endangered animals in the world), watched Hippos walk past my campsite at night, fought off jackals trying to raid my campsite, ate wildebeest, warthog, springbok and much more. I saw herds of thousands of animals migrating to watering holes in Northern Namibia. Jumped on a piece of cardboard and rode 70 KPH down the worlds largest sand dunes in the world. I tracked a 15 ft long boa constrictor in the Okavango Delta in northern Botswana. I drove through the barren Kalahari desert, visited one of the most unstable countries in the world (Zimbabwe), saw the massive division between the rich and poor in South Africa and attempted to get treatment at a bullet ridden hospital in Namibia.
I returned home for Christmas where I spent an amazing month relaxing with my mom, dad, brother, and step father. I then shredded the largest ski resort in North America (Vail) with one of my best friends and my cousin and am now headed down to the tropical paradise of Costa Rica.
I have learned some invaluable lessons on these trips. Some of which I am sure I won't realize for years to come. I've learned not be judgemental. Everyone comes from a different background and holds different values. I have learned that I have no right to judge anyone based upon my values and my experiences. I have learned to be more relaxed and to not demand so much information. What I mean by this is in the culture I was raised in we always need to know the minute details regardless of their importance. We need to know things that really have no effect upon us. We worry about things that we have no control over and we try to control things which cannot be controlled.
After traveling for 2 months in Africa with only a small 'carry on' bag I learned that the less I own the better. There is nothing that I really need in life in regards to material possessions. In the culture of America we are taught that the more we have, the bigger things we own, the happier we will be. What happens however is the things we own end up owning us (Tyler Durden). We spend our lives thinking about all the material possessions that we need in order to make us happy when all we truly need can be found within ourselves. I spent three years in Hawaii spending money on things I did not need.
On my travels this year some of the happiest people I have seen have been some of the poorest. Most importantly however, I have reinforced the fact that this world is huge and the differences among the people even bigger. In order for us to really understand who we are we need to know who everyone else is. I think it is important but once again that is only my opinion which comes from my experiences. My thoughts are no better nor no worse than anyone else out there.
I started 2007 with a good career in a successful business in Hawaii. Decided I was cheating myself and my dreams so I quite my job and to travel the world. A few weeks after I left my job I jumped on a sail boat and set sail for California. After many mishaps we had to throw in the towel and return to Hawaii. Once back on the paradise island I bought a one way ticket for Thailand, rented an apartment in Bangkok and quickly settled into life in the capital.
While in Thailand I dined on frogs, squirrels, and bee larva while trekking through the remote northern Thailand jungles. I commuted on long tail boats in the canals of Bangkok, practiced yoga daily with my big brother (actually smaller but he looks much older), and snorkeled the waters of the Thai islands.
I have ridden on motorcycles through the congested streets of Kathmandu dodging cars, people, buses, and cows. I have trekked the spectacular Himalayan mountains led by Sherpas I bunji jumped the worlds 2nd highest bunji jump 4 kilometers south of Tibetan border (little did I know at the time that 5 months later I would be seeing the worlds largest bunji jump in Africa).
I spent 4 months bar tending in Nantucket one of the most exclusive islands in the world. With the money I made there I jumped on a plane and headed to Africa. Once in Africa I rented a car, bought a map, and put the rubber to the road. I traversed 8,000 miles of this massive and awe inspiring continent. I walked among Zebras, listened to wild lions drinking water 15 feet from me, drove through packs of African wild dogs (one of the rarest and most endangered animals in the world), watched Hippos walk past my campsite at night, fought off jackals trying to raid my campsite, ate wildebeest, warthog, springbok and much more. I saw herds of thousands of animals migrating to watering holes in Northern Namibia. Jumped on a piece of cardboard and rode 70 KPH down the worlds largest sand dunes in the world. I tracked a 15 ft long boa constrictor in the Okavango Delta in northern Botswana. I drove through the barren Kalahari desert, visited one of the most unstable countries in the world (Zimbabwe), saw the massive division between the rich and poor in South Africa and attempted to get treatment at a bullet ridden hospital in Namibia.
I returned home for Christmas where I spent an amazing month relaxing with my mom, dad, brother, and step father. I then shredded the largest ski resort in North America (Vail) with one of my best friends and my cousin and am now headed down to the tropical paradise of Costa Rica.
I have learned some invaluable lessons on these trips. Some of which I am sure I won't realize for years to come. I've learned not be judgemental. Everyone comes from a different background and holds different values. I have learned that I have no right to judge anyone based upon my values and my experiences. I have learned to be more relaxed and to not demand so much information. What I mean by this is in the culture I was raised in we always need to know the minute details regardless of their importance. We need to know things that really have no effect upon us. We worry about things that we have no control over and we try to control things which cannot be controlled.
After traveling for 2 months in Africa with only a small 'carry on' bag I learned that the less I own the better. There is nothing that I really need in life in regards to material possessions. In the culture of America we are taught that the more we have, the bigger things we own, the happier we will be. What happens however is the things we own end up owning us (Tyler Durden). We spend our lives thinking about all the material possessions that we need in order to make us happy when all we truly need can be found within ourselves. I spent three years in Hawaii spending money on things I did not need.
On my travels this year some of the happiest people I have seen have been some of the poorest. Most importantly however, I have reinforced the fact that this world is huge and the differences among the people even bigger. In order for us to really understand who we are we need to know who everyone else is. I think it is important but once again that is only my opinion which comes from my experiences. My thoughts are no better nor no worse than anyone else out there.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
African Odyssey
This is a compilation of a few of the videos we took in Africa. Sign me up for the short film of the year award. Don't be afraid to leave a comment after you view this masterpiece. Turn the volume up and enjoy
Friday, January 4, 2008
Benny's village
One of the biggest differences I have noticed in my travels over the years between American culture and the developing world is our dealing in exacts: our need for information. What I mean by this is that in the US if you are asked why you do something you generally know the answer and you give it. We need explanations for everything. Traveling in other countries this need for answers can sometimes be very frustrating: they don't always exist. Simple questions such as, how long do we need to wait here? or What time are we going get back to camp? How long will it take us to walk to the top of the mountain?
These are all questions that really do not need to be asked because the answer will not change anything at all. What I have also noticed in certain places is that often times the answer you get will be a blatant lie. People will tell you what they think you want to hear. For instance if they think that you want it to take all day to reach the top of the mountain they will tell you exactly that. It does not matter that they know you will realize in an hour they were not telling the truth.
What I now try to do when I am about to ask a question is I think about if I really need to know the answer. For instance if I need to wait for someone it really does not matter if I know how long I need to wait or not. The fact of the matter is I need to wait and so it does not matter if I know for how long. Also when you don't always know all the minute details it adds a extra sense of adventure.
Well, when we got to Benny's village this was one of the times I did not ask any of the questions that were going through my mind. I just went along for the ride. What we saw at the village was very sad and upsetting for me.
These are all questions that really do not need to be asked because the answer will not change anything at all. What I have also noticed in certain places is that often times the answer you get will be a blatant lie. People will tell you what they think you want to hear. For instance if they think that you want it to take all day to reach the top of the mountain they will tell you exactly that. It does not matter that they know you will realize in an hour they were not telling the truth.
What I now try to do when I am about to ask a question is I think about if I really need to know the answer. For instance if I need to wait for someone it really does not matter if I know how long I need to wait or not. The fact of the matter is I need to wait and so it does not matter if I know for how long. Also when you don't always know all the minute details it adds a extra sense of adventure.
Well, when we got to Benny's village this was one of the times I did not ask any of the questions that were going through my mind. I just went along for the ride. What we saw at the village was very sad and upsetting for me.
Benny took us around the village introducing us to people and showing us how they lived. He wanted us to try some of the local beer. There were 3 or 4 types of beer that they made in the village and we went around and tasted them all. The beers were brewed in big barrels and then scooped out with a cup and passed around in this manner. The beer is made from nuts from the jungle, water, and sugar. It is served warm with the taste being varying degrees of gross. Nevertheless, it was fun to try the beer.
The houses were interesting to see. First they make a circular wooden structure with only a few pieces of thin saplings. The space between the saplings was filled with beer cans (for added stability) and mud. The houses were circular and ten feet in diameter. There was a dirt floor and families of anywhere between 4 and 8 people would live inside the one room adobe. There were a few makeshift stores in the village where the polers lucky enough to receive a good tip the day before could buy cigarettes, small candies, and cold black label beer (a beer popular throughout southern and central Africa). There were two or three bathrooms for the whole village and no electricity.
As we walked around the village I started to realize something. Everybody was drunk. It was about 2 or 3 in the afternoon and everyone was just sitting around drinking beer and booze. What happens is this: there are 170 polers in the village. They get work on a rotating basis. In the winter time (slow season) once they get a job going into the delta they have to wait about 10 days before they will have the chance to work again. All the polers go down to the water in the morning hoping that tourists will come by looking for a guide. If there is no work by 10:00 am they toss in the towel. They go back to the village and sit around getting drunk on cheap booze. When the polers receive a big tip they don't save the money but instead spend it on expensive alcohol (bottled beer and whiskey) and drugs. The children growing up in the village have these men as role models. This is the education they are given on how to be a man. There was no school in the village that I saw and if there was one I could only imagine who the teachers could have been.
I began to think about the polers and how they lived their lives. It seemed to me like they had no motivation, no desire, no urge to better themselves, to make more of their life. I thought about what I would do if I was in their situation. How I would be saving the money to start my own business. Instead of drinking my life away I would be reading and studying to make myself more knowledgeable about the world. At first it baffled me how they could not see the opportunities they could make for themselves but I quickly realized the faults of my thinking. I cannot compare how I would react in a similar situation to how they deal with it. Our backgrounds are completely different. I was raised by parents who valued education. Both my father and step father have their PhDs, my mother has her masters, I was encouraged (and often forced) to study daily while I was growing up. I was surrounded by positive role models and parents encouraging me to make the most out of my life. I was given a great education at a good University. I was taught from a young age that I could do anything I put my mind to.
The polers on the other hand had a very different upbringing in a very different part of the world. They had little education and the role models they had you have just heard me talk about. The life expectancy in Botswana is 32 by 2010 it is going to be 27 (mostly due to HIV). Children are raised by their grandparents or friends of their grandparents. Southern Africa is raising a generation of people with no parents. The education in rural Africa is a joke. The children see people dieing all around them. Why would the young polers have anymore desire than they had? They probably don't expect to live much longer seeing how no one else they know does.
Realizing this was sad for me. I had given Benny a big tip and I knew now that he was only going to spend it on drugs and alcohol (I later found out that is exactly what he did). The children I met growing up in the village had little chance to make something different of their lives. The only way they could do so was with education. I had been thinking about education being the way to help rural communities for sometime now on this trip. I often thought of the old saying "you can give a man a fish and he will eat for a day or you can teach a man to fish and he will eat for life." Without education people cannot know all their is out there in life. They cannot know they can do anything they want.
This entry did not go exactly as I wanted it to but it was the same message. We went to a wedding the following day with Benny and it was a pretty bad experience. There is no reason to tell about it because after reading the above you can pretty much guess what happened. After leaving the Okavango Delta I often think about the dire need for education of the poor and poverty stricken in this world. People need to make changes themselves and education is the key to the door of change.
The houses were interesting to see. First they make a circular wooden structure with only a few pieces of thin saplings. The space between the saplings was filled with beer cans (for added stability) and mud. The houses were circular and ten feet in diameter. There was a dirt floor and families of anywhere between 4 and 8 people would live inside the one room adobe. There were a few makeshift stores in the village where the polers lucky enough to receive a good tip the day before could buy cigarettes, small candies, and cold black label beer (a beer popular throughout southern and central Africa). There were two or three bathrooms for the whole village and no electricity.
As we walked around the village I started to realize something. Everybody was drunk. It was about 2 or 3 in the afternoon and everyone was just sitting around drinking beer and booze. What happens is this: there are 170 polers in the village. They get work on a rotating basis. In the winter time (slow season) once they get a job going into the delta they have to wait about 10 days before they will have the chance to work again. All the polers go down to the water in the morning hoping that tourists will come by looking for a guide. If there is no work by 10:00 am they toss in the towel. They go back to the village and sit around getting drunk on cheap booze. When the polers receive a big tip they don't save the money but instead spend it on expensive alcohol (bottled beer and whiskey) and drugs. The children growing up in the village have these men as role models. This is the education they are given on how to be a man. There was no school in the village that I saw and if there was one I could only imagine who the teachers could have been.
I began to think about the polers and how they lived their lives. It seemed to me like they had no motivation, no desire, no urge to better themselves, to make more of their life. I thought about what I would do if I was in their situation. How I would be saving the money to start my own business. Instead of drinking my life away I would be reading and studying to make myself more knowledgeable about the world. At first it baffled me how they could not see the opportunities they could make for themselves but I quickly realized the faults of my thinking. I cannot compare how I would react in a similar situation to how they deal with it. Our backgrounds are completely different. I was raised by parents who valued education. Both my father and step father have their PhDs, my mother has her masters, I was encouraged (and often forced) to study daily while I was growing up. I was surrounded by positive role models and parents encouraging me to make the most out of my life. I was given a great education at a good University. I was taught from a young age that I could do anything I put my mind to.
The polers on the other hand had a very different upbringing in a very different part of the world. They had little education and the role models they had you have just heard me talk about. The life expectancy in Botswana is 32 by 2010 it is going to be 27 (mostly due to HIV). Children are raised by their grandparents or friends of their grandparents. Southern Africa is raising a generation of people with no parents. The education in rural Africa is a joke. The children see people dieing all around them. Why would the young polers have anymore desire than they had? They probably don't expect to live much longer seeing how no one else they know does.
Realizing this was sad for me. I had given Benny a big tip and I knew now that he was only going to spend it on drugs and alcohol (I later found out that is exactly what he did). The children I met growing up in the village had little chance to make something different of their lives. The only way they could do so was with education. I had been thinking about education being the way to help rural communities for sometime now on this trip. I often thought of the old saying "you can give a man a fish and he will eat for a day or you can teach a man to fish and he will eat for life." Without education people cannot know all their is out there in life. They cannot know they can do anything they want.
This entry did not go exactly as I wanted it to but it was the same message. We went to a wedding the following day with Benny and it was a pretty bad experience. There is no reason to tell about it because after reading the above you can pretty much guess what happened. After leaving the Okavango Delta I often think about the dire need for education of the poor and poverty stricken in this world. People need to make changes themselves and education is the key to the door of change.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Sand Surfing
Here is a video of me sand surfing in Namibia. I hurt my back so bad that I could not walk very well for a few weeks. It was a whole lot of fun though. I made a blog entry about the surfing and here is the video. Just click play below
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