Botswanna Safari

The Swahili word Safari translates to journey so technically I have been on safari ever since leaving Stockholm almost 9 months ago. In the English sense of the word though I havent really done much safariing apart from one day on bicycle in Kenya but that was all to change once I had joined Radovan and his boys.
To begin with I had just planned on getting a lift across the border but when we reached our first restpoint in Kasane I realised sleeping in the backseat of a landrover wasn't too bad. So the following morning I tagged along with them to Chobe National Park in hope of spotting some wildlife. We saw hundreds of elephants, giraffes, hippos and loads of other animals you would expect in Africa, but my lifelong dryspell with wild big cats continued as we failed to see any. We bushcamped that night and at dawn I got up to sort my morning duties out, a while later the boys got up and asked me if the lions roaring had woken me as well, luckily I hadn't heard them as I am pretty sure I would have literally shat my pants, then we found their footprints and they had passed less than a meter from the car, close but no cigar allthough on this occasion I think I preffered not seeing them. Our next destination was Khama Rhino Sanctuary where we spent a full day looking for the large mammal and finally got to see a few of them before the sun had gone down. Then we drove to Central Kalahari Game Reserve where we would spend the next five days.
The Kalahari Desert covers 85% of Botswana's landmass and the name of their currency is Pula which means rain and used to be the most valuable resourse in the country... before they discovered diamonds and gold. The wildlife spotting was sparse in the arid landscape apart from the occasional group of springbok or gemsbok, but we had a good time celebrating a traditional Swedish midsummer complete with foolish dancing, boiled potatoes with different types of canned fish and meatballs made from corned beef. Then one morning when we least expected it we came face to face with a pride of five lions attacking a honey badger. Needless to say the legendary badger with a fierce reputation came out of the scuffle unharmed and if anything the lions should be happy to still be around. It was impressive to finally encounter these giant cats at such close range and made the days spent staring at dry grass and shrubs completly worth it. After this we left the desert and drove to the town of Maun where four filthy, dusty and sweaty guys could finally take a much needed shower. Now I can't wait to crawl into a warm and soft bed after nine nights spent sleeping in the backseat of Radovan.

Taking it Zambezi

Zimbabwe is a strange place run by a strange man named Robert Mugabe, most of you will remember the economic collapse that hit the country in the beginning of this millennium when people would need trillions of Zim-Dollars just to buy a loaf of bread. Today the Zim-Dollar is history, supermarket shelves are stocked once more and the official currency is now the U.S-Dollar, however U.S-Cents don't exist so you will either buy for exact dollar amounts or get your change in South African Rand, Botswana Pula or bubblegum. Once I had arrived in Harare the next problem was finding a cheap room to stay in, this didn't seem to exist but I eventually found an acceptable deal and I could fall asleep in front of my T.V. watching some dismal European Championship football. Early next morning I decided to get out of the capital and head straight for the town of Victoria Falls. The busdrive there was long and delayed but it did provide me with my first sighting of elephants on this trip so I couldn't be too upset. Victoria Falls is a town which feels very artificial and completely centered around the touristtrade that the waterfalls with the same name attract.
I stayed here for four nights taking it easy most of the time, relaxing at the hostel, strolling along the Zambezi river and of course getting up close and personal with the famous body of water. The Victoria Falls or Mosi-oa Tunya which translates to "Smoke That Thunders" in a local language is one of the seven natural wonders of the world but it was even mightier and more breathtaking than I could ever imagine. For once I had also managed to reach a sight at the right time of year as this is when the largest volume of water gushes out of the 1700 meter wide river opening, you can hear the roar and see the enormous tower of water particles from miles away and once you get within viewing distance the spray hits you like a monsoon and soaks you right down to the bone. One day I walked across the most beautiful bordercrossing I have ever seen, as an iron-bridge leads you over a gorge to the Zambian side of the river where I could sit drinking a beer, witnessing the cascades in the background and the crazy bungyjumpers diving towards the Zambezi 111 meters below. Back at the hostel I met Jonathan, Lars and Mattias, three Swedes who had driven their Land Rover which they named Radovan all the way down here from Sweden. They were heading for Botswana next and asked me if I wanted to join, I couldn't think of any reason why not so I took a seat in Radovan and crossed yet another border arriving in the small town of Kasane just before sundown.

The Not So Easy Road to Rhodesia

The two-metacais coin landed on the side with a fish on it which naturally represented the coast and Vilanculos, so I got on the bus with the two girls and 8 hours later I was back in the small town with the dissapearing ocean. I spent a week here, getting into a daily routine which involved several visits to the market, several cups of coffee and several hours doing the usual nothing. I then felt guilty that I had spent in total almost two weeks in this place which is famed for it's optimal snorkeling conditions and I hadn't more than dipped my toes in the water. Boattrips out to the Bazaruto Archipelago are quite pricy and a daytrip sets you back roughly $100. Luckily I was travelling with an Israeli and though you may think it's a racist stereotype you would be surprised how often I have experienced the Jewish sixth sense for saving money and it has rubbed off on me as well. So Maayan and I managed to strike a deal with the captain saying if we could find two other passengers for his trip he would let us come along for free as long as we paid the $8 parkfee. We only managed to recruit one person but they let us come along without paying nonetheless and we spent a full day out in the waters which shift in all shades of blue, snorkelling amongst big colourful fish and corals and eating a fantastic meal on the island with giant sanddunes. This was a perfect farewell to Vilanculos and that night we all went out for a couple of drinks before I returned late at night with just enough time to get my stuff and catch my bus. However on my way back I heard my Korean friend Simba screaming for me to help him, I ran back to find him being held up by some very drunk police officers and when they saw me they came at me with raised batons. I put my arms up in surrender and tried to calm them down but they were not very happy and decided to throw me up on the back of the truck they were using as a policecar, when they started driving I realised noone was guarding me so I jumped off before it had gathered too much speed and ran as fast as I could back to the hostel where I could find help. Running fast in flipflops is however practically impossible so the lives of these two plastic slippers were shortlived in my possesion but perhaps one of the policemen who chased me saved them. Simba was arrested and we were never allowed to visit him, we could give him some food though and later next evening he was released after paying a total of $1200. This was less of a perfect farewell to Mozambique but quite symbolic as the police here have been nothing but trouble since trying to enter the country a month ago. The following morning I managed to get on a number of different chapas and trucks to get me to the border town of Manica, but when I arrived there I found out the border was closed despite being reassured by several people it would be open. A woman took pity on me though and offered me to stay in her house overnight until the border would reopen next morning. I gladly accepted her generous offer and drank a cup of tea with her family before getting some much needed sleep and then setting off for the frontier once again with a happy last memory of Mozambique. Crossing into Zimbabwe was smooth and I could get a bus which despite a flat tyre got me to the capital city of Harare in one piece.

Mozambeach

Vilanculos was a nice small town with a stretch of sand that has the longest tide I have ever seen, early in the morning the waterlevel was right up near the walls of the lodge I was staying at, but in a few hours time it had dissapeared and I could see sand all the way out at the horizon, before the water returned again in the late evening. I stayed relaxing here a few days and then boarded a chapa to the town of Maxixe where I could get on a small ferry across to the peninsula of Inhambane where another chapa took me the final couple of miles to Tofo. Tofo was yet another picture perfect (allthough I have no pictures of it, as my camera is still not functioning) beach with picture perfect white sand and picture perfect azure waters. I spent my days here doing nothing as usual, occasionally going for a short jog or playing a game of beach volleyball so needless to say life was tough. I also bumped into the Israeli girls again here and we celebrated Maayan's birthday before heading off one early morning on a shuttle destined for Maputo. It was nice to be back in the city which was my first encounter with Africa four years ago, allthough much had changed, a lot of development has been made, it feels bigger and surprisingly a little bit cleaner now. I also got to know more about corruption almost instantly as on our first night we were walking around town looking for a sushi-restaurant when the police stopped us and asked for our passports. The Israeli girls and I weren't carrying them and our photocopies weren't good enough, so we would have to go to the policestation with them, we called their bluff though and managed to convince them to let an Argentinian girl named Andrea and an Indian guy go back to the hostel to fetch our documents. The officers took me aside and blatantly said "Just give us $20 each, and we have no problem" but we insisted to wait or go to the station, after nearly an hour they tired and before our passports had been seen they let us walk. Apart from that incident the reaquaintance has been pleasant, strolling around the mix of archichtecture which I think may be the nicest I've seen in Africa so far, visiting my parents old appartment and savouring the Maputo nightlife once again. Naama left for Ethiopia after one night, but I stayed in Maputo with Maayan and Andrea for a few more nights. After this I had to decide how to get back up to Zimbabwe, either going into South Africa and heading north or backtracking on myself and joining the girls up to Vilanculos again, the only logical way of deciding was using my trusty coin and flipping for it... The result of the cointoss will be announced in the next installment!

In footwear related news:
It was a sad day on Thursday when despite the vailient efforts of two Malawian cobblers my flipflops finally gave in. They were a gift given me by Clara on my first day in Brazilian hospital and held a special place in my heart, they have served me well since then staying with me through thick and thin and protecting my soles for the majority of this trip after getting through Europe. A new pair were purchased in Maputo and even if they won't compare to my previous ones I hope they will enjoy many happy memories on the road with me. R.I.P!

The Labour and Pain of Travel

Mitchell's and my contemplation led us to different directions so as I moved south to Blantyre my Aussie travelpartner for the past few months went west towards Zambia. In Blantyre I soon bumped into Maayan and Naama, two Israeli girls I first met in southern Uganda and since then in other locations. They were headed to Mozambique as was I so the three of us set off early one morning not knowing what travels lie ahead. The delays started on our first bus towards the border where not long after taking off did a woman give birth to a baby boy making the bus take a detour past the hospital. Once we reached the border I got my first real taste of the African corruption I've heard so much about as the Mozambiqui borderpolice claimed to have run out of regular visas meaning we would have to pay $90, more than three times as much than it should be to enter. We didn't have much choice but to cough up the money and after getting some food in us at the frontiertown of Milange we managed to get a ride with a truck transporting a mountain of plastic buckets and containers. It was only a 200 km trip but the roads would be bad so we knew the 2 hour promise was an optimistic lie, we just didn't know how optimistic yet. The uncomfortable cargo I was sitting on was poorly fastened and large sacks fell off every so often, meaning we had to stop and retie everything and on one occassion we lost Maayan's bag without noticing and had to backtrack for a while in pitchblack to recover it. It was past midnight and freezing cold on top of the buckets in the strong draft and dust of the roads, when the driver had drunk one too many beers and decided he needed a nap for a couple of hours, so we sat and waited for him to wake up before completing the stretch that lay ahead, by the time we arrived in Mocuba we had made really good time, just short of 14 hours. In the small dull town of Mocuba we recharged our batteries for a day staying in the cheapest accomodation we could find which was undoubtebly a brothel, before getting on a jampacked bus to Nampula, once there we managed to get a minibus to our goal from the start, which was Isla De Mocambique. All the painful travel was well worth it once we could walk around the beautiful island which was once the capital of Portuguese East Africa. Also it has been nice to hear the beautiful language again which I grew to love in Brazil, and I was surprised at how much I could comprehend. After a couple of days among the colonial buildings and peaceful settings I decided to move on back south leaving the Israelis behind. Before I continue I would however like a minute to describe the vehicle which is the weapon of choice when it comes to African transport. It has many names in different countries, the Matatu, Dalla Dalla, Matola or the Chapa as they call it here in Mozambique, however it is almost always a white Toyota minibus with anything from 9 to 15 seats, a number which in most cases is doubled in amount of passengers. People and animals (mostly chickens) will be packed in on top of eachother, sometimes hanging out of the sliding doors, but the front row behind the driver is the real breadwinner of the van. Here an experienced conductor can interlace his passengers in a zipper-fashion, two lines facing eachother, with each person placing each of his or her knees into the crotch of the two people sitting opposite, meaning you will also recieve two knees between your legs, if this is done correctly you can easily fit nine fullygrown men into a space which was designed to seat only three. It was one of these seats I was dealt on my way back to Nampula and even before we had got on the causeway off the island I had lost sensation in both squeezed legs, the only feeling I could recognise was the burn of my barefoot against the warm metal which covers the engine. After biting my lip for 5 hours I got into Nampula once again and had planned to get a bus south to Beira the next morning but after getting the run around for a few hours and finding only expensive hotels I opted for a bus which would leave at 2 AM for Vilanculo as the busdriver let me stay on the bus overnight saving me one nights accommodation as well as getting me further south. The 20 hour trip was incident-free and the roads surprisingly good for the most part, but when I got off the bus it turned out I was still 20 km from Vilanculo so I had to get a lift on a pickup before finally getting to a guesthouse with warm showers and a bed.

Steamboat Paulie

The four of us boarded the Ilala, which is an old steamboat that has been trafficking Lake Malawi since the 1951, just after midnight. There is something oddly romantic about chugging along in an old vessel, sleeping under the stars on the wooden deck and just looking out across the waters, almost like timetravel bringing you back to colonial days. We arrived just before sunset at the small island of Likoma which lies in the Mozambique side of the lake but belongs to Malawi. Marcus and Kate left the following morning while Mitchell and I stayed on the secluded beaches, venturing into town and seeing the cathedral which looks slightly out of place and would be more suited for a small English town. After three nights we got back on the Ilala, however the romance was over as the tranquil lake had transformed into a small ocean and the 40 hour voyage was a bit rough, making sleeping on deck rather challenging. We were quite delayed by the time we reached our port of disembarkation, Monkey Bay, so the crew let us sleep overnight in a cabin before we could get on the back of pickup-truck taking us to the small beachtown Cape Maclear. We have now spent a few days here doing absolutely nothing, contemplating what our next move should be.

Africa$h

My travel trio had once again changed, Mitchell was still around but English Paul had been transferred for American Scott. We managed to catch the early morning bus from Dar Es Salaam towards the Malawi-border, however we were all running low on Tanzanian shillings and nobody wanted to exchange more so we decided to go without food or drink until we reached the new country, problems arose though when the bus didn’t take us to the border in time to cross that evening. We were forced to find a bargain of a room and then make our way to the crossing the following morning, however we didn’t have enough currency for both accommodation and bus ticket but some sneaky misleading manoeuvres made sure that the bus cost us nothing. Once in Songwe on the Malawian side of the border we were faced with our next dilemma, the exchange rates we were being offered for our dollars were pretty good, but we felt certain we could get better once we reached a bigger town, in Malawi at the moment the devaluation of the local currency Kwacha means that one can get almost double of the official rate if you find somebody on the black market willing to buy dollars. We didn’t arrive in the town of Mzuzu until it was once again too late to do any business but an albino man named Christopher was kind enough to guide us around and took us to a cheap hotel which would let us pay for our room the following morning when the black market would reopen, this did however mean that we would once again have to go to bed on empty stomachs. When we awoke the next door restaurant made us some eggs which were delicious after almost three days of starvation, and we could eventually find a rate which was satisfying, pay for our tabs and move to the nearby Nkhata Bay. The bay provided a much needed place for relaxation and over the next few days we relaxed on the sandy shores of Lake Malawi, going on boat trips and enjoying beach parties. Then we met Swedish Marcus and his Australian wife Kate who work for National Geographic, they were driving down the coast to Nkhotakota where a ferry leaves once a week for the island of Likoma, and they kindly offered us a lift, so while Scott stayed to complete his diving-licence, Mitchell and I tagged along with the couple towards new adventures.
In Camera related News:
“Once Bitten, Twice Shy?” Not for this author, one would think after learning the hazards of salt-water in the Red Sea he would have learnt his lesson but no, once again the blue waters were too tempting and after going for a swim with the camera it turns out that it is not resistant to fresh-water either, so watch this space to see if it is possible to repair it for a second time.

The Roads Less and More Travelled

Our group went in seperate directions, the Swedes flew to Mocambique, Canadian Paul and American Scott went to Zanzibar whilst us remaining four headed over the lush green hills into Burundi. According to unconfirmed facts Burundi is the poorest country in the world, something I find a bit hard to believe. Our visas only allowed us to stay for three days so as soon as we had found a hotel we got started on finding out was on offer in the capital Bujumbura, it turns out they have a busy market, a nice empty beach on Lake Tanganiyka and an amusing nightscene. After two nights we had to leave the country and while Eric went up to Kenya, the lure of beach-life made the other three of us get on a 30-hour busride across the entire width of Tanzania to Dar Es Salaam. In Dar we got a ferry across to the island of Zanzibar and it's capital Stonetown. Stonetown has shades of Lamu with it's Swahili architecture and twisting maze of alleys, but on a much larger scale. We slept one night in town and then headed up the coast to the paradise beach of Kendwa, where Canadian Paul and Scott were waiting. I don't use the word paradise lightly but this stretch of white sand definetly qualifies and I could easily have gotten stuck here for a very a long time but luckily I woke up one morning to the sound of rain which convinced me to get back into travelling mode and return to Stonetown. I stayed overnight and got lost in the labyrinth for a while and then got the ferry back to Dar Es Salaam  where I slept two nights before deciding that I was done with Tanzania and got a bus towards Malawi.

Mr Lava Man

After acquiring all the necessary paperwork required for our trip west, Mitchell and the three Pauls caught a bus to the Rwandan town of Gisenyi. We spent two nights here next to Lake Kivu preparing for our journey into The Democratic Republic of Congo, a rule of thumb that I have about countries is that if a nation puts the word Democratic in it's title it most likely does not exercise democracy. Crossing into the town of Goma didn't prove too difficult though as there were no bribes required and no real hassle. Our main reason for coming to this part of Africa was to climb Mount Nyiragongo which is the most active Volcano on the continent and had it's last devastating outbreak in 2002. The five hour ascent to the top through rainforest and over volcanic rock and lava-rubble was strenuous but once we reached the peak and could peer down into the largest lava-lake in the world, it was all well worth it as it was easily one of the most fascinating sights I have ever encountered. We spent hours just staring into the mesmerising effect of the red liquid below, then slept in cabins on the rim of the crater and started our descent early the morning after. Back in Goma we had a relaxed night out and checked out the huge market the following day. Our plan was then to head back into Rwanda but after a brief meeting with Major Arsene who is head of security in the region all that had changed. Instead we once again linked up with the two other Swedes and Americans and were having Scotch Whisky for lunch and acquainting ourselves with his various mistresses protected by two macho bodyguards. Needless to say we did not make it across the border that evening but had a night out which I doubt any of us will forget any time soon. Our second attempt at leaving the country was more successful and once we were back in Gisenyi we had a quick lunch and got a bus to Kigali. We spent a couple of nights in the capital and at the time of writing we are all preparing for one final night out before the crew will split and head in different directions.

Rwandabe

The bordercrossing was an easy one for me as Swedes for some reason are among the 4 non African nationalities which get free entry to Rwanda. Arriving in the capital was a bit of a shock as everything was so unafrican: clean, wide, palmlined avenues with streetlights, flowing traffic and drivers following traffic rules, buses with set prices, motorcycle taxis who will only take one passenger and offer helmets were just some of the crazy first impressions that met us. Rwanda has a very tragic history though as most of you probably know, just 18 years ago one of the crulest and most brutal genocides ever took place in the small landlocked country as over 1 million people were killed in a hundred days. We spent almost two weeks in Kigali visiting some of the sights, including a brilliant memorial museum, a couple of churches just outside the city which witnessed some of the worst massacers and Hotel Milles Collines where the events of the Hollywood movie "Hotel Rwanda" took place. Our visit to Rwanda happened to coincide with "Memorial Week" where the country pretty much shuts down to mourn the victims of the genocide. The first week we stayed in a youth hostel but then found out about a hotel which was going to be closed to the public due to the remembrance, so we linked up with a third Paul from England, two Swedes, an American and Mitchell who showed up in the fourth consecutive country, to turn the empty grounds into a boy's club complete with swimmingpool, tabletennis-, fussball- and pool-table. The main reason we all spent so long here was because we were waiting for our Congolese visas to be approved, which has now happened and thus we shall be making a move shortly...

Monkey Business

(Authors Note: I am fully aware of the fact that none of the animals mentioned in the following post are actually monkeys, but the title has a better ring to it than ape business.)

After being diagnosed with typhoid I decided some animal-cuddling was on the papers, and headed to Entebbe Wildlife Centre together with an American guy called Preston. We stayed overnight inside the zoo and the following day got an early start volunteering. Over the next 12 hours we helped out, cleaning the cages and feeding all the different animals. It was unbelievable how much we were allowed to do and in one day I not only saw "The Big Five" but even managed to pet them. However the absolute highlight of the day was the time we spent we spent with the orphan chimpanzee babies, a long lived dream I've had since I was a very young child, and saying goodbye to the little cuties was very tough. Back in Kampala I reunited with Canadian Paul and after a couple more days in the capital we moved across to the southern hemisphere and the small town of Kabale. The town itself doesn't have much on offer apart from it's proximity to Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, which isn't slang for a nun's vagina but a National Park that houses half of the world's existing mountain gorilla population. The permit for the park is a hefty 500 U.S. Dollars (soon to be raised to $750) and the taxi back and forth from Kabale costs $100, but I knew I would regret not seeing them when I had the chance. So there are only around 700 remaining mountain gorilas on the planet and roughly 300 of them live in Bwindi while the others can be found in the rainforests between Rwanda and The Congo. Tracking them was a strenuous trek through dense jungle but after just one hour we found the gorgeous creatures having breakfast in a clearing. You are only allowed to stay with them for one hour as not to disturb them too much, but it was truly amazing to see our distant relatives at only a few metres stretch in their natural habitat. Back in Kabale we met Desiree from Colorado and the three of us took a long hike followed by a short canoe ride at Lake Bunyoni, after having seen the beautiful landscape here we decided to come and stay in the surroundings. The first night we stayed on the mainland and swam in the safe (crocodile-, hippo- and bilharzia-free) waters. The morning after we got in a hollowed out tree trunk and paddled to one of the small islands on the lake, we stayed there two nights and allthough the rainy season is just starting it was a really tranquil and relaxing place to be. We then caught a ride back to the mainland, this time opting for the pricier but less labouring option of motorboat. On shore Paul and I said farewell to Desiree and made for the border of Rwanda.

Up Shit Creek, But With A Paddle...

I got a bus from Kampala with a Canadian guy I met in at the hostel, confusingly also named Paul, and got to Bujagali-Falls ready to do some whitewater-rafting. The falls lie just outside the small town of Jinja, close to the source of the White-Nile. Rafting was exhilarating and at points, when the raft flips or the rapids throw you off, terrifying. Being tossed around under the strong waves for what feels like minutes only to then bob up and get stuck under the rubber-boat can be pretty scary. It wasn't quite as full on as I had expected though, when you're going down through some of the world's best rafting rapids it's all very exciting, but then between them it can be a long stretch of the Nile which you slowly paddle or just drift along. Paul and I stayed in Jinja two nights, going on the inaugural boda-boda (motorcycle) pubcrawl and relaxing at our hostel beautifully perched on a cliff overlooking the starting point of the river which has been following me for a few months, allthough this was probably the last time I see the murky waters for a long while. Then we headed back to Kampala and our crowded backpacker's hostel where once again Mitchell had caught up with me, and we could all enjoy the nightlife and general mayhem which is Kampala. Today I decided to go to the doctor as I haven't been feeling 100 percent for the past two months or so, and I finally caved in. It turns out I have typhoid fever, and I will be on medication for a fortnight, however I am determined to not let this bring me down and the quality of the blog will hopefully not suffer...     

Kampalone

Kisumu is the third largest city in Kenya, however this doesn't mean there is very much to do. It lies on the shores of lake Victoria, unfortunatly the shores are lined with garbage and it doesn't make for a very nice beach-promenade. We spent three nights in the city which was also the end of the road for Elias. He got a job offer back in Stockholm and as I travelled towards the Ugandan border he was heading back to Nairobi to catch his flight. It is very strange to be travelling alone after having my faithful companion by my side for the past five months, but I will do my best to stay safe on my own. The trip to Uganda took me back into the northern hemisphere and through your run of the mill frontiertown of Busia. It's strange crossing manmade borders where the nature seems to know it should change to give you an indication of being in a new country, and on this crossing the arid yellowish landscape transforms into lush green jungle almost imediatly. Once in Kampala I didn't have to worry about being solo as the Backpackers Hostel was like stepping into the South East Asian travel scene, with a huge number of youngsters sitting around playing drinking games. Seeing as I now know about half of Israel's population I inevitably bumped into four more which I had met in different Ethiopian locations, also Patrick, an American teacher working in this area of the world who I first met in Ethiopia randomly showed up at the hostel. I spent five days walking around the hilarious chaos of the city centre, seeing Gaddaffi's Mosque, savouring the slightly tastier cuisine and just generally lounging about. Tomorrow morning I head to Jinja where I will take on the Nile and do some whitewater rafting, but more about that when it's actually been done.

100th Blogpost, Kenya Believe It?

Mombasa is East Africa's busiest port and as I mentioned before Kenya's second largest city. It isn't the nicest place on the planet but the old town with winding alleyways and carved wooden doors does have a charm to it, with Fort Jesus being the main landmark. We met Mitchell (Australian guy who was part of the original Somaliland-Crew) here for what turned out to be a fun night out, even though it did make the long bus ride back to the capital slightly less fun the morning after. In Nairobi we were kindly offered shelter by Pete and Sarah who we had only just met in Diani a few days earlier. They spoilt us rotten with delicious home-cooked meals, a true blessing after the Kenyan food which is probably the blandest and most limited cuisine I have ever experienced, most of the time the only thing on offer is beans, which let's face gets pretty dull after a few spoonfuls let alone weeks. At the weekend Elias and I took a trip west to Lake Naivasha spending two days in the area. As soon as we got there we went to the small Lake Kongoni which from a distance looks like a normal lake with a pink beach, getting closer you realise this pink beach is actually hundreds of thousands of flamingos congregating along the shores which was a remarkable sight. On the walk back to our lodge we saw plenty of giraffes at just a few metres distance, zebras, gazelles and hippos. Our second day started bright and early with a biking safari in Hell's Gate National Park on the schedule. It is very rare to be allowed to go into the national parks without guides and motorised vehicles in Kenya so given the chance we had to take it. Our animal sightings were however very limited and our stroll on the previous day, which didn't have an entrance fee attached to it, saw the same if not more interesting wildlife. The savannah-scape was beautiful though, allegedly the inspiration for the animators of "The Lion King" cycling between jagged red cliffs and gorges it wasn't hard to believe this rumour. Biking in a reserve though is no walk in the park, and with the bashed up bicycles we were given it was pretty punishing going up steep inclines in sandy dirt tracks, to be honest it was probably good we didn't see any of the more dangerous animals that have been seen on the site as we would have been easy prey. After this weekend we went back to our generous hosts who just kept on treating us as kings with more amazing food, so on our last night with them we decided we wanted to give something back and took them to the restaurant aptly named Carnivore. This is not an ideal place for vegetarians as the waiters keep bringing you meat of all different kinds: the usual beef, chicken, turkey, lamb and pork with more unusual cuts of crocodile, ostrich and ox-testicle, until you put the flag on your table down and surrender. I can honestly say I have never been so full in my life, and the stomach cramps I had after this session were almost on par with what I experienced having appendicitis, but it was worth every bite. The following day we had the healthy option of frozen yoghurt for lunch and then caught a matatu going west to the city of Kisumu.

Life's a Beach

We limited our time in Kenyas two largest cities, Nairobi and Mombasa, to as little as we could, wanting beachlife and knowing that we would be coming back to both at some point soon. So after hitting the porttown we started an itinerary of beachhopping along the Swahili- Coast with our first leap being to Shimoni. In the tiny fishing village just a few kilometres from the Tanzanian border we met up with a group of Israelis we had first met in Addis Ababa and stayed two nights camping with them and exploring the mangrove shores. After Shimoni, Elias and I moved on north to Diani, one of the most postcard- perfect beaches I've ever seen, where pearly white sand lined with coconut palmtrees meets the turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean. It was also in Diani that Emily decided to make an unexpected return to this blog, faithful readers may remember her from the start of the trip in Berlin, Prague and Hungary. She took a short trip to her Fatherland of Kenya together with her sister Mokasa, and we met one night in Diani. Otherwise our time here was spent doing exactly what we had intended, namely not a lot during the days and a few drinks in nice company during the hours without sunlight. Our next stop was Malindi, a small town with a beach which after Diani felt only mediocre also the place is flooded with Italians making it even less appealing. However we did manage to meet up with Emily and Mokasa here for a bit longer this time making it more pleasant. We made an excursion to the nearby beach of Watamu one day which was a much more interesting location. In the morning the tide goes out for hundreds of metres leaving coral and rockpools exposed to our greedy eyes, then after midday the tide comes back in with the difference in depth going up to as much as 3 1/2 metres. Next on the list was Lamu, an island I had heard many positive reviews about, and my high expectations were well met. As soon as you step ashore you step into a new relaxed world, no motorised vehicles to be found, instead an army of some three thousand donkeys patrol the narrow alleys of the gorgeous old town. We spent a few days getting lost in the labyrinth of mosques, markets and Swahili architecture and one day on the beach Shela, the flat island is however very vulnerable to the elements and our entire stay was accompanied by strong winds. Sadly tourism here has been hit hard due to it's proximity to Somalia and the Al Shabbab with a couple of kidnappings and murders occurring on and around Lamu in the past year. After leaving the island-life something unusual happened as I backtracked on myself, something that very rarely happens on my trips if it isn't necessary, but when we heard Itamar and Rei (two of the Israelis) were in Diani, we changed our plans of heading inland and chose to get one last sip out of paradise. We had a great barbecue back in our old campsite joined by all the monkeys and an English couple living in Nairobi called Sarah and Pete. After this one last indulgence our holiday from holiday was over and we got our sunburnt bodies back to citylife in Mombasa.

Moyale, Mo Problems!

Moyale doesn't really have a lot to offer apart from being a border town, so after a few hours sleep we got out packs on our backs again and started looking for means of transport taking us even further south. After a few hours haggling we managed to get a ride with a truck carrying stinking cow hides. During my travels I have been on many a bad road but the one between Moyale and Marsabit is a very possible contender for worst road ever, even calling it a road is doing it too many favours. And not only is the stretch of dirt bad it is also infamous for it's banditry and just days before our passing the area had blossomed into a tribal war, leaving traces of burnt down huts and school buildings along the way. We sat on top of the truck in scorching sun on the extremely bumpy and dusty dirt-track gripping onto the iron bars for dear life over 11 hours before finally reaching Marsabit. By the time we arrived every muscle had been exercised with the glutus maximus taking most of the punishment and the warm shower which awaited at our hotel was one of the most rewarding I've ever taken. The following day was spent exploring Marsabit which is your typical roadside African town, kind of like something out of an old western movie, containing a bank, a small market, some small bars and a few dodgy hotels/brothels all set along a red dirt road. Surrounding the town is a number of extinct volcanic craters which we tried to find, however the one which we did see was flooded and not very special. After two nights we continued on the bumpy road to Isiolo this time choosing the slightly pricier and more comfortable option of bus, about halfway into the drive our behinds were blessed as the Chinese labourers had managed to put down tarmac for the rest of the journey. Isiolo is pretty much a larger version of Marsabit with the same commodities on offer just in a wider variety set along an asphalt road and with Africa's second highest mountain, Mount Kenya, as it's backdrop. We did the usual walkabout and then moved on toward Nairobi. Our first minibus took us to Nanyuki where we could get on the back of a motorbike which dropped us at the equator. At the imaginary divider of the world we could stare in amazement at the wonders of physics as Coriolis Effect was demonstrated to us before getting several cramped vans to the Kenyan capital.

Addis Abyebye

Crossing back into Ethiopia went just as well as the journey had in the opposite direction. In Harar we all got back to the touristway of thinking, walking around yet another ancient walled city, however this may be the most charming so far with narrow alleyways leading between colourful houses. At night wild hyenas roam the streets, they are very tame though and we could even hand feed them raw pieces of meat. After a few days savouring the liquids available in a country which doesn't impose Sharia law we once again headed for the central hub which is Addis Ababa. We only stayed two nights on this visit then split with our newfound travelbuddies and said one final farewell to the capital and it's inhabitants we had come to know over the past six weeks or so. Elias and I then commenced a long southward bound stretch with it's first stop being Shashemane.
Shashemane is a small town surrounded by land which was once donated to the Rastafari movement by the late Emperor (or Rastafari God) Haile Selassie. After wandering around for a few hours we finally found the dreadlocked population and it's quite remarkable to find a slice of the Caribbean dead in the middle of rural Africa. Reggaebeats and Jamaican accents mixed among the bananaplantations with scents of West-Indian cuisine and marijuana, but sadly it was full of hustlers who were all out to get our money so we were quite relieved when we could get a ride to Awasa. We had intended to spend some time in Awasa, but we couldn't find any decent accommodation so we decided to keep moving south and thereby shorten the following day's travels. We got to Dila where we slept for a few hours before getting an early bus which took us to the frontier-town of Moyale, here we could cross over to the Kenyan side of town and find a place to sleep. It was a bit sad to leave Ethiopia which has been our home for a long time and I'm going to miss a lot of things: the friendly and beautiful people, the difficult language of Amharic where a simple phrase like "thank you" has six syllables, the bustrips which on a map look like a few hours at most but end up taking two days due to mountanious terrain, vehicles in bad condition and strange road-planning and of course the cheerful jeers of "YOU! Give me money!" On the other hand it is nice to know that we have only just entered a new country with loads of new impressions to come.

SoPauliland

So let's start with the facts: Technically Somaliland is still a part of Somalia, but it declared independence after the civil war back in 1991, has it's own government, constituion and currency, however it has not yet been recognised as an indepent state by any other country or organisation so until then will have to make do being grouped in with Puntland and Somalia as one official country. Out of these three autonomous regions though Somaliland is by far the safest and most stable at the moment.
After getting settled down in Hargeisa, we walked around the busy streets lined with stalls either selling bushes of the mild drug khat or fat wads of the local currency Shilling. After exchanging about a kilos worth of banknotes, our next mission was to aquire all the necessary permits, personell and papers needed to be able to move around the country. First we visited the Tourist Ministry where we after alot of haggeling managed to get access to the sight of Laas Geel, that was followed by a visit to the Police HQ where we were granted permission to travel freely between the capital and certain destinations without armed guards, our last task was to find a driver and a car who could fit five tourists and an armed guard. We managed to get everything sorted without too much hassle, and after two days in the capital we could move on north. Our first stop was Laas Geel, a desert landscape with a number of caves containing some very well preserved cave paintings from an unknown era depicting different animals (mostly cows) and humans, and suprisingly the colours are still very vivid. After this our driver drove us to the coastal town of Berbera, where we could also dismiss our private bodyguard. Berbera was a busy fishing harbour once upon a time, but today it's a dormant porttown with a small market and a few shipwrecks in the dock. A short walk from town there is a pristine sandbeach which stretches for miles and there isn't another person as far as even binoculars could see. We stayed in Berbera for three days soaking up the sun (perhaps a bit too much) tasty fish, tea and juices then got a taxi back to the capital. Here we got stuck into more of the paperwork, first getting permission to leave the country and then getting a new visa for Ethiopia, this also worked out after a bit of struggle and with any luck we should be arriving back in Harar, Ethiopia before sundown tomorrow. Somaliland turned out to be a very pleasant surprise, and to be honest up until about a week ago it wasn't really on my radar for this trip. We got the odd stone thrown at us, some insults hurled our way and the occasional deaththreat slipped under our door, but in general all people we encountered were friendly, genuinly happy to see tourists in their country and interested in where we came from. I never felt unsafe during my time here, and you know you're in a fairly safe place when people pile up huge stacks of money on the side of the street without any fear of being robbed. But now the time has come to leave this "country" in order to do so successfully though I need to catch 40 winks.

Spontaneous Travels

Bahir Dar was a nice enough, quiet, lakeside town where we relaxed for two days. It is also located close to the source of The Blue Nile, so one day we went to see The Blue Nile Falls. They were pretty albeit not as powerful as they once were, our impression was slightly hampered due to it being dry-season but also because a hydro-electric has been built nearby, minimising the flow of water. After our time here, we took a very delayed bustrip back to the world's third highest located capital where we reaquainted with our brothers and other travellers we've met in the country, and just kicked back for a few days. Back in Addis I was also reminded how small the world is, when I bumped into Theo, a friend I know from Stockholm. Unfortunatly our travel iteneraries were opposite and he was making his way back north  to Europe as we were moving south. Or at least our original plan was to move south, but then one morning we woke up and decided to go east instead with a group of people heading for Somaliland. The gang consisted of two Australians: Oliver and Mitchell, Austrian: Danyal, Singaporean: Paul and us two Swedes. After reaching Harar, Mitchell decided to slow down for a while, while the remaining five of us caught a few different cramped vehicles before finally crossing the Somaliland border and reaching it's capital Hargeisa.

Are You Gonder Come My Way?

Aksum was once where Queen Sheba had her throne but today it is only a small, dusty town with a few reminders of it's former greatness. There is a large number of stelae (stone pillars, similar to Egyptian obelisks) ranging from 1m to 33m in height and tombs marking the graves of Kings and Queens of the past but more significantly it is where the Ark of the Covenant rests. I say this as if it were fact but nobody is allowed to see the famous stone tablets which Moses brought down from Mount Sinai, and us foreigners, or "Farangis," aren't even allowed to come near the chapel where they are allegedly held. Aksum also marked the spot of my first illness for the trip. I have somehow managed to stear clear of any disease for over 3 months, but I picked up some form of food poisoning with the only real suspect being a chocolate donut I had splurged out on. After recovering from the short bug we got on a very bumpy, sweaty, dusty and long busride to the town of Gonder. Gonder is often dubbed as the Camelot of Africa, and with it's history and medieval-looking stone castles set within a walled enclosure it's not hard to see why. We strolled around the 17th century compound (hopefully marking the last of our "historic building and sights-tour" for a while) and also managed to squeeze in a short trek of the Simien Mountains to do some monkey-spotting including the endemic Gelada Baboon. After 3 days we moved on south to Lake Tana and the small town of Bahir Dar.