Jessie Goes….

We packed in our camp today first thing, right at dawn. I’ve seen more sunrises in the past week then I have in a combined amount of years. The water lilies were still all shut in the early morning sun as we glided back out of the delta. It was chilly to say the least, and the lilies had the right idea.

We only had a limited day of planned activities, and with the exception of running the bus smack into 2 large guinea fowl at 160kph (they bounced) we were well on our way to actually relaxing at a safari lodge called Planet Baobab by about 1pm. The entire afternoon to do nothing.

Baobabs are monster trees which look like someone ripped them out of the ground, chopped off the puffy leafy part and planted it back upside down with the roots for branches. They live on average 3 or 4 thousand years which explains their enormous size, though in a mans lifetime they don’t change enough for their to be a noticeable difference if a picture were to be taken of the man beside the tree at birth and gasping for his last breath. The tree would look exactly the same. Another baobab fact is that they are nearly always bare… they apparently bloom white flowers at night at one period each year, and if you miss that, or expect them to show during the day, you are out of luck. They are pollinated this way, at night, by fruit bats. Okay, one more fact…they hold about 32,000 gallons of water for themselves in reserve to beat the harsh desert like conditions they deal with on a regular basis. I guess that could explain the size too.

Planet Baobab, as you might expect, has a ton of these monsters, and is the best place we’ve stayed so far, in large mudhuts. They aren’t particularly traditional, I’d suspect, with running water, high ceilings and the like, but I was happy of a day of not too traditional. Katie, my roommate and I looked like little dust bunnies who hadn’t showered in a month, not just a few days, so the hot shower in our hut was particularly becoming! Namibia and Botswana are arid countries and despite the foliage the dusty silty dirt is everywhere and in everything.

The mudhuts themselves are on the dark side, with limited windows, and my guess is that the bugs might be something spectacular in the wet season. The common area however, had a great vibe and great bar/lounge/reading area with african masks and vintage african pictures and memorabilia on the open aired hut walls. Exactly what you’d picture yourself sitting in with your safari hat on drinking afternoon cocktails.

It was an afternoon of relaxing, showers, hanging by the pool and lazing around and an evening of mixed drinks, some Australian beats, and even some dancing by an inspired few.

You might be noticing that my entries are waayyy shorter than usual. Some of you might even be happy about it. 🙂 but seriously, it is a task just getting to an internet connection here, and they are running on tandy 1000s with a 1992 version of aol online, and 10 computers sharing that connection. I’m actually missing the days of Windows Vista (heaven forbid). So anyhow, unless a miracle in modern technology happens, I’m going to keep these short and sweet, as most go into my spiral bound notebook, and I can write at about a tenth of the pace I can type, and, well, I just get bored. Same with the pictures… the several I’ve uploaded have taken about 20 minutes apiece. When I get home I’ll backfill, but for now, 1 or 2 every so often are gonna have ta do ya.

In true safari style camp roused before dawn for a bush walk. Unllike most areas tourist can visit wild animals, you are on foot in Botswana in this area, instead of in a safari vehicle. Lions, elephants and nearly all animals see trucks as part of the scenery, sort of like a tree or termite mound, it is neither hunter or hunted so generally you can get 10 feet away and the animals act like you aren’t even there.

Clearly, not so on foot: you become either prey or predator depending on whose looking at you. The cats will eat you, the elephants and hippos will stomp you, and the zebras gallop away. Its a different feel. Walking through the bush I feel like Wild Kingdom with the twacking of the grasses underfoot, a british voice in my head saying stuff like, “here is the lone elephant, largest of the land animals.”

So, the upside of the walking safari is the physical activity and the mano y mano nature of the journey. The downside is that you can’t really get too close to the animals. Either you don’t want to or they won’t let you. Also 5 hours later, one is REALLY considering the benefits of motorized transportation!

Getting into my mokoro with Kim, a friend I’ve made on the trip, it was the first time so far this trip that I’ve felt “now this is what I’m here for”.  Seated in a reclining position amongst the bags and gear, at first we sat very still – the mokoro was exceedingly thin – a slight movement right or left resulted in a much more exaggerated movement for the boat.   The driver of the boat (or poler) stood at the aft with a long poll and pushed off the bottom of the Okavango riverbed, sending us on our way.

The Okavango is a river that begins in Angola, works its way through Namibia and then deltas into the Kalahari desert in Botswana.  It is the only inland delta in the world, with the entire river eventually dissappearing into the sand.    The waterway we are on is choked with water liles and reeds, but the path is deep and crystal clear.  Its also freezing cold and in stark contrast to the day which is hot and dry.   The reason the river is so clear and pure, according to the locals, is because a)the billions of reeds have a flitering effect on the water, and b)there is almost no agricultural or other industry on the entire length of the river.  Imagining that all rivers must have been like this only 3 or 4 hundred years ago,  I laid back and watched the delta grasses go by, the gentle rocking motion of the our poled ‘motor’ so soothing that Kim passed out a few minutes in, behind me in the boat.

I wasn’t sleeping, but I was pretty comfy cozy too.  Despite numerous warnings everywhere about getting into African waters I ran my hands languidly through the chilly river as we quietly glided upriver, keeping the heat at bay.

We set up camp as the waterway opened, right on the banks, while the native Botswanans with us built a fire.   We struggled to set up our steel poled tents, and years of camping experience with fiberglass bendy polled tents did not come through for me. 🙂

I am happy to be in Africa this night.  The animal noises (there was an elephant right outside our camp), bugs and bellfrogs set the perfect mood music for our groups convivial wine and campfire roasted steaks.  The cards and long tales finally made their appearance.

Driving into Botswana from Namibia is long long and boring.  The landscape is unvaried and by and large hardscrabble desert.   I listened to an entire book on my ipod during the drive, and I’m going to have 10 of these blog entries written in my notebook before I actually get to post them, as all potential internet connections actually don’t work when called upon.   Today we arrived in Maun at a reasonable hotel which had an INTERNET CAFE!  I was so excited.  However, the cafe closed at 4pm, so of course, all safari groups would never get a chance to use it, as everyone gets in around 5 and leaves around 8!  ah well.    Boy this is Africa.  I might have to resort to posting mail too.

The one interesting thing that did happen today was the foot and mouth plague official safety stops.   The official, who wasn’t in a very good mood and didn’t like our tour leader (no surprise there), made us unpack the entire bus and go through the luggage looking for shoes.    Once all shoes were acquired, we were all required to go and walk through a little puddle of foot and mouth disease solution, which was barely there, but then we were allowed to step just where are disease ridden selves had just walked to get to the puddle.    It didn’t seem effective in the slightest!   But it made the official happy.   An exercise in bureaucratic ridiculousness – which given shoddy controls is more than likely spreading the disease as all shoes with or without the disease are trodding around these pathetic container of solution.  My flipflops looked a little queasy this afternoon as a matter of fact.  No, seriously I am worried about them.

Maun, self titled the ‘adventure capital of Botswana’ is an outpost town near the Okavango Delta.   Tomorrow we are headed out into the Delta in our mokoro canoes…. I’d like to say that if you don’t hear from me its because the hippos got me (or foot and mouth disease)… but more likely its just because I can’t text/email/call out of here.    We are going to be camping out in pitch tents for the next couple of nights, which will hopefully be a good time ‘away from it all.’  And I’m also hoping that varied stories of wildlife joining in by the campfire are greatly exaggerated.

I am in the Middle Eastern part of Namibia, in a one horse town where the horse is long dead.   My hopes for internet dashed immediately, and I still have items to attend to in the personal life.    Lesson learned… get all your crap done before you leave for Africa.     My worldphone (that hot phone sold in the US by CDMA providers) which allows “world” access, doesn’t work at all – neither their sim card or any other international card provided.  GRRRRRR.  Not terrible except for every other non-american phone is working just fine.   We have the worst phone service in the world, I’ll conclude, again.

Anyhow, my impressions thus far are mixed, our guide, a native South African, I’d say about 60 years old, has rubbed the entire group the wrong way, and you now how much a good guide can make or break a trip.    Fortunately, the highlights of Africa should still conquer this.

We are headed generally towards the Kalahari Desert and are staying the night in Gogobis (that dead horse town I mentioned).  The town itself offers nothing, minus a slightly menacing feel, but just outside the town we visit a large ranch, to meet some Kalahari Bushman (San Tribe).

The government at one point used to subsidize the Bushman, similar to Native American lands in the US, but that is now no longer the case.    The San bushman have lived in these environs for about 10,000 years, but are now in the situation where they make deals with large ranches so they can continue their traditional ways undisturbed as much as possible from the outside world as  since 2006 the government refused to allow the Bushmen to hunt (it is considered illegal game killing in Namibia).  The Namibian government is now under global critism for this and other actions which has threatened their existance.

Anyhow, I’m not exactly sure how these agreements work with these large landowners and the Bushmen, but I suspect the deal is “if you let us live here and do our own thing we will talk to tourists every so often and you charge them”…   aside from these tourists visits they are trying their best to maintain their old ways, which are hunter/gatherer in nature.  They live in simple made huts for the coldest nights only, and keep a fire always burning.

Generally they hunt with bows and arrows for native game, with exception of the ostriches, who can see the hunters coming from a mile (literally) away. Since the osterich is a primary staple to the Bushmen (they use the hide for clothing, bones for arrows, feathers for bedding and eat the meat), they have devised this great hunting method.     Ostriches, first of all, can’t digest for themselves and must eat stones and bones to do so.  The Bushmen create a neck noose held down from a bent tree which is baited with a really ‘desirable’ piece of rock.  I kid you not.  It is apparently near to 100% irresistible to them  and once noosed around the neck it tends to really freak out and choke itself to death.  Occasionally it pulls its head off.

Some other cool facts:  They speak in a clicking language varietal which is specific to the Kalahari Bushmen only.  They cannot communicate effectively with other bushmen tribes which could clearly be one of the issues with their currently plight, along with the fact most speak no English, nor join modern society to represent themselves.

Laurens van der Post wrote a famous book The Lost World of the Kalahari, which is a good account of their plight.

I woke up at 2am yesterday morning Capetown time…which will be 1am Windhoek time. Jetttt Laggggg.

So for my first night in South Africa, I was chilling out in my room, my overhead reading light (a disk light on the wall, what you might normally find on a ceiling) is on and I’m reading, watching soccer, doing my thing when I just happen to look back at the wall behind my bed, to discover that in the past hour, not one, not two, but I would estimate something on the order of 10k ants have swarmed the light. It looked like 2 or three anthills of tiny ants swarming over the thing. It was crazy. So I went to the front desk and asked for some bug spray which they promptly gave me, and I sprayed those ants with gusto. They basically blew up or melted on impact sending thousands of ants, in clumps all over the floor, the bed, the night stand. I then went on to spray the walls and windows. I have surely shorted my life by several years.

I left every light in the room on and went to take a shower and when I got back…NO ants.
At 2am, still no ants. I have killed an entire colony of ants.

The flight to Windhoek was super easy, and waiting for the shuttle for 20minutes (africa time), took about an hour and a half where a native women, super tan and reminding me of the Namibian version of Crocodile Dundee, kept me entertained with her stories of growing up in Namibia, her ideas on what would help fix africa, and of course, her opinions of US politics. Finally a few more joined us on the shuttle and we were off.

The landscape around Windhoek is super dry and arid, not quite desert, but not plains either. Its a beautiful sunny day with zero humidity. The mountains are craggy and dusty surrounding us on all sides. Namibia itself has only been a independant nation since 1990 or so, having been both a British Protectorate and a South Africa annex during various parts of the last 100 years. It has high rates of aids, and unfortuately a very wide gap between the poor and the rich. Today however, it’s not noticable, as the city looks very well off indeed.

Later yesterday evening I met with the safari group I will be with for the next week, and we all went to Joe’s Beerhouse, which was very african style upscale bar restaurant. Under the warmth of heatlamps and outdoor fires we ate meat. and more meat. My springbok was super good, and the rest of the gang partook in everything from zebra to crocodile, oryx, and some other ‘bok’ type animals. I think I’ve now eaten enough meat for the next month. Unfortunately, I’m not sure the menu is going to change all that much for the rest of the trip.

Being from Tampa these days, it was a long long long set of flights to make it to Capetown. Tampa to JFK to Dakar, Senegal (another country I can add to the list of places I’ve been where I didn’t leave the airport, so they don’t count), and finally to Capetown. About 24 hours after I started in the air. My actual intended starting point is Windhoek, Namibia, so after a quick evening at the Road House Lodge at the airport here, I’m back on a plane first thing in the morning. Will be back in Capetown in a few weeks to explore.

Landing in Capetown is spectacular btw, we flew directly over the Cape and back again. Its craggy mountainous shapes which run directly into some beautiful oceans. Colorful houses dot the landscape too. But this is all I’m going to see for now.

Tomorrow will start the real adventure and if I have anything adventurous to actually post (and I can find an internet cafe) you’ll be hearing from me! I’m excited. Or I will be once I get some sleep!

As anyone who has read enough of these blogs knows by now… I have trouble writing those last few days of each trip. But, instead of a final story on Birmingham and the trip back, I’ll give you a few factoids postscript style!

Here’s some facts, figures and musing as I find myself back in Tampa today:

Total Miles Traveled: 2047

Average Price of Gas/Gallon April, May 2008(Most Expensive): $3.45 ($3.59)

Average per day cost in gas: $30 bucks

Average Lodging Cost: $75

Most Expensive Lodging Cost after tax: $130 (Birmingham, AL)

Cheapest Lodging Cost: $18 (Lafayette, LA)

Things I wish my rental car had: Cruise Control. 50mpg. GPS.

Moon Pies encountered (eaten): 3 (2.5)

Number of Days with rain: 2

Number of Nights spent in tin shack during tornado warnings: 1

Number of Times car was up to its headlights in flash flood: 1

Number of Days with Temps above 80 degrees F, despite warnings: 1

Best (Worst) Views of the Mississippi River: Vicksburg, MS (River Road, LA)

Number of Times ate Red Beans and Rice: 4

Number of Times ate Oysters: 3

Number of Days where no fried food was included: 1 – there was a flood and tornados, didn’t eat dinner, ate moonpies which to my knowledge are not deepfried.

Alligators spotted: 25+

Great Blue Herons: 5

Snakes: 2

Vampires: 0

Boat breakdowns: 1

Times when Mapquest or Google Maps was way wrong: 4

Times when roadsigns said left, but meant right or straight: 6

Times I crossed the Mississippi (times by accident): 6 (2)

Number of hours of driving Sprint got zero phone service: 8

Voodoo dolls acquired: 2. watch out people, I haven’t assigned em yet!

One other quick note on general knowledge gained: here is a list of words New Orleans residents really really pronounce “unusually”: Chartres Street (said Charters), Burgundy Street (said Bur-GUN-dy), Vieux Carre (said voo ka-RAY), Calliope (said Cal-e-OPE)

And Finally, the basic route: Tampa, FL > Apalachicola, FL > Pensacola, FL > New Orleans, LA > Vacherie, LA > Breaux Bridge, LA > Lafayette, LA > Baton Rouge, LA > Natchez, MS > Vicksburg, MS > Clarksdale, MS > Oxford, MS > Tupelo, MS > Birmingham, AL > Montgomery, AL > Tampa, FL

Growing up in southern Virginia the word for uttering obscene phrases was called “cussing.” This was something I rarely did there, and I’ve always attributed this to having much younger siblings in the household with a penchant for uttering these phrases back to you at the most inappropriate of times, to the mortification of visitors.

Then, I moved to NYC, where cussing had never been heard of, but CURSING is an art form. On the trading floors across New York 4-letter words were as common a part of the vernacular as hello, I need coffee, and buy/sell. Elsewhere in the City they also flew out in casual conversations with rapid fluidity.

Now, even back in NYC, my non-trading floor self really tried to keep that language in check – my deep Virginia roots still cringed every time they heard a woman say something, “unbecoming.” Sexist, perhaps, but southern gentility still made some headway into Virginia. Anyhow, I generally reserved it for driving, where I’ll be d@mn*d, j-ck@ss drivers really got to me, tried to kill me often, and let face it – only a passenger or two was ever the worse for wear, and my potty mouthed self faded back into the recesses after just a few minutes.

The entire point of this being, this is the same girl now driving through Mississippi on an actual schedule, with an actual appointment, with someone important.

And, this is the same Mississippi of just a few days previous, only it had lulled me into amnesia by the amazing friendliness of the people, and two days of reasonable driving, with no turns (left or right) required.

D@mn! Sh*t! F— ( I still don’t like that one)!! WHO DESIGNED THE ROAD SYSTEM HERE??

I won’t get into it (die, Tupelo, die!) but suffice it to say, my nearly 2 months of southern “reconditioning” **(about 85% of the time these days I have stopped wishing dead on people, for instance) crumpled completely under the utterly inefficient stupidity.

Get me to Birmingham (lords name in vain), cause, like every good Southerner and NYer, I NEED A DRINK!

**I should note however, I did buy 2 voodoo dolls in New Orleans, so stay out of my way people, I’m not cured yet!

Totally drenched and fearing for my computers life, once again I streaked across what used to be the lawn to my little piece of sharecropper heaven. It was starting to get windy out too, I noticed and no sooner had I been in the door 30 seconds and the power went out. I stared out the window at the insane rain hitting the panes. If it kept up there would be a foot or more of standing water out there.

The lights came back on after about half an hour, and given the increased crappiness of the weather, I decided it was no food for the night, I would just get by on water and 2 moonpies!

I fooled with the old TV, which did get some channels, and as the wind was now really cranking outside and rattling things, I found the local weather. And thats when it dawned on me. We are in serious tornado country, and this continuous line of thunderstorms we’d been having for the past 5 hours was just the kind of thing that causes those things. The news confirmed my suspicions…there had been touch downs all over THIS county, 3 were already dead across the state line in Arkansas, and the weatherman was firmly insisting that all people watching this broadcast get into a safe room, or be prepared at a moments notice to go to the safest part of the house. I looked around me at the corregated tin roofing, and barnwood that surrounded me. “aw, crap (that isn’t what I said, but this is a G rated website)”. There is NO safe place in a shack. I wandered around and decided the shower in the bathroom would have to be it for me. It wasn’t really funny.

An hour passed by and those instances when the power was on, I watched the weatherman pointing out windsheer (it was currently 65mph right outside the window… my car was looking pitiful out there, and its left front wheelwell was totally under water. I was so glad it was a rental). The ground was fully a lake now, and the corregated tin roofs of the barn I could see out the window was flapping up and down in the wind making a racket and inspiring images of ripping off and coming whirling through the air wizard of oz style sheering my head clean off as I looked into the darkness.

Another hour and it was midnight and I just couldn’t take it anymore. My safe place was going to have to be my bed, because I was exhausted, hungry, and still never did get online :). (wifi was definitely out now). So I closed my eyes, visions of floodwater floating my bed across the room and tornados blowing my walls down were dancing through my head.

I woke up in the morning, still alive, still in bed, and all was quiet. A lot wet outside, but the sky was a perfect sunny blue, as if it was pretending it hadn’t done a thing the night before. Power lines were down but the water was receding. I spoke with Bill, the owner who was thanking his lucky stars that morning. Me too. I got in my very wet car, whose floorboards had been flooded, and headed outta town.