I got it into my little head that because I was in the thriving metropolis that is Lusaka, and because I have spent the last four months in the company of seven sports and music trivia driven males... a little bit of feminine R&R was in order. Unsure of whether a haircut or eyelash tint would be preferable, I enquired of cost and discovered that however unpractical it may be.. eyelashes were it. Perhaps the boys' economic judgement has rubbed off on me?
So there I was, lying in a beauty salon in Lusaka, thats the Lusaka in Zambia, awaiting an eyelash tint. The beautician approached armed with tweezers. It seems there was some confusion in the terminology... but when we had got around the fact that no, I did not want to pluck my eyebrows, or eyelashes for that matter, and that I wanted my eyelashes dyed... I was then posed with "what colour?"
At this point I was starting to think that perhaps this wasn't such a wise idea. Green?!
"I would like them to be dark." OK, not to worry, that would be fine. Could I please wait a moment?
Lying on the bed, awaiting her return, I started reflecting on this entry. I started imagining the dark stains under my eyes and the grief to be borne from the dudes...
She returned with a friend. Conversation reverted to some local language of which only the word "vaseline" was distinguishable. I then had my eyelashes closely examined by the pair, more discussion and then it began. After some soggy tissue, a little burning sensation, a sensation likened to the application of eyeliner when I was twelves, and a ten minute wait in which I further delved into the possible pictures of Twiggy-styled marks down my face... I was told to clean my face.
The result: nothing. And a whole lot of vaseline.
Apparently dye in Lusaka doesnt always work on light-coloured eyelashes! hmm...
The guys have rubbed off on me - I pointed out the fact that they were still blonde and that I shouldn't pay. She agreed. Thankfully! Classic experience though.. the joys of feminine wonders!
I went home and painted my nails.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
19 May 2008 - Zambia is great!
157km to Nyimba. That sounds worse than it is - we had a tail wind and motored it. However, it is at least six hours in the saddle, and whichever way you look at it, time in the saddle counts for something. Not to worry though, it is only 100km to Luwanga bridge tomorrow and apparently there are hot springs there.
It is now 7:50 and I am in bed and about to turn the light off! Madness. I am in a room with bottle green satin duvets and some pretty dodgy wallpaper. It gives the picture of Whitney Houston that was on the wall of my room last night a run for its money on the steaminess scale!
Zambia is great. In fact, more specifically, Zambians are great! They speak perfect English (are you noticing a theme here?!) and the are all smiles and friendliness. It is awesome. As we cycle past, kids run screaming towards us, or jump on the spot as if they have lost all bodily control. But they are screaming "How are you?" as opposed to "Give me my money!" - small things that can change your perception of a country.
It is a country that seems like it has a future. At least to me on my bike. Sure, there are towns that we pass through on a Monday afternoon and every person in the town is drunk out of their minds. But I have to hope that there is more to the story than I am able to understand.
We are desperately trying to get to Lusaka on thursday night and hence the crazy distances. That effectively means cycling 750km in 6 days. Why thursday? Friday can then be a day of internet that we can catch people in the office and get some work done... plus it leaves Saturday free to watch the Sharks win... A large portion of our time is currently spent planning the South African events that we are hosting en route. In fact, it is the same old story for me, when my mind is on something it keeps ticking at strange times and I cant turn it off! Awesome for getting things done. But maddening when one wants to just relax, take in an awesome day on the bike and forget about the heap of mails to press, corporate and personal contacts that need to get sent. Soon. It feels like we actually have no rest days on the trip - all free time is spent planning events or emailing corporates for donations. I need a holiday. Classic!
I am so happy to be here though.
Oh yes, I had a crazy shower experience tonight. It was the most public shower I have taken. A bucket of warm water, in a prison-styled cubicle with no doors. As I walked in a woman was merrily showering in the first cubicle completely unconcerned. So I attempted to do likewise. Though I did take my glasses off so that I wasn't able to see who it was that walked in and out.
As they say: ignorance is bliss.
Great shower in fact.
So fed and clean and in bed. 'Nite.
It is now 7:50 and I am in bed and about to turn the light off! Madness. I am in a room with bottle green satin duvets and some pretty dodgy wallpaper. It gives the picture of Whitney Houston that was on the wall of my room last night a run for its money on the steaminess scale!
Zambia is great. In fact, more specifically, Zambians are great! They speak perfect English (are you noticing a theme here?!) and the are all smiles and friendliness. It is awesome. As we cycle past, kids run screaming towards us, or jump on the spot as if they have lost all bodily control. But they are screaming "How are you?" as opposed to "Give me my money!" - small things that can change your perception of a country.
It is a country that seems like it has a future. At least to me on my bike. Sure, there are towns that we pass through on a Monday afternoon and every person in the town is drunk out of their minds. But I have to hope that there is more to the story than I am able to understand.
We are desperately trying to get to Lusaka on thursday night and hence the crazy distances. That effectively means cycling 750km in 6 days. Why thursday? Friday can then be a day of internet that we can catch people in the office and get some work done... plus it leaves Saturday free to watch the Sharks win... A large portion of our time is currently spent planning the South African events that we are hosting en route. In fact, it is the same old story for me, when my mind is on something it keeps ticking at strange times and I cant turn it off! Awesome for getting things done. But maddening when one wants to just relax, take in an awesome day on the bike and forget about the heap of mails to press, corporate and personal contacts that need to get sent. Soon. It feels like we actually have no rest days on the trip - all free time is spent planning events or emailing corporates for donations. I need a holiday. Classic!
I am so happy to be here though.
Oh yes, I had a crazy shower experience tonight. It was the most public shower I have taken. A bucket of warm water, in a prison-styled cubicle with no doors. As I walked in a woman was merrily showering in the first cubicle completely unconcerned. So I attempted to do likewise. Though I did take my glasses off so that I wasn't able to see who it was that walked in and out.
As they say: ignorance is bliss.
Great shower in fact.
So fed and clean and in bed. 'Nite.
19 May 2008 - hmmm
94km from Chipate to Katete.
I lie. 84km of cycling and 10km of walking.
I got a flat tyre and didnt have a pump or spare tube. Two gentleman that passed said it was only 2km into town.
Not quite.
I lie. 84km of cycling and 10km of walking.
I got a flat tyre and didnt have a pump or spare tube. Two gentleman that passed said it was only 2km into town.
Not quite.
17 May 2008 - 163km!
I haven't written in a while. We have done some things worth writing about, but not as much as today. 163km!
Lilongwe, Malawi to Chipata, Zambia.
This morning in Lilongwe, some dude was visiting our host and was incredibly relieved when our host explained why we were walking around in spandex. We forget what freaks we look like. This chap then proceeded to comment on how "brave" we were. "Brave?" - not quite the word I would use to describe this trip. "Mad", "ill-conceived", "suckers-for-punishment..." - now thats a little closer to the mark!
I am in my tent now. It has just gone 9pm on a Saturday night and we have just watched the Sharks secure a place in the Super14 semifinal. Every Natalian in Durbs is currently having the biggest bender ever... and I couldn't be happier. I am a loser, in a sleeping bag, with a tired body and heavy eyes. This is the longest day that I have cycled yet.
Good work, Didi!
Lilongwe, Malawi to Chipata, Zambia.
This morning in Lilongwe, some dude was visiting our host and was incredibly relieved when our host explained why we were walking around in spandex. We forget what freaks we look like. This chap then proceeded to comment on how "brave" we were. "Brave?" - not quite the word I would use to describe this trip. "Mad", "ill-conceived", "suckers-for-punishment..." - now thats a little closer to the mark!
I am in my tent now. It has just gone 9pm on a Saturday night and we have just watched the Sharks secure a place in the Super14 semifinal. Every Natalian in Durbs is currently having the biggest bender ever... and I couldn't be happier. I am a loser, in a sleeping bag, with a tired body and heavy eyes. This is the longest day that I have cycled yet.
Good work, Didi!
13 May - Mwandama's success story
Mwandama!
Another place we have heard much of and read about. Mwandama is the Malawian cluster within the Millennium Promise program. It is a cluster of six villages that is south west of Lilongwe towards Blantyre. The trip out there meant another hair-raising experience in a locally hired hylux with a door that literally came off. What was most telling perhaps is the lack of impact that this door-less vehicle had on its passengers – hey, we’ve seen, and been in, worse!
Mwandama was incredibly impressive. It is a village that is three and a half years into the program and has already made significant inroads into the world of sustainable development. Like Mbola in Tanzania, Mwandama is a Millennium village which is supported by locals working with locals for locals. The village chief, Mwandama, who has contributed land and payment in kind into the community project, and to whom the project owes its name, welcomed us with the grace of a humble old leader. It was an honour.
There were numerous successes of the project that impacted me:
In the agricultural area the project has constructed a massive structure that will be used to store village maize. The villagers had highlighted that they were losing maize to poor storage and were being exploited by being forced to sell when the market was flooded at harvest time. Now they will be able to defer sale until they are content that the price is right.
We met a local farmer that had initiated a natural irrigation scheme that was able to dramatically improve his output. Millennium Promise had further networked him with local supermarkets and he was supplying his vegetables to a market that was previously far from attainable.
We were shown water tanks that were being used to harvest rain water – the villagers explained that although they had recently had good rains, they were now prepared for a season of poor rainfall.
We met a woman who had started a home enterprise of embroidery and knitting. Through the involvement of Millennium promise she was able to access a loan via the bank that visited the village on Thursday afternoon. She is on the first tier of the loan structure and when she has repayed the loan she will be able to access a larger amount. She sat in front of us with her bank card and a level of pride to match.
None of these successes are new as a concept. These are initiatives that are already used across the development world. What is new is the idea of focusing on all these areas concurrently. The village of Mwandama has a level of potential above anything I have witnessed in Malawi and I have faith in the project succeeding. Mwandama has a chance at beating poverty.
Another place we have heard much of and read about. Mwandama is the Malawian cluster within the Millennium Promise program. It is a cluster of six villages that is south west of Lilongwe towards Blantyre. The trip out there meant another hair-raising experience in a locally hired hylux with a door that literally came off. What was most telling perhaps is the lack of impact that this door-less vehicle had on its passengers – hey, we’ve seen, and been in, worse!
Mwandama was incredibly impressive. It is a village that is three and a half years into the program and has already made significant inroads into the world of sustainable development. Like Mbola in Tanzania, Mwandama is a Millennium village which is supported by locals working with locals for locals. The village chief, Mwandama, who has contributed land and payment in kind into the community project, and to whom the project owes its name, welcomed us with the grace of a humble old leader. It was an honour.
There were numerous successes of the project that impacted me:
In the agricultural area the project has constructed a massive structure that will be used to store village maize. The villagers had highlighted that they were losing maize to poor storage and were being exploited by being forced to sell when the market was flooded at harvest time. Now they will be able to defer sale until they are content that the price is right.
We met a local farmer that had initiated a natural irrigation scheme that was able to dramatically improve his output. Millennium Promise had further networked him with local supermarkets and he was supplying his vegetables to a market that was previously far from attainable.
We were shown water tanks that were being used to harvest rain water – the villagers explained that although they had recently had good rains, they were now prepared for a season of poor rainfall.
We met a woman who had started a home enterprise of embroidery and knitting. Through the involvement of Millennium promise she was able to access a loan via the bank that visited the village on Thursday afternoon. She is on the first tier of the loan structure and when she has repayed the loan she will be able to access a larger amount. She sat in front of us with her bank card and a level of pride to match.
None of these successes are new as a concept. These are initiatives that are already used across the development world. What is new is the idea of focusing on all these areas concurrently. The village of Mwandama has a level of potential above anything I have witnessed in Malawi and I have faith in the project succeeding. Mwandama has a chance at beating poverty.
10 May 2008 - The price of education
Nkhata Bay to Ngala Beach was a very easy two days of 70km each. What a pleasure to be relaxed about the cycling again! And what a pleasure to be cycling along the lakeshore – it is gorgeous. You wake up to birdsong and the noise of the waves billowing up sand in a stubborn game of rock, paper, scissors between the elements.
This morning we only have another 70km before we hopefully get to a lodge that can show us the Super14 games – high priorities!
We are going to be visiting a local secondary school this morning which will should be interesting. It is a school for 200 students that is currently heavily undersubscribed because of the school fees of 1700mk for 3 months – that is the equivalent of R85 for a term. Scary thought. Surely there could be a way for these children to earn their fees? Potentially they could work for a lodge for a couple of hours a day and earn the fees. But then I forget that their families will be pretty desperate too, and another person in school is a cost to them.
Malawians seem to live on nothing. And more so than many places we have come through. I am not sure how these people survive and I am not sure there is that much hope around.
This morning we only have another 70km before we hopefully get to a lodge that can show us the Super14 games – high priorities!
We are going to be visiting a local secondary school this morning which will should be interesting. It is a school for 200 students that is currently heavily undersubscribed because of the school fees of 1700mk for 3 months – that is the equivalent of R85 for a term. Scary thought. Surely there could be a way for these children to earn their fees? Potentially they could work for a lodge for a couple of hours a day and earn the fees. But then I forget that their families will be pretty desperate too, and another person in school is a cost to them.
Malawians seem to live on nothing. And more so than many places we have come through. I am not sure how these people survive and I am not sure there is that much hope around.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
4 May 2008 - Mzuzu
Yesterday was rather happily ended – We arrived in Mzuzu in the dark and in the traffic and absolutely beaten by a seriously long day of cycling. A local man, James, escorted us to a place called Mozoozooo – a backpacker managed by an Englishman. We sat on couches, got served a great steak, had a warm shower and got into bed. Ah!
Today we do some admin in town and then cycle an easy 45 down to the lake to Nkhata Bay! Too excited. The three Irishmen and Twig are still playing catchup and so the whole team will be reunited in Nkhata Bay. I cannot wait. It has felt somewhat disjointed without the whole team around – I miss them!
Mzuzu - the first Bar one.. we are coming home!
Today we do some admin in town and then cycle an easy 45 down to the lake to Nkhata Bay! Too excited. The three Irishmen and Twig are still playing catchup and so the whole team will be reunited in Nkhata Bay. I cannot wait. It has felt somewhat disjointed without the whole team around – I miss them!
Mzuzu - the first Bar one.. we are coming home!
3 May 2008 - Saddle sores
Today ranks right up there with one of my worst days yet. I will not go into detail, but I have saddle sores that make it almost unbearable to sit on the bike. Then ask me to cycle 145km. At 55km I was in agony.
The only thing that made it more bearable was chatting to my father midway through the day. The conversation went along the lines of
"Oh yes, I’ve had one before, its very common in the cycling world. How many have you got?"
"Eight."
"Phew!"
Anyone who knows my father knows that he doesn’t dish out sympathy. When we were kids we weren’t sick unless we had a proper temperature. More so, he has earned a reputation of being pretty tough and a bit of a camelman… (he’s going to love reading this!)… and so, to hear him say how bad he found it, how sore they are and give me some solid sympathy… suddenly turned me from feeling very sorry for myself to being just a little hard core! Classic. From then on, the pain was something to suck up and toughen me as opposed to wallow in and break me down.
Travelling with seven men means certain conversations are off limits – this being one of them. So I get no sympathy from them because I cannot explain what I am dealing with. It is amazing how a little bit of understanding can change things!
So, I know you don’t want to hear any more of this – but this was right up there with being lost in the desert, or climbing Chilga mountain in Ethiopia.
There are days on this trip where you have to remind yourself that it is voluntary, that you have chosen to do this, and that more so, you are paying to do this! I paid to put myself through that level of pain today. That is a pretty bizarre thought. Crazy fool.
The only thing that made it more bearable was chatting to my father midway through the day. The conversation went along the lines of
"Oh yes, I’ve had one before, its very common in the cycling world. How many have you got?"
"Eight."
"Phew!"
Anyone who knows my father knows that he doesn’t dish out sympathy. When we were kids we weren’t sick unless we had a proper temperature. More so, he has earned a reputation of being pretty tough and a bit of a camelman… (he’s going to love reading this!)… and so, to hear him say how bad he found it, how sore they are and give me some solid sympathy… suddenly turned me from feeling very sorry for myself to being just a little hard core! Classic. From then on, the pain was something to suck up and toughen me as opposed to wallow in and break me down.
Travelling with seven men means certain conversations are off limits – this being one of them. So I get no sympathy from them because I cannot explain what I am dealing with. It is amazing how a little bit of understanding can change things!
So, I know you don’t want to hear any more of this – but this was right up there with being lost in the desert, or climbing Chilga mountain in Ethiopia.
There are days on this trip where you have to remind yourself that it is voluntary, that you have chosen to do this, and that more so, you are paying to do this! I paid to put myself through that level of pain today. That is a pretty bizarre thought. Crazy fool.
2 May 2008 - A little hardened?
My dad and some friends join us in Lusaka on the 25th. They will be sharing the cycling and driving and escorting us back to the Burra with the trusty green Landrover – a vehicle that has earned a place in our family, a little higher in ranking than the kids. But just after the dogs. I am so excited for them to join us. They will be bringing many home comforts but also just the familiarity of people who know me beyond this trip. It will be awesome.
I must also admit that I am a little anxious though. This has become my world, a world that although tough has become comfortable and familiar. It is a world that has dramatically impacted the way I see my life and the places that we have passed through. I believe that I have become a little more pragmatic about the way the third world works and more comfortable with my place in it. That’s not to say that I have become pessimistic about everything, just more cynical and critical of certain areas of development and cultures. I’m rambling, but I believe this trip has significantly altered my impressions and my future. Now add people that mean the world to me into the equation and I suppose I am nervous that they don’t find it as incredible and therefore undermine its power on me. I shouldn’t be concerned – but their opinion is so important. I feel like I have just spent the last four months working on an oil painting and now it faces a critical appraisal – the view becomes almost personal!
But wow – with my dad and his landrover come a freezer, a gas stove, and a whole heap of comforts that seem pretty luxurious right now. To be able to get a cold coke! There is also much banter about whether or not the team will lose their panniers. What is amusing is that if one team member decides to keep their panniers on the bike… it is very likely that pride will not permit anyone else to surrender. Interesting. My bag is currently falling apart, is covered in masking tape and blue plastic packets in a poor attempt at waterproofing, and may not make Cape Town… its early departure may be welcomed, but there is something about cycling into Cape Town carrying the same kit that we left Cairo with 6 months previously.
I am sitting on the beach with the morning wind coming off the water. A woman walks up to me and says hello. She walks a little closer, and then sheepishly crouches down and in an almost embarrassed, low tone says, "Give me my money," to which I reply, "No."
She asks, "No?"
I confirm this and she wanders down the beach. I am white and therefore a wealthy benefactor that one needs to ask for money. Before coming on this trip I struggled to say no. I struggled to look someone in their eye, face their need, and still say no. I don’t think I feel any less, I like to think that I have chosen my battles and have accepted that there will be some that I cannot assist. Perhaps this is simply a way to justify my actions to my conscience, but when you live in the third world and are faced with need daily, you need a defence. This is mine.
But as she walks away, I acknowledge that I am a little hardened.
I must also admit that I am a little anxious though. This has become my world, a world that although tough has become comfortable and familiar. It is a world that has dramatically impacted the way I see my life and the places that we have passed through. I believe that I have become a little more pragmatic about the way the third world works and more comfortable with my place in it. That’s not to say that I have become pessimistic about everything, just more cynical and critical of certain areas of development and cultures. I’m rambling, but I believe this trip has significantly altered my impressions and my future. Now add people that mean the world to me into the equation and I suppose I am nervous that they don’t find it as incredible and therefore undermine its power on me. I shouldn’t be concerned – but their opinion is so important. I feel like I have just spent the last four months working on an oil painting and now it faces a critical appraisal – the view becomes almost personal!
But wow – with my dad and his landrover come a freezer, a gas stove, and a whole heap of comforts that seem pretty luxurious right now. To be able to get a cold coke! There is also much banter about whether or not the team will lose their panniers. What is amusing is that if one team member decides to keep their panniers on the bike… it is very likely that pride will not permit anyone else to surrender. Interesting. My bag is currently falling apart, is covered in masking tape and blue plastic packets in a poor attempt at waterproofing, and may not make Cape Town… its early departure may be welcomed, but there is something about cycling into Cape Town carrying the same kit that we left Cairo with 6 months previously.
I am sitting on the beach with the morning wind coming off the water. A woman walks up to me and says hello. She walks a little closer, and then sheepishly crouches down and in an almost embarrassed, low tone says, "Give me my money," to which I reply, "No."
She asks, "No?"
I confirm this and she wanders down the beach. I am white and therefore a wealthy benefactor that one needs to ask for money. Before coming on this trip I struggled to say no. I struggled to look someone in their eye, face their need, and still say no. I don’t think I feel any less, I like to think that I have chosen my battles and have accepted that there will be some that I cannot assist. Perhaps this is simply a way to justify my actions to my conscience, but when you live in the third world and are faced with need daily, you need a defence. This is mine.
But as she walks away, I acknowledge that I am a little hardened.
1 May 2008 - Malawian nights
Life doesn’t get much better than this! Listening to eighties music while cycling along Lake Malawi. It’s Ladies Night Oh What a Night, and Sweet Child of Mine ringing in my ears, dancing down a mountain road that winds its way along the water. This rivals any Garden Route or Great Ocean road.
I am now sitting on the "beach", with my tent 20m away, and Gareth, Rich and Matt chatting to a mute through pictures in the sand. He’s explaining his fishing skills by drawing fish and making actions for pulling the nets in. The Southern Cross points the way to Cape Town. I’m coming home.
Africa is an unfair place and the haves and have nots confronts me every day. But let no-one dispute that it is beautiful. Tanzania was gorgeous and Malawi is holding that bar high. Everyday I have moments I want to catch but know that I can’t record. They flit past me on my bike. I can’t catch them – I have to keep on cycling. Out to my right a hulk of mountain comes down to the water, a light flashes on the top, and a further light flashes on the water’s edge. The road we take follows one of the two: Pray heavens it’s the lower one.
It has been crazy cycling and solid kilometres that keep ticking away. My legs cannot keep this up for much longer. I am physically shattered, and emotionally never better. It is simply gorgeous and daily I am amazed at this phenomenal experience.
The mute, John, is now drawing a clock in the sand and proceeds to explain how the evening star tells the time of night.
The day’s highs: Waking to the sun on the water; listening to Gwen Stefani and pumping my legs to her quirky rhythm; lunch at Chilumba at the jetty restaurant; long shadowed afternoons of greeting locals whilst winding my way along the cliff face; washing my hair in the lake; coffee now. It is a tough life!
It is never too easy to remember the lows, but they are always there: Hearing the alarm go before sunrise; the last 20km before lunch feeling finished and wanting to throw my bike into the water (if it weren’t for Gareth’s back wheel I could well have!); getting approached in the restaurant by a con man with a kid giving us a heavy story that this was an orphan – the kid ended up being his younger brother and was visibly upset because of the distance from its mother.
Ah yes – high: At lunch we were sat down at the table with our newly arrived food and the thirteen year old daughter of the house says, "Don’t you want to pray?" At first we thought she was asking us to pay for the meal before eating it and we were about to throw our toys in tourist’s disbelief at the ridiculous proposition… until she knelt on the floor and led us in grace. They were wonderful people. And that restaurant held my first authentic African long drop experience – can’t beat that!
Let’s not underestimate the cycling though! It has now been 1450km in 13 days with only 3 rest days, 700 km of which was on a dirt road. That is no joke. Today was our sixth day of cycling without a rest – and we have two to go before we take an extended break at Nkhata Bay. It’s heavy going and we don’t seem to be giving our bodies the time to recuperate. Maybe that is in the mind though – perhaps with each new day of going through the motions we will get stronger and tougher. But for now, my thighs are tight and my back side is not too comfortable and I have strange pang in my back. My skin feels weathered and I feel like a seasoned traveller that badly needs some home comforts and a Laundromat. A fresh salad would be pretty unreal too.
Not complaining – but it would be pretty good!
I am now sitting on the "beach", with my tent 20m away, and Gareth, Rich and Matt chatting to a mute through pictures in the sand. He’s explaining his fishing skills by drawing fish and making actions for pulling the nets in. The Southern Cross points the way to Cape Town. I’m coming home.
Africa is an unfair place and the haves and have nots confronts me every day. But let no-one dispute that it is beautiful. Tanzania was gorgeous and Malawi is holding that bar high. Everyday I have moments I want to catch but know that I can’t record. They flit past me on my bike. I can’t catch them – I have to keep on cycling. Out to my right a hulk of mountain comes down to the water, a light flashes on the top, and a further light flashes on the water’s edge. The road we take follows one of the two: Pray heavens it’s the lower one.
It has been crazy cycling and solid kilometres that keep ticking away. My legs cannot keep this up for much longer. I am physically shattered, and emotionally never better. It is simply gorgeous and daily I am amazed at this phenomenal experience.
The mute, John, is now drawing a clock in the sand and proceeds to explain how the evening star tells the time of night.
The day’s highs: Waking to the sun on the water; listening to Gwen Stefani and pumping my legs to her quirky rhythm; lunch at Chilumba at the jetty restaurant; long shadowed afternoons of greeting locals whilst winding my way along the cliff face; washing my hair in the lake; coffee now. It is a tough life!
It is never too easy to remember the lows, but they are always there: Hearing the alarm go before sunrise; the last 20km before lunch feeling finished and wanting to throw my bike into the water (if it weren’t for Gareth’s back wheel I could well have!); getting approached in the restaurant by a con man with a kid giving us a heavy story that this was an orphan – the kid ended up being his younger brother and was visibly upset because of the distance from its mother.
Ah yes – high: At lunch we were sat down at the table with our newly arrived food and the thirteen year old daughter of the house says, "Don’t you want to pray?" At first we thought she was asking us to pay for the meal before eating it and we were about to throw our toys in tourist’s disbelief at the ridiculous proposition… until she knelt on the floor and led us in grace. They were wonderful people. And that restaurant held my first authentic African long drop experience – can’t beat that!
Let’s not underestimate the cycling though! It has now been 1450km in 13 days with only 3 rest days, 700 km of which was on a dirt road. That is no joke. Today was our sixth day of cycling without a rest – and we have two to go before we take an extended break at Nkhata Bay. It’s heavy going and we don’t seem to be giving our bodies the time to recuperate. Maybe that is in the mind though – perhaps with each new day of going through the motions we will get stronger and tougher. But for now, my thighs are tight and my back side is not too comfortable and I have strange pang in my back. My skin feels weathered and I feel like a seasoned traveller that badly needs some home comforts and a Laundromat. A fresh salad would be pretty unreal too.
Not complaining – but it would be pretty good!
Sunday, May 4, 2008
28 April 2008 - Craziness continues
Tukuyu! I’m developing a bit of a routine here – too tired to write! 105 km today. The first 80 were up a hill. I should say “up a mountain”. We literally crossed a mountain range – frikkin ridiculous! It took us 6 hours to cycle 100km.
We have done 1200km in 14 days, 760 km of which have been on dirt roads. I am shattered and need endless sleep. Tomorrow Malawi – good times sleeping on the lake shore. Nite.
We have done 1200km in 14 days, 760 km of which have been on dirt roads. I am shattered and need endless sleep. Tomorrow Malawi – good times sleeping on the lake shore. Nite.
27 April 2008 - Haggling and home comforts
Makambako for lunch. 87km on the clock. Awesome. The hills are consistently followed by long easy downs that make the slow tick of the climb more manageable. No matter what length of cycle, and no matter how early in the day we arrive at our destination, a solid meal is always welcomed. We have just had lunch at the “Durban Park Hotel”! Classic. The boys are out to try and barter down some cheap rooms. Im not too good at that – I just get frustrated and give in! If I were doing this trip on my own, I swear it would cost double the amount – the patience of these guys amazes me. Haggling in Africa is hard work. “Shilingapi?” (no idea how you spell that!) and then a series of hand gestures … and when the price is determined… “Hai! Mzungu price!” and then the bartering starts… Last night we stayed four in a room, and got dinner and breakfast included for 6000 each: less than R50. Ridiculous. Money doesn’t grow on trees on a trip like this, but I have a whole heap to learn from the guys. My role has quickly become kit watcher while they go and haggle – My presence almost seems to undermine their work. He he!
The days have been pretty normal recently, not a whole heap of exciting things have been going on – we have been racing for the Malawian border. 3 days and counting. I cant believe how far we’ve come.
We’re in the process of trying to organise our South African leg and all the welcome events at home. I am so looking forward to it, that I have to remind myself that now is pretty good too!
I found Pronutro in a petrol station shop! We are getting close! Cant explain how good it will be to replace some of the chapatti. Home comforts.
The days have been pretty normal recently, not a whole heap of exciting things have been going on – we have been racing for the Malawian border. 3 days and counting. I cant believe how far we’ve come.
We’re in the process of trying to organise our South African leg and all the welcome events at home. I am so looking forward to it, that I have to remind myself that now is pretty good too!
I found Pronutro in a petrol station shop! We are getting close! Cant explain how good it will be to replace some of the chapatti. Home comforts.
24 April 208 - The end of dirt. We hope.
I was too tired to write last night. But it was definitely worth recording. 137km. crazy. We started at 6:45. we finished at 7:40. PM. That’s 13 hours. Sorry to spell it out for you, but that was probably 10 hours in the saddle. Needless to say, my rear end was a little bruised today. And today? We thought it would be 70, and it was 100. I am shattered. The first 50 km were basically uphill. I lie: 15 flat, 30uphill, down 5… These things might seem like random pieces of information, but to the cyclist? – pertinent pieces of information that tell a story. So imagine our complete irritation when the map somehow lost 30km!!! We are used to asking locals distances and getting anywhere within 200km either way of the actual distance, or alternatively getting answered in hours. Our solution is to take the median of many suggestions and hope for the best. But always trust the map. Except in northern Tanzania that is. Sheer frustration.
Today was the last section of dirt road! Yee haa! We had a photographic moment of three mzungus kissing the tarmac. Again, not something that many people can appreciate unless you’ve spent extended time trying to nurse your body through the dirt. That is the last meter of stones and bumps and sand. At least that is what our maps say.
What goes through your head on a ridiculously long day like today? Amazingly little. 36km left. 35. 34… No really. Today was gorgeous. We were cycling through lush, overhanging bush winding our way up a mountain. I am so tired that im struggling to make sense, and have little energy left to be creative. I will shut up now. Looking forward to dinner and bed and then tomorrow we rest.
Today was the last section of dirt road! Yee haa! We had a photographic moment of three mzungus kissing the tarmac. Again, not something that many people can appreciate unless you’ve spent extended time trying to nurse your body through the dirt. That is the last meter of stones and bumps and sand. At least that is what our maps say.
What goes through your head on a ridiculously long day like today? Amazingly little. 36km left. 35. 34… No really. Today was gorgeous. We were cycling through lush, overhanging bush winding our way up a mountain. I am so tired that im struggling to make sense, and have little energy left to be creative. I will shut up now. Looking forward to dinner and bed and then tomorrow we rest.
22 April 2008 - Life in Dodoma
I was wrong about the expat life in Dodoma! Gareth found it as he popped into the Anglican cathedral and introduced himself. In fact, quite a bit came of that visit: a visit to World Vision; a visit to a workshop for 70 local priests; a dinner with three Anglican missionaries… The McCanns are wonderful people. Maggie and Sandy and Martin were incredible hosts, are doing awesome work here, and are hoping to further boost our cause through their connections in the States. It is always refreshing for us to meet people who buy into this project and want to get involved.
We did just 30 km in the afternoon today – it feels a little like we got let out of school early! That said, we have two very tough days of cycling ahead: 127km and then 100km on dirt roads, where hills will be the norm. Somehow though, everyone is buzzing! Everyone is on such a high, team morale is right up there, dedication is there, we’re focusing on two things: cycling and raising money. Perhaps we can smell home!
We are currently cooking a little pasta on gas stoves. I am listening to Bach and watching kids count to five in English. I am having a moment! – things don’t get much better than this.
Oh ja! I had a mouse on my foot last night! I woke up to one in my bed. Turned on the light (although my writing belies my calm demeanour!). Made sure it was gone. Went back to sleep and then not more than half an hour later, I woke again to – it on my foot! Im quite serious. It then got caught in the mosquitoe net. I screamed and ran to find one of the guys. I am a gimp. But wow. This afternoon as I set off for the ride I noticed that it’d been drinking from my camelpak. Little gnaw marks on the mouthpiece served as a pretty reminder of my late night visitor.
We did just 30 km in the afternoon today – it feels a little like we got let out of school early! That said, we have two very tough days of cycling ahead: 127km and then 100km on dirt roads, where hills will be the norm. Somehow though, everyone is buzzing! Everyone is on such a high, team morale is right up there, dedication is there, we’re focusing on two things: cycling and raising money. Perhaps we can smell home!
We are currently cooking a little pasta on gas stoves. I am listening to Bach and watching kids count to five in English. I am having a moment! – things don’t get much better than this.
Oh ja! I had a mouse on my foot last night! I woke up to one in my bed. Turned on the light (although my writing belies my calm demeanour!). Made sure it was gone. Went back to sleep and then not more than half an hour later, I woke again to – it on my foot! Im quite serious. It then got caught in the mosquitoe net. I screamed and ran to find one of the guys. I am a gimp. But wow. This afternoon as I set off for the ride I noticed that it’d been drinking from my camelpak. Little gnaw marks on the mouthpiece served as a pretty reminder of my late night visitor.
20 April 2008 - Meeting the Prime Minister.. almost!
We arrived in Dodoma yesterday afternoon after another day of 97km on dirt roads. Heavy going. It has been six days of solid cycling and our reintroduction into the cycling regime has been a baptism of fire. The bikes and bodies are tired, but miraculously, both still fine. But we are now resting in Dodoma, managed to catch the Stormers game last night, and we are about to have a day of solid admin – Need to keep that cash flowing in!
As we arrived in yesterday we cycled straight into the Prime Minister’s office. We didn’t know where to stay, and Gareth figured that if anyone knew a good place to stay, the Prime Minister would. So we asked the guard if we could have an audience with the PM. The response was “Wait one moment, please.” Unfortunately, the Prime Minister is in Dar at the moment, but one of his economic advisors came out to meet us. Obey is currently doing his PhD in economics at the University of Cape Town. Within moments a couple of lecturers names were being bandied around. Good times. He’s pulling some strings with the PM’s personal assistant and seeing if we can meet the man on Monday. Craziness continues.
Dodoma is an interesting place. It is much like any African city and is about the size of Kokstad! Unlike most African cities, there appears to be a very small expat community here and, as a result, very few western comforts. We did find the new Dodoma hotel – way out of our budgetary range, but too bad an option to hang out, have some food and collapse into the lounge’s leather couches as I do now. I live for these moments on this trip - small moments when I can forget that I am in the thick of the chaos that is Africa, and that for a little glitch in time I am back in a world in which I am familiar, and most importantly, I am clean and comfortable. Perhaps it is cheating, perhaps I should be embracing the dirt more, but this is me, and I love a few small comforts every so often!
In the city there is the regular bustle of street vendors, doe-eyed children in pale blue saris and charismatic young men shouting a ‘Wassup’ in an attempt to be trendy… What always hits me hard though is that when one looks a little deeper beyond the life and colour, one can always find the devastating tales of the under layer: a man with debilitating leprosy; a woman sitting in the dirt breastfeeding a young child; a mangy kitten on its last legs… Again: this is Africa.
As we arrived in yesterday we cycled straight into the Prime Minister’s office. We didn’t know where to stay, and Gareth figured that if anyone knew a good place to stay, the Prime Minister would. So we asked the guard if we could have an audience with the PM. The response was “Wait one moment, please.” Unfortunately, the Prime Minister is in Dar at the moment, but one of his economic advisors came out to meet us. Obey is currently doing his PhD in economics at the University of Cape Town. Within moments a couple of lecturers names were being bandied around. Good times. He’s pulling some strings with the PM’s personal assistant and seeing if we can meet the man on Monday. Craziness continues.
Dodoma is an interesting place. It is much like any African city and is about the size of Kokstad! Unlike most African cities, there appears to be a very small expat community here and, as a result, very few western comforts. We did find the new Dodoma hotel – way out of our budgetary range, but too bad an option to hang out, have some food and collapse into the lounge’s leather couches as I do now. I live for these moments on this trip - small moments when I can forget that I am in the thick of the chaos that is Africa, and that for a little glitch in time I am back in a world in which I am familiar, and most importantly, I am clean and comfortable. Perhaps it is cheating, perhaps I should be embracing the dirt more, but this is me, and I love a few small comforts every so often!
In the city there is the regular bustle of street vendors, doe-eyed children in pale blue saris and charismatic young men shouting a ‘Wassup’ in an attempt to be trendy… What always hits me hard though is that when one looks a little deeper beyond the life and colour, one can always find the devastating tales of the under layer: a man with debilitating leprosy; a woman sitting in the dirt breastfeeding a young child; a mangy kitten on its last legs… Again: this is Africa.
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