The Globetrotters eNewsletter
eNewsletter Archive

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That night the local tribe was going to perform a
ceremony that would involve singing and some sort of
dancing, and Adam Baines and I were invited go along. The
tribe held hands and formed itself into two circles, one
inside the other, both facing inwards.

One circle moved to the left and the other moved in the
opposite direction and at the same time started moaning.
This singing or sort of moaning continued as the circles
moved slowly in opposite directions. I started the tape,
the moaning continued, the bullfrogs joined in, the jungle
added its chorus, the circles turned.

Adam and I stood there bemused, as the minutes went by,
with nothing more happening other than the continuous
circling and moaning. I joined the tribe, held hands and
moaned with everybody else, circled with everyone else and,
I think just like everyone else, wondered what the hell was
going to happen next.

I was beginning to think that this whole ceremony was
being put on for our benefit, as a sort of show for these
strangers from the outside world. I stepped out of the
circle and stood back with Adam whilst continuing to watch
this ritual. Adam asked me what the ceremony had done for
me. I replied that I had always dreamt about holding hands
with strangers, walking in circles, moaning out loud under
the stars in the Amazon rainforest! Adam tried everything
to stifle his laughter.

We both concluded that this show was being put on for
our benefit and, deciding to call it a night, thanked our
hosts and walked back to our hut, leaving the tribe still
moaning under the full moon. As we reached our hut the
moaning stopped and we smiled at each other as we went in,
but the last laugh was to be on us. We slipped into our
sleeping bags being careful not to let any mosquitoes under
our nets and I fell gently asleep after such a busy
day.

I awoke to my shoulder being shaken by one of my moaning
friends who said it was Party Time, and that this hut was
the party hut. We were to sleep in the next hut with others
that did not want to dance the night away. I looked at Adam
stumbling about when he was woken as I had been. We grabbed
our belongings in our arms, everything falling out of
everywhere, and moved huts in pitch darkness.

We staggered to the next hut, which was totally full off
about fourteen hammocks, mostly containing a couple, to
find the only place we could sleep was under someone’s
hammock. The music started, not the moaning of a couple of
hours before but the loud music called Forro, which was
coming from a ghetto blaster running off a car battery and
which was overlaid by the noise of dancing feet.

The Forro, a corruption of the English ‘For All’ came
from the North East of Brazil,. As the British who built
the railway there sometimes had parties for which the
invitations were ‘For All’. It was now my turn to feel like
moaning as the music blasted into the night from all of
twenty yards away.

The Indian in the hammock above Adam started to do the
horizontal samba with his woman and the swaying and
groaning made me see the funny side of life. Or would have,
if the mosquitoes hadn’t been eating me alive and something
I’d rather not know about slithered over me. A hellish
night, to end a near perfect day.

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I was rather disappointed by my trip to the Angel Falls
– let’s get the bad news out of the way - it
was over priced and pretty basic stuff.

I was there 2 ½ years ago or so. It was not possible to
visit the Angel Falls independently, so we had to join a
tour. The land is owned by the indigenous people, and they
run the tours. We flew from Caracas to Ciudad Bolivar and
then on to Canaima. From there, we joined about 6 others
and took a succession of curiaras, supremely uncomfortable
dug out canoes, but powered by outboard motor, up the
river. The water is an interesting brown colour – the
colour of tea with all the tannin from the land. We ended
up on Rat Island, along with 100 or so other people all in
different groups, and spent the night here (Isla Ratton
– aptly named) which consisted of about 100 hammocks
strung out in the open under a corrugated iron roof (no
sides) and very primitive bathrooms, hurricane lamps etc. A
very early start the next morning, bread and strong black
coffee, for a short walk/climb – not at all
strenuous, to a viewing point across which we saw the Angel
Falls. The entire group sat on ledges etc gazing across at
the Falls for about 30 minutes, took photos and then went
back down the mountain and returned by curiara to
Canaima.

And that was it. It cost an awful lot and we got very
little in return. You don’t get particularly close to
the falls and the service, food, accom was appalling,
considering how much it cost. Now, I’m a backpacker
and I don’t mind roughing it, and had hoped it was
all going to be a great adventure, but it just felt like a
huge rip off. I was glad to be away from the place –
it did not feel good.

With hindsight, I would rather have spent longer in the
Gran Sabana and Kavak and have been content with having
seen the Iguaçu Falls – 100 times more impressive!
Alternatively, trekking around the region might have been
better.

Whilst the Angel Falls was the enduring disappointment
of our trip, our 5 days spent in a 4WD with driver (we were
told it was not advisable to drive ourselves) around the
Gran Sabana was fabulous – completely recommend this
– beautiful landscape, lots of tepuys, lakes,
waterfalls, water holes – really, really nice and
relaxing, friendly people, easy and reasonable places to
stay. Our absolute highlight was a short stay at Kavak and
visiting the slot canyon – amazing!

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We’ve never had it so good, travelling around
South East Asia, particularly Thailand, with increasing
numbers of opportunities to take low cost flights.

Thai Airways International recently announced that it
would form a budget airline, Sky Asia, with five domestic
partners to fend off competition from a crop of new
low-cost carriers. Sky Asia will start operations in the
second quarter of this year.

Thai AirAsia, to be launched next month, will also
compete with privately owned domestic Thai carriers such as
Phuket Air, "http://www.phuketairlines.com/">www.phuketairlines.com
Bangkok Airways "http://www.bangkokair.com/">www.bangkokair.com and PB
Air www.pbair.com that
has several routes in Thailand including: Lampang,
Phetchabun Roi-et, Sakonnakhon, Nakhon Phanom Krabi, Nakhon
Si Thammarat and overseas: Danang, Luang Prabang,
Bagan.

Another Thai domestic carrier, Orient Thai, "http://www.orient-thai.com/">http://www.orient-thai.com
launched a no-frills airline last month with a one-way
ticket to Chiang Mai at half the current Thai Airways
market price. Its other routings include Bangkok to
Singapore, Hong Kong, Kuala Lumpur, Phuket, South Korea

Malaysian based Air Asia "http://www.airasia.com/">www.airasia.com says that it
is Asia’s first low fare no frills airline to introduce
“ticketless” travelling, and has flights within
Malaysia and to Singapore and Thailand.

Indonesian based Lion Air currently flies to 32
destinations, including four regional flights connecting
Jakarta with Kuala Lumpur, Penang, Singapore and Ho Chi
Minh City. They plan to start selling business class seats
underlines its attempt not to position itself as a low-cost
carrier. They say: “Our air-fares may be the
cheapest, but we reduce costs through the choice of
aircraft – single-type MD82, which are bigger than
the Boeing 737, commonly used by other domestic
airlines.

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And gets propositioned on the way… read on!

I got to Buenos Aires in pouring rain from sunny London
without mishap. My hotel was ok, in the historic area of
Buenos Aires and cost around £12 a night for bed and
breakfast, and it has a bathroom too, so not bad. This is a
good time to visit Argentina as prices are very low - most
meals are under £5 and a giant bottle of beer just £1! I
wanted to visit a tango show last night but was just too
tired around midnight, the time it is all supposed to kick
off. Plan to take a city tour of Buenos Aires.

Went to a place called Puerto Madero and it reminded me
of all the regeneration that has taken place in Docklands
in London. There were very few people and a lot of brand
name American eateries, so, I was a little disappointed. I
walked back to town where the real people live, but my poor
feet hurt after that! On the plus side, it could be
classified as training for my forthcoming Patagonia
trekking!

The local beer is good and it is now sunny, in sharp
contrast to the day I arrived, so prospects are promising.
Then headed by bus to El Calafate in Argentina. I am having
great weather - sunny, dry unusually windless, and hot,
even by my standards! I was even down to a plain shirt and
wished I had packed my sandals. I did a 8-9 hour trek from
a place called Refugio Pehoe on the lake of the same name
(pronounced correctly as “pewe”. to glacier
Grey. It was a very scenic walk compared to the one done
the other day to Torres (or more accurately
“torture”. del Paine which is featured on the
all of the postcards here. I reckon this one was a bit
tougher than the Machu Picchu trek in Peru, although that
was nearly 5 years ago and my age is definitely beginning
to show in my knee joints. Maybe it’s just a matter
of time before I start considering Saga holidays!

We met some travellers who had to forego their plans as
there was no accommodation at the next two destinations we
are heading to, the only other option being to set up your
own tent! Having roughed it for the last two nights I am
not ready for a repeat performance. The alternative was 180
US dollar per night hotel with everything priced in good US
$ - the cheapest item on the menu being a coca cola at only
$4! Taking of prices, I was shocked at the London prices of
everything in the Torres Del Paine National Park. Still, it
didn’t stop me from having 2 bottles of Chilean red
last night at £8 each. The idea was to stun myself into a
deep slumber in the tent and not notice the gale winds and
rain.

One thing I have been disappointed about is not being
able to gaze at the night southern sky. Chile has some of
the best skies for star gazing – but it has been too
cold or too cloudy or both! I am beginning to feel quite
worn out now and looking forward to taking a hot shower and
sleeping in a proper bed! Sleeping bags are not for people
like me who toss and turn and sleep in the spread-eagle
position!

On a bus from Puerto Natales, I met an unemployed doctor
from Spain. As a result of having a fluent Spanish speaker
on the team, we were able to find a hotel room very quickly
and cheaply, and sorted out our transport - or more
accurately dis-sorted! I decided to abandon my very much
desired plans to go on into Chile via Coyhaique and head
north through to Puerto Montt on the scenic Carretera
Austral, now nearly completed, connecting the upper part of
Chile to the remote Southern part. This is a lasting legacy
started by General Pinochet. It is said that he wanted it
named after him but this was met with a fair amount of
opposition.

From Puerto Montt, in Chile, we went to the small but
pretty and very touristy, town of El Calafate in Argentina.
We visited the Perito Glacier, (a natural wonder that grows
by 2m a day) almost immediately after we arrived. It was
hot and baking there, but a bus ride one hour later, it was
rainy at the glacier. This is Patagonia, so the weather
remains ever changing after all! Our Spanish doctor refers
to El Calafate as a “tourist trap”. apart from
the Perito Moreno, there are other excursions but all
priced in US $ and upward of $200! We could move on to our
next planned destination of Fitzroy, another “must
see” place, but nothing to move on from there til
Saturday when we head for the Chilean border once again -
and then there is no way of connecting to the Carratera
Austral with any certainty!

So, the three of us decided to leave town and take a
plane, considerably cheaper than taking the bus over 4 days
to Bariloche - another very touristy place renowned for its
Swiss like setting and more importantly for me, chocolates!
We rented a car at Bariloche airport and although not
planned, we managed to tour the whole of the Argentinean
lake district in 24 hrs - something that would normally
take at least 3 days! With our Spanish doctor friend, we
did some intense travelling and did not sleep in the same
bed twice. When we all split, I missed our new
friend’s animated conversation: drink coffee …
dug.. dug… dug…, visit x click, click, click….. and
his favourite phrase: “we have 2
possibilities”…. to which I would reply:
“what about?” The response would be: “we
have 3 possibilities… you decide”. He had all
makings a 1st Division civil servant or indeed Local Govt
officer, if only he could make decisions! We became good
mates and did a list of countries we will travel together
in the future - almost all except Britain and USA! A real
Globetrotter in the making, rucksacks and only economy
class for the “authentic experience” - not sure
if it meant not hiring cars!

I did things not “programmed” like hire
cars, and which our Spanish doctor friend drove like an
aspiring Italian Grand Prix driver in a red Fiat Punto
replica. This even gave time to visit the island of Chiloe,
S America’s 2nd largest) - did in half a day (instead
of whole day) by special negotiation. The place where we
stayed In Castro also did the tours, ran the Tourist
office, the taxi company ..the lot!

Arrived back in Buenos Aires - in broad daylight in
sharp contrast to the previous week when (thanks to Taris
our Spanish travel companion and now fast friend) we seemed
to be getting to our destinations in the middle of the
night with no accommodation fixed! It was a bit of a relief
to be in BA after a 15 hr
bus journey (very comfy sleeper - got up fresh as a daisy
and wished our air flight had been of the same standard -
meals, night cap fizzy champagne etc. from Neuquen
(Arg).

This time in BA, we
opted to stay in the slightly posher part of town. I
didn’t realise the unexpected benefit until we left a
Thai restaurant about 1am. We ran into a stunning,
vivacious, voluptuous raven-haired beauty who we initially
mistook to be a typical friendly Argentine but she made
proposals about providing massage and other services by
gesticulation as we didn’t understand Spanish, but we
got the drift all right!

One of my travel companions muttered something about
going to sleep as he was dog tired whereas I tried to
explain that my Redbridge Council zero-budget (Hem is a UK
civil servant!) for entertainment and socio-economic
research would not allow such indulgences. Only moments
earlier I was reflecting on the night time economy as the
Environmental Executives of "Buenos Aries">BA municipality, who were furiously
flushing the pavements and clearing garbage just yards
away. And then to be presented with this provocative
proposal – my thoughts of returning home had me
thinking of gaps in the Skills Matrix, the reliability of
National workforce data with excluded key sector
professionals in the all important tourism and culture
industry; was she entitled business start up advice and
grants, etc, etc – enough of work talk.

On serious note: life is pretty tough for most people
after the near-collapse of Argentina’s economy 3 yrs
ago and a great many try and cope with everyday life by
doing two or three jobs and even reverting to desperate
means.

Not one for taking taxis for the “authentic
experience”, I found myself taking the underground
metro. It was amazing to find that that TV screens
suspended over the platforms showing all kinds of stuff
– one in particular was a Miss Brazil (previous night
I am sure it was Miss Argentina) parading on a catwalk
– starting with a glasses, full business suit and the
mandatory army officer hat – starting to strip of
each apparel at a time – Did she take everything off?
No Se, I don’t know. I was on the fast and frequent
train by the time she got down to her essentials! Visit
Argentina – its a great place to enjoy yourself !

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The Beetle visited Papua New Guinea (PNG) last Christmas
and here is an account of Port Moresby.

Getting to PNG the first time was not straightforward,
although I have since learned that it is much easier to fly
from London to Singapore – about 12 hours, and then
take a 6 ½ hour Air Niugini flight (twice a week) from
Singapore to Port Moresby. Because last year I intended to
spend some time in Australia on the return leg back to
London, I flew into Brisbane, transferred up to Cairns, a
short hop, and then a 1 ½ hour flight from Cairns to Port
Moresby. The international airport at Port Moresby is
modern, has a shiny floor, a tourist office that I never
saw open (on the 4 occasions I went through it) and is a
great place to people watch! Whilst waiting for my diving
buddies, a week into my trip, I met and chatted (in pidgin)
with a charming man from the highlands who was (seriously)
wearing his full traditional costume, which consisted of a
lot of feathers, not much in the way of clothing and
painted marks on the face, arms and torso. He looked both
dignified and quite splendid. He was the type of figure you
might expect to see on a postcard, only I met him for
real!

Finding a budget place to stay for a weeks’ diving
proved a little difficult. I would have liked to have
stayed at the Loloata resort – primarily a place for
divers, but it was way out of my budget. Eventually, John
and Chrissie at PNG Dive recommended the "http://www.magila.com.pg/">Magila Motel to me. OK, it
was a little basic, a concrete based room, but it was
clean, safe and had a bed and a shower – perfectly
adequate – and was well run by a determined Scottish
lady, her two dogs, husband and local and Philippino staff.
What really made the Magila motel welcoming to me, and I
was there alone, was that it has an outside area with
tables and benches and a telephone. I ate all my meals
outside in the shade of the umbrellas, and struck up
conversations with anyone else eating at the same time
– I was impressed by how incredibly friendly people
were.

The telephone was the focal point of the place and
attracted good natured queues. (None of the international
mobile telephone companies are willing to establish a
network in PNG, so no cell phones work, with the result
that public telephones are well used facilities –
remember those times?) As people waited, they sat at the
table, drank a beer or two and started conversations with
anyone around, and I was no exception, being something of a
curiosity, a white English female, all alone for a week and
only present from late afternoons onwards. After a week, I
think I must have met every single person staying in the
Magila, a mix of transient one night stays by people coming
to town from the highlands for business and returning the
next day, to a former member of the government who had won
a scholarship to study for a business degree in Australia,
and was in Port Moresby for a business appointment, the
leader of the opposition, very jolly, who seemed to be
largely revered because he had won a huge amount of money
gambling… an Australian expat and local wife staying
for a month or so on a budget, “doing a deal”
on a timber plantation his parents used to own and lots of
people who just dropped in for a beer and a rest.

Most expats I met were Australian – makes sense at
it is so close. One regular visitor to the Magila, a wiry
hardy man, originally from Cornwall, but a naturalised PNG
citizen (on account of having stayed there for over 30
years) popped in from where he was working across the road
to have a beer and meet up with his mates, introduced to me
as local gold dealers and various bigwigs discussing all
manner of business ideas and opportunities. He and his
various friends were great company and told me lots of
stories on how life really is, about rascals – a
favourite topic of conversation, coupled with the amount
and latest tales of bribery and corruption - some of it
really quite shocking and a lot of it chuckle type common
sense. While I was there last year, the local press ran
stories about a large and prominent building in the centre
that was started three times. The first two times, the
building contract was awarded to a construction firm which
ran off and stole all of the money before the work was even
started!

A lot of bad news is written about Port Moresby, but I
can honestly say that I did not at any time feel
threatened, at risk or in danger. I had a great time and
felt as if I had had the chance to talk with a lot of
people, all of whom were fascinating (to me, with their
different stories) and at the same time generous, kind and
sincere. It’s the kind of place where people come
down from the highlands or the coastal areas, looking for
work; unemployment is massive, so, there are a lot of
people with nothing much to do. This type of problem is not
exclusive to PNG, and of course, as a visitor, you have to
be streetwise.

There are some things for a tourist to see in Port
Moresby, and my favourite by far is PNG Arts. It is an
enormous warehouse, just crammed full of all types of
handicraft, ranging from phallic shaped salt and pepper
shakers to masks, ceremonial daggers to picture boards to
tables, carved 2 metre long wooden crocodiles and more. All
of the items are made by local people, from the Triobriand
Islands (highly prized) to the Highlands, many of them are
produced by co-operatives, so at least you know you are
supporting the local economy. All of it was eminently
affordable, although there were some quite pricey,
beautifully carved and intricate pieces. I spent over than
half a day just browsing around the dusty objects for sale
and could quite happily have sent much more time there.

It is quite a magnet for the expats who come to buy
presents to take back when they go home. I got chatting to
one of the men who worked there. He was a fascinating
Canadian man who has been in PNG for over 30 years, who
went there as a bet, from his native Canada, back in the
1960s. He wryly told me about the bet, how all his friends
should have gone with him, but one by one, they all dropped
out, so he came alone, and has stayed ever since, dabbling
in gold mining, timber and coconut plantation management
and ended up at PNG Art. I couldn’t resist it, but I
bought a whole load of souvenirs from PNG Art and had them
crated up and shipped home. My friends (Padmassana
included!) were extremely sceptical and joked that I would
never see them. But 5 months later, 2 large wooden crates
arrived by parcel post, incredulously delivered by a man
who said he’d never handled anything from PNG before!
It’s a great place, and sadly, it was very difficult
to find souvenirs in Rabaul or Kavieng, so I was glad that
I had made the visit there and had something to show and
give to my friends from PNG.

Other things to do in Port Moresby include a trip to see
the Houses of Parliament, there’s some botanical
gardens, although I did not visit them, some WW2
remains.

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What is it:Schistosomiasis, also called bilharzia
(bill-HAR-zi-a), is a disease caused by parasitic worms.
They currently infect over 200m people each year, and the
number of people infected increases.

Where am I most likely to catch Bilharzia?
Africa: Southern Africa, Sub-Saharan Africa, Lake Malawi,
the Nile River valley in Egypt, Latin America: Brazil,
Suriname, Venezuela, Antigua, Dominican Republic,
Guadeloupe, Caribbean: Martinique, Montserrat, Puerto Rico,
Saint Lucia (risk is low), Middle East: Iran, Iraq, Saudi
Arabia, Syrian Arab Republic, Yemen, Southern China,
Southeast Asia: Philippines, Laos, Cambodia, Japan, central
Indonesia, and the Mekong delta.

How do I get it: by paddling, swimming, washing
or drinking fresh water. Fresh water becomes contaminated
by Schistosoma eggs when infected people urinate or
defecate in the water. The eggs hatch, and if certain types
of snails are present in the water, the parasites grow and
develop inside the snails. The parasite leaves the snail
and enters the water where it can survive for about 48
hours. The schistosoma parasites can penetrate the
skin of persons who have contact with the water.

What happens next: within several weeks, worms
grow inside the blood vessels of the body and produce eggs.
Some of these eggs travel to the bladder or intestines and
are passed into the urine or stool.

What are the symptoms: symptoms of
schistosomiasis are caused by the body’s reaction to the
eggs produced by worms, not by the worms themselves. Within
days after becoming infected, you may develop a rash or
itchy skin. Fever, chills, cough, and muscle aches can
begin within 1-2 months of infection. Most people have no
symptoms at this early phase of infection.

How do I cure it: your doctor will ask you to
provide stool or urine samples to see if you have the
parasite. A blood test has been developed and is available
but for accurate results, you must wait 6-8 weeks after
your last exposure to contaminated water before the blood
sample is taken. Safe and effective drugs are available for
the treatment of schistosomiasis. You will be given pills
to take for 1-2 days.

How can I prevent getting Bilharzia:

• Don’t swim in infected water
• For washing or bathing, use water that has been heated
  to 50^oC or more for at least 5 minutes or water
  chemical disinfected.

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A recent New Zealand study of almost 900 passengers has
shown that up to one in 100 long-haul fliers could develop
blood clots, and wearing compression stockings, taking
aspirin and travelling business class may not help.

The press release says: “New Zealand researchers
tested almost 900 passengers who took long-haul flights
over a six-week period. The subjects travelled for at least
10 hours and each flew an average of 39 hours. They
discovered nine cases, four of pulmonary embolism and five
of deep vein thrombosis (DVT), which involves the formation
of blood clots which can cause death if they invade the
lungs or brain.

Seventeen percent of the passengers in the study by the
Medical Research Institute of New Zealand wore compression
stockings to aid circulation. Thirty-one percent took
aspirin to thin the blood and reduce the risk of
thrombosis”. The conclusion is that all air
travellers are at risk and not just those in economy class.
The team carrying out the research even suggested renaming
‘economy class syndrome’ to ‘traveller’s
thrombosis.’

During recent court action, victims have blamed cramped
aircraft cabins for their blood clots and argued that
airlines have known of the risks for years but failed to
warn people. A British court recently agreed with the
airlines, which claimed that DVT was not an accident under
the 1929 Warsaw Convention that governs international air
travel.

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I decided to go on a safari in Africa - not so unusual.
However, all of the travel information I was able to dig up
in preparation for this life experience talked about the
game drives during the day and the typical you’ll see this
many giraffes, this many zebra, this many lion, etc. I was
not able to find information on what it was like being out
there in your tent in the middle of the night. But I went
anyway - not knowing. As it turns out that was my favourite
part of the trip.

It’s October, we arrive in Tanzania and eventually make
it to our camp deep in the Serengeti - Kusini Camp run by
Fred and Carol, who are two of the coolest people my
husband and I have ever met. We go out for some game
viewing which is great fun, as expected. Evening starts to
roll around, we have a great dinner, and then relax by the
fire. As we are sitting around the fire listening to Fred’s
crazy hunting stories we hear a slight noise to our right.
As we look over, the Masai tribesman, who is monitoring the
perimeter of the camp for wild animals shines a light on
the stone bird bath not but 10 feet away. There is an
enormous Cape Buffalo drinking from the birdbath. A
magnificent sight up so close. This is when I knew that
night time was going to be the best.

Shortly after, the Masai tribesman with rifle in hand,
escorts my husband and I back to our tent - fully equipped
with a small walkie talkie in case of an emergency. As we
settle down for sleep we notice the unbelievably unique
quiet surrounding us. It’s deafening quiet, however amongst
the quiet you can hear the sounds of Africa. I can’t stand
it anymore. I jump up, grab the spotlight provided, and
start to survey the land around us through the thin mesh
windows of the tent that separate us from them. Under the
magnificent light of the stars in the black sky I am able
to see an elephant slowly moving toward our tent. He
arrives in only a minute or two to graze on the grass
surrounding our temporary canvas residence. He is loud when
he eats and a bit clumsy fooling around in the bush. But
graceful and so close I could smell his dank leathery
breath. I know he could charge at any minute if I went out
and got in his way, but I feel safe inside and am able to
watch him from only a few small feet away.

Later, I wake up to what I consider a roar, and it
wasn’t my husband! This immediately provokes me to get out
the spotlight again. This time I cannot see anything, not
even a set of yellow eyes, but I can hear the roar from
time to time. You just know he’s there. I set up shop by
the opening to my tent waiting for him to emerge. I slept
right there on the wooden floor but never saw him. In any
case, this was surreal enough.

The next night I could barely wait to head back to the
tents. This time I was ready and wanted the entire wild
kingdom at my doorstep. While I lay there I could hear a
lion again. I think he came back - maybe he liked it there
as much as I did. I kept listening until I finally fell
asleep. Fred was able to confirm my suspicions in the
morning - there were lions in our camp.

We headed on the 4^th day to a different camp
in the Western part of the Serengeti - Kira Wira camp on
the Grumeti River. During the night at Kira Wira I was also
able to feel the excitement of being out in the wilderness.
Again I awaken halfway into the night. This time to watch a
hippo casually stroll by our tent and then head over to my
Aunt’s tent nearby. The big fellow sauntered through the
bush. I couldn’t believe it - up until this point I had
only seen their heads in the water.

In the morning our Kira Wira friend came to wake us up
with our usual coffee and tea just at sunrise. As he began
to leave our porch he was confronted by a small herd of
about 10 Cape Buffalo that came to graze by our tent or try
to stay safe from the lion and lioness that may start to
get hungry again. We were able to watch these buffalo in
the faint morning light. They were only a few feet away
looking falsely harmless and eating their breakfast.

Our last night we began our tent ritual by sitting on
the bed with all of the tent windows zipped open looking
out at the darkness. A large bat landed on the meshy
“front door”. As it hung out there we watched
its quick tiny movements. All of a sudden a long very furry
blob leapt up on the door and grabbed the bat, whisking it
away into the night. It all happened so fast we are still
not sure what kind of 3 foot Civet or Janet it was that had
been lurking nearby but it was an amazing close to our last
eerie evening.

While the game drives were awe-inspiring across
Tanzania, as I am sure they are all over Africa, I have to
say that by far the most exciting part of the trip was not
knowing what kind of visitor I would have each night and
how close they would venture to mingle with this crazy New
Yorker.

Kusini Camp info:

P.O. Box 427, Arusha, Tanzania

tel: +255 27 2502143

fax: +255 27 2508273

"mailto:kmkjmz@optonline.net">kmkjmz@optonline.net

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Having been nothing but impressed with the way the
Mikindani Sports Club or ‘Klabu ya Uboreshaji’
(the club’s Swahili name which means improving
oneself through sports) was been run, I wanted to reward
the club’s members along with others in the village with a
day of competitions. Thanks to the efforts of those
volunteers with me and several willing helpers on the day,
the 26^th December brought memories to a vast
number of people, both spectators and competitors alike. We
held a sports day which included a Bao competition and a
football six-a-side taking place on the football ground on
Mikindani’s biggest football team.

Bao is a traditional Swahili board game played on a
board on which seeds are moved around a series of carved
out dishes, the object of the game being to take your
opponents seeds achieved by finishing moves adjacent to an
opponents seed. Without explaining the ins and outs of the
game a skilful play is made through experience, strategic
play and being able to think moves ahead of the game which
may be compared to chess or draughts. In Mikindani the
older generation of males are the most respected group of
players so we invited three players from each of the
village wards to join up for a knock-out style competition.
Proceedings took place under a mango tree and organisation
took care of itself as there was a competitive but friendly
atmosphere and players were self-affiliating and all joined
together, rather enjoying playing along side the best
players in the village. As the rounds went by, large crowds
were drawn in and the final was quite a spectacle with two
players surrounded by a sea of onlookers, both competing
for the prize money placed underneath the playing board.
The champion was delighted with his title but all players
were very humble and delighted with how the competition
took place.

While the Bao players ate complementary lunch, final
preparations were being made to the football pitches which
were small with full sized goals promising lots of scoring
and the eight teams (made up from two sides from each of
Mikindani’s four football teams) were warming up and
stretching off. Matches commenced and those who were not
players gathered on the sidelines with large numbers of
spectators to watch who was on form and for any nominations
for the man of the tournament who would receive some golden
football boots! Games were fast and furious as any decent
six-a-side should be but again collectiveness and good
spirit between teams was evident throughout.

The crowds cheered as we were treated to some dazzling
touches and outstanding play from all teams but the final
was eventually contended (after both semi-finals going to
penalties, the hero goalkeepers held above heads by the
rest of the team and a few passionate supporters!) between
Cigara F.C and Beach Boys who we were told were the
equivalent to ‘Arsenal and Manchester United’;
long standing rivals keen to get one up on the other. In a
closely fought final Beach Boys won by a single goal and
their followers ran on the pitch to congratulate their team
just as though they were professional sports men. A
presentation ended the day’s proceedings and a team
photo of the 2003 winners.

Later that day and the next, several comments from teams
and supporters gave their thanks for the day. I was told by
some it was ‘the best public holiday ever’,
‘never to be beaten’ and ‘the village was
awoken with delight and happiness’. These are exactly
the feelings I hoped to bring about and numerous groups in
Mikindani were fulfilled, old men, young footballers and
families of supporters all had a brilliant day.

For more information about Trade Aid, volunteers and
their work, please visit their website: "http://www.mikindani.com/">www.mikindani.com

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U. S. Soldiers Home, Washington: during a century
of travel (well 78 years!) both in and out of service I
have travelled to over 150 countries (I count both North
and South Dakota as countries) and for some reason have
jotted signs and happenings that I thought funny at the
time (and now wonder why). So here is the perfect
opportunity to share some of my anecdotes.

I admire those that speak many languages. I don’t.
This reminds me of the guy that spread out the blanket for
his girl friend and noticing the wet grass said:
“some dew”. She replied “I
don’t”.

The Japanese are very polite. You can be murdering their
language and they will say: “You speak very good
Japanese”. You then know you don’t. The French
sneer at me if I don’t get the pronunciation right. I
would try out a few words of French and would get the
sneer.

In India and the Philippines because there are so many
languages their leaders sometimes give their speeches in
English. This surprised me but I was told they reach more
people that way. In Mexico, I don’t speak much
Spanish, but I am a very good guesser. I have a booklet
that has pictures in it of different objects and no matter
what country I am in when I want something I point to the
picture. I am a good pointer.

I envy those that speak French as it sounds so
sophisticated to me. My French is limited to: “Come
and tie my shoe”, “Mow de lawn”,
“Chevrolet coupe”. I was asked to leave France.
I met some French people individually on a one to one basis
having been introduced by someone and even was invited to a
French couples’ home (both were school teachers.)
They had a copy of newspaper printed the day after D Day
when the Germans were printing the paper and gave me a
copy, interpreting it for me. It said such things as The
Terrorists (allies) have arrived but they will be pushed
back. I had copies made and gave one copy to French embassy
here.

While we Americans don’t speak very many
languages, at the same time I think American are a friendly
lot and are apt to invite foreigners into their homes or
help foreigners on the street. I also lived in a French
couple’s home right after the War. It is a long story
but they were very hospitable to me. This was in Biarritz,
France and the townspeople did not like us. We thought
Hitler was going to go down to Spain to meet Franco and go
thorough a train station in Biarritz. Our airplanes were
meant to hit the train station but travelling so fast they
bombed a path from the ocean right though the town.

On the other hand when the Germans occupied Biarritz
they had the elite of their troops there and the French
told us so they were so neat when they went to the beach
lining their equipment up nice etc.

Next month, Mac discusses his 1990’s travel trip
to Malaysia, Singapore, India, and on komodo dragons .

If you would like to contact Mac, he can be e-mailed on:
"mailto:macsan400@yahoo.com">macsan400@yahoo.com

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