For the average person, the word "Ethiopia" generally brings to mind an arid region filled with starving children. I guess this is to blame on the 1985 famine (which, to be fair, became a crisis because of the government rather than nature).
This visual is nothing like what I have seen. There are deserts in part of the country but most of the population lives in the mountains which are a stunning green. The teff fields (staple grain) almost seem neon green.
The area around Lalibela is the most beautiful landscape I've ever seen. Imagine cliffs like the grand canyon, but covered in grass, shrubs and jigsaw puzzle shaped fields of teff.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Meskel
Currently, it is the holiday of Meskel in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Meskel (it means "cross") celebrates the discovery of part of the "true cross" (that Jesus was crucified upon).
Meskel starts with a massive bonfire in every city or town (on TV they broadcast the Addias Ababa fire live). As I understand it, the smoke from the fire represents the smoke that led Saint Helena to the place where the "true cross" was buried. On the street, farmers sell wood so that you can personally add fuel to it.
I went to the ceremony in Bahir Dar along with a couple thousand Ethiopians. It was held in the middle of what I guess was the local parade grounds. Every fifty feet or so was a group from a local church dancing in a circle and singing in Amharic. After a long speech by the local church leader they lit the bonfire and the crowd went mad. As the flames grew and the wind changed direction the police began swiping at the crowd with sticks and batons to encourage them to move back. Oddly, both the police and the crowd were laughing and smiling.
After the fire the town was filled with groups dancing and singing in the middle of the street (nicely blocking traffic). Like Eid, everyone suddenly had new clothes and the women were dressed in white.
The floors of resturants, shops and homes are sprinkled (liberally) with fresh green grass to create a sense of nature and peace. It's springtime in Ethiopia so the aesthetic might be comparable to Easter. Grass crosses, bonfires and anything within reach are decorated with a yellow flowers similar to a buttercup. Unofficially, its the "Meskel flower" because it only blooms during Meskel. Currently, all the hills in this part of Ethiopia are a deep green with fringes of bright yellow.
Anyway, back to the bonfire. For the next two days there are numerous other smaller fires on sidewalks or in homes (I watched a local drunk prove his bravery by walking through one yesterday). Afterwards, like Ash Wednesday, the charcoal is used to make the symbol of a cross on the forehead. The children go a little made with it and paint their whole faces.
Today, in Gondar, I got my own ash.
While talking to a group of hustlers one of their friends approached carrying a charred log.
I said, "Ah Happy Meskel..."
Immediately, a member of the group with one leg smiled broadly and wiped the ash across my forehead and cheek.
He leaned back and declared, "Now you are Orthodox!"
Monday, September 26, 2011
The Capitol of Ethiopia: Addias Ababa
Unlike almost every other place I've gone, I arrived in Ethiopia at
night. When I woke up the next morning I realized that I had no
concept about what I would find outside the door of my hotel room.
Addias Ababa (meaning "new flower"), the third highest capital city on
earth, is a sprawling hilly place. It seems like every
street/corner/alley has a cafe and an Ethiopian/Italian restaurant.
The traffic moves slowly because there is always a person or dog
walking into the road. In that note, unlike where else I've been, the
dogs are multiple breeds similar to german shepherds, sheepdogs,
retrievers etc.
On the west side of the city is the Mercato which is supposedly the
largest market in Africa. I don't think anyone knows exactly how big
it is as no one has ever been able to make a map of it. In my own
quest I walked about a kilometer before I got through the clothes
section and into the timber section. I never found the food section.
The destitute population is larger than anywhere I've seen, consisting
of war veterans, the elderly, polio victims, and children (generally
sent out to beg by their mothers).
The city itself is not dangerous, but the local hustlers are very
pushy. In Dar Es Salam, for instance, you can shake them off pretty
easy, but here if you don't respond immediately to their calls they'll
occasionally walk up to you with declarations of "Why are you such a
hateful person that you would ignore me?" or "You're a racist".
Honestly, its a nice little trick since then you end up talking to
them to defend yourself.
The city is big enough that there is always something new to find/see.
Quick example: while strolling around last Friday I began to notice
how quite it had become suddenly. When I turned the corner onto a main
road I found myself confronted with a sea of people on the street
praying. It was Friday prayers and the Mosque was past capacity.
Traffic was diverted and the street was filled with men using large
sheets of brown paper in place of prayer mats. When it was finished,
everyone rose in unison and there was a quiet rumble of greetings and
the sound of hundreds of sheets of paper being folded up. Probably one
of my favorite "audio" experiences of the trip.
Time and dates in Ethiopia take some getting used to. Their calendar
has an extra month for instance (everyone loves to tell you that there
are "13 Months of Sunshine in Ethiopia!"). For me it is 5:30 PM on
September 26, 2011. For Ethiopians it is 11:30 September 15, 2004.
Thus far, Ethiopia is the cheapest country I've visited. My hotel in
the capital is about $7 for a 3/4 bed and a sit-down toilet. A meal
across the street is $1.50. I feel this is matter of fewer tourists
than East Africa so the prices haven't been inflated. Granted, a few
hotels will look at me and give me the "farinji price" (foreigner
price).
night. When I woke up the next morning I realized that I had no
concept about what I would find outside the door of my hotel room.
Addias Ababa (meaning "new flower"), the third highest capital city on
earth, is a sprawling hilly place. It seems like every
street/corner/alley has a cafe and an Ethiopian/Italian restaurant.
The traffic moves slowly because there is always a person or dog
walking into the road. In that note, unlike where else I've been, the
dogs are multiple breeds similar to german shepherds, sheepdogs,
retrievers etc.
On the west side of the city is the Mercato which is supposedly the
largest market in Africa. I don't think anyone knows exactly how big
it is as no one has ever been able to make a map of it. In my own
quest I walked about a kilometer before I got through the clothes
section and into the timber section. I never found the food section.
The destitute population is larger than anywhere I've seen, consisting
of war veterans, the elderly, polio victims, and children (generally
sent out to beg by their mothers).
The city itself is not dangerous, but the local hustlers are very
pushy. In Dar Es Salam, for instance, you can shake them off pretty
easy, but here if you don't respond immediately to their calls they'll
occasionally walk up to you with declarations of "Why are you such a
hateful person that you would ignore me?" or "You're a racist".
Honestly, its a nice little trick since then you end up talking to
them to defend yourself.
The city is big enough that there is always something new to find/see.
Quick example: while strolling around last Friday I began to notice
how quite it had become suddenly. When I turned the corner onto a main
road I found myself confronted with a sea of people on the street
praying. It was Friday prayers and the Mosque was past capacity.
Traffic was diverted and the street was filled with men using large
sheets of brown paper in place of prayer mats. When it was finished,
everyone rose in unison and there was a quiet rumble of greetings and
the sound of hundreds of sheets of paper being folded up. Probably one
of my favorite "audio" experiences of the trip.
Time and dates in Ethiopia take some getting used to. Their calendar
has an extra month for instance (everyone loves to tell you that there
are "13 Months of Sunshine in Ethiopia!"). For me it is 5:30 PM on
September 26, 2011. For Ethiopians it is 11:30 September 15, 2004.
Thus far, Ethiopia is the cheapest country I've visited. My hotel in
the capital is about $7 for a 3/4 bed and a sit-down toilet. A meal
across the street is $1.50. I feel this is matter of fewer tourists
than East Africa so the prices haven't been inflated. Granted, a few
hotels will look at me and give me the "farinji price" (foreigner
price).
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
1000 Cups
I've spent a lot of my time at a cafe called "1000 cups" which has the best coffee I've had yet in Africa. On Saturday I swung by intending to charge my camera and then leave after a morning coffee. However, the power was out in Kampala all weekend and I found myself there for about 7 hours. I enjoyed it throughly though, and in the end met a number if people including:
-The Ugandan owner who went to college in Boston and has a passion for American films and Lee Child novels.
-Solomon who is a "real estate investment analyzer"
-A cynical, but funny IT technician.
-A British couple in Uganda to see first hand the school their church funds
-3 German hospital workers
-Someone who had been previously been hired by the US government as a security contractor in Basara, Iraq.
-2 Norwegians who were performing at the Kampala Arts Festival.
Anyway, if you ever find yourself in Kampala, check out "1000 Cups".
Jinja
I've never been to Egypt, but now I've seen the source of the Nile. Very different terrain up here I imagine.
Lake Victoria pours out into the Nile in Jinja, Uganda. Jinja is the formal colonial capital of Uganda and was at one point an industrial power house in the country. Now, the industry is mostly gone (except for the Nile Beer brewery) and Jinja itself has a sleepy feel. It kind of reminds me of an old west town with tumbleweeds rolling down the street. Old white concrete colonial buildings are tinted orange with red dust and filled with little shops with names like "Jesus is Lord: Ladies Wear".
I took a boda boda along a long dirt path to see the official source of the Nile (only way). After strolling around I sat on a grassy hill near the spot the river was first found by a British explorer. Next to me a resort was under construction, hundreds of birds crowded the rocks below where a few Ugandans bathed, the tourist bar across the river blared Madonnas "Material Girl", a toddler wearing only a shirt ran by screaming "Bye Muzungo!", two cell phone towers rose over a nearby hill, and above me a black plastic bag rode up the thermals. The river itself was beautiful. Everything felt quintessentially East African to me.
Lake Victoria pours out into the Nile in Jinja, Uganda. Jinja is the formal colonial capital of Uganda and was at one point an industrial power house in the country. Now, the industry is mostly gone (except for the Nile Beer brewery) and Jinja itself has a sleepy feel. It kind of reminds me of an old west town with tumbleweeds rolling down the street. Old white concrete colonial buildings are tinted orange with red dust and filled with little shops with names like "Jesus is Lord: Ladies Wear".
I took a boda boda along a long dirt path to see the official source of the Nile (only way). After strolling around I sat on a grassy hill near the spot the river was first found by a British explorer. Next to me a resort was under construction, hundreds of birds crowded the rocks below where a few Ugandans bathed, the tourist bar across the river blared Madonnas "Material Girl", a toddler wearing only a shirt ran by screaming "Bye Muzungo!", two cell phone towers rose over a nearby hill, and above me a black plastic bag rode up the thermals. The river itself was beautiful. Everything felt quintessentially East African to me.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Kampala and Boda-Bodas
Kampala, Uganda is one of the maddest cities I've seen yet on this
trip. It's not very large, but it's dense. I still haven't quite made
sense of the bus station. There are four taxi, minibus, and "large
bus" stands within a few blocks. They are surrounded/connected by a
maze of markets and 3 columns of minibuses snaking around the block
that never seem to move.
Traffic is mostly paralyzed. I'm used to taxi drivers occasionally
turning off their cars to wait in traffic, but here they seem to be on
and off about six times a minute. As a result most people get around
on boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis).
I've seen motorcycle taxis in Africa, but never like this. They weave
in and out of cars through any space available, drive down the wrong
way of one way streets and take short cuts through gas
stations/sidewalks/medians etc. Kampala is built on a series of hills
(like Rome!) so the boda-bodas appear out of no where at the top or
fly on the downhills. And there are thousands of them.
Most of the drivers are from the villages where a bank gives them a
loan for the bike. With what they make in a day, the drivers can get
some food, gas, and maybe beer, but the rest of the money goes towards
the loan. If the driver is ever able to fully pay it off, they become
the owner of an old and overused motorcycle.
trip. It's not very large, but it's dense. I still haven't quite made
sense of the bus station. There are four taxi, minibus, and "large
bus" stands within a few blocks. They are surrounded/connected by a
maze of markets and 3 columns of minibuses snaking around the block
that never seem to move.
Traffic is mostly paralyzed. I'm used to taxi drivers occasionally
turning off their cars to wait in traffic, but here they seem to be on
and off about six times a minute. As a result most people get around
on boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis).
I've seen motorcycle taxis in Africa, but never like this. They weave
in and out of cars through any space available, drive down the wrong
way of one way streets and take short cuts through gas
stations/sidewalks/medians etc. Kampala is built on a series of hills
(like Rome!) so the boda-bodas appear out of no where at the top or
fly on the downhills. And there are thousands of them.
Most of the drivers are from the villages where a bank gives them a
loan for the bike. With what they make in a day, the drivers can get
some food, gas, and maybe beer, but the rest of the money goes towards
the loan. If the driver is ever able to fully pay it off, they become
the owner of an old and overused motorcycle.
Today I took my first boda-boda.
I picked the first driver I found who would give me a good price and
didn't look like a teenager. When he put on his helmet (I didn't get
one) I noticed the bottom half of the plastic windscreen had been
broken off. Good sign!
To sum it up, it was the first proper adrenaline rush I've had in a
long time. The route he decided to take included main streets, side
streets, dirt paths and long steep downhills. We almost hit two other
boda-bodas and were about 4 inches from slamming straight into an SVU
that cut in front of us (seriously I almost fell off). The entire time
I had a stupid grin on my face, saying out loud into the wind, "Weeee!
We're going to die!"
And that was my day thus far.
Oh, and I also had some really good coffee.
Lake Vicotria Ferry
My ferry across Lake Victoria left at 9pm so I arrived at the dock at
8pm and had a Safari beer in the incredibly dingy bar at the ferry
port. While I waiting I struck up a conversation with a few locals,
one of whom happened to be a "Tanzanian Health Inspector for the port
of Mwanza" (read: bribe taker. just kidding.... not really...) He was
a little drunk and decided he would escort me on board.
The boat defined the look of "weathered". The steel hull was painted a
pale yellow that gradually faded to rust along the crevices. The
wooden floors and railings had been polishing of thousands of feet and
hands, almost seemed like they would be soft if you touched them.
Anyway, we walked through the loading gate and onto the boat and he
began to to introduce me to all the officers. It was kind of like
being a child getting a tour of the cockpit.
Finally, he showed me the bar, chugged down some beer and hopped off.
Once the boat pulled away I locked up my backpack and started to
explore (where are the lifeboats? am I the only muzungo? etc.).
Eventually, I made my way back to the bar. I had a feeling that my new
health inspector "friend" had left his beer tab for me to pay.
I was right.
Occasionally, the bartender or a steward would ask for the money. I
would laugh (politely), hold their hand (friendly custom), and explain
in my personal mix of English and Swahili that "1: I was unaware that
we was drinking on my tab. 2: He was not my friend. 3: If they wanted
any money they should find him in Mwanza" Long story short, I never
paid a shilling for his tab.
Overall, the ride was uneventful, I chatted in the bar, watched the
black waters of Lake Victoria, and went to sleep.
The next morning we arrived in Bukoba at 6:45am. I rushed to the bus
station and caught a bus to Kampala, Uganda with 10 minutes to spare.
8pm and had a Safari beer in the incredibly dingy bar at the ferry
port. While I waiting I struck up a conversation with a few locals,
one of whom happened to be a "Tanzanian Health Inspector for the port
of Mwanza" (read: bribe taker. just kidding.... not really...) He was
a little drunk and decided he would escort me on board.
The boat defined the look of "weathered". The steel hull was painted a
pale yellow that gradually faded to rust along the crevices. The
wooden floors and railings had been polishing of thousands of feet and
hands, almost seemed like they would be soft if you touched them.
Anyway, we walked through the loading gate and onto the boat and he
began to to introduce me to all the officers. It was kind of like
being a child getting a tour of the cockpit.
Finally, he showed me the bar, chugged down some beer and hopped off.
Once the boat pulled away I locked up my backpack and started to
explore (where are the lifeboats? am I the only muzungo? etc.).
Eventually, I made my way back to the bar. I had a feeling that my new
health inspector "friend" had left his beer tab for me to pay.
I was right.
Occasionally, the bartender or a steward would ask for the money. I
would laugh (politely), hold their hand (friendly custom), and explain
in my personal mix of English and Swahili that "1: I was unaware that
we was drinking on my tab. 2: He was not my friend. 3: If they wanted
any money they should find him in Mwanza" Long story short, I never
paid a shilling for his tab.
Overall, the ride was uneventful, I chatted in the bar, watched the
black waters of Lake Victoria, and went to sleep.
The next morning we arrived in Bukoba at 6:45am. I rushed to the bus
station and caught a bus to Kampala, Uganda with 10 minutes to spare.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Not on the Pemba ferry
I'm case you may have read the NYtimes article about a ferry capsizing from Zanzibar to Pemba, I would like to assure you that I was not on that ferry. I am over 100 miles away on Lake Victoria where after a similar tragedy 15 years ago the government has gone to enormous lengths to ensure safety standards for ferry travel.
My heart goes out to the families of those aboard that ship.
Mwanza
I'm not really sure how I feel about Mwanza, Tanzania. When I arrived yesterday I was tired and dehydrated and the city felt dusty and crappy. Slowly, as I've explored, it's grown on me.
It's Tanzania's second largest city and the main port on Lake Victoria (I've seen Lake Victoria!). There are no crows, unlike almost everywhere else I've been in Africa. Instead, the skies are littered with brown hawks and kingfishers. On the ground, giant nasty looking cranes roam through trash. The terrain is hilly and possibly resembles San Francisco before development.
For a city of it's size there are few mzungos (white people). As a result, people are often surprised when I greet them in Swahili. Also, there are only a couple of hawkers offering safari tours.
Today, I strolled out of town, eventually settling on a large rock to watch village life on the hill below. Two young girls sat nearby starring at me, occasionally offering a "shikamoo" (an gesture of respect for an elder). After a few minutes a teenage boy sat down and we chatted for twenty minutes. He asked my opinion on "girls in secondary school being allowed to have abortions". This was a subject he had been asked to debate in school. Obviously, I chose my words carefully.
I'm here until tomorrow evening when I'll take a night ferry to Bukoba. Inshallah, after docking I'll be able to immediately catch a bus to Kampala, Uganda.
Side note: the bus is only six hours! Barely worth it to even bring a book...
It's Tanzania's second largest city and the main port on Lake Victoria (I've seen Lake Victoria!). There are no crows, unlike almost everywhere else I've been in Africa. Instead, the skies are littered with brown hawks and kingfishers. On the ground, giant nasty looking cranes roam through trash. The terrain is hilly and possibly resembles San Francisco before development.
For a city of it's size there are few mzungos (white people). As a result, people are often surprised when I greet them in Swahili. Also, there are only a couple of hawkers offering safari tours.
Today, I strolled out of town, eventually settling on a large rock to watch village life on the hill below. Two young girls sat nearby starring at me, occasionally offering a "shikamoo" (an gesture of respect for an elder). After a few minutes a teenage boy sat down and we chatted for twenty minutes. He asked my opinion on "girls in secondary school being allowed to have abortions". This was a subject he had been asked to debate in school. Obviously, I chose my words carefully.
I'm here until tomorrow evening when I'll take a night ferry to Bukoba. Inshallah, after docking I'll be able to immediately catch a bus to Kampala, Uganda.
Side note: the bus is only six hours! Barely worth it to even bring a book...
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Tengeru Village
I am currently staying with my friend Thompson and his family about
15km outside of Arusha in Tengeru Village. I arrived on Sunday with a
5kg bag of rice and half a kg of instant coffee (somewhat of a
delicacy). The family has welcomed me warming and I'm having trouble
finishing the amount of food they have make for me.
Currently, Thompson is out of work and finding odd jobs to support his
family. His two elder sons are at boarding school and as I understand
it doing very well. His two younger daughters (10 and 13 years old)
have been around the house as they attend local schools.
Thompson is looking to either:
A. Save enough money to go back to mines (he needs enough for a box of
dynamite).
or
B. Save enough to attend French classes in order to get a tourism job.
As we all know, the French like to be spoken to in French...
I'm in Arusha right now to work out some plane flights and I think
I'll try to buy him a French-to-English-Swahili book as a surprise.
In the meantime, I'm enjoying their hospitality. Yesterday, we walked
to his mother's house with a bundle of banana leaves for her two cows.
She was thrilled (understatement) that I had come around and sat me
down and presented me it a bottle of Coca-Cola. Repeatedly, she told
me how much she loved her son for sending me over (at least that was
what I made out since she doesn't speak any English).
On the way back I had to move quickly through the village because if I
lingered I would have started a riot. Every child who saw me would
desperately chase after us trying shake hands with the mzungo (white
person).
His step-granddaughter (4 years old) has also been around and is
developing an obsession with me. She is always around the corner
watching whatever I do. If I say hello (mombo) she'll break into a big
smile and hide her face. I'm hoping by the time I leave she'll be
brave enough to say "hi" back.
15km outside of Arusha in Tengeru Village. I arrived on Sunday with a
5kg bag of rice and half a kg of instant coffee (somewhat of a
delicacy). The family has welcomed me warming and I'm having trouble
finishing the amount of food they have make for me.
Currently, Thompson is out of work and finding odd jobs to support his
family. His two elder sons are at boarding school and as I understand
it doing very well. His two younger daughters (10 and 13 years old)
have been around the house as they attend local schools.
Thompson is looking to either:
A. Save enough money to go back to mines (he needs enough for a box of
dynamite).
or
B. Save enough to attend French classes in order to get a tourism job.
As we all know, the French like to be spoken to in French...
I'm in Arusha right now to work out some plane flights and I think
I'll try to buy him a French-to-English-Swahili book as a surprise.
In the meantime, I'm enjoying their hospitality. Yesterday, we walked
to his mother's house with a bundle of banana leaves for her two cows.
She was thrilled (understatement) that I had come around and sat me
down and presented me it a bottle of Coca-Cola. Repeatedly, she told
me how much she loved her son for sending me over (at least that was
what I made out since she doesn't speak any English).
On the way back I had to move quickly through the village because if I
lingered I would have started a riot. Every child who saw me would
desperately chase after us trying shake hands with the mzungo (white
person).
His step-granddaughter (4 years old) has also been around and is
developing an obsession with me. She is always around the corner
watching whatever I do. If I say hello (mombo) she'll break into a big
smile and hide her face. I'm hoping by the time I leave she'll be
brave enough to say "hi" back.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Swahili
I really like this language. The words are phonetic and its relatively
easy to pick up.
My favorite word is MARAHABA. "Marahaba" is the response to SHIKAMOO
(which literally translates to "I hold your feet"). When you greet an
elder you say "Shikamoo" and they respond back "Marahaba". Most older
Tanzanians will touch their heart and say it in a deep growl from the
back of their throat. They way they say it is probably why I like it
so much.
My least favorite word/phrase is "HAKUNA MATATA". According to "The
Lion King" this means "no worries for the rest of your days", but it's
not really Swahili, its Disney-ili. As I understand it, before the
movie came out no one said it. Instead, they said "Hamna Shida" (no
problem). "Hakuna Matata" is generally directed towards tourists
(wazungo) because they find it so cute. Every time I hear it my brain
reads it as "Hi! I'm going to sell you a low quality piece of **** for
an exorbitant price!".
Anyway, I'm back in Dar Es Salaam. It's bittersweet. I'm leaving an
amazing week in Zanzibar but returning to Safari Inn where I've gotten
to know all of the taxi drivers and hotel staff in the last couple of
weeks. Tomorrow I leave for Moshi on what should be my final grueling
10 hour bus ride (inshallah).
In Moshi I'll be staying with my friend Thompson which should be interesting.
easy to pick up.
My favorite word is MARAHABA. "Marahaba" is the response to SHIKAMOO
(which literally translates to "I hold your feet"). When you greet an
elder you say "Shikamoo" and they respond back "Marahaba". Most older
Tanzanians will touch their heart and say it in a deep growl from the
back of their throat. They way they say it is probably why I like it
so much.
My least favorite word/phrase is "HAKUNA MATATA". According to "The
Lion King" this means "no worries for the rest of your days", but it's
not really Swahili, its Disney-ili. As I understand it, before the
movie came out no one said it. Instead, they said "Hamna Shida" (no
problem). "Hakuna Matata" is generally directed towards tourists
(wazungo) because they find it so cute. Every time I hear it my brain
reads it as "Hi! I'm going to sell you a low quality piece of **** for
an exorbitant price!".
Anyway, I'm back in Dar Es Salaam. It's bittersweet. I'm leaving an
amazing week in Zanzibar but returning to Safari Inn where I've gotten
to know all of the taxi drivers and hotel staff in the last couple of
weeks. Tomorrow I leave for Moshi on what should be my final grueling
10 hour bus ride (inshallah).
In Moshi I'll be staying with my friend Thompson which should be interesting.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Eid in Zanzibar
I've been in Zanzibar for about a week and its wonderful. Even better
than the last time I was here in 2007.
I met up with a friend from the train and we're staying in our own 2
bedroom apartment in the middle of Stone Town for about $9 a night.
Each day begins and ends with us sitting on our balcony and watching
the street below.
Stone Town is the main town of Zanzibar Island and a beautiful place
with ancient stucco buildings and a maze of tiny streets only wide
enough for a moped.
If you leave town, the beaches look like a default Windows desktop.
Its one of my favorite places in the world.
than the last time I was here in 2007.
I met up with a friend from the train and we're staying in our own 2
bedroom apartment in the middle of Stone Town for about $9 a night.
Each day begins and ends with us sitting on our balcony and watching
the street below.
Stone Town is the main town of Zanzibar Island and a beautiful place
with ancient stucco buildings and a maze of tiny streets only wide
enough for a moped.
If you leave town, the beaches look like a default Windows desktop.
Its one of my favorite places in the world.
For the past few weeks, every place I have been as revolved around
Ramadan. This means I've ducked in to a cafe to have a sip of water
while the sun is up. Everyone is pretty strict about keeping up with
their prayers, enough so that I can use the call to prayer to judge
the time.
My best Ramadan experience was last week in Dar Es Salaam. After
sundown, a friend and I met up with a local we'd met the previous
week. While we ate he explained to me that that night was the most
important and longest prayer because it commemorates Mohammed's
revelation of the Koran. Then he invited me to GO PRAY WITH HIM.
So I did.
He gave me a quick run down of what to do and joked that my beard was
long enough I wouldn't get too many strange looks.
I don't have time to go through the entire process of washing, motions
and procedure, but I will say that it was one of the best experiences
of my trip.
Anyway, Ramadan has just finished in Zanzibar which means that we've
entered the 4 day festival of Eid. There is a collective relief and
spirit of joy throughout the town. The poor are fed, candy and toys
are dolled out to children and everyone is constantly moving around to
see friends and family.
For Eid it is tradition that everyone wears new clothes (clean ones
for me). The happiest are probably the little girls strolling around
in brightly colored dresses covered in flowers and plastic gems.
Walking around town there is a constant refrain of "Eid Mubarak" (may
you enjoy a blessed festival).
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