A Travellerspoint blog

Monkey business

rain 24 °C

The new group is ace. I was concerned that after my last awesome group that my luck would be out. I was wrong, within 2 days we are all socialising together, we have in jokes, similar music tastes and there is always someone to hangout with.

I actually haven't read one page of my book since the new group arrived, cause they have great music play lists, and generally the truck had at least 3 people singing. And if music is playing I have no ability to concern trade reading. This group has increased my ADHD squirrel approach to life.

They are all still in their first couple of weeks of euphoria. Their excitement for everything has enthused me again for the last remaining two weeks of my adventure.

Yesterday I went chimp trekking and saw about 10 of the 24 family that live around Queen Elizabeth park in Uganda. They were amazingly humanistic. To see them in their natural habitat was a lot more powerful than I thought. We have obviously all seen chimps in the zoo, but seeing them dancing through the tree tops, scampering up tree trucks and trying to eat in peace hiding under the foliage, was an experience that will stay with me for a long time. They were generally oblivious to us wandering around snapping pictures, but they kept their distance wary of our movements and intentions. I am glad to have had the opportunity to spend time in their presence. They were magical.

When Iain and I were planning our wedding at the zoo, the chimp enclosure was our wet weather option. The problem was that the Auckland Zoo chimps had a nasty habit of calling to each other whenever they saw someone in a white dress. Not just calling but hooting and bellowing so loud that we were concerned we would have to have had a contingency to temporarily postpone the vows until they calmed down. Luckily it didn't rain too much on our wedding day, but the noise still resides in a deep down place in my mind.

Walking through the forest this noise was everywhere. It penetrates your skin and buries itself in your bones. African animals have a way of doing that. A lions roar gives you the most bizarre feeling of excitment, anticipation and dread, while the noise seems like it pulses through your veins, until it settles like a dead weight on your chest.

Driving through Uganda's leafy green vista, the colours are incredibly vivid. Not what I was expecting at all. Its mountainous fields of tea, banana plantations and red soil roads. We have has the opportunity of getting off the beaten track a bit more into local communities, local roads and areas that don't see Muzungu very often.

Everyone's passion for Africa is made me realise that I am on the home stretch. In a few weeks I will be home again...

I just emailed Iain to extend my trip... To include Rwanda, Burundi and the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) Although as soon as I sent it, I realised that I am delaying the inevitable. I am scared that this all has to end and when it does I'll be back in the same position I was 2 years ago. Sans job, still with no idea what I want to do, and what I am passionate about, other than being on the road and planning my next adventure.

In the mean time, I will head off gorilla trekking and put the future to the back of my mind.

Posted by kayles 08:26 Archived in Uganda Comments (0)

Got some rains down Africa

Hope this song is now in your head!

rain 20 °C

On arriving in Kenya, I had had a LONG travel day. A very local immersion day.

The night before I had arrived back in Moshi from the Kili climb. To celebrate safe returns had a beer with my guide, Arshad. I immediately regretted that decision. 1 Kilimanjaro mountain = safe and sound, 1 Kilimanjaro beer = almost killed me. Even though Arshad wanted to take me out for green banana stew, karaoke and reggae dancing, I politely declined and had a night fighting with the ever disconnecting internet to speak to Mum and Iain to let them know I was alive.

The next morning I felt like a million bucks, however someone was yet to inform the 100 year old lady that had climbed inside my body and died, that she was not needed anymore, and that her contract weighing down my legs was terminated. So I waddled to breakfast and got a massage from a lady who sounded like she had a cheeky case of Ebola and was using her snot as massage oil.

After a decontamination shower, I was told my shuttle to Nairobi would leave at 10. Then 10.30. Then 10.30 a car would come and pick me up to take me to my shuttle that left at 11. Then at 11, still in the car I was told 11.30 was the shuttles leaving time. 12 came and went and 12.30 a shuttle arrived in the car park teeming with passengers and excess baggage.

It was then I realised, I didn't have any food in my possession, bar 2 chupa chups (I know, rocking it old school!) and a bottle of water. Fail. This was going to be a hAngry day. I managed to get a bottle of coke at the border crossing into Kenya, so when I arrived back with the Acacia team in Nairobi I was famished. But the timing and lack of food was not the most challenging parts of the journey. I managed to sit myself a single seat on the left hand side of the bus, unfortunately just above the wheel, so no leg room, and the wheel was not aligned so it felt like the whole bus was shaking from my own bones. I couldn't rest my head on the seat as it felt likely was trying to vibrate all of the teeth out of my skull. To add to the discomfort I was crushed into this seat by 2 large suitcases, so no opportunity to move. The 100 year old lady that died inside me, didn't enjoy this. I felt like the only thing I was missing was live chickens running round the bus.

If this wasn't enough, the journey, which to me felt like it started at 10am, didn't reach Nairobi until 9.30pm. With 1 toilet break... Oh well I guess in one sense, I am lucky I didn't have anything to eat or drink.

Arrival in Nairobi meant reuniting with my guide and driver, who were pleased to see I had survived, so pleased they tried to kill me with brandy and coke.

Nairobi is a mad place, filled with ineffective traffic lights, traffic and always a slight chance of a mugging. It's called Nai-Robbery for a reason. But I had a lot of fun anyway, reggae dancing, more lamb than I have had in the last 2 years, and just a bit of recuperation time after Kili.

Then the rain started. I have had very little rain since arriving in Africa. I think Kenya has made up for the whole continent. Once it started it didn't really cease for 2 days, thunder, flooding the whole works. On the day we went to pick up the new crew for the Uganda route, the truck was driving through foot deep water at times. And the foam coming out of the slums was covering the road. Nairobi has the biggest slum in Africa more than a million people live in a make shift housing belt that runs through the city.

Our new group seems like it is going to be awesome. We have a super mixture 16 people from 8 different countries. But mostly kiwis, ozzies and South Africans that live or have been living in London. Time will only tell, but so far I'm looking forward to the next 2 weeks.

Driving toward the Ugandan border, the journey takes us along the Rift Valley, over the equator and toward a green country side that is full of lush vegetation, fruit and vegetables and cool weather. My Maasi blanket is probably my 'go to' item at the moment, for keeping me warm as it is very chilly at nights up here. It also brings mad roads, potholes, road works, police checks, speed bumps and upturned trucks. Most of the road is lined with massive trucks with their wheels in the air lying in the ditch, like a dog wanting its belly scratched.

The promise of the Ugandan border brings families and bystanders more like Malawi. In Tanzania the people seemed more cautious and suspicious, there was no waving, smiles and chasing the truck. But up here it has returned. Children carrying other children, using their spare hands to wave. Kids carrying axes and waving, kids balancing bundles of sticks on their head or putting their live chicken under their arms so they have enough spare hands to wave and catch your attention.

Although there is a lot of people lining the road, to wave there is An interesting display of industry here. It's all about diversification of your product. If you are a butchery, you should also be pharmacy and a bar.
Markets with singer sewing machines sitting on the same table as oranges, next to second hand jeans and a pile of bricks. Who knows what you might need.

Today we cross the boarder and head into Uganda, I will return to Kenya before leaving, but in the mean time in am excited about that lies at the end of this road. Even if it is under the gloomy storm clouds of potentially more rain.

Posted by kayles 06:55 Archived in Kenya Comments (0)

The roof of Africa, climbing Mount Kilamanjaro

sunny 19 °C

I stood at the snake park in Arusha with a forlorn expression on my face as my team and the truck left without me. As previously mentioned the night before we celebrated an epic journey from Livingstone to Nairobi with way too much Kilimanjaro beer, followed by brandy and coke, followed by j├Ąger. The sadness of the truck leaving was definitely made all the worse for the hangover I was suffering.

After a comedy of errors - a non-existent taxi, the only hiking store in Arusha being closed, a bus to Moshi almost leaving without me and a driver who tried to leave me on the side of the road instead of taking me to my hotel (it may surprise you but this was through no fault of my own, I didn't do something that made him want to kick me out). I finally arrived at Riverside Hotel in Moshi, seemingly the meeting place for all of Zara tours. I walked into the reception and was met with a huge hug. I'm not sure who the lady was that gave it me, but I had to apologise for being sweaty and tired and she replied with 'no problems sister, we are glad you have arrived'.

I was taken to meet my guide Arshad and pick up a whole bunch of rental gear. Obviously coming to Africa without planning to climb Kili, made the recommended kit list a little problematic. But nothing was too big or too small for the Zara lot, it was very reassuring. From there, there was nothing to do but stop worrying, drink a big bottle of water and sleep off my day-long hangover.

Day 1:
As I woke up Iain at 4am London time to say my goodbyes in a very fatalistic way, it became apparent to me that I was climbing a bloody big mountain, that I hadn't trained for, hadn't researched and without the big group of people I was expecting to climb with. Apart from my guide, I was tackling Kili alone. My competitive spirit would be useless and I would have to challenge and push myself. The only 'fitness' I currently have is piss fit - and that wouldn't help!

After a hilarious Monty Python-esque sketch of 'find the electrical tape' in the local supermarket.... (No, that is a garden hose, no, that is a banana....) we were on our way. The sooner I started walking, the sooner I could stop psyching myself out. Unfortunately African time was not on my side. African time is similar to Island time. They say in Africa, the Mzungu (foreigner) have the watch and the Africans have the time. The process of finding porters, filling paperwork and general sorting took over an hour of sitting twiddling my thumbs. I learnt very quickly to keep my kindle in my bag at all times.

Once on the path, Arshad realised that 'Pole, Pole' (slow, slow in Swahili) was not going to work for me, and he best keep up or he was going to be left behind. He told me, 'Kayleigh, one day I will make you go pole, pole, just wait.' He was right, but more on that later. We arrived at Mandara, 5 minutes after the porters, this was the first and last time that the porters arrived at the camp before me. A hut to myself (thank goodness for the Tanzanian bribing way - one bottle of coke), and I was on my way to the roof of Africa.

Day 2:
Consisted of a hike from 2700 metres above sea level to 3700 in 11 kilometres. The distance didn't concern me, but the fact that I had only been up to 3300 before really played on my mind. Basically by lunchtime I had no idea how badly my body was going to react. It's a pretty scary concept for a notorious over thinker like myself.

I shouldn't have been concerned about the altitude, I should have been more concerned about the tree that hung over the left hand side of the path. In true radhaz style, I smashed my head into it, full anti-pole, pole and hit the ground. My guide was super concerned and kept apologising. (Well, I found out later he was apologising. He kept saying pole... I thought this is not an appropriate time to tell me to slow down, I'm completely stopped sitting on the dirt path. However I later learnt that pole, pole = slow, pole = sorry. Easy mistake to make even without another head injury).

The rest of the day was spent asking how I was and checking I was ok. I told him that's if I got to the top of Kili without some sort of stupid injury no one would believe me. The bump on the head made me completely forget the altitude and a cheeky $1USD secured me a cabin to myself and a good night sleep in Horombo.

Day 3:
Morning came with warm water to wash and a full breakfast. Then I was ready to hike to Kibo hut, the base camp for the final ascent. Arshad kept checking on my head, and apart from the egg on the side, I was fine. He said normally from about 4000 metres people lose their appetite or feel nauseated. Super uplifting. He wasn't wrong though, it was at this point people started dropping like flies. I, on the other hand, had no head ache, no nausea, no vomiting and beautiful weather on tap. I was on top of the world. After a cuckoo lunch (chicken) on the saddle we started our approach to the Kibo hut at 4700 mtrs. The last kilometre was ridiculous. It felt like my legs were slowly turning to concrete and the hut was on a travellator forever movingly in the opposite direction.

Reaching the hut was not the sanctuary I was anticipating. Imagine trying to sleep in a deep freezer mixed with a cave made of rubble, paint it white, put bunks in it and you still wouldn't feel the inhospitable nature of Kibo hut. I guess there is a reason why it is a base camp, you might die if you spend the whole night there, so you may as well get up and go walking and fair better outside. My time to leave this icy prison was 12:45am to start the formidable journey to the summit.

Day 4:
As I attempted to sleep, I made the fatal error of staring at the graffiti on the bunk above me. Amongst the well wishes and waz here's, was a very clear statement. Don't do it, it's not worth it. Great. There goes my restful sleep. I lay there, listening to others throwing up, hurrying to urgent toilet trips, thrashing with their sleeping bags in fitful slumbers and all I could think was what the hell am I doing? I like life, I like living without the feeling of a python crushing my rib cage. But I am here now and I need some epic motivation to eradicate this cautionary advice that was infecting my brain.

I got it from my guide. He said to me 'Kayleigh, you are strong like Simba. We will set out last and I want you to make it to the summit before anyone else on Marangu or Rongai route.' Just the competitive kick in the backside I needed.

By 1230 the hut was empty. It was just Arshad and I completing our last minute checks. Our path was lit by the moon as we started making our way up the final slope. I had saved my iPhone battery for this day so I could listen to motivational music and methodically time my steps to keep one in front of the other. The first 3 hours were ok, there was always someone in front to pick off, anyone who has run a marathon or half knows that feeling of picking your next target and setting yourself bite sized challenges. However after 3 hours I had no one left. I was in front, I just had to keep it that way.

Willed only by the music in my ears and my guide, I was in constant danger of falling asleep. Anyone who knows me, knows that this seems like an odd physical threat. I am like an ADHD squirrel in normal life. So it's a weird feeling to be terrified of blinking, just in case you pass out from altitude induced narcolepsy. Altitude effects are really difficult to explain as everyone suffers differently, and it is such an all encompassing feeling. But I felt like a 100 year old women had crawled inside my skin and then died. I was carrying her and myself up, and she was slowly decaying my own body.

Someone once told me that my age group are the least likely to make it to the summit, because we rush and don't let our bodies adjust. I think it is because having the feeling of our body turning to stone is a terrifying concept associated with age that we haven't experienced yet. Our bodies have always done what they wanted. To be restricted to what feels like a crawl, one step forward and one sideways to steady yourself is the actions if someone with a zimmerframe. Your mind plays tricks on you up there, I realised at one point that my pace was a slow march, the same pace that you carry a coffin with in the military. This was not helping.

But this wasn't what scared me most.

It was the cold. This was my 'give yourself an uppercut' moment. I was almost at Gilmans Point. This is the crest of the ridge before the slow incline to the summit. My hands were cold, actually not cold freezing. So were my toes. For someone who only has 9.5 working fingers this is not a fun scenario to find yourself in. I had a wee freak out, but I decided to do it in British style. I was quiet, I took a couple of deep breaths and had a cup of tea, whilst giving myself a talking to. I am always prepared to dish out life advice and motivational tidbits and this was my opportunity to send myself a sternly worded letter, served with a side order of harden the hell up.

As a precursor, you should know that this icicle finger situation was not helped by the fact that I had just opened up a packet of hand warmers kindly donated to me by a lovely Ozzie on my last trip. I was in the process of shaking them to activate them and Arshad said 'oh sorry Kayleigh, I didn't know you had these... They won't work up here... They only work up to 5000mtrs' (I was at 5600). I almost melted into a puddle right there. I was in a thought train of... this is my last hope. Very melodramatic I know. But as with my whole trip, I was lucky. By some miracle they worked.

With luck on my side, in just under 6 hours, I had conquered the last 6 kms to the summit of Kilimanjaro and was the first person from my route, or Rongai make it to the top. On my last few steps to the summit I turned around to one of the most beautiful scenes. Probably the most rewarding and spectacular sunrise, I have ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Many would say I had a relatively unchallenged summit of Kili, and you would be right. I think I have used up all my jokers on this one. I had so much luck on my side, not for my own preparation or organisation, just pure luck.
I had sun every day, no wind or rain.
I didn't succumb to the affects of altitude.
I never lost my appetite (I was still drinking tea and eating a snickers bar on the summit).
I had an awesome guide, with no other people to drag me down and slow down my ascent.
No blisters... In rental boots, unheard of.
My hand warmers worked and my drink bottle didn't freeze.

I actually had more problems coming down than up, but nothing that stopped me from reaching the summit and being back in my icebox bed within 8 hours. After about an hour of sleeping, I walked out to the bathroom and decided on the way back to lie in the sun as it was warmer than the hut. Arshad thought I had died, as I just stopped and lay on the ground half way between the bathroom and the hut. Ha! I'm made of tougher stuff than that!

The descent was pretty non-eventful except for the Germans and the Italians. Which I will put in another blog, as I have realised this one is very long and all of you probably have better things to do with your day than read this! I hope you had a big cup of tea and maybe a couple of gingernuts....

Posted by kayles 22:32 Archived in Tanzania Comments (0)

Tanzania and Animal crackers

sunny 26 °C

Our first day in Tanzania started with a 4am start and drive over a steep pass on the way to Dar-el-salaam. The landscape is thick with vegetation, the lush green is intersected with the red soil all the way to the horizon where mountains frame the sky. I remember my high school art teacher scolding me for making the blue perspective light between the mountains in my backgrounds too blue, too unrealistic she told me. Well she's obviously never travelled to Tanzania - I was just a bit before my time.

We head down the pass into the valley dodging broken down and crashed trucks to a scene of babao trees and the sounds of call to prayer. As the morning progresses the roadside is full of hustling communities, all out brushing their teeth, carrying water in buckets balanced precariously on their heads and sweeping the dust from outside their stalls with bundles of unidentifiable grasses, twigs and leaves. It is like the light of the day brings everyone outside again, as if being inside would be impossible, like time would cease to exist.

We had a couple of long drive days to get to Dar, through the green expanse, humidity and hilly outcrops but once there we setup on the beach for swims, cold Kilimanjaro beer and goat curry.

From Dar we headed to Zanzibar. Being almost completely Muslim, it feels like you are stepping into another country, not an island off the coast of Tanzania. The societies seem linked in name and proximity only. Zanzibar is a magical place, I can only attempt to explain it with a mixture of countries. If you mixed the Moroccan Marrakech medina with Hawaiian foliage, threw in a dash of British colonial like Raffles Hotel in Singapore, but don't ever clean it and then coat it with an overpowering Arab influence is the best way I can describe it. Oh with a sprinkling of Freddie Mercury - described by the locals as 'the gay'.

Zanzibar has a really interesting history of linking Africa to Europe, in particular through the slave trade. This inspired me to learn more about some if the historical slave trades. By doing this I stumbled upon a book called King Leopald's Ghost by Adam Hochschild. It is an in depth historical study of the Belgium colonisation of The Congo. It is a harrowing read. I would definitely recommend it. The book explains a humanitarian crisis on a scale that is unfathomable, and the events that lead to the world finally learning about the horrific raping of the Congo territory and the greedy tyrannical leadership of someone who never even stepped foot in his colony. I think the most horrific part is that I had NEVER heard of it. Not the book - the period of history. Here it is estimated that between 8-10 million people lost their lives. You might think that it's probably not in the history books because it was so long ago, but the majority of the bloodshed was between 1890-1910, AFTER the British had done their part in abolishing the slave trade. It's a big book, and quite graphic so not for the faint hearted but I would definitely recommend if you are looking for a new book to read.

We spent time in Stone town on the west side of the island before heading up to the beaches in the north. Here was my island holiday part of my holiday. Book reading, lying in the sun, drinking cocktails, sunset cruises... Ah the life.

Once returning to Dar we started our journey up to the Serengeti. For many this was the reason for their whole trip. The Serengeti has an enigma about it, a place that is mostly devoid of human influence and ruled by animals. It is like you are dropped off in a world so recently made, that you got to see it before Adam and Eve.
We left the truck in Arusha and headed off in 2 4x4's. NZF and a new younger, even more odd version of NZF had planted themselves in one truck, so naturally I found my way to the other.

The new version of NZF is very odd. He joined us in Dar, after having flown over Malawi from Zambia. Most people would say Malawi is one of the highlights of their trip. Not him, he said 'I didn't come to Africa for the people, Kayleigh. I'm just here for the animals'. Which was made very evident when one day in Zanzibar he sat in the room the curtains closed while he started and finished a Truman Capote's, In cold blood in a single day. He was my room buddy.... Yeah.... We were besties. He made an effort to find fault in everything, and one day I found him just sitting on a chair in front of the mirror. He'd been here for about half an hour. Not doing anything, he'd pulled a chair halfway across the room and was just sitting there. It was a little unnerving.

His thing was the Serengeti, so when our truck broke down for about an hour and their truck had to stay and help us our he lost his mind. We were taking too long. We were ruining his experience. We were wasting his opportunities. Our truck didn't mind in the slightest, we had a little portable speaker, sweet tunes and we were having a disco dance party safari. In true Kayleigh form, I had an even better time knowing that he was not. I'm a little sadistic like that.

The Serengeti and the Ngorongoro crater far exceeded my expectations, I tend to go in with low expectations for everything, so as to not be disappointed. I needn't have worried. It was just spectacular. I tried to convey it through my camera lens, but I am afraid I haven't done it justice. I had 3 days of great friends, experiences, laughs and a backdrop of animals, wide skys and such variation. Even if you do only come to Africa for the animals, you have to take a moment to appreciate the magical location in which they choose to reside.

This was my last hurrah with the Livingstone - Nairobi group. When we arrived back in Arusha we celebrated the end of a great twenty days with far too much booze and it was with a heavy heart and a killer hangover that the truck left without me the next morning. From here this was my time to concentrate on the next challenge. Kilimanjaro. Once my head stopped pounding and I stopped hugging my white porcelain friend.

Posted by kayles 01:47 Archived in Tanzania Comments (0)

Malawi: Green, Red, Black and Brown

sunny 29 °C

After 3 days I can, once again, trust a fart.

I remember Billy Connolly talking about not trusting a fart as you get old, but now I know exactly what he means.

I'm not sure where I got sick from. I was the only one to get it and also the only one that cleans there teeth with water from the sink, so I'm guessing that was it. So from Kande Beach in Malawi to Iringa in Tanzania I have been not my usual self.

I have to say, I am lucky the Tanzanian border control didn't have a temperature gun, like the majority of other border crossings, to stop the spread of Ebola. Even though I had a fever, nausea, vomiting, running stomach (which I think is a hilarious way to describe diarrhoea - makes me think of a sixpack abs from numerous marathons) and about 80% of the 'do you have this...' list, I could just tick no. Ticking yes means immediate quarantine and being left on the border by my tour party. No was the correct answer. And they wonder how Ebola is spreading...

Also to add to the mix, toilet stops are tricky, as every time you stop for a 'bush toilet' a mirage of children appear from absolutely nowhere. The emerge out of the bush, trees, buildings, jeez I think they form from the air sometimes for waves and smiles. Cute, but they have no regard for the fact that you are in the middle of losing your internal organs, in liquid form.

The children of Malawi are EVERYWHERE. Lovely, affectionate and unharming, they just want to hold your hand and walk with you where ever you go. Even if it is in the complete different direction to their orginal destination. Malawi has almost 45% of their population between the ages of 0 and 14. We stayed at place, and I said to my driver that I was going down to the lake for a swim, he said I give you 10 mins down there, I'm going to have a cold shower instead. I thought that was odd, but didn't question it. When I got to the lake I was mobbed. There was about 25 kids of various ages pulling my hands, pulling my towel and more worryingly pulling the tassels of my bikini. When I sat down and proceeded to try and ignore them, they built sandcastles underneath the book I was trying to read. On top of my towel. It was only when one of them burped in my face (keeping in mind three things - my illness and current inability to stop spewing, my customs dog nose and my intolerance of children in general) that I picked up my towel and headed back to the campsite. In true Kayleigh fashion I made sure I waited 25 minutes, so I didn't lose the bet.

There was a sign that said, please don't buy anything from the children on the beach, they should be in school. Wish I had seen this first. Although a lot of them are not in school, a lot of them are.

We visited a local school and there were two things that struck me. Firstly the lack of resources, but secondly (and mostly) the expectations of hand outs from outside the community. The school we visited had 1600 kids, and only 16 staff. Most classes had 200 kids in them, the kids work in groups and then one person reports back for each group. And historically they have had a collection of teachers from a number of different countries come and help out for about 6 month postings at any one time. The head teacher spoke to us and pointed out 2 boxes in front of him, in broken English he stated one was for money and one was for school resources. Then sat back for us to fill them. Don't get me wrong, I am happy to donate, as I am happy to see the Malawian people thrive, but surely at some point they need to use their community resources to upskill. Maybe the head teacher was just having a bad day, or maybe he's not the best person to speak for the school. I am going to try to connect them with a school in London to be sister schools.

On the other hand, we went and visited a local medical centre and the man running it was really informative, helpful and didn't look at tourists as cash cows. He was proud of his (and his centres) work in reducing birth deaths from mother and child, he was pivotal in reducing the AIDS and HIV new cases in the community by making the clinic not a 'scary' place to go to.

The country of Malawi is dominated by Lake Malawi on the Eastern border, it is a beautiful fresh water lake that scatters white sandy beaches along the coastline. It is the a tropical island holiday of our trip so far. Apparently Kande Beach is the Vegas of Malawi. Might have danced on the bar.

It has been a big chance in scenery too from the previous countries, super green and hilly. Lovely really. In my liveability list, it has the mountains and water. The toilets can flush toilet paper (if they flush), but the roads are getting mad. So it's off the list. Strike that, they are MAD. I'm glad I'm not driving. I'd have a nervous breakdown.

By the way for those who are keeping track, my group changed from 18 people in Livingstone to 9. New six people are remarkably normal and actually good fun. Thank goodness for that, I was getting tired of my own company. I'm really annoying! How do you all put up with me?

Posted by kayles 07:22 Archived in Malawi Comments (0)

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