that's the boy... that's the kid...

I'll start this post with a long overdue acknowledgment. Hello, good day and how are you to every single person that works behind the front doors of Jones Feed Mills. Yes Lori, I do check comments!

I apologize for not sending any individually addressed emails - but it's not my fault! You see, I realized soon after I started this trip that I had relied a little too heavily on the address book Dave has compitently compiled into Outlook - and thus never really took the time to learn all of them. I'm pretty confident that they are all as basic as name@jfm, but I didn't feel like taking the time to guess a hundred combinations and play the odds that most people were hit. I know you guys talk, and I know feelings would be hurt if names were missed. No tears shall be spilt on my account.

This said, I would like to reiterate again how much I enjoyed working with all of you - and for the life of me can not comprehend how that place operates in my absence. It was because of the wonderful time spent with all of you that I am able to fund my time abroad. For those of you who read this, please take a page out of Lori's book and drop a comment, along with your email and I will send you something more personal. Anyone can comment - even you.




Shout out aside, I had a epiphany last week - want to hear it? To set the scene, I should explain that I have developed a new haunt in Kisoro. A couple weeks back a new cafe opened just around the corner from the Golden Monkey hostel, right next to the craft shop run by the German lady, Val (I think I've mentioned her in a previous post). Unsuprisingly, the cafe is run by the same woman, and operates in an organized and exact way that is alien to these parts. Furthermore, the lady who operates as the waitress is an expat of Canada and pretty much awesome to talk with - amazingly friendly and cheery.

For all these reasons, and the fact that you can get food in less than two hours, this restaurant provides a little bubble of normalcy in the otherwise foreign and chaotic atmosphere of East Africa. It was while I was there last Thursday morning, drinking filtered coffee (instead of tinned!) and being stared at like a fish in a bowl by passerbys (really driving home the bubble feel) that I realized that I like it here. I like Africa.

This may not seem like much of an epiphany, so I will explain. Over my first month here, there has always been this itch in the back of my mind that something wasn't quite right - something I couldn't put my finger on. Although it didn't really impede my ability to function, it did provide me with some reservation and even hestiation that I would define as uncharacteristic. It left me feeling at odds with the continent.

Yet, for some reason, having this place that was almost a teleporter to a different world, allowed perspective. I realized that I like the organized chaos, the loosely based time schedule and the muzungu status that dogs a traveler like me through Africa. The only thing that I am unable to place is whether the creation of an escape gave me the chance to truly value what I had, or the allowance of a respite emboldened me to truly embrace the culture knowing that I had a temporary out close at hand to use.

Regardless of the answer, the shift in attitude could not have come at a better time. With the start of some true backpacking about to begin, a slightly cocky swagger to the ways of Africa is a blessing. It does, however, mean that I am about to throw away all the stability and routine that I have managed to build. I will honestly say that I am quite excited to become a little more transitory. Classic backpacking holds such a romantic notion with me, that I am elated to truly hit the dusty, broken roads of Africa for the first time.

Who is Pudge you ask? Pudge is my sister
She tends to be annoying, much like a blister
But I wouldn´t trade her for the world

Pudge is a bit chunky, thick at the thighs
¨Don´t call me Pudge!¨ she idly cries
But I wouldn´t trade her for the world

When she moves she jiggles
And if you poke her she giggles
But I wouldn´t trade her for the world

However, maybe for a robot.

Jessica looks excited too!

It conincides with these sentiments that I had recently just started - and finished - reading the book, The Beach. I'm not sure why I had never read it before, but I can reckon that it was probably because I remember seeing the movie back when and finding myself less than inspired. That, however, was a different time, and the nuances and romance of the life of the traveler was lost on me. This go through though, it struck chords. The narration is first person, and done in a simple yet elegant way that niether demands nor insults. Reading The Beach is more like thinking through your own thoughts than taking the words off the paper. It touches and bounces on so many thoughts and sentiments that I can relate to - allowing it to add itself neatly to the list of my favourite books. The only bad thing about it is that it has me mumbling the words "that's the boy, that's the kid..." quietly to myself. Although I don't feel like writing any more of a book review, it has got me thinking, and I can appreciate anything that does that.

Lastly in the news department is the wildlife. I had made a joke to Jess about half a month ago that the forest, and its animals, operated much like a video game. The premise of the game is that seeing animals beats levels; every animal is a boss. This joke was timed after a stint in the woods where we had seen so little fauna for it to be laughable. The driving comment I made was that as soon as we saw Gorillas, the last boss, we'd unlock all content.

Not suprisingly then, in the last week and a bit since we trekked the jungle of Bwindi, some fun stuff has happened! Last week, first thing in the morning, Jess and I were making a usual walk to the monkeys, and were not at all suprised to see the regular signs of buffalo and elephants in the mud. We made our often ignored half joke / half pleas to follow the tracks, and again were not at all suprised to hear them rejected. Therefore, the suprise came not ten minutes later when we discovered that something had decided to stick around! We were close to entering the forest proper when we were stopped, and directed with pointing fingers to look to the other side of a dried up stream bed. Standing, large as life, just thirty feet away, was a full grown male forest elephant. It didn't stay too long, but I did manage a nice photo of it's butt. Joking aside, hell yes elephant!



Add on to that the fact I saw a bush buck today on the way to see the habituated golden monkey group, and you might think that the forest did in fact have some organized viewing sequence to it. I can just imagine the UWA walking ahead of me and kidnapping all the animals until I shelled out money for a Gorilla permit. What a sneaky and devious ploy.

The habituated group of golden monkeys was neat, but rather anti-climactic. It is hard to get really, really worked up to see something that I have been viewing for the past month and a half. It was neat to see them so close though, and more importantly frustrating that in the first ten minutes I had collected many more, and better photos than a month plus of efforts had produced.



Tonight is a goodbye party night, and will most likely be one big wreck. We all went to the marketed on Thursday and managed to assemble the ugliest ensembles we could find. The tour de force of my paticular number is a stunning black cardigan featuring Winnie the Pooh and Tigger holding hands. Best friends is neatly embroidered across the chest. I worry for the person who actually bought this from disney, but reckon it was perhaps that gift you might recieve from a strange and distant relative.

No other news to report, must go be ridiculous.

Thanks for reading,

Sean

Dark Continent, Light Mood (and a video!)

Monkey buisness aside, I have a confession to make. At the start of these blogs, and this trip, I ashamedly felt very much like going home. That is not the confession, the confession is that I am a person rarely satisfied with what I have. I hunger, I want; what I get is rarely ever the true means to my desire. As I sit at home, sheltered, I long for the chaotic, unruly nature that accompanies travel and adventure. Come opportunity, I embarrassingly slant my eyes home bound, drawn by the temptation of comfort, safety and stimulation; plugged into the world from my bed room, behind closed doors.

Therefore, it is understandable that I truly cherish the moments of real satisfaction. Last Sunday, on a whim, Jess decided that a walk down the road was in order. Unfortunately, this spontaneous walk was decided upon about ten minutes prior to a storm, and we found ourselves a kilometer downhill and down road come monsoon. We got wet. We got so wet that the only plausible next step was to strip to my boxers on return and parade around the grass like a mad hatter in the frozen mountain downpour. Funny enough, that was the first time on the Dark Continent that I felt at home; a crazy Muzungu losing his mind in the rain. That was the exact moment that I decided not to waste another second here longing for the creature comforts of a world away. They'll be there when I get back, but I'm here now, and I'll no longer squander the beauty of this land with a bad mood.

Understandably then, this past week up on the hill and around has been fairly good. The rainy season is moving into our little nook of Uganda, while it apparently is getting drier everywhere else. We have been told several reasons for why it is rainy here, and the closest I can figure out is that the mountains play their part. One local was convinced that the weather was unpredictable due to the closeness of the Rwanda and Congo borders. Those darn other countries are always causing that annoying unpredictability.

The vast amount of spare time we have in the afternoon is finally paying off too. Although at first is was a curse, as we struggled to fill the unstimulated hours, it has now provided us with endless opportunities to explore the community.

For example, we managed to finally get into the craft shop shop run by a local woman near the park entrance. Although it was a fairly small operation, the carvings were all quite nice, and I believe Jess and I made her day by dropping $70,000 USH on the little shop. Now if you're curious at home, that is about $35 Canadian, but over a months salary for many of the people here. The woman was literally singing and dancing as we walked out. On a small tangent, in Kisoro there is a craft store that sells similar things - the irony however, is that the nicest traditional craft store in town, but is run by a portly, industrious German woman who is always fervently working her sewing machine.

On Wednesday Darja, Jess and I set off with our field guide, Jared, to visit one of the local caves. These caves are situated around the community, buried and obstructed by farmers fields, and used to be home to the Batwa pygmies.



Now I think we just assumed rather naively that we would have no problems reaching this cave and entering, just the four of us; so we grabbed three weak flashlights and headed off for some spelunking. My gosh, how we were so wrong. As is the way with any walk through the area, we managed to amass our large following of local children; the three Muzungu messiahs and their flock of followers. Such that we arrived at the pitch dark cave with roughly twenty five children eagerly scrambling after us into the blackness. If what you are imagining is comical, then the truth was even funnier.

The majority of my time in the cave was spent shepherding children safely along with the guidance of my ever-dimming torch. Meanwhile, Darja had decided to become a movie producer and was having Jared do several takes when he went to explain things of interest, all the while directing the minimal light and our voluntary all-kid cast to do and say certain things for effect. This was all happening inside a dark, wet cave, somewhere under the surface of Uganda.

The cave itself is rather neat. As it was explained to us, the cave was the home for a tribe of Batwa Pygmies, who used to use it as a location to launch raids on the local populace. The estimates we were told were that it could have housed upwards of 10,000 pygmies. Now you've got to understand, this cave wasn't that big! So how small were these pygmies? Or, how comfortable did they get. The floor of the cave was lined with mud and bat guano, and the ever dripping ceiling meant for constant puddles - not my ideal place to sleep. I'm sure the video that Darja made will surface eventually, and I must say the true quality of it comes out in the forced awkwardness. Jared ending all his takes with "OK?", the children's inability to not look at the camera and myself, constantly with face in palm.

On Thursday we decided for a change of pace, and spent it climbing a volcano. The largest of the three volcanoes, Muhavura, that big and often misty chunk of rock in the background of our daily life here. It didn't fail to be either; big or misty. Wake up was 5:30, boda boda ride 6, sunrise 6:30, and climbing through the hole in the buffalo wall to the isolated UWA rangers station at half seven.



Mountain climbing is an enigma. The whole way to the top is a constant struggle for motivation; "I'm paying for this?". I'm not sure if I just felt a little off, but the climb was one of the hardest things I've ever done. About half way up a cloud rolled in on the wings of a severely cold wind. I didn't have a thermometer, but I lost feeling in my fingers. This new coldness was rubbed in by our guide claiming that he was sure "we were more than halfway", although I assumed we were only seconds from the top. The much needed stops for the ever thinning air offered no respite, as they heralded the arrival of massive shivering - filling the space where motion, and some reasonable level of warmth used to be.

The top of the volcano is adorned with a crater lake. The true testament to how thick the cloud cover was, is that when we reached the top, not three meters from the water, we couldn't see the pool's edge. On a good day you are supposed to be able to see all the way to Goma in the Congo, and it's a real shame we missed out. On the positive side, the crater lake is said to be lucky for those who drink from it, and so I obliged. Yes, I drank mystery water from the top of an African mountain. It is funny how, in stark contrast, the majority of the time going down was spent singing and chatting. The walk down went very smoothly, even if it felt longer than the ascent, and we reached the bottom proud, albeit a little mush in the legs. Although I had regretted paying for the torture earlier, I didn't for a second after touch down.

Today was a lazy day. Late rise, late breakfast and I talked to a crazy guy about speaking with Canada about price equality (I'll just get Canada on the phone!). Our rest stop in Kisoro has been quite good, if maybe not so restful, and I think pork is on the bill tonight followed by a visit to the lake tomorrow!

So I suppose in conclusion, things have been progressing along nicely. I am enjoying myself, and the opportunities for fun and adventure are rolling in as a result. It is truly funny that the thing that bothered me most of all at the beginning, endless amounts of free time, is now one of things I'm beginning to cherish most about this trip. One of my absolute favourite things, is sitting out on the balcony in the afternoon and waiting for the birds to come in. Sitting, reading and waiting with my camera nearby, the birds come in force for endless photo opportunities.






Thanks for reading!

Much love,

Sean