As our time in Zimbabwe came to an end, we crossed Livingstone bridge into Zambia, and had relatively easygoing experience with customs.
Random aside- In my last post, I briefly mentioned that David and I had hurriedly filled out a form in an effort to avoid being sent to the back in to purgatory (also known as the Zimbabwe customs line). I neglected to mention what actually went on my form. First off, in my haste I checked the "male" box for gender. Under "reasons for visiting," I left a violent scribble, and wrote my birthday as 02/09/23. Finally, failing to awkwardly shimmy out my passport from my leg pouch while being yelled at by customs people to get back in the line, I made up a passport number that was actually two digits short. After all of this, the customs official gave my form a cursory glance and stamped my passport before shoving it back at me and shouting, "Neeeeext!" Ahhh, Bureaucracy.
Back to Zambia. One of the first things we did upon our arrival was head to the Zambian side of Victoria Falls. We'd spent the previous week hearing many times a day that the Zimbabwe side of the falls was superior, from Zimbabweans. I was surprised that not a single Zambian had the same advocacy for their side, but I soon found out why. The Zambian side is so stunning, that there's absolutely no need to advertise it. Don't get me wrong, the both sides are beautiful, but the Zambian side affords you the opportunity to get ridiculously close to the falls. Coincidentally, safety-wise, the Zambian side is downright frightening. There's these foot high vertical stumps connected by chains that follow the edge of viewing area. That's also the only thing between the viewer and certain watery death as beyond the chains is a sheer drop. Adding to that is water and moss everywhere- seriously not for those prone to vertigo.
One of my favorite things about Zambia were the random vendors we haggled with during our stay. After doing some serious damage at the curio market in town, David and I began our quest to find me a new pair of sunglasses. Yes friends, it's true- Madagascar not only is the hiding place of the evil mosquito that gave me Malaria, but also the final resting place of my beloved aviators. In any case, we happened upon a vendor who was selling some "Roy Bans." We found a pair of aviators, but they were pretty shabbily constructed and the end pieces immediately fell off. Without missing a beat, the vendor told us that that was a benefit of the glasses, as it made them easier to take on and off. We didn't get them.
The greatest part of our stay in Zambia for me was getting a chance to raft on the Zambezi. It was my first time doing class fives...and I loved it! Our guide was a guy who called himself Potato. It turns out we were quite lucky- Potato claimed that our boat was the first boat he'd led that hadn't capsized during the run. In any case, it was great fun, and we even had a chance to jump off of 30ft high rocks into the water!
Of all of the countries we've visited so far, Zambia joins the Comoros as the two that I'd love to come back to in the near future. Now we're off to Tanzania (specifically Zanzibar)!
Friday, June 17, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Zimbabwe: Where American Money Goes to Die
Our arrival in Zimbabwe was characterized by extreme sleep deprivation, having taken a night bus from the Johannesburg bus station at 7pm, and arriving close to 10am in Masvingo, the city adjacent to the Great Zimbabwe.
Customs in Zimbabwe is a treat. After the smooth, well organized South African side, we were let off the bus to stand in a line at 4am until dawn, only to be told to get back in line when the agents found out we hadn't filled out the proper form (because they'd run out of forms), at which point we scribbled incoherently on the customs form and ducked back in line in front of the officials.
By some miracle we managed to make it back onto the bus, and through the customs chaos. The ride itself was very entertaining. Whenever I would try to move to stretch my legs, the women nearby would hiss at me. Yes, hiss. Like cats. And when a piece of luggage fell of the shelf and smacked me on the head, the owner quickly collected it and glared at me, as though I had willed it to nearly give me a concussion. From my observations, I would say say Zimbabwe women are some of the most dramatic people I have ever encountered.
The attitude of Zimbabweans towards white people is very interesting. President Mugabe's land reform program has chased out much of the white (by his logic, colonial) population. From my observations, Zimbabweans complain about racism from South Africans, yet they seem to overlook that many of their own citizens were forced to seek refuge in South Africa due to their president's policies. In any case, tourism is all but dead. David and I were treated very well though- beyond the hissers. While at the Great Zimbabwe, which is the second oldest archeological site in Africa, we saw only 2 other tourists.
As we traveled on to Harare, Bulawayo, and Victoria Falls, we saw a good number of Europeans, but still fairly low all things considered.
Mugabe's controversial actions towards "colonialists" aside, during his reign the value of the Zimbabwe dollar tanked, losing all value in 2008. So now they use American currency, which is hilarious because most of the bills are on the verge of falling apart. They even actively use $2 bills! Seriously these bills are so nasty that you don't want to touch them. They're always damp. Shudder.
Truth be told, I left feeling bad for Zimbabwe. It's a country that has a ton of potential, but has completely been screwed over by terrible leadership. Between Victoria Falls and the Great Zimbabwe, they could have a thriving tourism industry. But between the tooth-pulling of customs and negative international view given the land reform program, there needs to be some changes.
Customs in Zimbabwe is a treat. After the smooth, well organized South African side, we were let off the bus to stand in a line at 4am until dawn, only to be told to get back in line when the agents found out we hadn't filled out the proper form (because they'd run out of forms), at which point we scribbled incoherently on the customs form and ducked back in line in front of the officials.
By some miracle we managed to make it back onto the bus, and through the customs chaos. The ride itself was very entertaining. Whenever I would try to move to stretch my legs, the women nearby would hiss at me. Yes, hiss. Like cats. And when a piece of luggage fell of the shelf and smacked me on the head, the owner quickly collected it and glared at me, as though I had willed it to nearly give me a concussion. From my observations, I would say say Zimbabwe women are some of the most dramatic people I have ever encountered.
The attitude of Zimbabweans towards white people is very interesting. President Mugabe's land reform program has chased out much of the white (by his logic, colonial) population. From my observations, Zimbabweans complain about racism from South Africans, yet they seem to overlook that many of their own citizens were forced to seek refuge in South Africa due to their president's policies. In any case, tourism is all but dead. David and I were treated very well though- beyond the hissers. While at the Great Zimbabwe, which is the second oldest archeological site in Africa, we saw only 2 other tourists.
As we traveled on to Harare, Bulawayo, and Victoria Falls, we saw a good number of Europeans, but still fairly low all things considered.
Mugabe's controversial actions towards "colonialists" aside, during his reign the value of the Zimbabwe dollar tanked, losing all value in 2008. So now they use American currency, which is hilarious because most of the bills are on the verge of falling apart. They even actively use $2 bills! Seriously these bills are so nasty that you don't want to touch them. They're always damp. Shudder.
Truth be told, I left feeling bad for Zimbabwe. It's a country that has a ton of potential, but has completely been screwed over by terrible leadership. Between Victoria Falls and the Great Zimbabwe, they could have a thriving tourism industry. But between the tooth-pulling of customs and negative international view given the land reform program, there needs to be some changes.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
The Comoros are, in Fact, All That and a Bag of Chips
The Comoros Islands are awesome.
Ok, well truthfully I can't attest to all of the islands, but Grand Comore is amazing.
This is the first Islamic state we've visited on our trip, and truth be told, I was bowled over by the beauty of this place and the people. While this could be because I was still recovering from the spider hive known as Madagascar, in truth I feel it was due to the fact that everyone was very friendly and made an effort to understand David and my massacring of the french language.
We stayed in Moroni, which is the capital of the Comoros. The town was covered in concrete houses and framed amongst countless palm trees.
After arriving at the Prince Said Ibrahim International Airport, we lodged at the Los Arcades Hotel, which was comfortable hotel right on the coast. The hotel itself was hilarious. We ended up switching rooms 3 times because the A/C kept breaking. The first night we stayed in the "Executive Suite" which had an automatic sink which wouldn't work half the time because of the power outages, and a huge refrigerator that wouldn't plug into the wall because it was from Asia and the plugs didn't match up.
During our first full day, we explored Moroni. The vendors were friendly, and didn't push their goods quite as much as Madagascar's. At some point David made friends with the assistant curator at the national museum, who was very friendly. Upon discovering our interest in Islam, he had us follow him through this labyrinth of vendors to the alMa ruf Mosque. We were let inside (I was wearing a headscarf) and led to a shrine devoted to Muhammmad Ahmad, who allegedly brought Shadhiliyya to the Comoros, so the observers are Sufi. Please forgive spelling errors. David wrote out all of the names, but reading his writing is like reading french. Painful. :P
It was my first time inside a mosque, and I was very interested to see how David and I would be received- it was interesting because the men didn't really care too much, but the women gave me their greatest death glares possible. David later on said that the shrine we visited is patronized by single people seeking husbands, especially on the day we visited, which happened to be the anniversary of Ahmad's death. Which means that the women could have viewed me as competition, hence the "I hope a thousand emus devour your liver" looks. But the head of the mosque was very nice- they gave us two baggies of food when we left.
We continued to wander around town a bit more, but eventually went back. Unfortunately, as most of you know at this point, I got Malaria (we counted back the days and surprise surprise it was from a Madagascar mosquito) and didn't get too much of a chance to see the rest of town as I was bedridden and on an 8 pill a day regiment.
But on the bright side getting Malaria caused me to really fall in love with the people of the Comoros- once the owner of the hotel found out I was sick, she and her sister insisted on taking care of me. They sent us oranges (they kept going on and on about the importance of Vitamin C), and when I had to get my blood test, they drove David and I to the hospital, stopping at their house to run inside and grab several of their sweaters to keep me warm as my body temperature plummeted. When we got to the hospital, David had to fight with them to be able to pay the bill! They even tried to pay for my blood test! Again, these are complete strangers, and we were literally the only Christians on a Muslim island.
Side note- my Malaria is cured- the meds work really fast.
I really can't say enough positive things about the Comoros- I wish we'd had more time there. But alas, the trip must go on, and now we're off to Zimbabwe!
Ok, well truthfully I can't attest to all of the islands, but Grand Comore is amazing.
This is the first Islamic state we've visited on our trip, and truth be told, I was bowled over by the beauty of this place and the people. While this could be because I was still recovering from the spider hive known as Madagascar, in truth I feel it was due to the fact that everyone was very friendly and made an effort to understand David and my massacring of the french language.
We stayed in Moroni, which is the capital of the Comoros. The town was covered in concrete houses and framed amongst countless palm trees.
After arriving at the Prince Said Ibrahim International Airport, we lodged at the Los Arcades Hotel, which was comfortable hotel right on the coast. The hotel itself was hilarious. We ended up switching rooms 3 times because the A/C kept breaking. The first night we stayed in the "Executive Suite" which had an automatic sink which wouldn't work half the time because of the power outages, and a huge refrigerator that wouldn't plug into the wall because it was from Asia and the plugs didn't match up.
During our first full day, we explored Moroni. The vendors were friendly, and didn't push their goods quite as much as Madagascar's. At some point David made friends with the assistant curator at the national museum, who was very friendly. Upon discovering our interest in Islam, he had us follow him through this labyrinth of vendors to the alMa ruf Mosque. We were let inside (I was wearing a headscarf) and led to a shrine devoted to Muhammmad Ahmad, who allegedly brought Shadhiliyya to the Comoros, so the observers are Sufi. Please forgive spelling errors. David wrote out all of the names, but reading his writing is like reading french. Painful. :P
It was my first time inside a mosque, and I was very interested to see how David and I would be received- it was interesting because the men didn't really care too much, but the women gave me their greatest death glares possible. David later on said that the shrine we visited is patronized by single people seeking husbands, especially on the day we visited, which happened to be the anniversary of Ahmad's death. Which means that the women could have viewed me as competition, hence the "I hope a thousand emus devour your liver" looks. But the head of the mosque was very nice- they gave us two baggies of food when we left.
We continued to wander around town a bit more, but eventually went back. Unfortunately, as most of you know at this point, I got Malaria (we counted back the days and surprise surprise it was from a Madagascar mosquito) and didn't get too much of a chance to see the rest of town as I was bedridden and on an 8 pill a day regiment.
But on the bright side getting Malaria caused me to really fall in love with the people of the Comoros- once the owner of the hotel found out I was sick, she and her sister insisted on taking care of me. They sent us oranges (they kept going on and on about the importance of Vitamin C), and when I had to get my blood test, they drove David and I to the hospital, stopping at their house to run inside and grab several of their sweaters to keep me warm as my body temperature plummeted. When we got to the hospital, David had to fight with them to be able to pay the bill! They even tried to pay for my blood test! Again, these are complete strangers, and we were literally the only Christians on a Muslim island.
Side note- my Malaria is cured- the meds work really fast.
I really can't say enough positive things about the Comoros- I wish we'd had more time there. But alas, the trip must go on, and now we're off to Zimbabwe!
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