The Game of Game Drives

Nants ingonyama bagithi baba [There comes a lion]

Sithi uhhmm ingonyama [Oh yes, it's a lion]

Nants ingonyama bagithi baba [There comes a lion]

Sithi uhhmm ingonyama [Oh yes, it's a lion]

Ingonyama

Wednesday May 25th

A God forsaken hour, also can be described as 0515 AM.

Wake up. Groggy. For a game drive, a safari in a land vehicle. Rub sleep from my eyes. Toss on shorts. Mistake, though unavoidable, I only had shorts packed, its like 40 degrees Fahrenheit outside in the cool Botswana morning. Go to gathering area. Wait for other people. Hop in one of the lodge's three trucks. It's me Dr. DJ Lacks, Aaron "Still might get mauled by a lion" Lin, Katie, Doug and Caitlin. Two to each row. I weather the open topped vehicle ride with Katie, ducking below our blanket while the truck cruised up to Chobe National Park at a speed to effectively drop the temperature around us another 15 degrees. Arrive at gate. Our driver gets out to register. Five more minutes pass. He returns and we pass through the gatehouse, seeing all the skulls from dead animals recovered by the rangers; elephant, kudu, etc. We stop along the side of the road just as we enter the park proper and our guide starts telling us certain things to know about safariing in the park. Keep voices down, keep eyes open, etc. And then he goes on about "The Big Five:" Africa's most notorious safari animals: Rhinoceroses, Elephants, Buffalo, Leopards, and Lion. Only the later four can be found in Chobe. Their notoriety comes from the fact that they have been known to charge and attack vehicles. Basically, he tells us not to throw anything, or stand up quickly or made any sudden movements. I silently hoped to get charged and Dr. Lacks later voiced his opinion about how great of a story that would be, to be charged by one of the Big Five.

Setting off through the park, the sun was just over the horizon. Very gorgeous. The sunlight coming off the river had colors that I had never seen before. Really spectacular. And this point I chimed off a few choruses of The Circle of Life with Doug. We started off by seeing some birds, nothing too big. We did see the type of bird the Lion King character Zazu takes after, the red-billed hornbill. The game continued to grow in size the longer we kept at it. Impala, warthogs, guinea fowl, jackals, were fairly numerous and common sight. There was even a honey badger, who after one look at us, turned tail and scampered into the bush. But after a while they really didn't get our blood a boilin'. Probably 30 minutes in we came across a fairly large cluster of impala, but just beyond them was this massive troop of baboons crossing in front of us. Several other trucks were ahead of us and stopped for photos. This troop was huge, I probably saw 50 individuals; big males, females with babies on their backs or scampering nearby. And we were the tail end of the crossing, I saw many baboons off in the distant brush to the left of the truck. From there we ventured off to a separate spur of trail, where we came across our first big game of the day: a giraffe. The guy was so hard to see; he was grazing behind a thorn bush with most of his body hidden. All you could see was the top of his head some 30 meters away. My zoom did him justice. From there, we moved closer to the the river, and along the way we encountered three male Cape Buffalo; the closest was grazing about 5 meters away. They had those little birds on them that picked ticks off their backs. The road kept moving us west and not long after the three cape buffalo, we cruised past one, two, four more buffalo at some 40kph. Then as I was off looking to my left, our driving hits the brakes and we come to little more than an idle after sliding a bit on the dirt. I now find myself in the midsts of a huge herd of buffalo completely surrounding our truck, the couple trucks ahead of us and on either side of the road. We immediately drop our voices to a whisper, all the while, I'm hoping that I'll get a story to tell about being charged. We ease our way through the herd, who were presumably coming back from drinking at the river, for another 10 minutes or so, letting the buffalo pass as they wish. Some even got jittery of our truck, started to run, and got a few more buffalo to follow suite, although they ran away from us. I got it on video. Probably one of the more tense moments.

After that we, continued along the dirt road and had to come to a stop to where three other trucks had stopped and were blocking most of the path; the other two vehicles from our lodge were there two. We come about closer to them, and ask what everyone was looking at. The next word got me into a frenzy: "lion."One of the most elusive animals in the park, as we were told by our guides, which is part of the reason we go out early, since they're nocturnal and most active at night. After craning our necks to see and straining our eyes for any hint of a lion, our truck finally gets into a position that I was able to spot the beast. It was really difficult to see, it was lying down in the shade of a this tall bush which made it look like a log or rock, but once you picked out the figure you could see the lioness in all of its leonine glory. Luckily my zoom came in handy again, it was probably 50 meters away and on a downward slope to the river. We were the only truck left from our lodge when all of a sudden another lioness comes out of no where, moseys over and plops itself next to the first lioness. It looked around for a bit, then lowered its head. We were so happy that we were this fortunate. Our guide tried going to a spot behind them by going down to the river and back up, but we couldn't find a navigable path. Instead we found a solitary buffalo drinking, who were disturbed.

Oh well. We had an hour or so left and met up with the other two trucks for a stretch break and coffee and tea. After having some delicious coffee in the still cool morning hours, we headed back. The trucks split up, covering different areas of the park hoping to still spot game on the way back. Besides the lions and buffalo herd, this game drive was looking much more dire than the river safari. But I was wrong on that account. The first thing we saw on the way back was a one horned impala that Doug dubbed a unicorn. Shortly after, a small herd of kudu, whose claim as Africa's largest antelope is rarely disputed. The male was huge. Next up we saw a herd of elephants, at least a dozen in number. They were grazing right there besides the road. So close to the truck, that I could step out and touch them. Such gentle giants they were. Really spectacular, my pictures can attest to that. We spent 10 minutes just watching them graze. Probably my favorite moment of my safari experiences. And the last thing we saw was a herd of six giraffes. Seeing them walk is very interesting, with their neck and heads towering over the brush in an almost periodic motion. They started to graze, going two or three to a large thorn bush when we stopped to look at them. Another set of good pictures were taken. Chobe National Park had been good to us, and I bid it farewell.

Back at the lodge, I later find out that one of the other groups had a lion cross in front of their truck to get to another sleeping lion in the bush, I was a little jealous. However, I still had the claim to seeing a leopard or two. There was also a small croc in the water near the reception building, about a meter long that was just chilling there. When you're in Africa, be a paparazzi. That was our last day in Kasane.

Falling off the Falls

0800. Tuesday May, 24th. Kasane. Botswana.

I break my fast and then we head out to go see Victoria Falls and its many attractions. To get there, we are going to travel into the neighboring country of Zimbabwe. We go through Botswana immigration to get out of the country. Then we head to Zimbabwe immigration, where a full mile of trucks stood in line, waiting to get their cargo into the country. It was a busy place. We had to pay 30 USD for a visa the size of one of the passport pages to get into the country. I come to find out that Zimbabwe faced hyper inflation and that their dollars are worth nothing. They've been using US dollars for quite some time now. After they didn't let Donna in because she's a Philippine national and most countries besides the US, EU and Commonwealth nations need to apply for a visa ahead of time, which was unknown to us. She went back to the lodge with our TA, Katie, which was only 10 minutes away from the border. While we waited we saw warthogs crossing the road outside the fence, near the welcome to Zimbabwe sign. We investigated and took pictures next to the sign, along with the German couple who shared the van ride over with us. The husband looked very much alike a certain Mr. Wright, father to fellow high school classmate, TJ Wright. That aside, I struck up conversation with them, and found out that they love to travel and were on a tour of Africa at the moment with Vic Falls on the menu next. After a long drive through more land similar to Chobe National Park, part of Zimbabwe's Hwange National Park, and passing animals like baboons, more warthogs and snakes who were crossing the road, we finally made it to Victoria Falls and the tourist town that has cropped up around it. Practically everyone had decided to get the package at the bridge company store that included bungee jumping, swinging and zip lining off the bridge. Like a domino I fell too, thinking that I'll never get this opportunity again. So I paid for all three and set off for the falls. Our driver took us as far as the immigration station at the start of the dirt road leading to the bridge which crosses the river and into Zambia. Getting out was easy, immigration just waved us through. We walked down the dirt road, the huge mist cloud of the falls clearly visible beyond the wall of jungle that formed the northern wall. Then the bridge came in sight, and as we crossed we were swarmed with peddlers trying to sell us copper trinkets, literally trillions of Zimbabwe dollars, and other assorted odds and ends. These guys were persistent but you had to ignore them. Even the reason of not having your wallet on you since we were diving didn't deter them. They said that I could trade my watch. My one friend said one guy said he could trade his shorts for what he was selling. His shorts. Too funny. We crossed the bridge onto the Zambia side to the little covered restaurant where we signed up for all of the three events. We left our stuff, money, cameras, passports, under the supervision of Dr. Lacks who would be taking photos off us taking the plunge. I got to the covered platform in the middle of the bridge and saw classmate after classmate suit up, and jump. It looked exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Then I was called. I timidly made my way through the gate onto the plat. I sat down as they video taped me so that they could sell me the DVD of me jumping afterwards at the restaurant. It felt like a race, stomach turned to stone, my breathing the only conscious thing I was doing. Then he had me stand up. I slowly made my way to the edge, where there's a gap in the railing. Never had I been more mindful of my balance while I teetered there. Then, the handler started counting 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, bungee! With a little push and what I thought was a good leap for having my feet bounded together (turns out I did little more than fall off the edge) I flew into the gorge, flying toward the rushing river below. It was such a crazy feeling. Arms outstretched. My voice on the wind. Weightlessness. Free falling. Then as I reached the bottom of the fall, I felt all the G's and the pressure of all my blood on my head. Then I stretched back up, recoiling back and forth. Like a doll. As my bobbing came to a rest, I was grabbed by a handler lowered in a harness to pull me up. Once I got to the service causeway under the launch plat, I unharnessed and climb back up to express my thrill to my waiting compatriots. Next event, swing from the bridge. There's a cable suspended across the bridge which would act as the swinging point, and we would be the pendulum. A small road bump arose in the form of a power outage for the bungee and swing, which used electric winches to help get the jumpers back up to bridge level. During this time, I chatted up with this blonde Norwegian girl who was just raving about the swing, which I was about to do. After our friendly exchange, I got suited up with Tim, another Case kid, who was to do the swing in tandem with me. The instructions for take off was too look at the horizon and take a synchronized step forward, and off the platform. I had one arm wrapped around Tim's back and his around mine. Whereas, bungee jumping was almost like flying or diving, swinging was just a really scary drop. As you fell, you saw the gorge's walls growing taller and taller with every passing moment, knowing that the rushing rapids below were about to break your landing. But then the rope taunted and we swung up from our presumed doom and swung back, just like on the playground, only now we swung from a hundred meter bridge. We hung there for a while taking in the gorgeous sights. I saw a full circular rainbow in the gorge. It was really magnificent and calming after that sheer fall. After climbing back up, we were running out of time, it was nearly 3 and we still had yet to visit the Falls, which some of it was visible from the bridge. So we packed up and began the long hike back to immigration, the entrance to the Falls park was on the Zimbabwe side. Getting in was almost as difficult the first time, and it was much hotter this time of day. Tempers were definitely shorter. We found out in a rather funny way. One of the things you should never do at a border crossing is whip out a camera to take pictures, of their flag, of their signs or ANYTHING. An officer came up to Corey as she had her camera out and just berated her, giving her an earful about how did she know whether or not her camera was beaming images of this secure, controlled facility to Moscow or North Korea. Really kinda funny to watch unfold. After ten or so minutes he left, leaving Corey visibly a little shaken but by the time we reached the Falls, it was all erased off her face. Another 30 USD later, (I actually got them to take my 1983 series fifty dollar bill, which was refused at the border crossing) we got into the park and the portion that was visible from the bridge through that little opening of a gorge was nothing.

Victoria Falls spanned 10 times that visible length. They were magnificent. Huge cascades billowed over like running stallions into the gorge below. Then came its plumes of mist that confirmed that they expended their work going down. Massive rainbows highlighted the Falls with their prismatic colors. Towards the middle, the mist became rain. It poured on us in there. There were selling ponchos and stuff outside, but it was so hot that we ignored their banter and thought that the water would be enough to cool us down in this African heat. We didn't just cool off, we got drenched. So drenched that we worried for our cameras and passports. Danger Point was a torrential downpour, and its path was a broken bone hazard. On my way out, I air dried and came across four vervet monkeys not 3 meters from the path. One was grooming and cleaning one that was asleep. Looked relaxing. Another was in the trees above me. My camera still worked so I caught some great shots. We loaded the vans, picked up the German couple, and made the long and uncomfortably trip back to the lodge in Botswana. Along the way we glimpse more animals. The most elusive had to be the leopard we saw in the tall grass. I could hardly make it out. The cameras had no chance in the dusk light. Only by chance did one camera flash at the right time and caught the great cat looking at us, its wide orbs full of the reflected light were just looming in the tall grass of the camera's picture. It was incredible. My game drive guide the next day would name leopards as one of the four of the Big Five Animals that could be found in Chobe: lions, leopards, elephants and buffalo. The other are rhino, but they aren't in Chobe. I felt so great that I got that sweep. Coming around a turn in the road, we almost ran into elephants just grazing. They didn't like our cameras' flashes since it was well past 6 and dark. We sped off before angering them further. We checked back out of Zimbabwe, wiped our shoes off which chemicals to prevent bringing in Hand, Foot and Mouth disease into Botswana and made it through Botswana immigration for the final time. I turned in soon after arriving back at the lodge after eating some dinner.

Lions, Hippos and a Zebra's Dance

Monday, June 23rd

Flight out of Gaborone was at 9:00, left UB at 8:00, ate cake at the airport cafe before boarding. Tasty cake. We land in Kasane, which is this small town in the northeastern corner of Botswana, it is surrounded by the Chobe National Park, which is where we will be going for our safaris. Before landing, I saw this huge herd of most likely water buffalo following a small river in the park. When we landed at the tiny airport its HOT, upwards of 30C (80F) in temperatures. We find our hosts, the Toro Safari Lodge who had come to pick us up in these pick-up trucks with stadium seating and flat canvas tops. We toss our rucksacks in and hop in ourselves. I grab a middle row seat. After seeing some billboards about the park and the huge Chobe River (one of the tributaries of the Zambezi which is the river forming Victoria Falls) I ended up losing my beloved fedora to the wind of the 80 kph highway. I wailed in utter despair, "NOOOOO!!!!" while my fellow classmates who rode with me started laughing at my expressions as soon as their realized what happened and couldn't react fast enough to take action to save my hat. Fortunately for me and my hat, we were the second car in a caravan of three and I saw that the last truck, a 100 or so meters behind us take the time to retrieve my hat. I breath a sigh of relief. Our lodgings happened to be right on the banks of the Chobe River on the outskirts of the small border town of Kazungula. I really enjoyed the set up. The reception and main building was this open air building that was at most 20 meters away from the river bank, with tables and a fire pit on the lawn leading to the banks. Upon our arrival they served us complimentary guava and mango juice. Delish is the beating sun. We partnered up for rooms, and I figured that I might room with Aaron Lin, because in the very slight chance that he'll get eaten by a lion, I'll have a room to myself. Our rooms were actually these one room, thatched huts, equipped with tiled floor, attached bathroom and AC, about 6x6 meters in area. Really put the feeling of being in Africa in you. So after moving to another hut-room with working AC after our first room's AC unit didn't turn on, we hopped in the trucks at 1530 hours and drove off for our first activity on this trip: a boat safari.

After a 15 minute drive later, we find ourselves at a meager looking dock with a large, double pontoon, two story river boat. Being the first truck to arrive, Jon Hilty, Steven Armstrong and I quickly hop onto the boat from the pier, ascend the stairs in record time and find our seats at the front of the second story balcony. The couple South African couples who rode in our truck, and staying at the lodge with us, took residence behind us. Once everyone was on board and jealous of our trio's seating, we set off upriver. Along the way, we see other river boats, many smaller 80 HP or so, and a couple our size or larger. We stop before entering the N.P.'s waters to register our safari, but that only took a minute or two before we were off and on our way. These guys have this safari business down to a science. Boat safaris take place in the afternoon, when the sun is high and all the animals are making their way to the river for water to drink and mud to wallow in. From the river you could see many game drive (another term for land safaris) trails and similar vehicles to our trucks, trying to glimpse the animals making way for the river. We start off eager and at the slightest sight of wildlife, we all rushed to the railing to take photos because our guide said that they never promise anything, and that they rely on nature, good timing and luck to see animals. That made it seem like animals were going to be hard to come by. Boy, were we ever so wrong to think that. As we moved deeper and deeper into the park's waters, the size and quantity of the wildlife we saw grew. (If you would like to see what I saw, or have no clue as to what kind of animal I'm talking about, I recommend visiting wikipedia.) Initially we only saw meter long lizard, a pair of kudo, male and female, a fish eagle, kingfishers, vivd blue and green song birds, a small Nile croc, a pair of imo and then a whole family group of vervet monkeys scampering along the shoreline and up a tree, parents, adolescents and babies all. One of the last vervets that came running by was actually running upright on its hind legs. The last two thirds of its tail was gone and that probably contributed to him finding a better balance on his hind legs.

Then all of a sudden, Steven shouted out "Elephants!!" and he pointed upriver where a ton of other boats had stopped. He handed around his binoculars to the gathering crowd of other students so that they could see the elephants a half mile away. I confirmed it with my camera and its wonderful zoom capabilities. We were all bursting with excitement! We could only hope that the elephants stayed were they were until we could get there. Finally, after waiting for an eternal five minutes, we came around the bend and saw the great giants of this land. A whole herd of them at the waters edge, drinking, wallowing, and graving on the small bushes nearby. They were magnificent beasts. Huge bulls with squarer heads, smaller rounded head females and several young elephants no more that three feet tall were posing for our cameras. I remember one of the little ones clumsily falling into the the mud hole another elephant had dug. So cute. Nearby, I thought that this one tree had the look of an elephant's face to it. Other people agreed. After snapping probably a hundred photos of elephants thinking that we'd never see one again, we continued on our way. We would later see many more elephants along the river and up on the river banks hills, but were definitely received a less warmer welcome by our cameras. Funny how complacent we get, it happened a lot on the safaris. Upriver we saw tons of guinea fowl, which the South Africans told me that they were protected in their country, not because they are endangered, but because they are really good pollinators. Neat fact. I think we saw three massive water buffalo as well. Really big bovines, much more ferocious looking than the Geauga County dairy cattle I'm use to seeing, with their two large curved horns capping their skulls. Our guide told us that buffalo are no to be angered when on land for they are some of the most dangerous of the park's animals. After seeing a couple more Nile crocs lying on the banks, sun bathing, and many more kudo and impala, what we really craved to see were hippos. Hippopotamuses are definitely one of the more elusive animals we were fortunate to come across. Soon after the elephants, a hippo popped the top of his head out of the water between the river boats to see what was going on. After a shrill reaction by other on our boat pointing upriver 50 meters I saw the beast. But then just like that he was underwater again, not wanting to deal with us paparazzi. We were disappointed, thinking that we'll never get another chance to see these lovable animals. That hippo would later resurface behind our boat, but was gone as quickly as he came. Hippos were also spotted near the middle of the river, were grass grew on top of the floating silt beds, a couple here and couple there, but they were no more than three little dots per head: two for each eye and ear, and a lump of skin where their snouts sat, breaking the surface of the water. Very frustrating. Until we saw a bunch of those little heads and more poking out of the water. There they were, a family group of at least a dozen hippopotamuses. I couldn't get an exact count because they would all take turns going underwater and resurfacing a minute or two later. The bull male did what we were all hoping to see; it opened is mouth 'til it reached its widest extent and snapped it closed. It was quite impressive. We kept circling them, taking tons of photos, then moved on for other boats to enjoy their company (by this point we were the lead boat on the river). Not too far away, we came across another family bu this time my camera died after some 500 pictures. Oh, well. I was watching the hippopotamuses, and casually said to one of them, "C'mon open up and say something." The second I finished that line, I'm not making this up, the hippopotamus facing me opened up and I started down his enormous maw. It was unprecedented! Yet again, I had great timing. Since, my camera died, I was most upset that I missed the family of baboons that our boat came across. They really do play with poop, they dig into these massive droppings left by elephants and the like and find undigested vegetation as our guide told us. They are also some of the more rude animals we came across, always showing their bare bottoms to us. After the baboons and 2nd family of hippos, it was time for us to turn around and we took the path that was the other side of the silt grasslands, on the Namibia side of the river. On that side we saw some curious little birds who seemingly walked on water and some massive crocodiles. First one we saw was like 3 meters, pretty big. Not 20 meters away downriver, and in the direction we were traveling now was a HUGE 4 meter croc facing away from us, just lying there like a slug. Guess it was getting quite cool. The sun was so picturesque. On the Namibia side, there weren't as many tress; it was more like a savannah. The sunset was gorgeous. It dipped behind clouds that were so far off they sat on the horizon. One of the most beautiful sunsets ever seen by my eyes. Those once the sun went down, the temps started to plummet from their lofty 30 centigrade and the little gnats and mosquitoes began their reign.

After docking and terrible cold open top truck ride back to the lodge, we dined. They served some ox tail; these relatively small pieces of tail vertebrate with meat surrounding it. It tasted like a weird seasoning of my mothers beef stew. It was alright. Once we had gotten through most of our meal, the show began. Out of nowhere, traditionally clad (lots of skin, minimal clothing) troupe came out from around the corner, singing and marching into a semi circle facing us at our tables. They would continue to chant in Setswana (I presumed), clapping while either all, or some of their members would be dancing. It intrigued me. There were these two young men with cylindrical bags of padded straw that they would either hit with their hands or hit them together to make a distinctive thud of a noise. They were perfectly in sync. Eventually we were told by a member of the lodge staff that the performers welcomed anyone who wanted to join them, could. The sheer thought of dancing tickled at my mind during their entire performance. I quietly tapped my foot, trying to mimic the rhythms they were making. Their moves were enhanced by the rattles strapped to their ankles. I ended up going with some motivation by Dr. Lacks who figured that if I danced with the chief at the cultural village, I would dance with this "zebra" troupe (as they called themselves) but I knew deep down that I was gonna get up and join them because of my love of dancing. I stood up and went to the end of the semi circle clapping with them, watching as the two male dancers danced. I watched them, thinking, repeating their footwork in my head. Right tap, right kick, up and back to center, stomp and emphasize on the way down. Again with left. Repeat. It was such a great time. The two gents dancing on either side of me cheered in their language, perhaps they were astonished that I had picked up their dance so fast. They bowed back into line and sent one of their girls into the semi circle to dance with me. We danced a bit, me trying to copy her footwork, all the while moving about and crossing with her, trying to be her mirror and mimic. It was so much fun. Soon after I sat down, beads of sweat on my brow, they did one final number. Many of them would smile at me as they exited out stage left, since I was in the front row. When I turned in for the night, I smiled to myself. I had found another universal language: the language that came from the joy of dancing together.

Dancing in Africa

Saturday morning. A time to kick back and relax. Well not today. I'm awoken by a large pounding on my window. I groan. My watch says 8:05. Ugh. I realize I'm 5 minutes late to class, which is to take place just outside the dorms in the courtyard pavilion. I get up to wave off whoever is at my window, turned out to be Jun. I toss on some shorts, run my hand through my hair and proceed outside where class has started. It was freezing outside. Probably like 45-ish degrees Fahrenheit. The sky was a blanket of clouds. Grey and very unwelcoming; the opposite of its past five past brothers' morning skies. You could occasionally see your breath if you looked and exhaled hard enough. Very chilly. After an hour of class, we prepped for the the day's activities. I quickly tossed on some jeans, a v-neck pullover and my jacket. I made sure I had everything packed, then I set out to buses. We killed time waiting for the buses kicking the soccer ball around. Once they had arrived, we piled in and then I passed out for the entire ride.

When I awoke, we had arrived at our next stop, some village called Thamaga. I hop out and proceed to this little shop along with the rest of the group. It turned out to be the retail shop for hand made pottery, I'm sure made to cater to tourists. The craftsmanship of the pottery was well received by most people I'm sure. I was upset, I had only 30 odd Pula in my pocket; most everyone was running low on currency since we had not been to the student center in quite some time. I ended up getting two really nice pieces of pottery. I wish we could go back and grab more, but I'm afraid I'll run out of room in my carry on; wouldn't want clay pottery to get beaten and tossed around in checked luggage even if it was packed properly. I exit the building as one of the last shoppers and find that the sun has come out and is just bathing us in sunlight. The clouds that we overhead as I went into the store had completely vanished by the time I exited some 30 to 45 minutes later. African runners must take after their weather, blazing quick when passing.

Our next destination lies in one of the adjacent villages, a 15 minute or so drive away. The countryside is really breathtaking, equip with cattle, goats and donkeys without a care in the world, not even a care for the road, as we had to drive into the other lane to get around them without waiting too long for them to cross. We arrive in Manyana and proceed to the rock wall paintings. They weren't too massive, most I'd've looked completely past had our guide not point them out to us. Most were faded away, time taking dues owed to it by the organic and mineral mixture used to paint the gemboks, giraffes and people. We climbed around the rocks, which had an ample amount of goat feces scattered amongst them. Had to watched where you put your hand to climb. It was another splendid view.

From there, we went to the Bahurutshe Cultural Lodge. A tiny little homestead, the red dirt of the basin as vivid as the now high beating sun. We get out of the vans and are greeted by half a dozen women, all above the age of forty and dressed in traditional clothing. After a few quick words of welcome, an incredible sound erupted from one of the women and took us all aback. It was a high pitched shout that fluctuated as she undulated her protruding tongue back and force across her mouth. They said it was a way of greeting. It was incredible. A couple more words of welcome were said but the presumptive lead women and the one who commanded English the best. We proceeded to where there was a fire ring and we sat in black plastic chairs, warmed by the afternoon sun. The half dozen women sang us a beautiful song and danced with fervor. The chief was also introduced to us, the fur of some beast fashioned into a hat atop his scalp. He had a left hand man as well. Don't know why he wasn't a right hand man, perhaps the left in more significant. After the song and dance were over, we went to dine on more traditional Bostwana foods. I had rice, beef, maize, bread and beans. It was very good, definitely better versions of what was served at the dining hall. I imagine they cater to the tourists better. Another thing of cultural note, we, the men were served first, after one of the women came over and poured warm water over ours hand so that we may dine clean. Guess chivalry wasn't too influential. While we had canned juice and soft drinks, we discovered that there was this traditional "beer" that was prepared several days before hand and was available for us should we pleased to be adventurous. It didn't contain alcohol, so I wondered why the term "beer" had been granted to it. Perhaps the preparation was similar to Western beers. Aaron Lin got up and decided he was brave enough to try it. He filled up a rather large gourd up halfway with the substance and drank probably a mouthful. His reaction was not one for an affinity of the drink. He urged each on of us around our end of the table to try it. The gourd came to me after Toby and Steven had some and I raised it to my face. The stench of the drink was so sour, I doubt it ten oranges being peeled could have overwhelmed the traditional beverage. I sipped the tiniest of sips and it was enough for me. The opinions of those who went before me were well justified. It tasted very sour, had a strong taste of nuts and wasn't an entirely liquid fluid: it had some small soft solids in it, like a poorly blended shake. I quickly handed the cup away and was so astonished when DJ Lacks poured himself a healthy glass of the juice. I later asked him his opinion and he told me that it wasn't that bad at all. Truly an acquired taste.

After we finished a group from I believe U. Penn dined after us. We got up just as they were being served and went back into the main area of the cultural lodge, which really consisted of three of four traditional huts and two large thatched roofs on stilts. Separated by gender, I proceeded to the end of the compound where the chief and number two were at. We were told that the girls would do chores and the boys would play a game. I like this. The two elder men finished drawing a design into the dirt and went off looking for something. We gathered around the dirt, the design, drew by a stick, consisted of three squares, one in another. Then straight lines were drawn to connect the midpoints of each side and the corners to each of the nesting squares. It had the effect of a spider web. The chief came back with his weathered wooden chair, handed me pebbles and charcoal stained black by fire, handed Toby the corresponding white pieces and sat down by the game board. Next thing I know the Chief and his Hand are telling us in intermittent English and Setswana to start putting stones down, in turn, at intersections of the lines. I picked up that the goal of the game was to try to get three in row and to block your opponent from getting three in a row as well. I tried my best, but the Hand was basically playing the game for me as I struggled to keep up with what was going on because as soon as I ran out of pieces the game like switched to checkers mode, where we would move our pieces along the lines of the board. Same goal, form three, stop the opponent, make three and remove one of your opponents pieces from the board. The Hand would shout out exclamations in Setswana, startled me who was standing next to them. A few minutes later, after I had lost to Toby, more boards were drawn and strategies started to develop. But this wasn't the best part.

Once we had done playing our share, the girls came out to demonstrate a betrothal/wedding dance for us. Our eligible girls followed suite behind the elderly women, with grass skirts to wear over their pants to make it as accurate as possible. They were suppose to stomp-walk their way up to our lane, then turn so that their backs faced us, then make a gripping movement and grab their buttocks. Hilarity ensued. Pictures were taken. Once they girls completed their courtship dance, it was our turn. Every male lined up, including Kevin, Mosaic, and DJ Lacks himself. The chief was in the center of our line, and he stepped forward with this skipping-2-step sort of thing, all the while blowing his whistle, and waving his symbols of office in tandem: a short animal hair duster and a larger walking staff. I did my best to mimic him. Indeed, I do love dancing so much. The chief saw my enthusiasm and motioned me to his side, where he gave me his hair ended stick, which I waved it in his fashion. The crowd reveled in our dance, the women chanting in our bachelor prowess. Guess its true in all cultures, a man that can dance is one with the confidence to woo women. My smile could not be wiped from my face after it was all done, after all the women and girls in the camp had joined us. In the aftermath, I sought out the chief and took a picture with him, his toothless smile was filled with revelry, I don't think he had expected me to be so exuberant.

Once we had all settled, the lead women had us all sit down and we all had this sort of open forum where we could ask about the culture. After a few questions, the woman took over and began speaking more of the state of the culture and people of Botswana. She commented that here at this lodge, only the "grannies" were left; all their children and grandchildren had gone off to live the cities and urban areas. She would describe to olden days, before the AIDS epidemic, she would almost preach to the young Batswana people in our group: Kevin, Mosaic, the driver.

The young think that the old ways are not needed she said, that they think that they must be more like the West. She would point out that the promiscuity that has resulted from modernization has increased the spread of HIV, and that in the days she was growing up, the good old fashioned values were adhered too, and there were no whispers of bastard children and no shadows of AIDS. She did have faith in education and believed it to be a guiding light for the future of Botswana. All of it, including your first degree was free. She even reveal a deeply personal story to all of us, which for that, she has my respect. A daughter of hers, adopted maybe, I wasn't quite sure, and the granddaughter were buried last week, their cause of death: murder. She girl was with child and did not finish secondary school. She gave birth and had been raising the child along with the grandmother, when the grandmother urged her to go back and get a diploma. I lazy father/boyfriend of the daughter did not see the benefit of education, he did not want to work, and cared little for the son he has fathered. Since, the daughter did not abide by the boyfriend's demands, he killed her and her one and half year old son. Her eyes welled with tears as she told us this story, it pained her greatly. She blames the state of the country and attitudes of the younger generation for the contributing factors that led to her daughter's death. She did not say what was happening to the boyfriend. It was a sobering tale indeed. She bid us farewell and blessed us on our travels and with that, we loaded our vans and headed for Gaborone.

It was a beautiful moment. One that I will not forget for my lifetime. Dancing in the African sun with people so rich in culture, all framed by a sun that has not yet set on them.

Into the Wild

Here's the deal: I'm going to keep my post as detailed as possible without it being so overwhelming. I think I'm getting the hang of this blogging thing now.

So everyday after the first day I've woken up late and gone straight to class, after snacking on things in my room. It's been really all the same. Class in the morning. Then we go to lunch. Really all that really differs is what we do in the afternoons. Wednesday afternoon, we hopped in the vans and drove out some 40+ km outside of Gaborone to visit two boreholes, which are just wells tapping into the underground aquifers, which then pipe the water to the various villages in the bush. This is relevant to what we are doing in thermodynamics. At the first borehole we found these really cool seed pods of trees, serving the same purpose as pine cones. They consisted of an ovoid shape with four fins, equally spaced around the pod. Also, while leaving the first, a huge storm system was on the horizon again. It was majestic, reaching taller and farther than any other system I've seen before. Fortunately for us our road route took us in a way to bypass the storm. To get to the second borehole we had to turn off the main highway and take this really bumpy, dirt road. Took forever; probably drove two kilometers. Taking that road certainly brought us closer to the African wilderness. We crossed a dried up river after man and his family crossed with his cart and five donkeys. The rainy season would have made the borehole completely unaccessible, the river bed was really deep and wide. The landscape was magnificent and on the way back, the sun painted a beautiful landscape with its setting palate: emotional oranges, reds and violets.

Thursday afternoon was really uneventful. I napped. But a couple things of note did take place. One, this was the last day that diarrhea waged war with my bowels. Wednesday was for sure the worst of them, but I cut out this one drink that they keep serving, that weird mango stuff, and now I'm fine. My trip today (Friday) to the john was simply splendid. But don't count your blessings before they hatch. As diarrhea stopped bothering me, I ended up horsing around with my one friend, Doug, who I knew before the trip. Remember that hairline fracture on my right big toe? Yeah. Well, ended up catching my flip flop clad, and exposed toe nail on the back of Doug's shoe. Now, he's a big fella and his body would not yield an inch to whatever measly force that I could muster . I hit a wall. And with that, I ended up ripping my the right half of my nail off, up to where that hairline fracture was. It hurt. And it bleed. Some of the bed is now exposed. But once I cleaned it up and dressed it (the alcohol hurt a wee bit more than just a sting) it was fine. I carefully took off the other half of the nail so that it could not contribute to any more accidents and snags.

Now, we come to today's (Friday's) afternoon activity: Climb one of the many mountain-hills that surround Gaborone, each one rising like a breaching whale out above the shrubland sea. We set off, and arrive within a half hour at Kgale Hill Public Park. Grabbing some water and making sure my camera was at the ready, I set off on the trail, determined to be the first of our group to summit. The Sir Edmund Hillary in me urged me to climb higher and faster than the rest. Huge rocks made up this lone mountain. It was challenging, but I knew the view would reward the sweat shed. Every rock landing we past came with a view even more astonishing than the one before. I ended up summiting first with one of the UB research students working for Dr. Lacks, his name I believe is Mosaic, pronounced Mo-zaik. Any parallels with the first summiting of Everest anyone? Foreigner and Guide? Actually, he's never been up the hill himself, this is the first time. We arrive at the top to find a sign pointing northeast with "Beijing" written on it. This message is not the only thing written at the summit. Amongst all the rocks, vandals, tourists and namemakers have all scribed their graffiti and marks all over most of the accessible surfaces. Atop this hill also lies a downed radio spire and other still upright communication devices. You could see for miles. The panoramic was breathtaking, nothing short of it. To the west and north you could see the rest of the Kalahari Basin. Nearby, all of Gaborone bustled about in minute fashion. Visible to the south was Gaborone Dam and reservoir it made. Beyond that, South African hills rolled up from the plain. Some time later, when most of the rest of the group made it, we broke out a cake for it was Corey's birthday, a girl I've made new friends with. After eating bakery and resting up a bit, we prepared for the descent. I traveled slowly, wanting to see the sunset while I still had the vantage point of the hill face. Another sight worth seeing before dying, an African sunset. Once it had passed beyond the horizon, I picked up my pack and continued. I discovered a gorgeous spider in its web, completely unnoticed on the way up and most likely everyone else. Took pictures. After climbing three quarters of the way down, I met up with Mosaic, and he inquired as to when we were gonna play football. I told him that I'm thinking tomorrow afternoon. We had a really great conversation along that trail, talking about sports and such. It's beautiful how sports can transcend cultures and nations and bring us closer as people. I later had dinner with him and his UB companion and fellow researcher, "Onks." I'll definitely how to figure out how to spell those names correctly. They've said that they are going to teach me how to football tomorrow. I am excited.

Getting to Know Gaborone

So there are some things that don't really fit into any daily story so I'm gonna mention them now. Glass, cats, style. One of the first things you notice about walking in and around the grass and dirt areas around the dormitories is the sheer amount of broken glass that is just lying around. In the sunlight it looks as if its a field of stars is just lying in the dirt. It's actually really remarkable. Needless to say don't walk around barefoot in the grass. Cats. There are so many stray cats roaming this campus. Kittens to cougars, this jungle of dirt and brick is their realm, and the rodents are their subjects and prey. Lastly, is style. As far as hairstyles are concerned, I find that probably half of the women have their hair cropped really short, the other half wearing their hair in braids. I would say that a close to scalp cut is favored by most men here. The last thing I want to mention about style would be the clothing. It's all fairly normal and all, but I want to remark at the type of clothing being worn now. Picture this in your mind's eye: Vivid blue skies. Sunshine lasting from here dawn until dusk. Need sunglasses to prevent yourself from squinting all day. 70 degrees Fahrenheit. At least. I saw a dude wearing a beanie, hoody and jeans. And it's not only him. Here we are, bunch of American's clad in shorts and tank tops, while everyone else wearing pants and a light jacket. Guess it really is winter. It's great to get other perspectives in life.

Tuesdays with Immigration Officers

Tuesday, some awful time.

Woke up late. I thank my roommates for waking me and I tell them not to wait up. Before leaving, they warn me a spider in the shower room that they both saw on each of their trips. It's hiding in the hole in the tiling at the base of the wall. It's suppose to be 8 cm across (3 inches) and have the type of body between a daddy long legs and a tarantula. Not cool. I shower very apprehensively. And quickly. I head out to the dining hall alone. The sun is so bright again, making my Ray-Bans worth their money. It's 8:15. After crossing the last road en route to the dining hall, I notice a fair number of people gathering around vehicles in the nearby parking lot, clad in some swank athletic pants and jackets and toting duffel bags. I get closer and see the name on the back of their jackets: "Kenya." Farther along the street I see another group, their colors different, but I'm sure they represent another African nation, with bright bold colors. I try not to gawk, but they were members of the Kenyan National Team attending the 2011 African Youth Championships in Track & Field. Kenyans, man!! Nobody told me that the UB stadium was hosting this last night!?!?!? Ugh. I go inside and break my fast. We set out and they're still out there packing up and were still waiting to leave. I manage to snipe a photo of them trying not to be impolite and obvious. I walk another dozen steps when one of the girls in the back of our column exclaim that the Kenyans were photographing us! I turned nonchalantly and so it was true. Only time I've ever dream that a Kenyan photographing would be for some thing running related. Oh, life is a little bundle of ironies.

So remember how I only had 3 days on my visa? I'm on my last day here, and under threat of deportation I take my leave after today's lesson with Dr. Clever, but before DJ's lecture. I go up to the international studies office and wait patiently. A housing keeping woman, easily identified by the university issued uniform that is a the same color as Crayola's Robin's Egg Blue, comes in and asks the secretary something about an outlet all in the language I've come to admire, Setswana. I just sat their as plain as can be while they rattled off syllables at blazing speeds. The woman left and the secretary made a comment to me that I didn't catch a first, but then I realized she said that "it was probably all Greek to me."

After rounding up myself, Kevin and Burwazi, the woman in charge of us (I'm probably spelling her name wrong) up, we pile into a van and drive throughout the city. Some 15 minutes later, we arrive at the government office. Immigration was fairly busy, and as with all government related offices dealing with constituents, it was slow going. So many people were standing in line. The immigration office has to be one of the more diverse places in town besides the airport. There were several Muslim who looked North African, an younger Asian woman acting on behalf of her older, most likely monolingual companion. There were two white women who arrived in the hour I spent there. One was an Australian according to her passport and other decided that the lines were too long of a wait for her and her in the stroller, and I never found out her nationality. And there were plenty of others people from Western, Eastern and Southern African countries. I followed Ms. Burwazi like a puppy, I must've looked funny. After an hour had passed, a few forms signed, and a letter written to the officer asking politely to give me more days in the country, and my legs aching from the standing, I finally got my visa extended to 3 more weeks. More than adequate. So we left there bound for the airport to pick up the class's TA, and I walked much lighter knowing that I wasn't going to be deported.

We got to the airport and waiting forever. Evidently her flight was delayed but no serious harm was done, and we made our way back to campus to find out that the rest of the class has gone down to another shopping mall. Not wanting to be left behind, Katie and I were dropped off at this different mall. It came out of no where from around a corner. One minute I see men selling watermelons off a dirt road, the next I see this rather large two story shopping complex much more akin to our malls back in the States. It was equipped with stores selling clothing, groceries, and books. The other suites featured food court dining, a post office and a movie theatre. After grabbing some groceries, some stamps and some grub from a food joint called Wimpy's, we made a final stop inside the Puma apparel store looking for a football (as in soccer ball). We found an Adiddas replica World Cup ball for P50, which is seven and a half American. We were kinda suspicious at first seeing as the other balls in the ball cage were upwards of P200-400, but whatever, we had a ball and I was determined to play football on this continent.

Our trek back to the campus probably took about a half hour. We came to the highway which had these really large slopes made of red dirt which really gave the effect of a developing country, I guess I'll have to upload a picture to better convey the imagery. Crossing the highway was one of the more less safe things we did. After being hollered at by pedestrians waiting for taxis sating "Let see your nice ball, I teach you" (I was holding my ball under my arm) and some less than enthusiastic drivers shouting at us, we made it across the thoroughfare. Some time later, while walking along some back residential road, we came across this barefooted 6-7 year old daintily dribbling his own worn football. "Nice ball," he said to me, and I replied with a smile and said "Thanks. You too," I really wanted to bring that kid along to play. As we walked, it was getting progressively and progressively darker. We've come to see this massive grey cloud looming ever closer towards us. Just this huge single cloud. By the time we reached the gates of the UB campus, it was upon us. For a split second we had the warning of couple small drops. Then the heavens opened up and massive rain drops came tumbling at us like an artillery bombardment. We ran for cover and continued to navigate as best we could on covered walkways back to our dorms. It was a beautiful rain though. You know that smell of an impending shower and the scent of the shower while its raining? It was so distinct and crisp this time. I'm not sure if its that I haven't experienced a really good rain in a long time or if it was because that it was an African shower, but it was indeed a symphony to my nose. What made it even more beautiful was that is was a sun shower. Since it was just this single cloud dumping rain on probably 30 blocks, the sun was still able to shine all around it, and it was low enough because it was late afternoon that it caught the drops in the perfect light. Then it was gone in the time it took to come.

After dinner, we resolved to head down to the courts with lights to play football. We get there probably around 6:30 only to find that the football court was taken over by these massive men playing rugby. As we walked past them, one of the men said "Hey, come play rugby. Don't play football, 'tis a lady's sport. Play rugby, a gentleman's sport." When me and comrades said that we did not know how to play, he replied with an "I teach you." Looks like some Africans have the same viewpoint as some Americans do with American football and soccer. We later took him up on that offer later, once we had played some "half court" soccer with ourselves. 2v2. The only really relevant story of us playing soccer here was that I had this really great shot on goal which I took, but unfortunately hit the newly inflated and very rigid ball with my big right toe. The shot went wide left, shy of the post (our post since we were playing on a netball court (imagine basketball with no backboard) consisted of the left post being an athletic bag and the right netball hoop post.) It hurt pretty bad, I just thought I jammed it, and the residual pain was purely superficial. I went on to watch and learn from the huge men play rugby. They didn't let us play then, the most massive of them seemed to not want to listen to his friend that was teaching us since I guess the game they were playing was really good; didn't want three skinny American boys to mess it up. No matter we were invited to play another time. From there we decided to play basketball with these other Africans fellas. They all had height on us, so we split up the teams. Luckily I was on the team with a this tall lanky specimen of a Kenyan, as he told us. He was suppose to play ball in the states for some private school in Massachusetts, but they didn't have the money to bring him out. Turned out that Toby, my one friend with us, knew that school and the league since he went to another private school in the Boston area. Despite not coming to the States to play, his game was definitely not affected. He was so good. Drove and dunked. I ended up being a body to set picks and screens up. Fine with me. We ended up winning one and losing one, and the third game was about to start when security came up and got into an argument with the Kenyan kid and his friends. Something about how the league they were all in, the BBL (Botswana Basketball League), permitted them to use the courts after 9 or something. We didn't stay long enough to find out what the outcome was. We hightailed it outta there, but were told to come back and play some more in the time we'll be staying here. We get back, and I found out that I ended up taking off my shoe to see blood at the end of my sock. I take it off, and find out that I had this visible hairline fracture running the width of my big toe. Dried blood was coating my toe in places. But the nail was still in tack. In fact after cleaning it, the only clue as to anything that happened to it was the slight pain that resided with it. Dressed it, and then turned in for the night.

Enter Botswana

Monday. 7:00 AM.

I hear a shower running and an occasional footsteps. I suspect that Mr. Watermelon has decided to get his day going (it was at this time he decided to eat half of his melon). The comfort of a bed with incredible for my first real chance to get sleep since the States. Thing was I kept waking up every couple hours since I was too hot.

I can remember waking up at 9, 11, 1 and 3. At nine, I discovered that I had passed out incredibly fast. The light was still on and my door wide open but I didn't care. I think I was awakened by Dr. Lacks delivering much needed toilet paper and bottled water from the store. I guess we didn't have TP. Not a problem for me...yet. The 3 Americans from the previous night said the water is okay here on the campus, but our doctors and two professors recommended that we use bottled water for brushing teeth. I get a little flustered from waking up, but quickly go back to sleep, without changing, closing my door or turning off the light. By the 11 o'clock one, I had decided to sleep normally. Light, door, clothes taken care of. But the heat. Ending up throwing off my blankets off, which I've now found at the foot of my bed.

I fall back asleep and woke up 10 minutes later. I find my friend Andrew already up, showered and clothed, along with Mr. Watermelon. After bidding them good morning, I make my way to the shower room which is a separate room from the john. It's a small closet of a room, but it still yields warm water. I shower and dress, and head out the door with Andrew and Jun. We make our way to the dining hall again. It's really, really bright out. We have a meal, it wasn't too entirely appetizing but it's sustenance. Around 8:30 we leave to head to class despite Prof. Lacks not knowing exactly where the classroom was. Luckily someone knew for some reason or another and we headed off for the main quad. On our way, we stopped at what was a traditional hut and fence built for display in front of a main campus building. It wasn't much maybe 4 meters in diameter with walls about 20 cm thick, made of hardened clay and mud. We talked about some of the thermodynamic properties that make them so cost effective. After about 10 minutes we proceeded into what was a very modern building filled with classrooms. Once we had settled in, we were introduced to the head of the Faculty of Engineering. He tells us his last name which was hard enough to pronounce before I had forgotten it. But then he told us that the "C." in his name and on the PowerPoint stood for "Clever." We didn't believe him at first, just thought he was being funny with us. A "Clever" professor. Such a great little irony, but we were informed by DJ Lacks, as he is now called affectionately, that his name is really Clever, once Lacks had taken over for the day. We did our homework and finished before noon, and proceeded to take lunch.

After lunch, we had this orientation to attend to. So at 2 o'clock, we went back to the classroom and sat down with the department head of student affairs, who basically talked to us about security and all that. Next up was the woman who is our liaison to UB and is in charge of international cooperation and such. She asked us to take out our passports and make sure on the stamp we received at immigration had V30D signed on it. "Void after 30 days." She had to just make sure that we had enough time on these visas to do the trip. Lo and behold, I had "V03D." Definitely made me worry. Yeah, turns out that lady at immigration who asked me more questions than someone responding to a Jeopardy category (if you don't get the joke, then it's probably not worth telling you now) didn't really like me or misunderstood me. So I tell her, and she informs me that we're gonna have to go down to immigration tomorrow and get more time on my visa. Yeah. Not too fun. So after that little stumble, Kevin, the Motswana (singular denomyn) youth who I first met at the airport has been assigned to help us get wireless access. After travelling down to IT, and waiting around for like a half hour for Kevin to emerge from the office, we still didn't have wireless access. Oh well, this little bit was just set up for this encounter: while waiting I ended up walking off to this little courtyard. A group of women were coming up and I graciously moved over to the side and continued to walk past. I had almost past a third of them when they all said 'hello' to me. I, off guard and startled, managed to get out an 'hello' with a surprised expression on my face that sent all of them into a giggle. Guess I still have that affect on all women, no matter the continent.

It's late afternoon by the time our adventure with Kevin around campus was over and the traveler's diarrhea had begun to afflict me. Not a too fun. But I toughed the rest of the day out. Our afternoon plans consisted of heading down to the "mall," which in this sense was this open air, paved thoroughfare close to the heart of Gaborone. It took about 20 minutes to walk there and on our way we passed this seemingly huge gathering of people located in this huge open field. Not thinking too much of it we continued walking. We definitely got a first hand account of how the city was. The sidewalks would occasionally yield to the overgrowth of flora nearby, great thorned bushes sprawled out across out paths. With thorns easily 2 inches long, we had to take caution. An occasional termite mound would crop up in someone's backyard, anywhere from 1-2 meters tall. Taxi's here are not the stereotypical yellow sedans of NYC. They consist of these small vans that have almost the same profile of a Volkswagen bus. They kept honking, we thought at us, but they honk right before they pull into these trapezoidal asphalt alcoves off the left side of the road (Drive on the left, remember.) where they pick up passengers. And boy these things are usually packed to the brim. The drivers mush make a killing in Pula (the currency). I wonder wonder how much gas is here? That's one thing that's different for sure, they don't display the price of gas on the signs for you to see on the road. I distinctly remember passing 4 children just walking along with us. Two didn't have shoes, made me reflect that their standard of living, though higher than a lot of African countries, is still pretty low. They ended up peeling off and we made it to the City Centre. It was incredible. Tons of people had set up tables and were selling their goods and services, ranging from legumes, fruits and vegetables to shoes and mobile phone repair. The cell phone fella's booth had tons of torn open mobile phones, and their little circuit boards and keypads all awry. Guess it was a testament to his ability. There were also businesses in the building surrounding the walkway. Most of our group were looking for Ethernet cables for our laptops, and we struck gold at the third place we looked, a store called "Japanese Electronics," run by you guessed it, a little Japanese woman. Oh, did we stick out in the crowd, as Americans we definitely attracted a lot of attention. We found our way into a grocery store and found some familiar and local brands. We are such tourists, we took pictures of some of the products that amused us. We found "Milk Chocolate Oreos." I didn't know Oreos came in any other flavors besides the usual and the"Uh-Oh" variety. After taking that picture, a worker, who I guess they have patrolling the aisles to prevent shoplifting, told us to stop taking pictures, unless you got the manager's permission. No biggie we stopped. After stocking up on some basic goods like water and 330 ml cans of soft drinks, we decided to head back to base. We met up with some kids who went to the Orange Mobile store for air time and SIM cards for their phones. I'm fine with not having service down here, but I guess others aren't. Then we took to the road that was almost a straight path back to UB. We passed the field with the huge crowds again. We could hear someone speaking in Setswana (the other official language besides English) to the crowd over loud speakers almost like he was mustering them for something. A young man, presumably a student at UB since he was walking with a binder and a textbook, was up ahead and we caught up to him and I asked him what was going on here. He replied that it was a strike and that the public servants gathered here want a pay raise. This strike turns out is really big news here, saw front page stories about it in the subsequent days. We get back to campus safely, along with the strike informant who was indeed a student. It was dark when we got back to the dorms and I turned in for the night soon after dinner. Rice and sausage again. It was this night that I took a picture of the moon. It appears "upside down" in the Southern Hemisphere. It's really something else.

International Intrigue

Alright. Big breath here. This is gonna be a fairly lengthy post covering the all the time since I've landed in Gaborone. So that's Sunday afternoon, Monday and today.

Sunday Afternoon:

So I've walked through the auto sliding doors from the tarmac. Next hurdle: immigration. This becomes a bit of story as you will soon find out. After filling out the little slip stating my purpose for coming to the country, I find myself waiting in line for the "International Passports." Well, to help accommodate people, the woman sitting in the booth for "Domestic Passports" beckons me over, and after I told her I'm not a national, she said she knew and was just helping. Guess there really isn't much difference between the two lines. So she starts asking me questions, while reading the little form I just filled out. What's your purpose? What's the date you'll be leaving? Where are you staying? What is that address? Who is taking care of you? At this point, I realize that my two travelmates have already made it through immigration with a breeze. All of these questions were definitely not asked to Andrew and Jun. I had absolutely no idea what the address was for the University. Not knowing who was going to take care of me, I just replied with the name of one of the professors, Dan Lacks. After helping her spell that, she asked me for his phone number, another piece of information I had to regrettably inform her that I did not have. After another moment or two, she stamped my passport, scribbled on the stamp, signed it and handed it back. I thanked her and proceeded to baggage claim, where I was pleased to find that my luggage had made it through Johannesburg without a snag. Another hurdle: Customs. Again I find my self in the "Items to Declare" lane after the woman sitting there beckoned me over to help alleviate the "No Items to Declare." I show her my passport, and she too asks my reasons of visiting. "I'm a student." "I'm here for 3 weeks." "I'm at the University of Botswana." "What do you have in your bag? I have clothes and, uh, oh yeah my laptop in my bag." Then after a few more questions, she let me pass. I've seen that Jun and Andrew had already beaten me again. I later found out that I have been asked many more questions than anyone else, including all the other people on the trip. Most people's experience of Customs consisted of two questions: Why? -I'm a student. Have anything to declare? -No. They were allowed to pass without so much as a wink. Pretty laid back out here. We then proceed to these sliding doors which slide open so fast, that I had barely registered they were that quick before realizing there were like 50 people waiting just outside the exit, holding signs and waving at the arrivals. Not thinking about this before this moment, I actually wondered how we were suppose to get to the University. Luckily, I recognized Professor Lacks waiting for us, clad in pants, a tech shirt and a backpack. He said hello, and then I noticed his companion who also said hi and offered to take my luggage. His name is Kevin and he's a student at University of Botswana (UB) studying finance. We then walked the maze to bypass the ongoing construction on Sir Seretse Khama Airport and arrived in the parking lot. As I'm about 20 meters from the van, I see two vervet monkeys scurry across the parking lot edge. Talk about being in Africa. We load the van, pass the "Welcome to Botswana" arch (which I will take a picture of before I leave) and head onto the highway. Left sided driving again. 60 kph. Gaborone is and its surrounding is flat. The road rose a bit and I could see for kilometers around. There are these massive, singular hills that dot the horizon, one has got an observatory on it. The city reminds me a lot like of what I remember growing up in Hawaii. People everywhere. Walking on the shoulders of the roads, including the highway we were on. People selling things on the street, in little makeshift stands shaded with tarps. Billboards and some familiar brands and companies are seen: KFC, Apple, BP, in addition to the local businesses and products of the region. We pass a giant dirt field with two rough metal goal posts. Between them, a swarm of teenagers playing futbol. Beautiful. Behind that field is the National Stadium, under construction. We turn onto the road that its on. A lengthy brick fence runs the length of it. We make a turn through the fence and find the University of Botswana. From there, we made our way to our dorms. It's graduate housing and still very modest. There are three of us sharing my particular apartment, each of us having our own personal bedrooms, but sharing a common kitchen and bathroom. In our room is also a UB grad student, who will be here for a week or so more. We call him Mr. Watermelon because we forgot his name and on the first full day, he left a half eaten melon on our table that we saw the night of our arrival, and the flies loved it. I get to my housing assignment, and while fiddling with door key for a moment, another young man comes down from the stairway and says "Nice shirt." in reference to my Cavs tee I was donning, and goes out. I reply with a thanks and a comment about how the Cavs stink, and go inside my common room. After getting situated, I decide to go outside into this covered picnic area-courtyard that is in located in the middle of the three main buildings that we as a class are using. I come out to find the "Nice shirt" guy and two of his companions. They are Americans who have been here the last four months studying (UB's academic year is the same as ours, so they're on long Winter Break right now). They said that they'll be departing on Monday, and continued to give us some advice and tips for living on campus and in Gaborone. We bid them goodnight and then proceeded to the dining hall, a short 10 minute walk away. Our meals are to be taken in this one wing of the dining hall, which turns out to be used for faculty meals. The food services are run by this company called Curry Pot, which I later found out on my later trip to the airport that they also operate the nice cafe in the main terminal. The food is fairly decent, guess I'm not use to it. We're being served the same food over and over: pasta/rice with carrots or peppers, beef, chicken, and other things. We get served this weird mango juice blend every breakfast and dinner which doesn't sit well with my stomach at all (at lunch, we're soft drinks and juices in cans)(everything also has kilojoules instead of calories on the nutritional facts). I'm thinking I have Traveler's Diarrhea, which I discovered on my second trip to the "Gent's Room" on Monday. Another food item that we all joke about is what we thought at first was mashed potatoes. Oh, but it wasn't. When spooned, the white mealy substance acted like a gelatin, and it has a rather plain taste. After watching a commercial for it on the televisions playing in the dining hall, we've determined that it must be the amazing and incredible "Super Maize Meal." It makes an appearance at every meal. It's like 6:30 when we leave the dining hall, and its already really dark outside. By 6:45, I'm passed out in my room. Didn't bother to change. Didn't turn off the light. Just out.

(Actually I'm just gonna post each day separately, it'll take too long for a person to read it all. Best to break it up. For me and the readers.)

Gregory's Travels

So this entry is gonna be rather long since I'm gonna cover traveling to Gaborone which by the way I've discovered to be pronounce with an gruff "H" sound as opposed to a "G," but I'm pretty sure that the "G" pronunciation is still acceptable outside the country. I think this will be the best way to describe the air travel and such. If you find it tedious feel free to skip to the entries since landing in Gaborone. But there are some really good short stories within a few of the time stamp entries.

Saturday, May 14th

0000 EST - Can't sleep. Too much Snapple Peach Tea. Made from the Best stuff on Earth.

0330 EST - Alarms go off. Drag myself out of bed. Shower. Dress.

0415 EST - Load. Ride.

0500 EST - Arrive at Cleveland Hopkins Int'l Airport. A very helpful man helped me get my boarding pass and baggaged checked.

0530 EST - Got through security and waited at gate. Notice a large woman holding and petting a tiny furry thing on her chest, later to be discovered to have been a rabbit. Fell asleep at gate.

0545 EST - Heard Jon Hilty and Steven Armstrong arrive and sit near me. Removed fedora draped on my head, greeted them.

0615 EST - Notice an Indian woman bound for Delhi with her two sons sit near me in the terminal. The 7-8 year old proceded to inform his younger (5-6) brother how planes work, and actually described the mechanics of lift quite accurately.

0630 EST - Board the plane. The rows are situated 1 seat-aisle-2 seats. I'm in the single. I ended up sitting behind the mother and her two boys. Across from me is a woman, presumably Russian, heading to "Mus-cohw." I had to restrain myself from trying out my Russian accent in front of her, since I spent the last couple weeks of the semester practicing it; figured it'd be rude.

0655 EST - Take off. The two boys are very fun to watch. They brought out some Legos from their packs and nostalgic visions of my childhood flooded my memory. When we were getting buckled in, the older boy insisted on helping his brother saying, "Let the Seat Belt Master show you how its done." I don't think he saw my own belt that I was wearing (For those of you who don't know, I have a belt for pants that is really an airplane seatbelt because life's a wild ride, you gotta buckle up). That boy was so smart, he said after he was done looking out the window that he was "doing some research" about the speed of the plane and the mechanics of wings. I couldn't believe he said that, now I know why so many of my Indian friends at school are all into research, they start them off young.

0830 EST - Descent. See a lot of porpoises or something in the Atlantic's waters while overhead. Land at JFK. Taxi forever, we landed on a runway on the opposite of the airport where our terminal was, and took the long way around. Accidentally unbuckled the wrong seatbelt and tried getting up. Bet that looked silly. Deplane. Find other Case students from our flight. Begin to make our way to the international terminal. 99.99% that I saw K'naan just sitting there in there in the one terminal we entered in. I was three rows back at his concert at Case last fall, so I'm pretty confident that it was him. Coincidence? Perhaps. But I did remember to put his single and the South African World Cup theme song, Wavin' Flag, on the playlist for the next plane.

1045 EST - Board plane to South Africa. So many people. Pretty packed flight. One of the flight attendants said he like my hat as I was boarding the plane from the bridge, but in the way that was "Sir, I'm gonna have to confiscate that hat. We can't allow that on the plane. What size is it?" all with a smile. Gullible me, I actually removed the fedora and was halfway to holding it out to before I realized he was complimenting me. Flight's suppose to be 15 hours long. Find out there's a girl from Case in my row. Asked the middle aged man to swap spots with me. Find out later that he is an American expatriate living near Cape Town, South African for business. The other person in our row is a South African expatriate living in Brooklyn.

11:15 EST - Take off. Quite possibly one of the more dreadful experiences of my life. Definitely am not looking forward to the trip back home. Cramped. Baby crying intermittently 2 rows up and 4 seats over. Another baby's crying was also audible. Gotta give props to the near baby though. Heard her over the jet engines and a rousing chorus of Meat Loaf's "I'd Do Anything for Love," at 75% max volume. Couldn't get more than an hour of sleep at a time, which I wanted to make sleep a priority since Johannesburg and Gaborone are both on Central African Time (CAT), 6 hours ahead of EST, and it was gonna be 0745 in Joburg when we landed. Watched two movies, Sherlock Holmes and No Strings Attached. Had two meals. One had these curious little vegetable things that were ellipsoid in shape and were squishy to the touch of my fork. Still tasty.

Sunday, May 15th

0600 CAT - Each headrest had a personal viewing screen for the person behind them. In addition of movies and displaying a rather disproportionately happy fella what simple exercises that can be done to help make it through the flight, there was video from a camera located on the tail of the plane. Now it hasn't been much use since we've been flying in the dark for the last 8 or so hours, but I flipped to the camera channel just in time for my first African sunrise. I quickly found "The Circle of Life" from The Lion King on my iPod and continued to watch the sun come up for the duration of that song.

0745 CAT - The Eagle has landed in South Africa. I look over at the Kansas native man and I swear he was txting a person named Van de Merwe. (District 9 reference).

0800 CAT - Disembark. They drive on the left side. Proceed through security to International Transfers in O. R. Tambo Int'l Airport. Get a transit stamped in my passport. Killed time doing various things in the terminal. Visited a small cafe with a view of the runway and some terminals. Ordered a chocolate milkshake. 26 Rand. That's about 6R to 1USD. The menu first started showcasing the new ways to spell familiar words. On the menu: wrappes Everything being sold was of course duty free. Saw a wicker statue of Mandela. Pretty cool. Waited. Napped. Most of the group is together now. Some got earlier flights. I had a 1415 departure.

1430 CAT - After a dreadful wait at the gate, in the shuttle to the tarmac, and on the runway we are finally airborne in a small two prop plane. 55 minute flight. Sat next to an English woman, around my parents age I would wager, since she mentioned how her daughter was my age. Talked about each of our reasons of going to Gaborone. Her first trip to Botswana but she's well traveled in Africa. She works in mobile communications. The plane ride over was so scenic. It's really flat out here. Red dirt roads all over the bush.

1530 CAT - Landed. Exited onto tarmac. Very sunny. It was like 75 degrees or as it is down here, 25 Celsius. I was wearing the same jeans and light jacket I was wearing in rainy Cleveland. Proceed inside of Sir Seretse Khama Int'l Airport.

So after 8500 miles, 27 hours and a sunrise across a sapphire sky, I was finally in Botswana.