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.

Bound for Botswana

It's hard to think that in a little over 13 hours I will be on my way to Africa. All of it is set: took four shots, notified my bank, got prescriptions for traveler's diarrhea and malaria prevention and my luggage is packed. Mom's been stressing out over ever little thing that's getting packed, but I know she's just making sure that I have everything for smooth sailing through airport security and the flight. I know this first post is rather boring, but I promise to get pictures up and spruce up the look of the blog.

Until then, I'll just fill in those of you who don't know too much about my trip. I'm taking a course in thermodynamics taught at the Univ. of Botswana. Why might you ask? Well, its actually just another version of a required course offered by CWRU for my major, chemical engineering. There's about 20 of us that are going on the trip I wanna say. There are some kids I've become friends with beforehand and some new faces that I'm sure I'll get acquainted with before this trip is up. I will spend my time studying, safariing, touring, and footballing.

For those of you who don't know, Botswana is situated just north of South Africa. Its an Anglophone country, so English is one of the official languages. Much of the country is covered by the Kalahari Desert, so I've been told that its a dry climate. It's actually winter over there now, or rather the dry season, but its suppose to stay relatively warm during the day but get cold enough for a jacket to be worn during the evening hours. Botswana is one of the more developed countries due to its vast game preserves for tourism and a thriving diamond mining industry.

That's a good summary I think. If you want to read more, I'm sure you can look up the wiki article for Botswana. I probably won't post anything until I land in Gaborone and get situated in the dorm. After getting to JFK in NYC, I'll hop onto a South African Airways flight and land in Johannesburg 15 hours later. From there, I'll hop onto one of the hourly flights to Gaborone. It's gonna be a long DAY of flights tomorrow.

-Gone to Gaborone Greg

P.S. It's pronounced "Gab-boh-roh-nay." I'll double check with the Batswana friends I'm sure to make.

P.S.S. Batswana is the demonym for a Botswana national.