We have encountered so many friendly people in Malawi, it is no surprise to us that the nickname for Malawi is the Warm Heart of Africa. There is one young gentleman who really struck a chord with us and totally embodies the Malawian spirit... his name... Fred Sunset.
We met Fred roadside in a town called Chitimba. Chitimba is the last stop before the big hill up to Livingstonia. Cars do not frequently go up and down the switchback road to Livingstonia because it takes so long and it is so steep and rocky. We were really having a great time playing with the local kids and learning a bit about Malawi, being that it was our first few hours in the country.
Fred was only 21 and really willing to talk about his life, his schooling and his religious beliefs with us. He was very helpful and as it grew darker, he stayed by our side and waited for our ride to come. We gave him a coca cola and our email address while he gave us his mailing address. We took some photos together and as we got in our car to the Mushroom Farm up the hill, we promised to send pictures and stay in touch assuming we would not see him again.
.... well.... the very next morning, there was a knock at our door. The guy working at the Mushroom Farm told us that we had a visitor named Fred, however, he was waiting just outside camp because it was not customary to let locals in. Pete went to see Fred, assuming he wanted some money to show us around town or something. Boy were we wrong. Fred had misplaced our contact info and wanted to be sure he had it. He also gave us a picture of him at his high school graduation and an old picture of his mom and dad... Marry and Hawkins.
Fred marched 10 km up a hill in slippers (his only shoes) to get our email address. And that my friends, is Malawian hospitality at its finest.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Malawi in a Nutshell
To spare you the suspense of the rest of our long journey from Tanzania to Malawi, I will have you know that we did in fact make it to Livingstonia on July 4th. (Last year Damascus, this year Malawi. Keeping it interesting I suppose.) Once we crossed the border into Malawi, it only took us 2 shared taxis, 1 minibus and 1 car ride 10km up a very steep hill to Livingstonia... where we stayed at "The Mushroom Farm Camp". (see pic in previous post) We had a relaxing few days up there and met some great people, particularly two lovely Scottish gals. They were so great that we managed to spend the next 5 days with them.
From Livingstonia we treked on to Nkhata Bay. To get there was even faster... one mini bus and one shared taxi. The four of us (2 Scotts and Pete and I) squished into the back of the minibus with some live fish and some chickens. (stinky stanky) Our seat was most definitely not secured down to the floor of the minibus and the trunk door was held closed with ropes tied to the back wiper. I sat the whole way leaning forward and I made Pete keep his arm on the bags in fear the door would fly open... leaving 4 mazungu (white people) and all of our belongings flailing on the road. I can still picture it now.
The rest of the trip up until now has been pretty uneventful. We spent most of the time in cute guest houses in Nkhata Bay and Nkhotakota relaxing with other travelers. Of course, we have managed to attract lots of attention and strike up rather interesting conversations with the locals who are really genuine and kind.
Today we are in Lilongwe... gearing up for another border crossing. This time it should only take 2 minibuses to get to the border and then 1 minibus once we have reached the Zambian side.... thank goodness.
From Livingstonia we treked on to Nkhata Bay. To get there was even faster... one mini bus and one shared taxi. The four of us (2 Scotts and Pete and I) squished into the back of the minibus with some live fish and some chickens. (stinky stanky) Our seat was most definitely not secured down to the floor of the minibus and the trunk door was held closed with ropes tied to the back wiper. I sat the whole way leaning forward and I made Pete keep his arm on the bags in fear the door would fly open... leaving 4 mazungu (white people) and all of our belongings flailing on the road. I can still picture it now.
The rest of the trip up until now has been pretty uneventful. We spent most of the time in cute guest houses in Nkhata Bay and Nkhotakota relaxing with other travelers. Of course, we have managed to attract lots of attention and strike up rather interesting conversations with the locals who are really genuine and kind.
Today we are in Lilongwe... gearing up for another border crossing. This time it should only take 2 minibuses to get to the border and then 1 minibus once we have reached the Zambian side.... thank goodness.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Story Interruption in exchange for PICTURES!
This internet connection has pretty much exhausted me for the day. But I will put more entries up soon. In the meantime.... enjoy the photos! They are kind of backwards in order, but you get the point.
Waiting for the bus in Kalimajira a roadside town in Malawi. We make friends wherever we go.
Pete in Nkhotakota, Malawi... sporting his freshly scrubbed, very white XLT
In our room at the Mushroom Farm in Livingstonia, Malawi. You can't tell from this pic but the view was pretty spectacular, especially when it wasn't raining
Hellooooo Mrs. Giraffe! (Serengeti, Tanzania). Those big ears remind me of someone special back at home....
View over the Ngorongoro Crater (Tanzania)... little did we know we would be wearing these same clothes for the next 4 days straight
Our first lion (of many) in the Serengeti
Cheetahs before we even entered the Serengeti National Park...onward
On the 4th of July, while the rest of you were probably getting ready to light fire works and celebrate, we woke up in Tunduma, Tanzania bound and determined to get to Livingstonia, Malawi. We knew it would take all day, but we were pretty sick of Tanzania after being constantly hassled and ripped off.
We never did see our friend Moses again, but the man who worked at the High Class Motel was very sweet and put us on a mini bus first thing that morning back to Mbeya (after breakfast of course). Let me just elaborate on minibuses for a minute here...... they are rattling, run down hunks of junk who's sole purpose is to fit as many people as uncomfortably as possible into them for the purpose of making a few extra cents. Naturally, we ended up in the back of one of those, sitting 5 across in a row that should only hold 4. We sat that out for two hours on the same road we had come from... back to Mbeya.
In Mbeya we hopped on another minibus, this time for Songwe, the border town with Malawi. This bus wasn't too bad despite that our bags were piled on our laps and we couldn't see in front of us. We ended up overpaying because we were out of Tanzanian shillings and the guy was a dink and didn't want to give us the proper exchange. All the passengers thought it was funny when he joked we were doing business on the "black market" ha ha. Very funny.
To our disappointment, that bus didn't take us very far and we had to get on ANOTHER bus after about 45 minutes. Worst one yet. Pete sat in a single seat in the front with all of our bags piled on top of him, while I was squished in a row for 4 that had 6 people in it. Somehow I was both kneeling and sitting at the same time. Luckily this only lasted for 1.5 hours and we ended up at the border.
We never did see our friend Moses again, but the man who worked at the High Class Motel was very sweet and put us on a mini bus first thing that morning back to Mbeya (after breakfast of course). Let me just elaborate on minibuses for a minute here...... they are rattling, run down hunks of junk who's sole purpose is to fit as many people as uncomfortably as possible into them for the purpose of making a few extra cents. Naturally, we ended up in the back of one of those, sitting 5 across in a row that should only hold 4. We sat that out for two hours on the same road we had come from... back to Mbeya.
In Mbeya we hopped on another minibus, this time for Songwe, the border town with Malawi. This bus wasn't too bad despite that our bags were piled on our laps and we couldn't see in front of us. We ended up overpaying because we were out of Tanzanian shillings and the guy was a dink and didn't want to give us the proper exchange. All the passengers thought it was funny when he joked we were doing business on the "black market" ha ha. Very funny.
To our disappointment, that bus didn't take us very far and we had to get on ANOTHER bus after about 45 minutes. Worst one yet. Pete sat in a single seat in the front with all of our bags piled on top of him, while I was squished in a row for 4 that had 6 people in it. Somehow I was both kneeling and sitting at the same time. Luckily this only lasted for 1.5 hours and we ended up at the border.
Just when you think it can't get worse... it does...
Today we have a somewhat decent internet connection so I am very determined to update the rest of our travels up til now. I am feeling a bit sassy and sarcastic as a result of the cockroach I apprently slept with last night. (Pete found it on the bed this morning, blarg)
Anyways... July 2, 2010. After the miserable ferry ride from Zanzibar, we checked into a decent hotel and bought bus tickets to Mbeya, Tanzania near the Malawian border. No need to get into the chaotic details of actually purchasing the tickets, but we ended up on the "Falcon Bus" instead of the Sumry coach that we were told was the best company. At 5 am July 3, we headed out to catch our bus to Mbeya. The bus company said it would take nine hours, while the guide book said 12 hours, so we were guessing somewhere in between. Many travellers we spoke with referred to Tanzanian buses as kamikazes. I was nervouse and just kept telling myself that I didn't care how long it took, as long as we got there in one piece. Well, I should have eaten those words.
We got on the bus. Our seats were in the very back, 5 across and real cozy (riiiiight-- my bum was numb after about 20 minutes). There were bugs crawling out of the upholstry by the window and we sat in the station for 1.5 hours before we actually left. When we finally did leave, the ride was pleasant enough. We went from seeing the Maasai people herding cattle and gathering fire wood along the road to passing giraffes and gazelle in the distance.
We stopped once to pee.
About 14 hours later, as the sun began to set, we noticed that we were entering Mbeya. We stopped a few times to let the locals off and once to fuel up. Pete and I kept waiting to pull into the Mbeya bus station as we had pulled into every other bus station in every other town along the way... which is why it took so long to get anywhere. Unfortunately, the bus never stopped in a station and pretty soon we found ourselves plowing along the open road again. This time in the pitch black. I had heard to avoid riding Tanzanian buses in the dark and we were both, cold hungry and pretty nervous.
There was one nice man on the Falcon bus who had spoken to us at the pit stop, so Pete stumbled up to him in the dark to find out where in fact we were headed. We had missed our stop in Mbeya (no one told us to get off even though the bus employee had written it down) and in 2 hours time, we would be in Tunduma, Tanzania. The border town with Zambia. ZAMBIA! We weren't going there. At this point, my mind began to race, and my heart was pounding. A bus to a border town in the dark.
The good Catholic girl in me said a few prayers and sure enough, despite the excessive speed and rattling bus, we made it to Tunduma. Our little friend helped us off the bus with our belongings and introduced himself. His name was Moses.
He checked us into the "High Class Motel" where we were safe and warm after 16 hours on the bus. Despite the bar, the roaring bass and World Cup game being broadcast outside our window, we were happy to be somewhere. And tomorrow was another day.
Anyways... July 2, 2010. After the miserable ferry ride from Zanzibar, we checked into a decent hotel and bought bus tickets to Mbeya, Tanzania near the Malawian border. No need to get into the chaotic details of actually purchasing the tickets, but we ended up on the "Falcon Bus" instead of the Sumry coach that we were told was the best company. At 5 am July 3, we headed out to catch our bus to Mbeya. The bus company said it would take nine hours, while the guide book said 12 hours, so we were guessing somewhere in between. Many travellers we spoke with referred to Tanzanian buses as kamikazes. I was nervouse and just kept telling myself that I didn't care how long it took, as long as we got there in one piece. Well, I should have eaten those words.
We got on the bus. Our seats were in the very back, 5 across and real cozy (riiiiight-- my bum was numb after about 20 minutes). There were bugs crawling out of the upholstry by the window and we sat in the station for 1.5 hours before we actually left. When we finally did leave, the ride was pleasant enough. We went from seeing the Maasai people herding cattle and gathering fire wood along the road to passing giraffes and gazelle in the distance.
We stopped once to pee.
About 14 hours later, as the sun began to set, we noticed that we were entering Mbeya. We stopped a few times to let the locals off and once to fuel up. Pete and I kept waiting to pull into the Mbeya bus station as we had pulled into every other bus station in every other town along the way... which is why it took so long to get anywhere. Unfortunately, the bus never stopped in a station and pretty soon we found ourselves plowing along the open road again. This time in the pitch black. I had heard to avoid riding Tanzanian buses in the dark and we were both, cold hungry and pretty nervous.
There was one nice man on the Falcon bus who had spoken to us at the pit stop, so Pete stumbled up to him in the dark to find out where in fact we were headed. We had missed our stop in Mbeya (no one told us to get off even though the bus employee had written it down) and in 2 hours time, we would be in Tunduma, Tanzania. The border town with Zambia. ZAMBIA! We weren't going there. At this point, my mind began to race, and my heart was pounding. A bus to a border town in the dark.
The good Catholic girl in me said a few prayers and sure enough, despite the excessive speed and rattling bus, we made it to Tunduma. Our little friend helped us off the bus with our belongings and introduced himself. His name was Moses.
He checked us into the "High Class Motel" where we were safe and warm after 16 hours on the bus. Despite the bar, the roaring bass and World Cup game being broadcast outside our window, we were happy to be somewhere. And tomorrow was another day.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Ferry Crossing
The flight to Zanzibar was all fine and good, but to get back to the mainland we had to take a boat, which is a story in itself.
It was actually a really nice boat. Modern. Air conditioned. Plenty of seats. Movies playing. We got cozy near the front, so we could keep an eye on our bags that were stacked up along the front railing with all the other bags. Just as the boat disembarked and we left the lovely architecture of Zanzibar behind, the crew started passing out thick, black and rather industrial looking plastic bags with the words "seasick bag" imprinted boldly on the front. OMG. The thought hadn't crossed my mind.
Within 10 minutes of leaving the port, the swells grew and it seemed that the bigger the swell, the louder the children cheered with excitement. Five minutes more, the children quieted and settled in to watch Mr. Bean on the tv. Five more minutes... I heard it, the first of many hurls that would echo through the boat that afternoon. I was bound and determined not to be sick. I planted myself in my seat, half squatting/half sitting fighting to keep the horizon in my line of vision out the side window.
The swells got bigger and bigger and the boat thrashed along. I looked around. Big mistake. The Australian girls next to me where all face down buried in their black bags. Glance to the right, the mother and son next to Pete in the same position. OMG, another hurling sound from the back. Plug ears. Tears. Focus on horizon. Will not be sick.
Pete, iron stomach held my hand as I assured him we would surely die or our luggage was going overboard from the sheer size of these waves. For 1.5 hours I fought, I fought hard. I don't know what it was... maybe a combination of the body odor, Mr. Bean eating oysters on tv, the wretched sounds of wretching, the smell of vomit or the fact that I could no longer spot the horizon, but I too joined the masses. Gave in and used my black bag.
But we (bags included) made it to Dar Es Salaam where I could have kissed the ground we walked on.
Zanzibar
Flying to Zanzibar was probably more exciting than the experience on the island itself. The flight took us right past mount Kilimanjaro and over the reefs and turquoise waters as we landed. When we got off the island it was warm and humid... a welcome change from cool, rainy Arusha. We spent one night in the main town, "Stone Town" where we filled up on Zanzibar Pizza. Quite different from pizza back home, although still extremely greasy and delicious and fried to order right before your eyes.
The next day we took a spice tour and learned about all the various things grown on the island. We also filled up on all kinds of new fruits and rice. From there we carried on up to Kendwa beach in the northern part of the island. The beach was beautiful and the water was crystal blue but it was overcast and windy. We spent one day relaxing on the beach and chatting with a couple we met on the flight over beers and dinner. The next day we decided to head out of town and catch an extra day somewhere else on our trip. Had we known what adventures lay before us... we might still be sitting on that windy beach.
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