Gulliver's Travels part 8 (The End): Almost becoming a hobo in Rome

In the summer of 2006, I worked in Munich and hungered to see the world. I was able to get 8 days off my summer internship and decided to go to Austria (Vienna) and Italy (Rome, Pisa and Sicily). After that chaotic trip, I wrote an email to my family and friends chronicling my adventures and these are the tales I have shared with you over the past few weeks - ending with this post today. 

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My plans once I got to Rome was to spend the day at the Vatican . My train would arrive at 0611 and I would begin my great trek to the Vatican (1 hour walk.) I would be there by 0711 and hopefully get in line for two or more hours and be in the Vatican hopefully at 1011. The lines at the Vatican are legendary, and people get there before 6am . Someone told me the line is soooo long that you can’t see the Vatican when in line. The line stretches for miles. Hmmm then it dawned on me that finances were dangerously low…..That is an understatement. I had exactly 5 euros and 13 cents to my name in Rome if I didn't count the 6euros Salvadore owed me. There are  four trains leaving Rome for Munich daily, and I realized pretty late that the only ones that weren't speed trains ie sort of cheaper and would cost me 5 euros instead of 15 euros (which I didn't have anyway…) were the ones leaving at 0742 and the one leaving at 2100. Unfortunately the one leaving at 2100 was leaving from a different station, and I would have to take the subway to get there. I was pretty sure there was no subway that would cost me only 13 cents. So financially it only made sense to take the 0742 train to Munich . Besides I was now too broke to buy water which I would definitely need lots of for my pilgrimage to the Vatican . I was also really exhausted after two nights of sleeping on  the train. I just wanted my nice bed in Munich , my inextinguishable water supply and food in Munich and a nice long long long hot shower.  My little energy would not be enough to stand in the line under these scorching heat. The Vatican also has a dress code that restricts showing shoulders, thighs etc and these would mean I would have to sauna in my jacket. Common sense prevailed and I decided to go home. So yes I did not get to see the 16th chapel and Michaelangelo’s famous mural, but at least I got to sleep on a bed that evening.

*****NOT WITHOUT MY CHILDREN/BAGS ******

            My train got to Rome late ie 0630 and my Munich train was to leave at 0742. I had 1 hour and 12 minutes to reserve a ticket and get my bags and be back. I went to reserve my ticket, and luckily the line wasn't too long due to the early hour. I got my ticket i.e. parted with my 5euros, and ran to get my bags. I got to the hostel, and rang the bell. No answer!! I rang  the bell more frantically!!!!! Still no answer!!! This just could not happen to me. I was absolutely broke now, and absolutely needed to catch that train I had just paid for. It was past 7am right now. I banged on the door!!! I banged on the window!! No answer!! I was now really beginning to panic. I started screaming out “SALVADORE!!!! SALVADORE!!!!!” in the middle of the street. Then I decided to scale the wall, and scream his name through the window. There I am looking like a real criminal and screaming “SALVADORE!!!!! SALVADORE!!!!!! While hanging from a window pane. I was just thinking “my bags!!!! my bags!!!! I need my bags!!” Finally I hear someone come and open the door. I was sooooooo soooooo happy. He had red eyes and looked like he wanted to kill me. I apologized, but told him I really had to catch my train. I got my bags, and my money from him. I ran to the train station and jumped into my train. I put my bags in the luggage storage overhead, and sat down. I breathed a sigh of relief having made it just by a hair’s breath.

The train starts to move and I am dreamily staring out of the window saying goodbye to Rome, goodbye to Venice, goodbye to Sicily, goodbye to Italy and having the feeling that this is not really ‘goodbye” but “till we meet again.’ The announcer starts to speak in Italian……blah blah blah…..welcome to this Trenitalia train……blah blah blah…..destination Monaco!!!!! Monaco !!!!! What!!!!!! Monaco !!!!! I jump up not really sure what I am going to do now that we are already in motion! Jump out the window with my bags and run across the train tracks to catch my train to Munich.!! I frantically ask the guy next to me who luckily speaks English “Is this train going to Monaco ?” He tells me “yes.” I start looking for the train official or something now really believing I must have the strangest luck. The guy asks me where I want to go. I tell him Munich , and he tells me the train is going to Monaco , Germany .  Can you imagine that!!!! In Italian Munich is called Monaco and Monaco is also called Monaco ….only with a different emphasis on the “o.” I actually had to laugh at myself. I laughed and laughed till I was in tears. My cabin mates looked at me like I am insane. I really didn’t mind anyway. Maybe I am indeed insane.

Gulliver's Travels part 7: Sicily

In the summer of 2006, I worked in Munich and hungered to see the world. I was able to get 8 days off my summer internship and decided to go to Austria (Vienna) and Italy (Rome, Pisa and Sicily). After that chaotic trip, I wrote an email to my family and friends chronicling my adventures and these are the tales I will share with you for the next few weeks. 

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 I got to my assigned seat, and there was these creepy old Sicilian dude sitting there who was the carbon copy of  Al Pacino. He was not smiling, not talking. Just sitting there and watching my every move really intently with furrowed brows. Watching thekenyanexplorer pretend to look for something in her bag. Watching thekenyanexplorer apply lipbalm. Watching thekenyanexplorer look out of the window. Watching thekenyanexplorer pretend to read. I was so happy when my other cabin mates arrived. They were two guys and one girl- all Sicilians and really friendly….all around my age. Creepy dude was still watching me, but atleast I didn’t mind so much now that we had company. Our train was due to arrive in Sicily around 11am (12 hour journey), and I really wanted to sleep. My nice cabin mates agreed for us to all slide our seats down and therefore have each two seats join up to make a long bed. So we ended up with two really long beds next to each other. The seat next to creepy dude was unoccupied, but no one was willing to move there. So the four of us had two “beds.” We were all stretched out really well, and dozing off when I inquired about the light. In all the other night trains I had taken we would switch off our light. They gave me a funny look and told me “If we do that we will arrive with no luggage in Sicily . The South is a dangerous place.” Fear filled my heart, and I started wondering if it was really a good idea for me to travel alone to Sicily . Anyway finally we slept with the lights on. However my suite mates were really active people and kept on waking up and walking in and out of the cabin. Everytime they would leave the cabin I would be unable to sleep for fear of having our bags stolen as I slept. Every time they left I would wake up feeling watched, and quite true I would find creepy dude sitting on his seat, dark eyes boring into me…still watching me in these wee hours of the morning. Man…there are some creepy people in this world, and I happen to meet most of them. So on and off I slept. At some point I woke up to find my suitemates leaving yet again. Then they told me we were on a ferry. I thought I was dreaming. I looked out of the window and we were moving though the train wasn’t moving. I could actually see people standing next to the train, and unable to understand the complexity of the scene I went back to bed. When I awoke we were passing some lovely landscapes, and I noticed that the people in these parts were much darker and taller than in Northern Italy . They actually looked like North Africans which shouldn’t be surprising since Sicily is an island and South of Sicily is the island Malta , and to the West of Malta is North Africa . On the journey back to Rome from Sicily was when I realized that the whole train got on a ferry to get to Sicily - yep, believe that! A train on a ferry. Dunia ina mambo! 
 
We arrived in Sicily at 1113. It was unbelievably hot. It must have been in the high 40s. The first thing I saw in the train station was a dog that had passed out due to the heat, and was just lying there on the ground looking dead. It was alive though, just dog tired. Later on in the day I would see doves that had also passed out. It was the strangest scene….four or five doves lying on the ground looking dead, and only slowly walking away when some naughty kid started stamping on the ground. Honestly when was the last time you saw doves passed out on the ground. My arrival in Sicily was marred by uncertainties. Though I have an eurail pass that allows me to hop on trains in Germany , Italy , France and Austria , some of the trains require a reservation. I had reserved my ticket to Sicily for 3 euros, but when trying to get one back, the ticket officer had told me all reservations were sold, and I would just have to hop on a train and hope for the best. I felt very unstable being in Sicily , and unsure of how I would get back to Rome . The train I was to take needed a compulsory reservation, and I did not have one. Reservations usually cost around 3 to 4 euros, and sometimes for night trains can be as high as 7euros. The most I had paid for a reservation had been a shocking 15 euros from Venice to Rome, but that had been because the only train from Venice to Rome is a high speed train and therefore really costly. I decided to get into the long line in Sicily at the ticket office, just to make sure I could make a reservation. I finally got to the counter, and the counter guy only spoke Italian. I wrote down what I was looking for and he told me all seats were full. I panicked. I had no room reservations here in Palermo , and yet he was telling me I couldn’t leave tonight! I went to the information office to see what I could do. As I was there I heard these three girls behind me speaking in German. They also had the same predicament. They needed reservations for the night. We instantly bonded since we had the same predicament. The guy at the info. Office told us that our best bet would be to take the train at 1800 since this would be the only train that wouldn’t fine us for traveling without reservations. Ps-fines can be up to 40 euros which to me at this moment sounded like 1 million dollars. The girls and me got maps of Palermo and instantly went off to explore the city.

Gulliver's Travels part 6: The leaning (falling) tower of Pisa

In the summer of 2006, I worked in Munich and hungered to see the world. I was able to get 8 days off my summer internship and decided to go to Austria (Vienna) and Italy (Rome, Pisa and Sicily). After that chaotic trip, I wrote an email to my family and friends chronicling my adventures and these are the tales I will share with you for the next few weeks. 

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  The Vatican was going to be closed for two days due to a national holiday. I left Rome on Tuesday 1346 hrs and got to Pisa at 1657. The journey there basically involved me falling asleep and waking up to more lovely views of the Tyrrhenian Sea (the name of the Meditteranean in the North West of Italy.) The views were spectacular, and I got to enjoy the mountainous countryside of Italy.I had drank lots of water, and decided to venture into the restroom (I usually religiously avoid restrooms in trains.) This restroom was surprisingly very clean, but there was a strange breeze in the room and no windows. So when I was done using the toilet I tried to look for the flush button but could not find any. Then I looked into the toilet and strangely there was nothing there. No tissue. No water. I needed to solve this mystery! I peered further and what do I see………………………….the train tracks!!!!!! Yes you heard me right. All the regional trains I took in Italy also followed in the same fashion. I was soooo totally grossed out. Not only is that like major pollution….I mean all the toilet paper that must be littering the train tracks all over Italy,  I vowed never to cross train tracks in Italy. This was just way too disturbing. How can they make a toilet that looks just like a normal toilet but discharges on the train tracks????? Strangely I had seen one of the other bathrooms had a sign that said “Out of order.” I wondered what “out of order” could have meant. There was definitely no plumbing involved in the toilets .In Pisa I walked for half an hour, found the leaning/falling tower of Pisa . I mean that tower is dangerously leaning. It looks like it could fall over any minute now. Pisa was a cute little town though it looked really ancient (not ancient like 1500s, but ancient like stuck in the 1920s.) Maybe it was the town or maybe it was my new sunglasses, but the town had the strange brown color/ sepia that TV had just after black and white and before they got color quite right.  I managed to find a cute little dress in Pisa (5 euros.) Stuff was really cheap in Pisa and I wished I had more time to check out the shops. My train was leaving Pisa at 1900 and getting to Rome at 2228 and my train to Sicily would leave Rome at 2300. Yes I know I am very daring. Sooo yes my train from Pisa left ten minutes late, and the whole journey I was holding my breath knowing that if I missed my train to Sicily I would be homeless for the night and really messed. Luckily my train got to Rome at 2248 and I hopped into my train to Palermo , Sicily .

Gulliver's Travels part 5: Pub crawl in Rome

In the summer of 2006, I worked in Munich and hungered to see the world. I was able to get 8 days off my summer internship and decided to go to Austria (Vienna) and Italy (Rome, Pisa and Sicily). After that chaotic trip, I wrote an email to my family and friends chronicling my adventures and these are the tales I will share with you for the next few weeks.

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Well what can I say……I came, I saw, I crawled. Yeah so once I got back to the hostel I just really wanted to drink and party. I asked – Gibrila- the Ethiopian dude..if he could ask the Scottish girls from the night before if they were going out tonight (I had met some nice cool Scottish  girls the night before at the reception when I was waiting for Salvadore to find me a room…..they had been drinking wine and were on their way out and looked like cool company.) Gibrila had just showed me where my new bed was- I was on the top bunk, and I had looked at my room-mates and I am convinced I have seen furniture that had more life in it than them.  Now people…Gibrila and I don’t share any common language….he speaks Amharic and Italian…his Eritrean friend speaks Tigrean and Italian and Salvadore speaks only Italian. This was the hardest conversation of my life. At some points he thought I was telling him I am a lesbian and I want one of the  Scottish girls…The next minute he thought I was asking him for wine….Finally I gave up. I just decided to shower, get ready to party and go downstairs to ask Salvadore if there was any party places in the region. So I got ready,and I went downstairs and Salvadore gave me instructions to a pub nearby and strict directions to walk back only along the main road when coming back since any side streets would be harbouring criminals. Then the Ethiopian guy comes and takes me to the Scottish girls’ room. I was really surprised that he had understood what I said. I wondered if he had just been making fun of me during that long conversation earlier. So I got to the girls’ place and they were tipsy and all drinking wine. We all started chatting and I was drinking my martini. They told me they were not going out that night since their train left at around midnight , but they knew where I could go. They told me the night before they had gone for Pub Crawl.

What is Pub Crawl? Well it is a thing totally organized for young tourists in Rome to get to meet each other. Basically you pay 20 euros, and you get to drink unlimited beer and or wine and eat pizza at the Spanish Steps in Rome then after that they take you bar hopping to 4 pubs where you get in for free and get a free shot at the entrance of each pub,and finally you are taken out to a huge club with hiphop, techno, house, rock etc till morning.  They also told me there are a lot of drinking games which equates to more free drinks! You also get a free t-shirt!  Sounded like my type of party. Cab fare back would cost me 8 euros which sounded great. They were going for dinner around that region so we left and took the subway together. We just barely made it into the last train and sat down. Some girl was trying to get into the train, and I believe that the subway in Rome must have killed some people. She just got halfway in, and the doors started closing on her. Not the closing that means the doors will open if you push a bit more……it was the closing where she almost lost her leg. The doors closed on her foot,and I could see her face turning redder and redder as she tried to save her foot. The (un)lucky girl managed to salvage her foot,but her shoe went with us in the train. I was actually traumatized though tipsy enough to forget that creepy incident. One of the girls told me that the long distance trains in the UK open for a specified amount of time,then immediately close. So if the train has many people getting off then you are assured you will not get in. Random!!!

So finally I got to the Spanish Steps, and strangely the organizers of Pub Crawl are university students from the States working for the summer in Italy . This is a really cool night job if you ask me. I met the crowd there and mostly consisted of Australians, Scots, Irish and a scattering of Americans and people from everywhere.  The nationality of this people should have been enough to make me pack my bags and go home on realizing that I was in the midst of expert drunks. I still felt up to the challenge and stayed. A few beers later, and my martini bottle half empty I heard some german conversation behind me. I turned and started talking to these two german girls. Off we went to the first pub. Shots at the door. I participated in one of the drinking games inside and won this competition. Off to the next club….by this time me and my German friends are quite drunk. I am just remembering bits and pieces from the night. Get another shot at the entrance.  I don’t remember how we got to the next pub. Ok obviously we walked but I don’t know how. Another shot at the door.  Heeeee then I started feeling really drunk. World spinning!!! Seeing doubles etc. Same for the German girls. Me and the German girls (who it turns out were in a youth hostel next to mine) hopped into a cab, and went home. I  feel stupid that I never made it to the dance club, but I doubt anyone other than the Scots could make it that far on all the booze we had been drinking.  I got home, and I was drunk, drunkety drunk. I remember that randomly my phone got an sms and I was trying to read it but could see nothing.... I couldn’t read. My youth hostel is a fortress, but mysteriously I was able to use my keys to open the main door, the elevator door, the floor door and my room door. I got to my room and thought “to hell with changing clothes, I will sleep as I am so as not to wake up my roommates!” I climbed the table from which I would be able to spring on to my top bed. All these actions are happening in the dark by the way….. I spring from the table top onto “my” bed and land on someone!!!!!!!!!!!!! The startled person springs up and I couldn't tell who was more shocked….me or him.  Anyway it turns out that Ethiopian dude had showed me the wrong bed. I was actually meant to be on the bottom bed. I am not sure what apology I gave the guy on the top bunk. I was beyond feelingl feelings like embarrassment. I went down to my own bed. The next morning was when I felt embarrassed. I only woke up once I heard him leaving the floor, and even then I showered and packed up rapidly so as to make sure he didn’t see me in the daylight. 

The next day I woke up with a head heavy enough to dent a wooden pillow.  I was hungover like wow!!!It was my last night at the hotel and I had earlier on intended to spend my day at the Vatican . Luckily I found out from someone that the Vatican would be closed that day and the next day. I couldn’t figure out what to do in Rome for the day since I was too hungover to go walking around for hours. I needed to lie down somewhere. I decided that I would change my travel plans a bit and jumped on the train to Pisa where I would atleast be able to nurse my hangover and nap in the train. I left all my luggage in Rome in storage for two days at my youth hostel (2euros per night) since in the evening I planned to take the train to Sicily , and didn’t want to go with my baggage.

Gulliver's Travels part 4: Rome in a day

In the summer of 2006, I worked in Munich and hungered to see the world. I was able to get 8 days off my summer internship and decided to go to Austria (Vienna) and Italy (Rome, Pisa and Sicily). After that chaotic trip, I wrote an email to my family and friends chronicling my adventures and these are the tales I will share with you for the next few weeks. 

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I left Venice at 1432 and my train was due to arrive in Rome at 1905. I sat next to a really chatty Italian couple, and managed to get an hour or two of sleep in between their very animated conversations. I got to Rome around 1935 (half an hour late) and tried to get a map of Rome at the train station. The lines in Italy are crazy long and the government offices and public places are sort of like in Kenya- highly inefficient. A place with 20 or so booths usually has only one or two tellers working, and you can only imagine how long the queues are during tourist season. Finally I gave up on the map idea since it was getting really late, and I really needed to find accommodation for the night.  I headed out to the streets,and tried looking for any place that looked like a youth hostel. I ended up in a hotel or two, and they all told me they were full for the night. I was beginning to panic,and feel like Virgin Mary and Joseph looking for accommodation in Bethlehem . Finally at the third hotel, a really sweet old guy told me it would be impossible to find rooms around this area at this time. In true Italian hospitality he gave me a map of Rome , and marked youth hostels on it that I should look up. After thanking him heartily I went to the first place he had picked. It was a 10 minute walk and by this point I really hated my suitcase. I got there and the doormen –one was Ethiopian and one was Eritrean- let me in.

This youth hostel is actually owned by these two really rich Eritrean women. They told me they doubted if there were any free rooms,but that I should talk to their boss- Salvadore. Salvadore made me wait for a good half hour, and finally I was led into this kitchen/main office. We all sat down- Ethiopian, Eritrean, Salvadore and me, and it honestly looked like a mafia meeting-them having a heated conversation in Italian and me silently sitting there knowing that my fate for the night lay in the hands of Salvadore.  I was given a cold glass of orange juice which I downed with gusto.  I really believe that I must have been Italian in my previous life. Either that or Italian is a really easy language to understand. I guess it is the latter- Italians speak with a lot of actions,and you always understand what they are saying even if you don’t get the words. I could see him going through a list of rooms and coming up blank. The Ethiopian asking him “And what of this other room? ”  Salvadore looking it up, and coming back with a negative response. Things looked glum for me. Finally in gestures, symbols and Italian with a thick Sicilian accent he explained to me that all the normal rooms were full and the only empty place he had was a private room fully equipped with bathroom, and that I would get breakfast in bed. Hmmmmmm he named some crazy price,and gave me a pained expression showing me that this was going way below what he should charge for it. I knew I was being robbed blind, but at this time in the night I had no chance of finding another place, and the thought of a bed and a long hot shower made the hole they were making in my pocket seem smaller.  I showered and slept in a bed. No train officials disrupted my sleep asking me for my travel ticket in the wee hours of the morning!!! Sigh……the joys of sleeping on a real bed.

The next morning, I woke up to breakfast in bed. I moved to a normal room which was immensely cheaper than my previous room, though I had five roommates now. Grabbed a shower, and off I went to explore Rome armed with my map. I walked and walked and all I could see was the non-historic part of Rome i.e. normal buildings, shops etc. The roads in Rome are highly dangerous. They are sooooo soooooo sooooo wide, and you just have to run across them, and hope for the best. Then there are just as many motorcycles as cars, and I think motorcycles can turn on red. Phewww!!!! I had many close calls. Finally I turned a corner, and felt like I had walked into ancient Rome . It was unbelievable the change of scenery. Ruins, ancient buildings centuries old, churches from ancient times.There was so much to see, and it was unbelievable to be in such a historic site. I climbed up the millions of steps at one of the monuments, and once I got to the top I decided to take a seat. Warning people- don’t ever take off your shoes at a national monument in Italy . It is illegal. So there I was I took off my sandals and sat cross legged and watched Rome from above. Suddenly a cop comes up to me, and speaks to me in Italian. I thought he was telling me that I can’t sit there.Turns out actually he was telling me to put my sandals back on. Strange law!! Finally I went to the Colosseum. What can I say……..it was colossal!!!!I felt like I had walked right into a history book. Later on in the early evening I went to a lovely cathedral where I got to see Michalangelo’s “Moses.” Sadly I didn’t get to take a picture of it since Mass was just about to begin. I walked around all day not believing that so much history could be squeezed into one town. Every corner was like walking into a time machine. Unbelievable!!! In the evening I partied. It was lots of fun!!!

Gulliver's Travels part 3: Venice

In the summer of 2006, I worked in Munich and hungered to see the world. I was able to get 8 days off my summer internship and decided to go to Austria (Vienna) and Italy (Rome, Pisa and Sicily). After that chaotic trip, I wrote an email to my family and friends chronicling my adventures and these are the tales I will share with you for the next few weeks. 

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Soooo panting and all I found my seat. Most European long distance trains have cabins with six seats (3 on each side) and a sliding door for the cabin. My cabin mates were a middle aged Argentinian couple (they were really nice), two Korean students and a Chinese guy who only spoke Mandarin but was the nicest person ever. We all talked for a while and the Argentinian couple warned all of us to be extra careful in Italy since there are a lot of thieves and pickpockets. So I instantly went into Kenya mode which is the mode where you never leave your bags unattended, where you carry your backpack in front of you in crowds, tightly hold on to your bags and always have an eye open. I am proud to say I was not robbed even once in Italy . The Argentinians even told us there are thieves on the trains. By this time I was so exhausted, and dying to sleep. The guy opposite me (the Chinese guy) was so sweet and let me put my legs up on his seat. I gave him the same offer and he refused. The sweet guy stayed in this uncomfortable sitting position for the whole 12 hour journey, and even slept in this position, while I was comfortably stretched out. I honestly think my next boyfriend should be Asian. That guy was so polite and chivalrous! The two Korean dudes are the ones who lifted everyone’s bags up to the bag storage place. Surely that is sweetness.  Hmmm so we all slept. At one point though I woke up to the scariest noise I have ever heard. The Argentinian guy next to me was snoring so loud and so unrythmically that I could not believe it. I think people 1km away could probably hear him. It was a scary snore. Soooo scary that it was able to wake me up from my usually deep sleep. Yeah him and his wife were competing in the snoring department. Finally he turned over and the snoring became less loud. I fell asleep only to be awoken again by one of the Koreans loud snoring. I seriously think I must have been in the snoring cabin. Like honestly….I know many people who snore, but in this cabin it was unbelievable. It was more like choking coupled with screaming coupled with coughing and a bit of wheezing thrown in for good measure. Really bad snoring. I couldn't understand how they could sleep through their own snoring.

PS-DON’T DRINK THE WATER!!!!!! DON’T TOUCH THE WATER!!!!!

 Finally after sleeping on and off morning came. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Most of the taps in Italy have huge signs in red saying “Don’t drink the water.” I was seriously beginning to wonder what is wrong with Italian water. Munich water is the cleanest ever,and  drinkable. I did not drink the water though! Soooo I wash my face and brush my teeth. People I am not lying when I tell you that my gums bled and suddenly my face broke out in rashes later that day. Like seriously!!!!!!!! You would think that the most dangerous thing water could do to you is give you typhoid. But in the words of a guy I met in the train on my way to Sicily “Don’t touch the water!!!!!! It is acid!!!!” This was before his friend handed me a face wipe to save me from having to wash my face with water.

Oh back to Venice . So I am now sitting in the train watching the lovely scenery outside. Suddenly the train is on a bridge and the only thing below us is the Adriatic Sea (the name of the Mediterranean sea in the East of Italy.) It was so amazing. The sea was sparkling in the morning sun, and I felt this warm glow in my heart. It was soooooo beautiful. Arriving in Venice was so sooooo soooooooo one of those moments you can never forget in your life. Venice can truly not be described in words or pictures. I still find it hard to believe I saw such beauty. The whole city is right on the water. There are no buses, roads or taxis in the main part of Venice only boats, gondolas (the lovely narrow boats from ancient times), canals and very very narrow streets.Venice’s beauty is made more spectacular and fragile by the fact that the city has flooded 300 times in the past 10 years. One day there might be no more Venice . I really mean the buildings are right in the water. I honestly don’t know how the city was built. I saw someone get off their boat and jump into this huge building. The door of the building was only 2feet above the water, and the whole foundation was under water. Truly a marvel. I hopped into boat  ie bus no.1 (5 euros) – they call the commuter boats,buses- and traveled half an hour to St. Marco’s square which is the most famous part of Venice. The whole journey there was spell binding, and I kept on expecting to wake up. I got to St. Marco and passed all these traders selling all this carnival costumes/masks and swore to myself that the next time I come to Venice it will be during carnival ball. At St.Marco’s square I went to the famous St. Marco basilica. It was just toooooo much to take in. The whole beauty of the place. The whole magic of Venice . I was now beginning to feel overwhelmed. The basilica is really magical, and the symbolic sculptures on it were too many for me to really take in. The lion of Venice . Standing there in the middle of St. Marco’s square a single tear dropped down my cheek. It could have been the acid water affecting my eye sight, but it was not. I believe it was just the joy of being in Venice . The joy of seeing a place I had only read of in books. The whole feeling that God, Fate and Fortune wanted me to be in this exact spot at this exact moment of time. The fact that life is so unpredictable. The fact that a year ago I would not have dreamed of myself being in Venice , breathing in the cool ocean breeze, standing in a place of such historical significance. Just the feeling that this must have been a vital point in my life…..one which I will probably never fully understand. But even sitting here writing this email, yet more tears of joy roll down my cheek. There is beauty in this world. Beauty that is capable of evoking such strong emotions in someone’s heart. Standing in St. Marco’s square I felt so happy to be such a small small tiny fragment in this big big world. Standing there in St. Marco’s square filled me with wanderlust- a feeling that there is so much out there in the world to see. It made me make a vow never to pass up an opportunity to travel anywhere – Africa , Asia , Australia etc. There is so much for one to see that one could never know until they see it.

So after leaving St. Marco’s square I still had quite a bit of time to wander around. I started wandering through the streets trying to pay attention to what turns I had made so that I didn’t get lost when I had to go back to St. Marco’s square to catch my boat back to St. Lucia ie the train station stop. I walked through the winding streets. They were so beautiful and interesting. I can see why many books choose to portray Venice as a place of mystery and sometimes danger. The streets are winding and confusing. Some streets end in bridges which end in shops and lead one back to a different winding road. Like really it is easy for even an expert navigator to get lost in Venice . So after a few turns I still knew where I was. I was still walking without paying attention to the turns I made then I realized “oh crap!!! I am lost!!!!” Note to self……..”Never ask Italians for directions!!!”

Carrie: “ Hallo, how do I get to St. Marco”

Italian 1: “e left……. Keep on straight.”

Half an hour later

Carrie: : “ Hallo, how do I get to St. Marco”

Italian 2: “e right…..straight.”

I got totally contrasting directions from everyone. Anyway finally I managed to get knowledgeable tourists who pointed me in the right direction : left, walk 10 minutes straight, the fourth bridge, turn right…..walk fifteen minutes….blah blah blah.” I luckily got to my train station early. It was so sad saying goodbye to Venice …..sob sob!!!

Gulliver's Travels part 2: Arrival in Vienna

In the summer of 2006, I worked in Munich and hungered to see the world. I was able to get 8 days off my summer internship and decided to go to Austria (Vienna) and Italy (Rome, Pisa and Sicily). After that chaotic trip, I wrote an email to my family and friends chronicling my adventures and these are the tales I will share with you for the next few weeks. 

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Hmmm I assure you people that Austria is as beautiful as it looks in the Sound of Music. As soon as we got into Austrian soil, the scenery changed. It was lovely rolling hills, grassy mountainsides, small houses, streams, rivers and lakes. The grassy mountainsides were so lovely and I could just picture Julie Andrews running around singing “Do- A deer a female deer”. The landscape was breathtaking. One minute the train would be at the bottom of the hills and one would look out the window and see that we were surrounded by a fortress of hills in all directions. The next minute we would be at the top of a hill looking down into a valley. Hmmmm thinking of it makes me smile. It looked like a scene from the garden of  Eden. We got to Vienna at 1335 (four hour journey.) I put my suitcase in storage at the train station in Vienna (2euros).Vienna is in relatively flat ground for Austria . It was beautiful. It’s so strange how in Europe one just crosses a border and sees people who look totally different from where you left and who also speak different dialects or languages. I guess this change would be more drastic in Africa where if one moves across borders the people look totally different eg Kenyans, Sudanese, Ethiopians, Ugandans, Tanzanians and Somalis. Even across towns I guess. In Vienna the people were slightly shorter than Germans and they spoke German with such a cute accent. The mannequins in shops were also short (which looked really strange.) Doorways were also slightly lower.

Our first stop in Austria was the castle of empress Elizabeth who was the most famous empress of the Austrian-Hungarian empire, and lived in the late 19th century, and was assassinated in Geneva. In Vienna she is a a cult icon with many movies having been made about her life. She was originally from Munich and did not take to royalty well. She suffered from depression, anorexia and hysteria during her time as empress. She is also famous for her haunting beauty and love of sad poetry. Her castle is like something from a story book. With our tickets into the castle(7euros) we also got entrance into the gold display. The gold display is basically gold articles from the castle. It was unbelievable. I have never seen so much gold in my life.  They even had gold cutlery. If I was ever a dinner guest at the castle I would surely have accidentally carried out a spoon or two of solid gold:-) It was just sooooooo sooooooooo much gold that after a while I couldn’t look at it anymore. Gold candlesticks, Gold picture frames, Gold lamps, Gold statues etc The rest of the Castle was also really lovely and well adorned.

Our next stop in Vienna was St. Stephans Cathedral. A lovely old cathedral whose architecture I really can’t define. It looks gothic, but it is sort of wide though it has one really high steeple pointing towards heaven(but it is on one side of the cathedral.) The cathedral is highly asymmetric, and interesting to look at. It is really famous for it’s outer roof that is a mosaic made up of tiny little pieces that must have taken ages to put up.  After this Adele and I decided just to randomly walk around, and see what we could see. Adele has already been to Italy , and I remember we were talking about Italian guys. She told me they are cute but they are generally shorter than the average European. I was  thoroughly taken aback. Surely life is not fair. Surely this cannot be true!!!!! What???? Italian men- short? I tried to push this thought to the back of my mind for it was more than I could fathom. However, she told me that Venetians are taller than other Italians. By this point however I was already inconsolable. Short, dark and handsome……but short nonetheless. Surely, surely do not believe all you see on TV my dear friends………

So anyway we went to a few parks in Vienna , and by this point the weather (which had initially been rainy) was now beginning to warm up. The parks were lovely with huge trees which were a lovely shade of green, and lovely fresh air. Finally I realized I had an hour before my train left for Venice/Venezia/Venedig (in English, Italian and German.) We calmly started walking back to the train station, and let me assure you people that places always seem closer than they really are. I guess we must have walked really far for when we tried getting back to the station we just couldn’t reach it. I am telling you people that 10 minutes before my train was to leave we were still ages from the station. You would think once beaten twice shy….but yet here I was again about to miss my train. Hmmmm I have never ran like that. We ran like mad women through the streets of Vienna . Finally got to the train station, got my bags and jumped into my train just seconds before it departed. Off I was to Venice ……the land of dreams.

Gulliver's Travels part 1: Leaving Munich

In the summer of 2006, I worked in Munich and hungered to see the world. I was able to get 8 days off my summer internship and decided to go to Austria (Vienna) and Italy (Rome, Pisa and Sicily). After that chaotic trip, I wrote an email to my family and friends chronicling my adventures and these are the tales I will share with you for the next few weeks. 

****

My trip cannot be described in one word so here goes a sampling of words I would use to explain it……fantastic, fabulous, amazing, out of this world, spell binding, deeply fulfilling, intense, suspense filled.

So I woke up really early on Saturday morning to catch the train to Vienna with my friend Adele. I was doing great on time. Adele and I were to meet at 9am at HauptBahnhof where we would catch our 9:28am train to Vienna . I left my house at 0810 to catch my subway that left my station (Neubiberg) at 0831 and get me to Hauptbahnhof at 0851. My train station is 15 minutes walk from my home. Yeah so great. I was doing really perfect on time. What I didn’t bank on is how difficult it is to pull a suitcase through the tiny stones that are on the forest path I have to use to get to the train station. At some point it dawned on me “oh crap, I am running out of time.” I started to run carrying my suitcase (which trust you me is not an easy task when you have packed all of your life’s belongings in the suitcase.) There I was sweating like crazy and half dragging my suitcase on cobblestones/ half carrying the bloody thing and thinking to myself “I can’t afford to miss this train because the next one leaves at 0851 and gets to Hauptbahnhof at 0921 (if it is punctual) and I would surely miss my train to Vienna. Finally I arrive at Neubiberg train station looking haggard and all. I see that my train isn’t yet there and breathe a sigh of relief. Since my luggage is heavy I take the elevator to the platform. I hop on the first elevator, and my train is still not there. Then I hop into the second and final elevator and just as the glass doors close I see my train pulling in to the station. This stupid elevator must have been the devil’s advocate for it took it’s sweet time to get me up to the platform. I finally get to the platform, run to the train and try to open the door but it is too late. It starts to leave and I watch my only chance of catching my train to Vienna slowly departing. I was so mad that I ran after it luggage and all and gave it a nice kick!!!!!Ehhh yeah I think people on the platform thought I was mad. Hmmm so now I sit on the platform feeling utterly upset, exhausted and sweaty. I text Adele and she suggests that if I don’t make it in time we should meet in Vienna . The next train to Vienna gets there at 1500 which will really suck for me since my Vienna-Venice train leaves Vienna at 2030 meaning I will have very little time in Vienna . She gives me the gate number our Vienna train is departing from. By some miracle my next train to Hauptbahnhof gets there two minutes early and I run to the gate Adele told me. I hop on the train, and it starts to leave. I notice it is written “destination Budapest , Hungary ”  and I franctically try calling Adele but my lovely cell phone is pretending not to have any reception. Finally after many attempts I get her and realize I am on the right train. Phew!!!!! My day is finally beginning to work out!!! I find Adele and we sit with some nice guys. One was Ukranian and the other Canadian. It was a nice trip and we chatted all the way. Ukranian dude telling us about growing up in Ukraine during communist times, me telling them about life in Kenya , Adele telling us about growing up in the South ( Chapel Hill , North Carolina ) and Canadian dude telling us about Canada . Pretty interesting. I think someone could get an education by just being on the train!

The floating lagoon, Atacama desert

The morning after experiencing my first earthquake in life in the heart of the Atacama desert in Chile , I woke up extremely well rested at 9:30am. I spent the day running very unlikely errands for the desert, but important ones given all the technological drama I had in the Uyuni salt flats and the Siloli desert in Bolivia. My dear phone had crashed, and now I needed to either get it fixed or get a new one. It had been serving as my camera, but now I needed to use my camera and it turned out the Chinese memory chips I had bought at a great price near Bus station in town (Nairobi) were not working. I needed therefore to also buy a new one. I also needed to find a place to get my laundry done. I had almost no clean clothes after my cross country journey across Bolivia. I walked to the city center and it was like something from a Texan cowboy movie. The city center was a collection of little shops. It was really hot too. I kept on expecting to see a horse or cow carcass on the dirt road. 

For a little town, San Pedro de Atacama had some nice restaurants. I went into one and had a hearty meal. I then hurried back to the hotel where I was to be picked around 3:45pm to go to the floating lagoon. This is a world famous lagoon whose salt concentration is so high that everyone floats. As much as you try to force yourself underwater, you can't. I hopped on the tour bus and we had a tour guide who kept on pointing out things in our drive, but I could not understand a word of it even though it was in English. He had the strongest Spanish accent I have ever heard. Every English word sounded like a Spanish word. I gave up on understanding him and just enjoyed the view. 

The lagoon was amazing though very cold. There were hundreds of people in it, but it was large enough to not feel crowded. I spent close to half an hour floating around in it, and it was wonderful seeing how gleeful all the people in it were. Some things in life turn all of us into little kids - who get easily excited. When I got out of the floating lagoon, I was white - completely white - even Whitenicious could not have done a more extreme job:-) That is when I realized just how salty the lagoon was. Even my dreadlocks had salt crystals on them.

We were taken to a freshwater lagoon to wash off the salt. That lagoon was made of melting icecubes. It was FREEEEEZING. I did a 30 second dip in the lagoon, and tried to get off as much salt as I could off my body with my fingers that were quickly turning into popsicles. The day ended with us having pisco sour cocktails and snacks in the middle of the desert as the sun set. It was such a beautiful sight. I had originally planned to go on a San Pedro de Atacama pub crawl on getting back to the hostel, but I was in bed by 9pm. Traveling is hard work, but someone has to do it;-)

Guatemala 2011

Being in Comoros made me think back to all the other random places I have ended up. At that time I didn't really have the foresight to document all my travels. I looked at my travel journal and under Guatemala 2011, I found some barely legible bullet points that I will try my best to translate into something sensible. 

Getting to Guatemala was quite a process. We were going to Antigua city for a company retreat. The Kenyans (and other Africans) in our midst almost didn't make it there.  The visa process was hazy at best. At first we were informed we would have to send our passports to Egypt and then travel there a few weeks later for our visa interviews. Eventually we found a Guatemalan embassy in a Scandinavian country that was willing to have skype interviews instead of in-person interviews. I don't remember doing the interviews, but we finally got our visas. We also needed to have US visas issued before applying for Guatemalan visas - it was a visa requirement - talk about making it almost impossible to travel there on a whim! 

The Central American country has a dark past including a 1970s and 80s US backed genocide that mostly targeted the indigenous Mayan population and several coups before that. In the 21st century, the country has experienced significant economic growth and thus at the time of our visit it had morphed into a developing country albeit one plagued by various social problems. 

I flew with Ethiopian airlines because it had a stopover in Atlanta allowing me to visit one of my brothers before and after the work trip. On my way to Guatemala I was able to spend one evening at my brother's place. It was so nice seeing him and going for dinner at Chilis! I had forgotten some of the things I liked about living in the US. We ate at Chilis, then went home to watch tons of reality TV and drink courvoisier. I think we might have watched "America's next top model" but for the sake of my brother's dignity, let me just say I don't remember what we watched. 

The next day I left for Guatemala. Antigua city was a long bus ride from Guatemala city and the scenery was beautiful - lots and lots of trees. The castle/monastery we were staying at (Casa Santa Domingo - http://www.casasantodomingo.com.gt/gallery-en.html ) was nestled between several volcanic mountains and looked like paradise (inclusive or rare colorful tropical birds all around the castle.) 

My bullet list notes included:

• The fact that though Antigua city was relatively safe, one needed to hire police escorts if they were going to hike up the mountains
• The castle had the most beautiful ancient burial site that was one night lit up beautifully for an event we had
• I bought lots and lots of herbal teas in Antigua city - I tend to be a tea addict
• Majority of the people I saw in Guatemala were indigenous people- around 65% of the population were said to be indigenous
• The town had some pretty great bars and our lot definitely kept the bars open much longer than they were supposed to (it was like Alibaba's cave - the doors would appear closed but at the door one would knock and perhaps say "Open sesame" and get in to find loads of colleagues
• The most amazing rum in the world comes from Guatemala. The 23 year old Ron Zacapa rum is simply the most amazing rum I have ever tasted. It has no equal - period.Before early this year in Bolivia, the last time I had ever had it was in early 2011 and if I closed my eyes, I could still remember exactly what it tastes like - it tastes like liquid heaven. The secret? "In the highlands of Quetzaltenango, 2300m above sea level, lies The House Above the Clouds. This stunning location – one of the highest ageing facilities in the world – is where Zacapa Rum slowly develops its complex flavour and character over time."
   http://www.zacaparum.com
• Being very confused about where to go after Guatemala. I had planned a trip to Cuba for a few of us after Guatemala, but that almost didn't happen. In Guatemala we started hearing rumors about how hard it would be to get into Cuba given our nationalities and how impossible it would be to get any documentation allowing us to go to Cuba before our departure. Thankfully it all did work out, and we ended up in Cuba....of which I will tell you more about in future entries:-)

Departing for Sucre and Potosi

I left La Paz one evening on a 7 day cross country trip that would take me to an old colonial town called Sucre. (The word colonial always makes me so angry - clearly I have not yet forgiven Colonizers for what they did to us "The colonized.") I took a Trans El Dorado night bus to Sucre. I made a Dutch friend at the terminal and she was the one who was kind enough to wake me up in the morning when we got to Sucre. I completely passed out. The bus had a fully reclining chair and that combined with the rocking motion of the bus put me to sleep. I sleep much better on planes, buses, ferries, boats, cars, trains etc than I actually do on my bed. I get some form of " performance anxiety" when I try to sleep in bed - the task that lays ahead weighs on me. I begin to think "Now, I am sure I will have insomnia," and that is exactly what happens. While in motion, there are no such expectations and therefore I sleep like a baby. 

I stayed at a hostel called Cruz de Popayan and I began to realize that when hostels in Bolivia said they had wifi, they actually meant that there was a corner in the reception where you could get a (pretty crappy) connection. I had to cast aside all dreams of sitting on my bed, staring out of the window and blogging. I had only one day to spend in Sucre and I immediately went exploring. As soon as I got to the city center, I bumped into my Dutch friend. I was so happy to meet someone I knew. She was traveling alone too and we decided to spend the day together. We went to a cute little French place and had lunch. After that we walked for ages to get to the city viewing point. The main part of the city center was quite full and that's when I realized that Sucre was a big deal. It used to the capital of Bolivia long before La Paz. At the viewing point we had an amazing view of the city. It started to rain and we went to a bar close to the viewing point. We ordered Lipinas (Quinoa beer.) That was quite refreshing. 

I traded backpacking stories with my Dutch friend and realized I was a fake backpacker. Her 21kg backpack had a tent, cooking utensils etc. My 18 kg backpack mostly had clothes. She had been hiking up mountains with her backpack, pitching up her tent, cooking for herself etc. That is a very intense type of backpacking that I do not think I will attempt any time soon. I do enjoy little pleasures such as a roof over my head, a bed to sleep on, hot water when showering etc. I don't actively seek out unnecessary hardships in life as I think I had my fair share of that in boarding school. 

I slept really early and woke up the next day in time for my 3 hour bus ride to Potosi (silver mining town with The Mountain that eats Men.) I stayed at a hostel called "Hostal la Casona" which again only had internet in a little corner of the reception. I had dinner at an Italian restaurant close to my hostel and had my first "piso sour." Piso is the national alcoholic drink of Peru, Bolivia etc. It was delicious. That night in Potosi was cold, dark and full of terrors. The blanket was made for someone half my size and I had to decide if I preferred having my upper body or lower body exposed (they were not both going to fit under the blanket.) In the middle of the night I woke up gasping for air and that is when I realized that Potosi was significantly higher than La Paz (which just happens to be the world's highest capital city.)

Adventures lay ahead starting with The Mountain that eats Men.

Last days in La Paz

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My last days in La Paz were spent with the sweetest people. There was this lovely Haitian girl who worked at my hostel. She took me to buy a simcard which turned out to be a very long process in an office with long queues that resembled the queues in Government offices in Nairobi (though with no one trying to jump the queue.) When we finally got to the counter, the whole process had to be done in Spanish and I realized I would have been completely lost on my own. Who knows how to ask in Spanish how to top up data bundles on the line? Not me. After buying a sim card we took a "matatu" to another part of the town to eat pork. The matatus in La Paz are like matatus back home - Nissans actually. I was quite amused. We got to the pork place, but they were closed for the day. We went back to my usual eating place called "Alaya" on Murillo street. They had the largest food portions of traditional Bolivian food. I only needed one main meal a day when I was in La Paz. That food would keep me full all day. 

In the evening I was picked up by a wonderful Lebanese/Palestinian friend of a friend and her fiance. We went to the newest and largest mall in town and had huge pork chops for dinner. They were such great company. Both had been born and (mostly) raised in Bolivia and they tried to explain the interesting religious elements I had noticed in Bolivia. They told me stories of people making 300km pilgrimages on foot to religious sites and going up hills on their knees to pray. I spent the next day with the same friend at La Paz's first mall that her grandfather had built in his youth. Her family was really warm and we ate a huge lunch with her family at her aunt's restaurant at the mall. She took the day off to help me plan the rest of my South America trip. I was really touched by her kindness. We spent hours looking up train tickets, printing maps, buying warm clothes to prepare me for the Siloli desert and the Uyuni salt flats (http://www.thekenyanexplorer.com/blog/2014/4/27/traversing-the-bolivian-salt-flats-and-desert-day-1, http://www.thekenyanexplorer.com/blog/2014/4/28/traversing-the-bolivian-desert-and-salt-flats-day-2 .)

During the process I realized that my sense of direction was even worse than I had ever known. While in Kenya, I had booked hostels in Argentina in the following order - Buenos Aires, Bariloche then Mendoza but when I looked at the map well, I realized that entering Argentina from Chile by road I would first get to Mendoza long before getting to Buenos Aires. Yes, yes. I know! Dumb plan:-)

I noticed a few oddities before I left La Paz -

1. You could withdraw dollars from the ATM (which I was quite happy to do given that in Argentina dollars were in very high demand and there is the "official rate" and the "blue dollar rate" which differ by 30% i.e. if you change your dollars on the streets in Argentina (which of course has its risks) you can get up to 30% more Argentinian pesos than if you change them at an official place. I withdrew as many dollars as I thought I would need in Argentina so as to never have to use the bad exchange rate given at the ATMs.

2. Strikes were almost a daily occurence in La Paz. I had heard of a few, but only witnessed my first the day before I left La Paz. It was peaceful but  made me realize that Africa and South America have lots in common when it comes to taking to the streets to express discontent with the Government. 

3. Bolivian internet was an all time low. I initially thought the horrible speed was hostel specific, but my Bolivian friend assured me that this was the norm countrywide. I will never complain again about internet in Nairobi. Ours is operating at the speed of light compared to what I experienced in Bolivia. 

4. Safety belts are not common in Bolivia. My first time to belt up in the country was when my friend and her fiance picked me up. Prior to that I had gotten used to saying a silent prayer every time I got into a taxi in La Paz as none had safety belts. I did love how cheap cabs were though in La Paz. I used to pay between USD 0.50 to USD 2 for most rides. 

The king's quarters

After a few days at Estrella Andina, I remembered I was meant to be on a tight budget. I moved to Hostal Republica (which was the home of one of Bolivia's former presidents.) I loved how such things were possible in Bolivia - staying in a presidential home for a few dollars. The place was comfortable and built in that Spanish way where the rooms were mostly upstairs overlooking a courtyard from which I could imagine a lovestruck lad would sing "Fiiiiiigaro, figaro, figaro!" as the object of his affection peers from her window and sighs, "If only I could leave this room, but my evil stepmother has put a spell on the door. If I touch it I will surely die.....sigh!" 

I always have the random luck of getting to places on people's birthdays. It was the birthday of one of the ladies who worked at the hostel. As soon as I arrived there was cake and snacks. I indulged and joined in the festivities. I instantly liked this hostel and the people working there who made me feel like family. Having eaten, I was told that there was going to be free beer tasting at the hostel all day. "Ati atya??" I instantly knew I was home. I noticed a very beautiful black girl in the group when we were singing happy birthday. She was the first black person I had seen in Bolivia (other than myself:-) and we instantly started chatting. She was great. She was Haitian, a lawyer doing her Masters in Bolivia and working part time at the hostel restaurant. 

The hostel had a tour company across the road. I crossed over and booked a trip for the next day to Copacabana, Isla del Sol and Lake Titicaca (http://www.thekenyanexplorer.com/blog/2014/7/19/miscarried-baby-llamas-and-ancient-godspart-1-of-3). I spent a few hours in the afternoon napping then woke up later to eat what I believe has to be one of the tastiest (and cheapest) steaks I have ever eaten. Hostal republica had a lot of great things to offer. 

As I ate my steak I met some other friendly tourists - an Italian guy and a German girl. I was telling them about my bad luck trying to go to Peru and they almost convinced me to try get there on road...."They don't really check documents at the border when you are on a bus..." I almost got tempted, until I had a vision of myself sitting in a Bolivian or Peruvian jail waiting for the non-existent Kenyan embassy to bail me out. It is never that serious.

The italian guy told us the most humorous story about this one Swedish backpacker he met during his South America journeys. They traveled together for a few days and the guy only had a small bag with him (despite the fact that he had been backpacking for months.) He did not have a change of clothes either. Every time they got to a river or lake, he would take off his clothes, wash them and walk around naked waiting for them to dry. One day they went to the beach and out of his little bag, he took out a shovel to build a sandcastle. The guy didn't have a change of clothes, but he had a shovel? Misplaced priorities anyone?

I slept well that night.

Mercado de Hechiceria (The witches' market) and Sagarnaga

I spent my first idle days in La Paz walking around the area close to Estrella Andina (my hostel.) I discovered a particularly fascinating street called "The witches' market". They had all sorts of interesting charms there. I still think the most curious thing I saw was the miscarried baby llamas that were sold as good luck charms. The longer I stayed in La Paz, the more fascinated I grew with the mix of Catholicism and the belief in Pachamama (Mother earth.) I heard about sacrifices that were made to Mother Earth (especially in August) and I wished I was still in Bolivia at that time. 

I ventured a bit further in La Paz and found myself at the San Francisco church. It was built to honor St. Francis of Assisi, the Patron saint of the environment and animals and a major advocate for poverty as a way of getting closer to God and humanity. After this, the next main place on my map was "the big market" or something of the sort. I went there expecting to find a market market - local crafts, unique stuff etc. Instead it turned out to be a lot of shops selling Chinese goods - handbags, electronics, misc. items......It was so underwhelming. 

When I was in Bolivia, I always seemed to attract old men. Most of them were quite harmless though, so I stopped making up my imaginary fiance who "is quite jealous and is waiting for me at the hostel." Quite a few ended up just wanting to walk around with this conspicuous stranger and hear about Kenya. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they did not have ulterior motives. 

I discovered this place close to my hostel that had amazing local food in huge portions and for great prices. One afternoon I decided I wanted to go check out the La paz party scene. I went online and found people talking about "Oliver's traveller pub." I went in and the feel was quite familiar - felt like many Irish pubs the world over. It was nice to go back to speaking English for a few hours. I grabbed a cold beer and was animatedly chatting with the bartender (oh how many words one can hold inside them when they are in a place where they don't really speak the language. I talked and talked and talked. I was so happy to be able to communicate fluidly. 

Another tourist walked in and I tried not to judge him, but I feel like I have met his type many times before - older, weather beaten, of unclear occupation and unsound mind, believes he is the real tourist while all the rest of you are amateurs etc, holds views on Africa that date back to around when Joseph Conrad wrote "The Heart of Darkness" or stuck in the pre-independence era of the mid 50s. I was spot on in my judgement. He walked up to me and asked "What are YOU doing here?" I thought of not being combative, then decided that strategy would mean I would have to suffer through some mind-numbing soliloquy on his life in the wild wild South America. I told him, "same thing you are doing here. I am a tourist." He seemed taken aback by the words coming out of my mouth (probably having expected a response in click sounds and hand gestures.) 

I did have to suffer through some part of a soliloquy in which he tried to find some connection to me by telling me about some distant relative's Nigerian husband (who turned out to be a 419 scam artist.) I found some way of escaping the guy. Later on I did go back to Oliver's pub for drinks. On that night, free shots were being offered for dressing up in costumes (which were at the back of the bar.) I got into my costume and enjoyed my evening of shots and English.

The world's highest capital - La Paz, Bolivia

Having had a fair bit of "challenges" starting with leaving Brazil for Peru only to be told I couldn't go to Peru, and then having to change plans and fly to Bolivia, I was quite pleased days later to finally land in Bolivia. There was quite a bit of time when I thought that my South America trip was going to have to unceremoniously end given my visa issues...(Mini-rant alert: VISAS are the last form of widespread state sanctioned discrimination! Why should people assume that because I come from A: Africa and  B: A developing country that somehow I am going to run off into their country and never be found? On the other hand, why do people assume that because you come from "The Developed World" you should just be allowed to get into our countries without any questions asked because you obvioooously would not be coming to do anything dodgy (Wildlife trafficking, sex tourism) and we should just be honored by your royal presence in our unworthy borders...anyone feel me??) Ok. End of rant.) 

I finally landed in La Paz around 4am. True to their word I was able to pay for my visa at the airport. The airport seemed quite porous - some people waved me in, told me to get out of the main terminal and get some cash for the visa (only accept Bolivianos.) I then walked back in through security (without actually being checked), paid for my visa and left. When I got out of the airport my first thought was "Waaaaah! Are those temperatures for real? It was freezing. Brazil had made me forget that there are places in the world where 40 degrees celsius by 8am is not common. Given the hectic nature of my arrival in Bolivia the only place I had been able to get online was a really swanky hostel called "Estrella Andina". I later learnt that it was owned by the former Minister of Tourism. It was really well done. It was more like a hotel than a hostel. It was definitely above my price range, but I was so exhausted after my hectic trip that I stayed there 3 nights before I finally started looking for a cheaper place.

I got to the hostel from the airport at 5am and was up at 9:30am to make sure to get breakfast. It had been many days since I had eaten a proper meal. Estrella Andina did not disappoint. It was breakfast fit for a king - eggs, yoghurt, all sorts of fruits, cereals, fresh juice etc. There was also lots of tea - I am a tea addict. I saw one called "coca mate" and didn't think much of it. I was drinking that for 2 or 3 days before I realized that this was coca coca. Strange but true. The consumption and sale of coca leaves is legal in Bolivia and is protected under the UN convention of narcotic drugs because of it's historical role for indigenous communities. It is also really good for altitude adjustment. La Paz is the highest capital city in the World at 12,000 feet above sea level (for some context, Mt. Kilmanjaro stands at 17,000 feet above sea level.) I had been warned that I would have headaches and issues breathing in Bolivia, but I was actually quite fine, until I got to Potosi (http://www.thekenyanexplorer.com/blog/2014/6/10/the-mountain-that-eats-men) The one thing though that was difficult was walking uphill in La Paz. Even a small incline on a street felt like a mountain. I felt quite embarrassed heaving and panting all the way up such streets. 

I spent the first few days idly exploring La Paz, and eating - A LOT! Bolivia is the poorest country in South America and food was really cheap. Actually everything was really cheap - it made me realize how expensive Kenya is. I would pay USD 2 for a decent length taxi ride, USD 3 for a 5 course meal in some places, USD 3-USD 10 for different hand knitted winter gear etc.  On day one I ate Fritanga - a huge spicy pork and egg meal.  I loved the food in Bolivia - big, meaty, great prices! Yum! 

Those first few days in La Paz were spent in total relaxation mode - I was so happy to have taken 2 months for my South America trip because this allowed me to have such lazy days when I needed them. 

Going to town to see a man about a horse....

The cast: Myself (i.e. Thekenyanexplorer), a horse named Aholera Segundo, a guide called Manuel, a taxi driver hellbent on raising my blood pressure, an errant snake who made a brief appearance and thousands of marathon runners.

The venue: Starting off in the quiet streets of Santiago on a Sunday morning and eventually ending up on a picturesque mountain somewhere in the countryside

I woke up really excited on this particular morning. I had signed up for a horseriding hike up a mountain somewhere in the countryside close to Santiago, the capital of Chile. My previous horse riding expertise was limited - a ten minute horse stroll along a beach in Accra (obviously with a guide holding the reins and the horse moving only slightly faster than a lazy snail.) I had also had similar 'horse rides" when small and at different locations in Nairobi including Hillock in Industrial area and Shade hotel in Ngong'. I also have a brief memory of almost riding a camel when I was small. I use the word "almost" because as soon as it started getting up on it's hind feet in that drunken staggering sort type of way camels get up, I started screaming like a baby and the camel was brought down......With this impressive equestrian resume I felt I was especially well positioned to go up and down a mountain on a horse.

Fate was somehow trying to keep me away from my horseriding adventure. I was to be picked up at 9am at a certain hotel in Santiago, but it turned out that this was the exact day of the Santiago marathon. All the roads in that general area were closed because of the marathon. I managed to get to the location by walking a very long distance, but once I got to the hotel, I realized the driver who was to pick me up wasn't there. I had no phone as mine had died in the Siloli desert in Bolivia, and it made no economic sense to buy a phone in Chile for my short stay there. After lots of back and forth, that involved me paying a juggler on the street to use his phone, walking up and down in search of a taxi etc, I finally had to give up and go back to my hostel. On my way back, I watched the marathon runners and noticed I didn't see any Kenyans....or Africans actually. I guess the Santiago marathon is one of the smaller ones that doesn't get the superstar athletes.

Once I got back to the hostel, the tour organizer had called. It was finally decided that I could do a horseriding session at 2pm. I took the subway train to one of its last stops and there I was met by the taxi driver who would get me to the mountain. We drove for close to one hour on a long winding road to get to the mountain. The cab guy was crazy. He was overspeeding, overtaking at blind corners where any miscalculation would lead to us falling off the cliff, tailgating etc. I almost wished I could sleep. That was my remedy when in Bolivian buses - If I slept I didn't  have to witness all the near death moments on narrow roads on the cliff's edge.....It's much trickier to sleep though when you have a chatty cab guy and no one else in the car for him to talk to. 

We finally got to the ranch and I was introduced to my horse for the day - Aholera Segundo (the 2nd Aholera.) I can't quite recall what the story was about the first aholera - was she Aholera the II's mother? A distant relative? A riika-mate? Not quite sure. She was introduced as being "Well behaved, obedient and loving." We instantly bonded over some sugar cubes and tea....ok not really...but we bonded. Before going up the mountain, I had a short training session, "How do you get her to turn right? Left?  Stop? Ok. You're good to go!" 

We left the ranch and I was feeling like a character in a Wilbur Smith - riding a horse and wearing a cowboy hat. Within a few minutes of leaving the compound, I looked down and saw a snake slither away. I was so lucky that Aholera was looking at the opposite direction. I am pretty sure she would have thrown me off in panic as she fled if she had seen the snake. I told Manuel about it, and he said that snakes were rare in this area, but there are a few pumas on the mountain. Manuel said this as if he was telling me there are lots of kittens on the mountain. I decided that on this trip I would just have to have faith in Aholera and in Manuel. Considering Manuel brought hapless tourists up the mountain all the time, I was pretty sure that I was in safe hands. 

Faith was an important part of that trip. The pathways were narrow and most times Aholera and I would be on the edge of a cliff and I had to trust she wouldn't jump off or trip, but would instead turn in the right direction and keep taking me up the mountain. She did not disappoint. I realized that the most important quality of a horse on such a trip is "non-suicidal." If your horse wanted to jump off a cliff, he or she would jump off a cliff, and there is nothing you could do to save yourself. I had to believe that Aholera wanted to get up and down the mountain safely, just as I did. 

We stopped for lunch by a lovely stream and I explored a bit on foot. It was such a beautiful day and I had such a wonderful view. Getting back down the mountain was scarier than going up because as some points, the path was very steep and I feared I would fall off Aholera, but thankfully Manuel showed me well how to angle myself when going downhill to ensure I put minimum pressure on Aholera, and also protected myself from falling over. I remember in the beginning of the trip Aholera started off panting loudly, and I thought to myself "Oh, Lord! This poor horse hates me. All those beers and hearty meals I was having in Bolivia will be the end of Aholera." After a while though she stopped panting. I think she came to terms with the fact that this chubby girl was not getting off.

That was a lovely day. Thank you Aholera Segundo!

Miscarried baby llamas and ancient gods

Bolivia was a fascinating country on so many levels. One of the first things that struck me on getting there, was that majority of the people were indigenous. They had a particular look to them that made it easy to tell them apart from foreigners. Majority of them were short, slightly plump and wore their own traditional clothes. Of course there were loads of younger people on the streets in western clothes, but one had the feeling that the general population was still closely tied to an older culture. 

I planned a day trip to lake Titicaca - the world's highest altitude lake and also to the town of Copacabana and the island Isla del Sol. Copacabana is best known for it's 16th century shrine that houses the "Lady of Copacabana" - the patron saint of Bolivia. She is to Bolivia, what the "Virgin of guadalupe" is to Mexico. I had read a bit about Lake Titicaca and Isla del Sol a bit before my trip, but nothing really prepared me for its beauty, magic and splendor.

I had a Bolivian English speaking guide for the trip and he definitely earned his money. I was the most inquisitive tourist. All the questions I had been holding in my head, were finally asked that day. He came to pick me up from my hostel at 7am. We got on a bus, and he started off a great history lesson on Bolivia. Bolivia has close to 35 tribes with the Quechua, Aymara, Guarani and Chiquitano being the largest tribes. Despite 55% of the population being fully indigenous and another 30% being part indigenous, it is only in 2006 that the country finally had an indigenous president - Evo Morales. Ever since the country's independence from Spain in the mid 1800s, the country had been ruled by a Spanish minority.  

Though the country is mostly Catholic, the version of Catholicism practiced here is a mix between regular Catholicism and traditional religions. People believe and respect "Pachamama" - Mother Earth. I remembered my first day walking down a street called "Witch's street." I saw all sorts of strange paraphernalia, but the strangest one was definitely the hundreds of dried llama carcasses. At first I wondered if someone had killed grown llamas and dried their bodies, but my guide informed me that those were the bodies of miscarried baby llamas. It turns out llamas have lots of miscarriages and the fetuses are believed to be good luck charms. People buy them and bury them in front of their homes or keep them for other purposes. I also recall that later in the day when we went to the  basilica at Copacabana, all the images depicted a devil who looked more like a villain in an Antonio Banderas film than the usual devil images I am used to seeing. Also the images of biblical characters all resembled indigenous Indians. It reminded me of seeing images of Jesus in Ethiopia with a huge afro and disciples who looked very Ethiopian. Bolivia, just like many other countries had been compelled to take on modern religions and had customized them as much as they could.

We started our two and a half hour journey to Lake Titicaca. Once we were on the bus leaving La Paz for Copacabana, I saw very curious characters who kept on jumping on the road. Some were dressed as zebras, some as donkeys and some as pigs. I initially thought that they were advertising one thing or the other, but it turned out to be a national campaign on road awareness and good citizenship. The people dressed as zebras, stood at zebra crossings and showed people that this was the right place to cross the roads. Those dressed as donkeys, taunted drivers who were making an "ass" of themselves by breaking traffic rules and those dressed as pigs grabbed people throwing trash on the road.....Wonder how this would work in Nairobi:-) I can imagine criminals getting their own costumes and using this as an opportunity to steal side mirrors, pickpocket pedestrians etc....

We had a great discussion about "Death road" during the journey. This is some extremely dangerous, steep road that cyclists (especially tourists) toured. I don't know how to ride a bicycle and I think there are many opportunities to almost get killed in Kenya (tribal clashes, terror attacks, matatus.....), so I never need to seek additional ways to risk my life:-) My guide seemed to think that it was a perfectly safe thing to do. "Only three tourists died last year." Part of the road to Copacabana made me think we were on our own "Death road". Bolivia has the most beautiful and rugged terrain I have ever seen. It is quite common to be on a bus that is driving on a narrow road on the edge of a cliff and continually overtaking other buses on blind corners. At some point I just stopped stepping on my own brakes and decided that the bus drivers must surely know what they are doing as they always drive on dangerous roads. 

We finally got to the narrowest part of Lake titicaca and stepped off to get on a boat for a 15 minute ride to Copacabana. Our bus also got on another boat/ferry. The bus was much larger than the ferry. I have no idea how these boats don't sink. Copacabana was a beautiful coastal town, but was quite empty on the day I visited it. It turned out, weekends were the time everyone came there. My guide amused me with stories of all the great Bolivian druglords who would throw parties every now and then for everyone in Copacabana, donate millions to the Basilica and feed the masses - sort of like CSR for drugdealers. He said sometimes these feasts lasted days. The main attraction at Copacabana was the church. I loved the artwork in there depicting indigenous angels, dramatic looking devils etc. 

We had lunch in a really cute little place. One of the things I loved most about Bolivia was just how cheap it was. We had a three course meal with a beer included for less than $3 (KES 270). My guide told me that a few years back, we would have had the same meal for $.80 (KES 70). I was simply amazed. After having survived on one main meal a day in Brazil (to keep costs down.) It was amazing to know that I could eat all I wanted in Bolivia and not run out of money. 

We got on a boat to begin our 1.5 hours journey to Isla del Sol (Sun Island). There was something so magical and serene about being on Lake Titicaca. I found myself feeling overwhelmed with emotions of gratitude for how lucky I was to be at such an amazing place. Without planning to, I found myself closing my eyes and praying. I felt very peaceful. Even as I think back to that moment, I can almost feel that tranquility - a feeling like I was at one with the world and all of humanity and nature. At that moment, I felt Pachamama. I opened my eyes and found the guide looking at me. I told him what had happened, and he told me that the lake had always had great spiritual significance to the Incas and that what I was feeling was not uncommon. I know I felt something when I was on that boat on Lake Titicaca. 

We got to Isla del Sol and got off the boat. The island was believed by the Incas to be the birth place of the sun god. We began our great trek to the temple in the island. We came across a lovely young girl with an alpaca. It was my first time to see an alpaca and I was beyond thrilled. They are different from llamas (though I don't quite see the difference), but the first thought in my mind was the line "Bad llama! Bad llama!" You will only get this if you watched "The Emperor's new groove." It was a 45 minute walk up the mountain to get to the temple. Bolivia is the highest altitude country in the world, and I definitely felt it during that hike. In general, I am horrible walking up inclines (Mt. Longonot almost killed me), and in this case oxygen was in short supply. I was panting for 50 people. My guide told me of a delegation of Tanzanian politicians he had brought there recently. Apparently one of the ladies had passed out. In retrospect, he shouldn't have been telling me such stories as I was struggling to get up the mountain. The views from the mountain were spectacular! It made all my panting worthwhile. The temple was a bit anticlimactic. It looked like a one storey building under construction. The views though on our way there, made the trip very worthwhile. 

We got back down the mountain and took a boat back to Copacabana. We were the only two people on the boat. I lay down, basking in the sun, feeling the water rocking the boat. I didn't realize I fell asleep until I was woken up by the guide once we got to Copacabana. I had another 2.5 hour bus ride back to La Paz, got to my great hostel (Hostal Republica - used to be a former President's home), had a great steak dinner at an amazing price. I slept like a baby. 

The mountain that eats men

One of the towns I visited during my cross-country tour of Bolivia was Potosi. Potosi is a mining town (originally was mostly silver, but now is primarily zinc and tin.) I looked at my itinerary and it read "Tour of Silver Mines in Potosi." A smarter traveller would have read up on this expedition in order to know what to expect, but clearly I didn't - until I had already gone to the torturous mines. 

Some brief history of the mines. It all started in 1545, when an Indian shepherd, who was spending the night at the mountain, started a fire and saw pure silver where he was. For centuries, the mountain enriched the Spanish monarchy. For close to 200 years, over 40,000 MT of pure silver were taken from the mountain, of which close to a quarter directly went to the Spanish monarchy. Native laborers were used to work on its mines through the traditional Incan system of mandatory public service but the Spanish manipulated this system to essentially use forced-labour. Many of the miners died due to the harsh working conditions in the mines. It is estimated that over the next three centuries, over 33 million Indians worked in the mines and close to 10 million of them died as a direct result of the work.  To compensate for the diminishing labor force, the Spaniards started importing 2000 African slaves per year. An estimated 30,000 African slaves were taken to Potosi during the colonial era. African slaves were also forced to work as human mules. Four mules were replaced with twenty African slaves. Given the high number of deaths that took place in the mines each year, the miners named it "The mountain that eats men."

Centuries later, working conditions in the mines are still not much better than they were before. The mines have no lighting, no safety regulations or inspectors, no modern rail cars and no pumped-in oxygen, leaving miners to inhale a fine deadly dust. The average life expectancy of the miners is 40 years with most of them succumbing to lung conditions. The mountain itself is also at the risk of collapse given how much has been mined from it and given the fact that the mining is unregulated resulting in shafts throughout the mountain. 

So we were to leave the hostel at 7am for the mine tour. The lady who was to give us the tour arrived around 7:15am and took us to a room with lots of dusty clothes, boots, headlamps etc for us to wear/carry. I later realized that our guide was the widow of a miner who had died in the mines a few years back, and she had to take on this risky job to feed her two children. We hopped into a van and left for the mountain. She said that we would stop by some shops and buy gifts for the miners (alcohol and coca leaves.) I was a bit surprised about the choice of gifts, but just went with the flow. The alcohol was quite scary looking - no brand, no label, no nothing. It looked like something you would use to sterilize surgical instruments, pour on a snake bite or something along those lines. Coca leaves are legal in Bolivia. It's the only country in the world where the sale and consumption of coca leaves is legal. It is even protected under some UN regulation because of its "cultural significance to the indeginous population." 

We got to the mountain around 9am, and the van left us at a point 4300M (~14,000 feet) above sea level. This would be the point we would enter the mountain from. I started feeling a bit nervous when we got out of the van and I realized just how cold it was and also how thin the air was. It was not easy to breathe. The next 3 hours in the mines were what I would describe as some form of outer body experience. We got into the mines and I realized that I would have to stoop most of the time and in some parts crawl. I was not the tallest in our group. There were four really tall Dutch girls. I felt bad for them. It was dark, it was damp, there was very little air. There were points when everyone was coughing or gasping for air. I was encouraged to chew some of the coca leaves we had brought as gifts for the miners. I think that's the only reason I didn't pass out. Coca leaves help with altitude issues. Most of the tunnels were so low that you had to go in hunched over and there were a few points you had to crawl. We blew up some dynamite in the caves and I can still feel the BOOM in my heart. Terrifying. I started having crazy thoughts. I can't tell if it was because of the coca leaves, the altitude or both. I started thinking about the Chilean miners. I started getting scared I would lose the group and forever be lost in the mountain/die in the  mountain.

We got to a place in the mine where I got to see how the miners thought of mortality when in the mines. The average Bolivian is very Catholic, but there is quite a bit of syncretism too - where elements of Catholicism are combined with elements of traditional indeginous religions. Deep in the mine we found a terrifying statue of the devil that was adorned with flowers, cigarette butts and libations of alcohol had been offered to this "protector of the miners." Our guide explained that the miners were Catholic when out of the mines and they believed God was protecting them outside, but once inside the mines they believed this was the devil's domain and therefore they prayed to the devil and offered sacrifices to the devil to "protect them from cave ins, prevent any injuries, restore them to good health etc." I can kind of understand how one would want to cover all their bases - pray to God to keep you safe, but also pray to the devil not to do you any harm.....

I left the mines with such deep respect for miners who have such a terrible job, risking their lives daily to feed their families. It is sad to know that many the world over have to pick between life and your next meal. 

After this I went out for lunch with some of my fellow comrades (from the tour.) We all bonded over just how terrifying that was. I remember being so happy when I saw sunlight as we approached the exit of the mine. For a while there, I was really beginning to believe we would not get out. We went to the local market and had lots and lots of food for less than USD 2/person. After that I went with a few people to have a drink in the park and almost missed my night bus to Uyuni. I remember having to run around like a mad woman with my huge backpack looking for a taxi when the one the hostel had called decided not to show up. I made it to my bus just in time. It was such a local bus - lots of hawkers ON the bus, people playing loud music from their own little radios and lots of noise. 

Abidjan debout!

I know I owe you so so many stories from South America. I promise I will get back to them. In the meantime, can I just tell you about how I got to Abidjan? It was not a joke.. As per kawa (as usual), I waited till the very last minute to pack - which usually works for me, but this time I actually forgot very many important things. I forgot all my chargers - for my mulika mwizi (light the the thief, phone), my samsung galaxy tab's charger , my kindle charger......every charger I needed. I only realized when I was at the airport around 4am. Of course I panicked, but that didn't help. I called my cab guy, my family, but no one could get me those chargers in time. C'est la vie! Such is life! I got to Addis, and of course my mind was focusing on how I needed to get a charger - immediately. Tried that, but the charger was crazy expensive and I needed to pay in USD (eeeerrr, what? I killed that plan immediately.) So I wait at the assigned gate for my flight to Abidjan. A few minutes after the flight is to have left, I am still waiting. Finally I ask someone and they tell me that the flight was actually changed to a different gate, and everyone has boarded. I run to that gate, and finally manage to get on the plane. I want to hold a moment of silence for all those people who mean mugged me as I got on with my guitar and my extra bags. Thank you, kind people of Ethiopian airlines who managed to find somewhere for my guitar. I thought we were going directly to Abidjan, but we had a bit of a matatu (minivan) stop in Cotonou in Benin. It was barely mentioned in fact. I just woke up to find the airhostess asking me if I needed customs documentation for Cotonou......"Errrrrrr, no. We are going to Abidjan madam." Landing in Abidjan was a bit of a fortune cookie. I had no idea what I would get "Those of fair heart shall be awaited at airport" or "those from the East shall find their own way home - East bound".....who knows. I was so lucky. For my first week in Abidjan, I was couchsurfing (which pretty much meant I went online and asked strangers if I could sleep on their couch) and thereafter I had an apartment. Both my couchsurfing host and the driver of the apartment I was staying in, showed up.....together in fact. I had quickly introduced them to each other online as I was busy forgetting my chargers on my bed, and fate would have it that they managed to link up. Abidjan is huge! It took us almost half an hour to get to my host's place at Deux Plateau. I got to my host's place and realized just how sleepy I was after not sleeping the night before and then having a long flight to Abidjan. My host was also hosting a really nice Aussie guy and her cute small niece. I fell asleep very unceremoniously at 4pm, and woke up around 10pm. My host said we were going out, and being an acute sufferer of FOMO (Fear of missing out), I promptly got up, showered, dressed and we went out clubbing. Before we left, we ate escargot - which I immediately realized I didn't like - as soon as that dead snail slithered down my throat......Yikes.....Never ever!

It was a Monday evening - people were dressed like it was a Saturday evening in Nairobi. I wondered how all these amazingly dressed women in heels, little dresses, full makeup etc were going to work in the morning. One thing that kind of jazzed me/spooked me out a bit was how all the women danced facing the huge mirrors. I am as vain as the average woman. I steal glances of myself, and think "I approve", but having all of us dancing and checking ourselves out on the large mirrors unashamedly was........well......a bit strange........."Don't they think we are a bit vain?"......"Oh well.......Gosh! This angle and that light just doesn't do it for me.....ok. Let me try to lean back a bit and turn round 57.5 degrees "C'est parfait!!" When I saw everyone else adjusting themselves accordingly, I knew it was all going to be ok.

We danced and danced and danced......and my new friends didn't let me see any bill. The whisky kept on flowing. That was the thing I forgot to mention. Every table had a bottle of Chivas Regal on it.......how now??? We finally got home at 4:30am. I woke up at around 9:50am (just trying to pretend I woke up early). That was the point I realized Abidjan was going to be amazing!

Traversing the Bolivian desert and salt flats day 3

The third morning of the trip was tough. Though we had gone to bed around 9pm to be ready for 3:30am breakfast and our 4am departure, the cold had kept me up all night. I barely slept a wink - I can't sleep if I am cold. It was freezing! We had a quick breakfast at 3:30 and left the hostel around 4am. The ride was dark and cold. I tried to sleep in the car, but again it was too cold to sleep. After driving for close to an hour, we stopped at the amazing steam geysers at "Sol de Manana (morning sun)." It was so cold outside, but I could not miss a chance to see them up close. I got out and the first thing that hit me was the overpowering stench of sulphur. It really smelled like some giant monster had farted - really badly. The view was amazing though.

We then hopped back into the car and continued to "Laguna verde" - The Green Lagoon. The lagoon gets its remarkable color fom the high levels of lead, sulphur and calcium carbonate....in short...don't try swimming or drinking water from this pretty lagoon. The best part of the trip was when we finally got to the natural hot baths. In the middle of the freezing desert, there were nice jacuzzis:-) All natural. It was the best feeling getting into that hot water. Everyone sighed with relief once they were in. At first we were the only people there given it was so early. 20 or so minutes later, lots of other tourists descended on us. This didn't change the magic of the moment though. I was sitting in this hot water looking all around me and I could see volcanic mountains in the desert and miles and miles of nothingness blurred by the steam rising out of the hot water. It was surreal. After half an hour in the hot baths, the driver said we needed to leave. Those of us who were going on to San Pedro de Atacama in Chile needed to catch our 10am bus. 

Leaving Bolivia was dramatic. We got to the bus at the border around 9am and thought we had lots of time. For some reason, the driver of the bus to San Pedro was hurrying us. None of us was amused. Such panic mode is what results in luggage being left behind....and we had a full hour. We never understood what the rush was about. At the border, we had to go to the Bolivian customs and get our documents stamped. The driver was still following us speaking in rapid Spanish. As I was waiting in line, an American couple approached me and asked if I could give them some Bolivianos for them to pay their entry into Bolivia, in exchange for dollars. I was a bit suspicious - wondering why they didn't change money before until they told me about the earthquake in Chile. I had no idea there had been an earthquake in Chile, when we were in the desert. He told me that they had left under such hurried circumstances and couldn't find any travel bureaus. I changed some money for him. The driver came again with his rapid fire Spanish and panic mode tendencies and I was really getting irritated. He was also harrasing one of the other girls I had been in the desert with. She had a traditional Bolivian mask and it had a bit of animal fur, and he was insisting she leaves it behind as she wouldn't be allowed to get through Chilean customs with it. She stood her ground and said she would keep it and declare it on entry into Chile.

In an hour we finally got to Chilean customs. It was a very serious process - thorough scrutiny of passports, all suitcases offloaded and scanned etc. When the customs official saw my passport, he called his colleague over to look at it. They said it was the first Kenyan passport they had seen. A few people in our bus had some bags of coca leaves and the rest of us had coca tea. We were allowed to declare and get into the country with our coca tea, but not the coca leaves. The girl with the mask was also allowed to get in with her mask. Five minutes after clearing with customs we were dropped off somewhere in the middle of the desert town of San Pedro de Atacama. I had directions to my hostel from the main bus terminal, but had no idea where we had been dropped off. It was definitely not a bus terminal. 

I was eventually able to walk around with my backpack, find the main bus terminal, book my ticket out of San Pedro to Santiago that was depart in two days, and get to my hostel.I got to my hostel and it was a desert oasis. The name was Hostal Mamatierra, and it was just perfect! Beautiful, clean, had hot water 24 hours a day, wifi, really friendly staff, friendly travelers etc. My first course of action was to take a really really really long hot shower. It felt so good after not having been clean for a while. The next thing was to find out where I could do laundry. I took my laundry into a place in town - the town center was 10 minutes walk away. I am very liberal in my use of the word "town". It was a few streets with shops and restaurants, but after the desert this felt like New York. I then went to a restaurant that had a decent offer for a 3 course meal. I had salmon. I was quite pleased with it. Chile's strong economy has been credited a lot to its export of salmon, wine and berries. That salmon was amazing! I had my lunch with a really great beer from Patagonia that tasted like chocolate. 

The one thing I had done before leaving the hostel was to get on wifi and upload around 20-30 pictures from the salt flats and desert. That was my saving grace. As I was having my lunch, my phone crashed. It is a touch screen and the keypad stopped working. I couldn't unlock the screen. Within minutes, the phone started pressing its own buttons. This went on for half an hour then it went on VOK/KBC mode - those rainbow colored lines across the screen reminiscent of Kenyan TV circa 1980s. Then the screen went completely white - repeat. I think it has something to do with that dodgy solar connection from the desert. Thankfully I have a camera with me and a samsung tab (that I was able to hack whatsapp on....so life continues.)

I got back to the hostel and met my roommates. They were two friendly Californians who were in town for a friend's wedding. They invited me to join them and their friends for dinner/drinks. It was nice. We got back to the room, and were getting ready for bed when another earthquake happened. I had no idea what was going on.The room was shaking like a boat. I thought I had drank too much at dinner. Thankfully my roommates knew what to do. We all got out of the room and joined the other people in the hostel courtyard. After a few minutes, the world stopped rocking. I slept really well that night in my warm room with all the comforts I could ask for.