It seems we're finally figuring out living arrangements, after a bit of drama. Don't worry, we're back to our old "wedded bliss." George will be staying with a Kyrgyz/Russian family for the duration of her time in Bishkek, and Cara will spend the first month partially with Masha, the young and vivacious Director of the Youth Human Rights Group, and partially in an apartment (where Cat expects to crash several times a week). Next month Cara will be able to move in with Nazgul, another girl in the office, after Annelie, an intern from Germany, departs.

The gray of the other day has disappeared and the sun has emerged once again today. It teasingly reminds us of summer, although we know fall is just around the corner- the leaves have already begun to change. We are passing a peaceful afternoon listenin to a little Nelly at the Legal Aid Office, because Altynai, the permanent staff member here, has the day off. So we're holding the fort and trying to avoid answering the telephone, where we would only be confronted with a garble of Russian.

Let's backtrack a litte and give you a review of the last couple of days since our arrival in Kyrgyzstan. After much confusion in the airport in Tashkent regarding our bags (we were living in deathly fear that our bags might end up on the other side of the world, and never catch up with us....), we decided to trust the nonchlant airline agents in Tashkent and get on the two engine jet plane to Bishkek filled with a group of 30 turbaned male Indian tourists, who we secretly feared were Muslim extremists plotting their next maneuvre. Of course, our fears were completely ludicrous and they turned out to be a friendly group of Siekh tourists. We also discovered why it is so easy for people to hijack airplanes, and for terrorist groups to travel around this area of the world. First, Cara herself was a bit of a danger to the airplane. She had a bottle of camping fuel in her backpack that she totally forgot about and none of the airline security seemed to even notice, though it did go through multiple x-rays in Baku. Whether or not those machines actually worked is debatable. Once reached Tashkent we were ushered to the transit lounge, without anyone double checking our identities, and then, on the flight from Tashkent to Bishkek nobody even looked at our passports a single time. What a stark contrast to the land crossing between Turkey and Georgia, where our passports were scoured at least a dozen times.

We arrived in Bishkek on Sunday morning, and much to our pleasant surprise, easily obtained two-month multiple-entry visas at the airport. So, for all of you travelling this way, that's the way to do it. We were met by Sveta, Catherine's "sister" at the airport. She is a tall, beautiful, blond-haired Kyrgyz girl of Russian heritage. She gave us our first taste of Kyrgyzstan at a roadside stop on the way into the city, where melons could be bought for 5 cents. We still can't remember the name of the melon, although we've been told a million times, but it is was delicious and similar to a honeydew.

Much to our surprise, Cara was dumped off alone in an apartment (although it was rather plush, outfitted with English TV and the best shower she's had the entire trip), and Cat was taken back with Sveta to her home. We ended up meeting that evening for dinner with some of the other girls from the office (Nazgul and Annelie) for "traditional" Kyrgyz food (what is really Italian food), and then sadly went our respective ways to get some rest for the start of our internship on Monday morning.

Monday was a late start and all we did was meet everyone and basically hang around the office and read literature on what the Youth Human Rights Group does. We also did a lot of wandering around the city looking for appropriate housing for Cara (she definitely nixed the option of living with a scary Russian woman who demanded that she stay away from the kitchen- or rather, all parts of the house except the bedroom- because she thought Cara would negligently burn the place down). Alas, it was an unfruitful endeavor, although we did get to know the town much better in our wanderings.

Early Tuesday morning Cat tried her Russian skills on the musudka (minibuses packed with many people that are the major form of public transportation in Bishkek), and managed to say "Astanavitze pazausta" - however you spell it - which means "stop good sir and let me out here." We rendezvoused at the only main landmark we knew in town, a cafe named "Fatboys." We had the good fortune to meet a Montanan by the name of Jim Carney who is the in-country director for the Montana-Kyrgyz State Partnership Project (which is part of the Army National Guard program here in Kyrgyzstan). We had a sumptous American breakfast, a real cup of Joe and eggs with salsa (Jim's offering which was purchased at the army base). He was kind enough to give us a ride to the U.S. Embassy which is very far from the center so we could register. He also returned to "Fatboys" and we went on our way to the Legal Aid office. The rest of the day was tranquil, except Cara had a cultural experience around midnight trying to get into her apartment building after an enjoyable evening with Masha and Nazgul. Much to her horror the outer door was locked and required a code to enter, so using her creative problem-solving abilities and her newly discovered talents as a mime, she approached a road-side shopkeeper to help her out. After many refusals by neighbors to use their phones, a fellow building resident happened by to a while later and let Cara in. Bishkek is a bit of a Dr. Jeckyl at night, with many the vodka drinking drunkards and cat callers wandering the dark forested streets (more like pot-holed alley-ways). Basically, the experience scared the shit out of her (which for all you who know our strong, courageous Cara, it takes a really sketchy situation to do that)!

Wow, it seems like we've been here much longer than four days. Yesterday, Wednesday, was eventful. After much floundering and anxiety Cat finally figured out what she's going to do her research on, the Child Protection system in the U.S. and how it can be used to help form Juvenile Justice policy in Kyrgyzstan. In the evening we went out to try Manty (meat dumplings) and mushroom soup with Sveta and then met Bella and John (Bella is Jim Carney's interpreter and she's married to an American from Oregon, John) at Zum (a state owned department store). We went back to their place for some vodka and cherry juice (a bottle of vodka costs about .50 cents). There was a delegation of legal professionals in town from the US. Two of the group members who happened to be a judge and prosecutor went out on the town and we joined them at a Zeppelin's (where a severely out of tune Kyrgyz cover band was playing Rock'n Roll). Afterwhich their driver a hard core Sovietesque guy named Dima who took it upon himself to give the guys a real "cultural immersion" escorted us to a fancy white hotel with a red sign out front sporting "Go-Go" dancers. We ascended the stairs amdist increasingly lude photographs and were greeted by two shrewd business women sitting in vacant foyer in front of an unmarked door. As this was men's entertainment the women were let in for free. As depicted in the big screen the door opened to a large, misty, black-lite room dominated by a stage, with three very conspicuous poles front and center. Needless to say we spent a rather amusing and unexpected night in a Russian strip club with a judge and prosecutor. To all our guy friends out there, we really don't understand why you're willing to pay so much money to see a few naked girls on stage.

Written by Cat and Cara

My first impression of Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan is a jumble of massive Soviet-style architecture, streets, and squares. The city is full of parks, including the "children's park" complete with nightly amusement rides and groups of young people strolling the many green paths. Today is a grey day- the air is still, but a drizzle has persisted throughout the day. I hope that it might clear up by this weekend so that we can enjoy a short trip to Lake Issyk-Kul.

Signing out,
Cara

We've arrived safely in Bishkek. Sorting out housing and details with the internship, etc, right now. Looks to be a good two months in Kyrgyzstan...

One important recommendation for any of you that plan to visit Turkey- if you want to save money take the train rather than the bus. Granted, the train routes are somewhat limited, and train trips can take around 18 hours, but the savings are astronomical for the budget traveller. A $25 bus ticket costs about $5 for the equivalent train trip. We’ve also found trains to be the most comfortable form of travel- especially our most recent train trip from Tbilisi, Georgia to Baku, Azerbaijan. The trains out in the Caucuses are relatively empty and we had a compartment to ourselves, with two beds for each of us to stretch out on and sleep the night away…

But we would be remiss not to backtrack and tell the tales of what happened after we left Istanbul. First, we passed a lovely day in Adapazeri with Berkay. He neglected to inform us that it was actually his birthday, so imagine our surprise when we ended up joining in a family birthday celebration for our friend! Not to mention eating four servings of cake each…

That night we had our first night train journey across Turkey to Kayseri, and then a bus to Goreme, Cappadocia. How can one possibly describe the awe-inspiring region of Cappadocia?? It is a geological wonderland smack in the middle of Turkey- volcanic eruptions and ensuing years of erosion have molded a landscape of steep cliffs and valleys populated with “ferry chimneys.” These ferry chimneys are tall, rock towers, many of which were hollowed out hundreds of years ago and made into homes and churches by the local population. They look very much like something out of a fairy tale- perhaps Hobbit houses or the dwellings of gnomes or elves… On our first night in Goreme we watched the sun sink behind a backdrop of ferry chimneys and distant cities from atop our own cave hotel. The beauty of the departing day, in combination with the stillness of the city below, the faint breeze drifting up from dusty valley, and the crisp smell of the onset of evening made for a memorable and perfect snapshot in time.

We opted to take a day tour , the Green Tour, the following day because it was the most efficient and affordable way to see as much of the region as possible. It turned out to be a good decision, because we both really enjoyed the tour! Our guide, Ali, was well-versed in the political, social and geological history of the region. One of the wonders, which made the greatest impression on us was the eight-story underground city at Derenkuyu (there are some eight underground cities in the area, the one we visited is the largest and could at its zenith house 33,000 inhabitants). Some of the tunnels were so small that one practically had to slide side ways and fold in half to fit through, this ingenius architecture protected the city from hordes descending upon them, as beseiging armies could only march single file down the tunnels. The city was complete with an underground well, ventilation and communication systems and chipped by hand out of the rock. The Ihlara valley was the next spectacular destination. We got a chance to strech our legs and wander through valley floor next to a stream, munched on wild blackberries and gazed at the towering cliff sides rising above us spotted with ancient cave dwellings and churches. Cara also dramatically fell in the water trying to avoid getting her shoes wet, she turned her whole self brown instead. After lunch by the stream we explored one of the many fascinating carved churches. Burrowed columns create a large open space for worship, and tiny windows shed dim light in the many tawny colored rooms rising in and out of the rock. We then hopped in the van and headed for Avanos, the ceramic capital of the area, where a uinque style of pottery has been made since the Hittites period.

The next morning we arose with plans of exploring and hiking all around the valleys of Cappadocia. We set out with a bag of nuts and fruit for sustenance, and our camera in hand. We were hoping to make it to a place called Devrent Valley, but sadly failed in this endeavor when we realized that we would not be able to pass over or under a large plateau (White Mountain) dividing the valleys. We did, however, trek all around the nearby Rose Valley, popping in and out of abandoned caves before emerging several hours later, dust-covered and ready to explore other regions. We had read quite a bit about a nearby town called Urgup that sounded quite interesting, and we had good luck in hitching a ride there. Urgup is home to a famous winery, where local wines are made in abundance, and tourists have the opportunity to taste the many types to their heart’s content…

Our time in Cappadocia ended too soon, and we were sorry to say goodbye to such a beautiful and unique corner of the world, but we had already stayed in Turkey longer than intended. We found ourselves on another night train- this time bound for the Eastern town of Erzurum. It wasn’t quite this simple though- we did accidentally get on the wrong train, thus enduring the rather animated gestures and shouts of the Turkish conductor before we figured out what the heck was going on. Needless to say it wasn’t entirely our fault since we asked many Turkish people who told us that we were to get on that train and the train was three hours late and we were not told that there were two trains going in our direction.

We were dropped at 4 AM at the next train stop, a small building on the tracks. It was chilly and we couldn’t wait to get on our train. Luckily, we were able to find a compartment with only three people two of whom left shortly. Cara and I streched out and enjoyed having to use our sleeping bags as the last ride had been stifling hot. We found ourselves in Ezurum at 8 PM and decided to walk to the bus station to head up to Yusefeli (a little mountain town near Atvin to do some treking) as it seemed close on the map. After walking ways in the dark we clamoured into a taxi preffering safety (after a man charged out of the dark and grabbed Cara’s ass, crotch to be more precise) to saving money. The bus station was bustling, we found out that there were many families in transit to register their freshmen for university classes. We found a nice secluded spot and set up “camp” ie put down our bags and sat on the thermarest. We looked every- bit the “hobos”. A girl passed and we pondered whether she was Turkish or a tourist, she approached us and started babbling Turkish. We said we didn’t understand and she said, “Are you tourists?” and started blushing excitedly. We said yes, and made instant friends. She was with her father and they proceeded to invite us to their home and we changed our bus ticket to go to Trabazon instead of Yusefeli. We chatted and drank chai until 2 Am with Sennur and then went to curl up and catch some ZZZs. The next day we caught the bus at 7 AM for Trabazon and due to falling rock, and an abysmally slow driver, we ended up arriving at 5 PM (three hrs later than she expected us). We were deposited at the Police Station in Arakli (she lives above it, her father is a Policeman) where we exchanged hand-language for Turkish and finally found Sennur. She frantically brought us upstairs and shared all that is the beauty of Turkish hospitality. Sennur has two younger sisters and two younger brothers. Her mom is warm and jovial. We learned how to make Borek and some Black Sea dishes, and Cat tried her hand at embroidery. We went to a local futbol match (where we were the only women in a stadium full of rowdy men, some of whom were banging huge drums and blowing torches) and visited her friends in Sumela. All in all it was a fabulous blessing to spend two days on the Black Sea with Sennur and her family. . . .

We rushed to meet the bus that stopped for us in front of Sennur’s house, barely able to maneuvre the bags chock full of pounds of organic hazelnuts, tomatoes, green peppers etc. that her mom prepared for our ride. The bus ride was long and uneventful until we had the luck to meet a fellow traveler, Tamir, at a morning rest-stop, who unbeknownst to us was on our bus as well. The three of us endured the many hours of boarder crossings. The passports were checked every five feet by yet another man dressed in khaki. A sketchy moment was when a man dressed in black demanded our passports and headed into a warehouse, but all turned out well.


Tamir knew of a great place to stay in Tbilisi, Georgia and we found ourselves in a women’s international tennis match before finding the pension. Nazi’s pension is recommended for all travelers. Nazi, a stately Georgian grandma, opens her home to all and treats them like family during the period of their stay. We stayed with her for two nights and wandered the streets of Tbilisi with Tamir during the days. During this time we got to know Tamir, a truly beautiful and inspirational human-being whom we felt blessed to meet. He has the amazing ability to bring a smile to any one’s face and make a friend of any passerby. Nazi also hosted some other colourful individuals who made our stay memorable. We spent our evening in the company of Mike, who might be described as a humorous critic who enjoyed discussing all topics ranging from the “Bachelorette” (an American Reality TV show) to globalization and the pros and cons of protest movements. We also made the aquaintance of Chris, a roving Canadian Buddhist concert pianist, who had explored just about every corner of the world and gave us some great ideas for future adventure and how to live a la Marco Polo.

Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia, is a tree-lined city that sits astride a meandering river. It abounds with the architectural remnants of Moorish, Persian, Turk, Armenian and Georgian ancestry. The endless rain soaked us to the skin and after wandering up to the top of a hill to see an ancient fort converted to a church, and seeing most everything the town had to offer, we returned to Nazi’s and drank Chai (care of Cara). The view was fabulous, a low hanging rain haze mingled with church steeples, sliced by the green river.

We were assured earlier that day that the daily train for Baku departed at 8 PM (we bought our plane tickets for Bishkek at the main travel agency in town, Caucasus Travel). So, that night we arrived at the train station just after 7 PM and tried to buy a ticket at the ticket window, but were directed to the “American Express” train upstairs. We diligently followed these directions and prepared to board the train where we were stopped and asked for our visas and tickets. Of course, we had our visas, but still needed the tickets. Prepared for the $25 ticket fee we were horrified and stunned by the $220 US fee demanded by the man with a giant smirk on his face. Cara declared enraged, “I know the price of the ticket, 8 people told me it was $25”. We tried to negotiate and Cara even tried storming the train, but alas, a mean-spirited very hefty bouncer with a gun didn’t think it was too funny and dragged her off. Cat stood by shocked and somewhat dumbfounded. Not defeated, we marched away determined to prove the “stupid shit-head,” excuse our French, wrong. (Note that we had to be across the border by midnight when our visas expired) We pleaded with one girl and she half-heartedly help us to no avail. After getting about 10 men in the train station running crazy trying to help us find the cheap train going to Baku we were made aware that the “American Express” was indeed the only one going that direction and that there were no buses or mini-buses going that way either. Frantic, about to pull “girl tears,” a really nice Georgian guy, Mike, came to our aid. He tried yet again to haggle with the evil American Express men (who ever heard of a train costing 5 times as much as a flight especially when Georgians make less than $2 US a day- It’s all a big, big scam that’s what it is!!!!) to no avail. Mike arranged a speedy taxi ride for us and after crashing over many water-logged pot-holes we caught up with a train headed for Baku just as it was to cross the border. The next thing we knew we were being scurried into the customs office by military personnel and let on to the train with a smile. Whew!!!!

To our pleasant surprise the compartments were decked out with two beds, pillows and a blanket included. We settled in for the night ready for some sweet dreams. We closed our door and were awoken by banging and when we finally managed to open it (old Soviet train with sticky, sticky doors) we were greeted by severe looking Azeri border guards asking for money and passports. After some jumbled Russian conversation we said we only had “personal clothes” in our bags, and the guy stopped demanding money and let us alone.

In our struggle to shut the door once more a kindly German man tried to help us and we ended up having a lively conversation long into the night. Reiner was a former Merchant Marine/Ship Captain/Habour Master who has lived all over the world and is now working with the World Bank to train navigators in developing countries. We tossed and turned and arrived in Baku this morning at 9:30. Cat was immediately put off by the horde of wolfish taxi cab drivers waiting at the train door, but we continued on foot and found a money exchange and metro. The hotel, Canub, is an old Soviet building, and we found it easily. Today, we cut each other’s hair in order to look spiffy for our internships that begin on Monday. We indulged and ate scrumptious Indian food at the Taj Mahal restaurant and have been emailing the rest of the afternoon as there is not much to see here.

- Written by Cara and Cat

One of our friends from Istanbul, Asuman, has written a letter that she requested we post in our blog. So here it is!

***

Dear Cat and Cara,

It has been lovely to meet you and have a nice visit in Istanbul, around St. Sofia (one of our pictures in front of this superb historical piece is really nice) and the Grand Bazaar ( I remember our bargaining-girls three days later I took a friend of mine from England there and we didnt find any cusions that cheaper, you see). I am sure you will not see places like the Spice Bazaar in Eminonu-have you packed the apple tea
yet?- and the Arasta behind the Blue Mosque, where we have bought ceramics for you and Miho. And I am sure you have already missed us and the days we spent together in Istanbul.

It is life, you see. Everything is done through the desires. Certainly through our deepest desires we have met and learnt from each other
whatever we had to. I am hundred percent sure we are going to meet again.

You have accepted the challenges for your growth. Good luck for that.
And good luck for your effort and work for humanitarian issues.

We have accepted each other from the first moment we met. AND now please accept all my love towards you, your hearts and your activities
you need to fulfil.

All the best for you.

Asuman

Ahhh, we're nearly a week behind on the blog and it seems impossible to catch up! We have done so many interesting things in Turkey... We stayed in Istanbul until Monday afternoon- we kept putting off the departure because we were having so much fun! What else did we do? We actually didn't do all that much sight-seeing. Thursday we attempted to continue our tour of Istanbul (the same group of ppl) but it was really really cold and rainy- a drastic contrast to the scalding heat of the previous week. We visited the bazaars again and the Aya Sofia, which is one of the most famous mosques in the world. And we had a long breakfast consisting of almost every kind of borek that exists- borek is a breakfast pastry that can be stuffed with many things- cheese, potatoes, spinach, or just with powdered sugar. It is delicious!! As the theme of our stay in Istanbul seemed to be food and more food, and our Turkish friends were introducing us to the many delights of Turkish cuisine, Cat and I decided to repay everyone by cooking a more "American" meal for the whole group that night. So we cut our day short and headed to Berkay's place to somehow concoct lasagna with none of the right ingredients. I must say that the two of us together in the kitchen can sometimes work miracles! The lasagna turned out great, even though we had to make our own tomato sauce, and use Turkish cheeses mixed with yogurt, etc, etc. It was really fun cooking for everyone too and spending another night enjoying good company at berkay's house.

Friday was the date of Miho's departure, unfortunately. Even though she only stayed a few days we all fell in love with her! So we had a goobye breakfast in a town (actually, the place where haluk is from, but we forget the name) near the Bosphorous before she had to go to the airport.

The rest of the weekend passed so quickly that it is difficult to even recount exactly what we did. On Saturday we had a super fun night out on the town with Bengu, Banu, Banu's boyfriend, and their cousin. Taksim, right in the center of the European part of Istanbul, is a fabulous place to go at night. It definitely is somewhat reminiscent of other European cities in that it is a pedestrian only zone- although there is a tram that occassionally runs down the middle of the street (there's no barrier so one must clear out when the tram comes, so as not to get run over!).

Turn off the main street in Taksim and you enter into the side roads where cafes and merchant's shops line the streets. The bright lights spilling from cheerful shops beckon people inside. Music tinkles down from rooftop terraces, as people below amble by, arm in arm. Heavier base and reggae sounds filter up from night clubs, turning unto a street packed with tables where people are served Turkish coffee, Tea, drinks and food all night, one is enlivened by the atmosphere. At 2 Am all the little fruit stands are still beckoning you and one has to stop and taste the mussles filled with rice, currants and cumin. They are fabulous and even Cat (who normally hates mussels) ate several.
Cat and Bengu were still ready to jive in Rydms, but alas a couple of rather intoxicated guys who wouldn't stop petting a pour sleeping cat persauded Bengu's cousin that it was time to go. We left and headed for a parking garage, buying some burned CDs on the way. They have absolutely everything and then went home.
The next day, Sunday, we slept late, packed christmas gifts (yes, we are way ahead of schedule and already bought all of Istanbul) and tried to rewater proof our rain jackets. Realizing that it was going to take quite a long time for some of our clothes to air dry and not wanting to leave Bengu and Banu (Bengu's sister) we decided to stay another night. Travel adminstrative tasks required us to go to the train station and attempt to reserve our seats for our 10 hour train ride to Cappadoccia. We found out that the train is much, much cheaper than the bus. We had previously planned to stop and see Berkay in Anapazeri and couldn't resist going to an off-the-beaten track location and so we bought a ticket there. We then headed for the internet cafe and had a marathon session until we noticed it was dark and we better leave. We were in the middle of Kadicoy, a bussling center and were told it was not very safe at night. Incidently, Cat had run into Haluk on-line and he came down and met us in Kadicoy and we went to eat Turkish Pizza. A flat bread with tomatoes, meat and some other veggies (no cheese).
Well, we are out of time. sad, sad.
we'll write again soon, before we get too behind.
OH, just to let you know we are in Goerme, Cappadoccia (Central Anatolia). Sorry, all of our Turkish friends for now spelling them right.
Updates soon, we promise.

Cat (aka. Goerge from now on) and Cara (now Michelle or as she will be called Mish)
Don't ask. you'll be told soon.

written by Goerge and Mish

We have a whole week of adventures in Istanbul to get caught up on. Thanks to you who have been waiting patiently to find out what the heck has been going on in the lives of Cara and Catherine this last week. And again, we intended to write a huge update on everything but time is getting short and we have to meet our friend Haluk soon. But we will give it a try. So, to pick up where we left off...

There we were, Monday morning, having been dumped on the side of the road in a place called "Harem." Luckily, friendly people abound in Turkey and a girl who spoke impeccable English helped arrange a taxi to take us to Bengu's address. We arrive at 8am, almost simultaneous with Bengu's sister Banu's arrival home from work, and we all proceeded to sleep the day away... a much needed rest. That night we finally met Bengu. She is Chizuru's good friend who studied at Kansai Gaidai in Osaka for a year. We had all heard a ton about eachother via Chizuru, and it was so good to finally meet! Bengu is a wonderful, and very hospitable girl (as is her sister Banu!) and they were so nice to offer us a place to stay in Istanbul. We loved it so much that we kept staying longer and longer! Hence the reason we have now been in Istanbul a week and will only finally reluctantly tear ourselves away tomorrow.

Bengu brought her good friend Berkay home with her and then cooked us a wonderful dinner on our first night in Istanbul. Unfortunately, Bengu had to take a business trip to Ankara the next day and worried she wouldn't be back until very late. So Berkay agreed to take us under his wing for the day. We're not sure that he knew what he was getting himself into! We had a rather complicated agenda as we had to run around finding visas and such (we succeeded in getting a transit visa through Georgia and supposedly we can easily obtain a visa to Azerbaijan in Tbilisi. Let's keep our fingers crossed!). We also have to insert here that we have affectionately nicknamed Berkay "Burt" after one of our favorite Sesame Street characters. Cat, too, has morphed into "George" (short for "Curious George" because of her never-ending curiosity. You may see the name "George" used in the blog in later entries and this is a warning that it will be in reference to her).

So Tuesday was a day full of errands. Berkay was kind enough to help us sort out the visa issues, and he took us to his university and to Taksim, the central part of Istanbul. He even put up with all of George's questions with a smile on his face! Our visit was well-timed because Berkay's Japanese friend Miho flew in for a visit that night. She is a flight attendant in Japan and had a short 3 day trip to Istanbul. What a lovely girl she is! We had so much fun touring around Istanbul and sharing our experience in this wonderful country with her. So, while Berkay was off fetching her from the airport on Tuesday night we crashed at his place and met his roommate, Haluk, who in the typical Turkish fashion, also proved to be a great host. He treated us to American pizza and we enjoyed many hours of conversation, centering a lot on politics of course. We tend to get into a lot of fascinating political conversations while travelling.

Wednesday was our first big day for sightseeing in Istanbul. We were joined by another Turkish friend of Miho's, Asuman. We saw the amazing Blue Mosque, and the Grand Bazaar, and enjoyed tasting Turkish ice cream, cherry juice, and an excellent lunch of kefte, bean salad, and semolina dessert. Have we mentioned how fabulous the food is here? Probably, as we love it so much! We've become particularly attached to the cherry juice and cherry jam. That night we met up with Bengu and Banu, as well as some other friends, and they took us to a restaurant serving traditional Turkish food. Yes, we are pretty much eating food non-stop here, thus destroying any and all efforts to eat healthy, exercise, get in shape.... we had been pretty good about that in Greece, but now all our efforts have been pretty much erased. Oh well, we're living in the moment and enjoying it!

Ok, we are late meeting Haluk so must jet. But there will be more to come....

written by Cara

“Turkish Delights”

We haven’t written in quite awhile, so it is time for a serious update. We left you in Selcuk, and it’s now been over a week since we were in that lovely town. We went to a spectacular Saturday market overflowing with colorfully displayed produce (Turkey has some of the best organic fruits and vegetables that we have ever seen and/or tasted. The vibrant greens, reds, oranges, yellows, and purples are almost a sensory overload as one meanders through the plethora of family-run, makeshift stalls), and beautifully handcrafted doilies and tablecloths. It transported us back to what must have been the America of the 1800s, when families put love and time into artesanry and enjoyed passing their craft to younger generations. One of our favorite stalls was the one selling nearly every type of nut that one can imagine. We, of course, sampled them all before deciding how to invest our measly $4. Amazing that the Turks are so generous, even to poor students who they must know do not present a profit. We actually managed to make the nuts last about 3 days. However, times have changed, and we have been living high on the hog since we reached Instanbul (no more rationing and starvation quotas for us! Well, at least until we leave Istanbul…)

Our next destination was Bergama (formerly the ancient city of Pergamon). We descended from the bus, and while Cara was preoccupied with finding our gargantuan pile of luggage (it had somehow grown exponentially overnight, much to Cara’s chagrin- the oft-used phrase became “THIS IS GOING TO END AS SOON AS WE REACH ISTANBUL”), Cat, who is always amiable with the locals, had connected with the proprietor of the Athena Pension. In fact, we had been informed that the Athena was the best option for accommodations prior to arriving in Bergama, but all the same, it is quite astounding that pension and hostel owners seem to pop out of the woodwork everywhere we go. So Cara, not realizing that this man was from the Athena, instead, thinking that he was some guy off the street trying to sell us a room in a sketchy hotel, acted the part of the ice bitch and almost scared the guy off forever. In fact, we were a bit sketched out when he took off with our bags on his motorbike… but alas, all was well. He came back and helped us walk the 900 meters, which seemed like two miles, with our heavy packs to the Athena Pension, “it’s not the best, but it’s trying to be.” We struck quite a bargain, for a mere $4 apiece we got to sleep under the stars on the terrace, listening to wild Sufi music in celebration of Independence late into the night/morning. We also ended up eating an enormous traditional Turkish breakfast the following morning for a scant 75 cents each (all we had to do was hold out until all the other tourists left, as well as agree to listen to the proprietor’s lesbian fantasies in order for the regular price of $4 to be reduced to this spectacular deal- although whether or not it was really worth it was debatable since we were slightly traumatized following the breakfast conversation). Anyway, breakfast included: Turkish omelette, two kinds of bread, two kinds of cheese, cherry and strawberry jam, olives, fruit, and sweets. We have absolutely fallen in love with the jam here- the cherry jam is particularly divine.

Our main purpose of visiting Bergama was to see the historical site where the former city of Pergamon sits on a hill overlooking the modern city. Being the cheapos that we are (and as we are sensitive to local customs as well), the proprietor who we still have no idea what his name was, showed us the proper way to explore the ruins by climbing through a hole in the periphery fence and scrambling up the hill, thus avoiding the extortionate entrance fees. It was another HOT day in Turkey, and after visiting the ruins for a couple of hours (the best part was the amazing ampitheatre which looked out over the amazing vista below) we were parched with thirst and slid back down the side of the hill in search of more water. Luckily, the infamous proprietor was out when we returned, and we were able to leave without enduring a last conversation about his sexual longings.

Our mission was to make it to Troy that afternoon. We hopped onto a midibus headed for Ayvalik, a coastal town reknowned for its olive oil and beauty, and switched to another midibus, and another, each time paying another $5, another $10, etc. Soon the afternoon had waned into evening. We seemed to be moving at a snail-like pace towards Troy, all the while being charged as if we were flying first class on some luxury jetliner. Worrying that our bank accounts would soon be empty, but us no closer to Troy (with no place to stay except perhaps pitching a tent under the safeguard of the Trojan Horse), we opted to take a direct bus to Canakkale, on the Sea of Marmara, (both of us being overwhelmed with bouts of nausea and heatstroke on this bus ride- we found out the hard way that air conditioning does not mean the same thing in Turkey as it does in the US) instead. We called Bengu, Chizuru’s friend in Istanbul, now a good friend of our’s as well, to tell her we were descending on her a day earlier than planned. We thought we would “shop around” for the best price for this last leg of our bus trip to Istanbul, seeing as we had already spent at least $50 more than our daily budget (we had thought each leg would be about $2. Yes, we were slightly delusional). So we took turns casually wandering around the bus station asking prices of tickets to Istanbul and looking affronted at the prices quoted. We were convinced that we had become embroiled in a scheme to rip off the ignorant American tourists and were determined not to be taken advantage of this time. But we found out that our suspicions were grossly unfounded, as people in Turkey really are quite honest and helpful, the price really was that ridiculously high. We haggled and succeeded in obtaining a student discount which no more glorious than a 75 cent reduction. We purchased the cheapest tickets, of course, and were ushered on to a special shuttle to the port. We passed our time reading Harry Potter # 2 and drinking “special” cherry juice on the docks. Harry Potter sucked us in and we almost missed our bus (it’s become an addictive past-time to read it to eachother- though we do miss Colleen’s interpretive reading).

We finally arrived in Istanbul at dawn, the city-scapes seemed to blend with our dreams, as we drifted in and out of consciousness. We were abruptly awakened by the bus driver and deposited on the curbside, too late realizing that this was not Kadikoy, our end destination.

Right now we are writing to you all despite protestations from our friends in Istanbul. We have just finished a fabulous meal- we managed to miraculously concoct an Ameri-style lasagna without any of the common ingredients, a kind-of thank you to our wonderful hosts. We’re being rude, so we’ll finish our update before we leave on Sunday and now turn this journal over to our new-found friends (though we feel we have known eachother for ages) to write a word or two.

***

Hi, I am Miho Konishi from Japan. I met them 2 days ago but I feel I have been with them for long years as they told you. We have really nice and wonderful time in Istanbul!!!!!! We enjoyed going shopping (we are very good at gettting discount price) , eating Turkish food , going for sightseeing and so on!!! Anyhow they are really nice and I like them a lot. I wish I had more time to spend with them. Unfortunately I have to say good bye to them tomorrow (I will go back to Japan tomorrow) but I am sure we can see with each other in a few years and spend good time together!!!!!! Maybe in the States, Japan, or other foreign countries?!?!!!
But definetely we will!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, I already miss them:)

***

Haluk from Turkey. These girls forced me to write something about myself but it is not so easy. I have just washed all the dishes of the dinner and I am so sleepy, so tired and soooooo………….

***

chiz…that was the only thing binding us before u ended up in my apartment….now I can understand why she was talking about u guys 24 hrs a day-I should also confess that sometimes I was getting bored and jealous:). But pls pls believe me: I m normally a more lively and smiling girl but working life made me an old and tired lady. BUT BUT BUT the best thing is that we have a weekend to spend TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bengu

***

berkay, or burt or budu, whatever…
it is 3 am and this girls still wait for me to write something for them…oh, I just realised that they are already laying in their beds...well, they should actually, because we have lots of to do tomorrow- like every day! This morning for example, we woke up at 7 am, what a holiday!! And do you want to know how my day was: running after 4 girls shopping in bazaars (well, here I should mention that I am a boy), making all the sellers mad, bargaining in each store etc. ehm, cara just made the mistake saying that I can write as much as I can!! But don’t worry, I will not, I want to get some sleep before another hard day, let me just describe those 4 girls:
Asuman: I am cold, let’s go home and do some meditation!
Miho: hurry up, I want to see all the sightseeing spots! I want to see the palace…

A dialog to describe Cara:
Seller: 350 million Turkish Lira
Cara: No
Seller: What would you give?
Cara: 250
Seller: Oh, no, that’s impossible! But 300 for you
Cara: 250
Seller: 280
Cara: 250
Seller: 270
Cara: 250
Seller: 260
Cara: 250
Seller: Oh please!
Cara: Ok, 252
And they bought 2 leather jackets for less than 200 USD!

A dialog for Catherine:
Catherine: What is this?
Berkay: This is …
Catherine: And this?
Berkay: This is …
Catherine: Why?
Berkay: ??? I don’t know!!
Catherine : Who is this?
Berkay: Ehm, I think he is …
Catherine: Why?
Berkay: Rrrrrrrrgh!!!
Catherine: What is this about? Why? How? Who? How? Where?
Berkay: When are you going to Kyrgyzstan?

It was nice to meet you girls, I am really going to miss you…I hope you are going to like it in my hometown this weekend, I am sure you will love the meatballs though :)

Chizuru, the VERY beautiful japanese girl, I am missing you too…When are you coming?

Ok, I wish these two crazy girls lots of fun in georgia, azerbaijan and kyrgyzstan and whereever else…

Berkay

So we're in Istanbul right now staying with Chizuru's friend Bengu, who is absolutely wonderful (as is her sister Banu). We arrived on the overnight bus from Canakkale Monday and basically passed out on their couch in the livingroom for the rest of the day, before Bengu came home from work that night and cooked us a fabulous chicken and pasta dinner. How's that for good hospitatlity? More proof that our time in Turkey has been full of friendly and helpful people. Although, like any country in the world, we are observing that the friendliness is not quite as pervasive in the big city as elsewhere.

Well, we're off to do a bunch of errands. Visas and such. Oh, the fun of doing travel errands.

written by Cara

The Unexpected Dangers of Travelling

These are our lists of dos and don'ts that we've learned so far in our travels (in the short two weeks that it has been):

DON'T
... try and fill an empty fuel bottle by punching a hole with a six inch nail into a virgin canister of propane, because it will (a) spew noxious toxic fumes straight up into the air and poison the whole campsite; (b) increase the flammability of your already fire-prone tent; (c) possibly knock you out; and (d) turn the cannister and all touching it (including fingers and other body parts) the temperature of liquid nitrogen. We repeat, do not do this (yes, we were not acting in a reasonably prudent manner, trying to do creative problem solving IS NOT always advisable if you do not understand chemistry, as we learned during our last night in Naxos).

DO
... engage in lively conversations about slang in other anglophonic places. Food is either "gorgeous," "nice," or "brilliant." The word "fanny" should NEVER be used to describe your bum (when in the company of Aussies). "Pulling" and "Snogging" are much more colourful ways to describe kissing. "You're a really pretty flower, would you like a piece of my root?" (you can guess, another way to say it is "up to your nuts in guts," a vulgar phrase but...)

DON'T
... give a lift to a British chick when there's already two on the moped, miss your turn, and try to pull a U in sand on an unlit road. You might be swindled out of many euros for breaking the headlight of said moped (even though all damage was supposedly covered under the insurance policy previously purchased).

DO
... rent mountain bikes on mountainous Greek islands even if the never-ending hills induce fits of nausea.

DON'T
... sleep on rocky beaches without a thermarest or bothering to check it out in the daylight first, as you may be assailed by (not to mentioned pissed on by) mad dogs in the night, and find yourself rolling in piles of garbage which possible may consist of other noxious matter in the morning- you are constantly reminded of this by the smell that festers in your sleeping bag for days (speaking of which, we forgot to air out those bags... oops).


Ok, so that is a little idea of what we've learned these last few days, ha ha ha. Yes, unfortunately they are all based on "reality." Right now we are in Selcuk, Turkey, and have been here for two days. Prior to this we spent 5 days in Naxos and one day in Samos, Greece. Samos is where we had the fun adventure with rocky beaches and mad dogs in the night... but at least we were accompanied in our travails by two Aussie gentlemen. Besides, everyone has got to sleep on a beach in Greece at least once in their life. However, we do recommend choosing a sandy and slightly more "comfortable" beach. Samos is really beautiful- green and mountainous. We only spent the day there, but left with a great impression.

From Samos we took the evening ferry to Kusadasi, Turkey where we were picked up at the port by a lovely Turkish/Aussie fellow named Harry who proceeded to drive us at breakneck speed (which Catherine loved of course) to the nearby town of Selcuk. We are currently staying here at the ANZ (Australia New Zealand) Guesthouse, which we definitely recommend for anyone who finds themselves in this neck of the woods. It's only 11 million lira a night! Don't be alarmed- that equals approximately 8 US dollars. Yesterday we checked out the ruins at Ephesus. They definitely should have been on the list as one of the 7 wonders of the ancient world. Alas, only the Temple of Artemis is, but it is only a hole in the ground now. It seems to be that way with many of the wonders of the ancient world.... typical.

Today we went to Pamukkule, which is approximately three hours to the east of here. It is a geological phenomenon where calcium oxide cascades down cliffs and creates white terraced waterfalls, with pools of aquamarine springs. The water is tepid and the bottoms of the pools are mushy like clay in some places and outside the pools like pumice. The curvatures and ripples in the calcium is reminiscent of large mammary glands. The "thermal pools" are rather disappointing (especially the bit about swimming amongst ruins- all lies we say!). The commercialization of the site is unfortunately destroying the natural beauty of the place. Hotels rob the water so that it is now controlled by a rotating mechanized system whereby the water is channeled to certain areas of the cliffs, while others are left dry. We were all rather depressed by the rampant environmental destruction of such a unique geological wonder. Human presence in the area is pervasice, and has been for centuries. The former city of Hieropolis sits in a mass of crumbled ruins above the cliffs, just behind a large restaurant and swimming pool. The ampitheater is spectacular though, and we think rivals those at Ephesus.

We are hitting the frogger (i.e. Aussie for moving on) tomorrow morning for the north. We'll be headed towards Bergama (former Pergamon) and Ayvalik. We're prepared to be disappointed by the ruins at Troy the following day, but it is a necessary visit (we must say that we are rather excited to see the probably cheesy, but undoubtedly amusing, life size model of the Trojan Horse though).

Written by Catherine and Cara

Just wanted to write a quick note that we're in Selcuk, Turkey right now. Turkey is a fabulous country! Not much time to update everyone on anything right at the moment (it's after midnight and we've got an early morning bus to Pumakkale tomorrow), but Cat and I hope to give a full-on update of our adventures tomorrow. We've been travelling hard and vacationing hard for the last few days, which has led us to neglect email and the blog. sorry to all!

A shout out from two moped mamas in Naxos, Greece! Yes, you may guess that we did the moped thing yesterday- rented a bike and drove all around the island for 10 hours. We were hysterically laughing at the end of the day because we managed to tip over the bike twice. One was one of those stupid "I'm standing here and the bike is just too much, so it will fall" time, and another was a late night return from the bar, three people smashed on the bike, spin-out on the sand. Oh yes. We are good motorbike drivers. But the best time was when Catherine decided to become some sort of speed demon on a back dirt road and accelerate over a ditch, thus practically flipping Cara off the back of the bike. Cara did, however, use her miraculous skills to hang onto the bike with her feet while the rest of her was hanging off the back. Do not be alaramed family members- we drove over many treacherous cliff-hanging roads but are perfectly fine. So we saw fabulous vistas, blue waters, white villages tucked away in hillsides, quaint Greek churches, and many "Venetian Castles" that weren't actually castles. We had the requisite running out of gas experience (the gas gauge didn't work) but we were aided by some incredibly wonderful locals, and made our way back to our campsite at the end of the day.

The campsite- we have renamed it the "tent lot," or perhaps, more aptly, the "sardine lot." The differece between greek and american camping is quite enormous- no vast expanses of wilderness and lovely private plots. Rather, it's tent stacked upon tents in a very, small, yet civilized, area. In fact, this is the general European idea of campiing... it has it's own merits of course, and in fact, our small campground is starting to grow on us. You see, we haven't left yet....

The day before yesterday- the first day on the island (Friday- we're a bit confused on the days...)- we sat on the beach all day. and swam. lovely. Oh, and we met these two British girls- Libby and Nikki- who are great fun and even better conversationalists. Today we plan to do the same. After all, how much activitiy (i.e. mopeding) can one experience while on the Greek islands? It's really all about the beach and relaxation. And we need to make up a bit for the loads of cash we spent yesterday.

Yesterday we experience "cock" for the first time. Now, you people with dirty minds, this isn't what you think- it is an island delicacy. It's actually a sumptuously roasted rooster on a plate prepared with a tomato/feta/onion spaghetti. mmmm, yummy yummy. Cat has only really had one good experience with feta on this island- she thinks the rest of it tastes as if it were a smelly goat. Cara, on the other hand, who could be called a feta afficionado, thinks all the feta is rather gorgeous (a new phrase that we are picking up from our British friends).

That's all folks-
Catherine and Cara

The "real" start to our "Vagabonding al Mundo" trip started officially on Tuesday night. We said adieu to my sister and headed for London Luton to catch an overnight flight to Athens. We were off to a good start, what with Cat having a nasty rash of bug bites all over her body (sketchy London hotel?) and dwindling time to make it to catch our flight.... alas, instead of jetting across Europe on Tuesday night we spent it on the floor at the airport. Yup, we missed our flight. A first for me, as many of you might guess. However, I wasn't really too upset because we weren't charged for transferring to the noon flight the next day and it gave us time to sort through all of our stuff and redistribute the travel mess between ourselves. We spent a good couple of hours spreading our crap across the airport floor and pouring shampoos and lotions from one bottle into another. Ah, the excitement of unpacking and repacking in the airport at 1am to the sonorous accompaniment of gurgling snores from another weary traveller.

We pulled into Athens around 7pm yesterday. Caught the bus into town and stumbled out with our packs, hoping to see a glaring sign shouting out, "Hostel! Come sleep here!" Of course this was not the case. So we walked around for about ten minutes before we came across the Hotel Metropolis and settled for spending 45 euros for the night. At least there was air conditioning and it was right next to the Plaka. Greeks are night people, so it didn't matter that we weren't settled and ready to seek out some dinner until after 9pm. In fact, I remembered from my last visit in Greece that many of the Greeks do not take their nightly meal until around 11pm. It some ways, it is the most extreme of the Mediterranean countries!! And of course, Greek food is marvelous. We were lucky to stumble upon a tiny Taverna run by a man by the name of Makie. It was bit away from the normal tourist throng, and in fact, when we arrived the only other guests were a young Greek man and woman (Alexandros and Irene), as well as Makie of course. Makie was a small, grisled man with longish wiry hair, a penchant for beautiful women and midnight philosophising, and definite cloud of alcohol about him. Alexis and Irene informed us that it was quite unfortunate that we couldn't speak Greek because Makie was one of those interesting old men, with such an amusing turn of phrase, that they came to the restaurant for drinks, but most of all just to enjoy listening to and conversing with him. Indeed, as the night drew on, more Greeks slowly trickled in until the rickety old tables beneath the trailing Klimatis echoed with laughter and camraderie long into the night. Not only that, but food was amazing. Of course, I love greek food. After Thai, it's probably my next favorite. So I enjoy every chance I get to taste local Greek fare, and there, we enjoyed one of the best Greek salad's I've ever had, as well fried zucchini, and bread with Tzatziki (one of my favorites!).

Today we did the typical Athens tourist thing. Which means we spent many hours wandering around the Akropolis. And it was HOT. So we tried to intersperse moments in the shadows of the sparselly scattered vegetation with climbing up and down stairs and gazing at the remnants of the Athens city-state of ancient times. You might guess, but pretty much everything was under scaffolding because of the upcoming Olympics. In fact, the whole of Athens is undergoing a facelift in preparation for the Games. That, and the introduction of the Euro, and the resultant soaring prices, make the Greece of 2003 quite a bit different form the Greece of 1999 that I last saw. It really is making strides to catch up to the rest of Western Europe. In fact, the hoards of tourists probably make it one of the more expensive places to visit in Europe these days.

Tonight we are off to Naxos. We catch a ferry from Piraeus at 10pm and will arrive in Naxos at 5am. Plans are fuzzy,so we'll let you know what happens next....

- written by Cara

London for a few days. Met Cat at the airport yesterday after a somewhat eventful day full or airports and airplanes. It started in the Berlin airport when a bum-sort sitting next to me in the waiting lounge, emanating alcohol out of every pore of his body, decided to piss his pants all over the chair and floor. Then a German guard came over and yelled at him with very exciting German brusqueness and kicked him back out onto the street. Then I got to London, where I was supposed to meet Cat outside customs. Turns out I came in at a totally different terminal and had to truck all the way over to her terminal, where I wandered around trying to find her until I heard my name echoing over the loudspeaker. So we found eachother, alas, and all is great now. Of course, it was fabulous to see Cat again. And the three of us are hanging out in expensive London for the next few days. Apparently, Lukasz is here too, so hopefully we can set up a rendezvous sometime.

We're in Riga, Latvia this morning. Two night trains in a row- the first from Warsaw to Vilnius, and then from Vilnius to Riga last night- and we've decided to splurge and stay the night in Riga. We rolled in at 6:30 this morning, heaved our heavy packs onto our backs, and went out in search of a hotel. Walked about a kilometer until be found the Hotel Viktorija, which has "unrenovated rooms" for about $20 a night. Not quite sure what the "unrenovated" will mean, but we decided that it was worth it, and dropped our bags. Slouched on the couch in the lobby for awhile watching BBC, before we headed out for some breakfast and a bit of email. We can officially check in at noon, so until then we're just biding our time before we can take a long shower and wash the travel grime away.

A note on Lithuania- although I was only there for a brief time, I had an extremely favorable impression of the country and believe it is one of the most interesting places to visit in Europe. We were in Vilnius and Trakai. Vilnius is the capital, and still has a very small and friendly atmosphere. Cobblestone streets, churches, and castles create a unique flavor of both Eastern Europe and Scandinavia rolled together. Trakai was my favorite place though. It is a small city squeezed between lakes. from the bus station you walk north along a strip of land that eventually leads to a bridge over the lake onto an island where a beautiful medieval castle sits. The town is full of colorful houses and shops. The waterfront is lined with cafes, and sailboats and paddle boats ply the waters.

Our plan is to spend today in Riga, and then spend a day each on the Latvian and Lithuanian coast before catching a ferry back to Germany.

Where to start.... that's the hardest thing about writing in the blog while travelling. I can't write everyday and there is so much to say, but then when I sit down to write it I seem to forget it all. So I will back up and try to go in chronological order from when I last wrote, which was at the bus station in Warsaw.

We ended up taking a taxi to Dominika's relative's house. We had the address and the taxi man pulled up outside a nice, but empty-looking building. We were standing outside the gate, staring up, trying to figure out if that was the the place when Dominika and her cousin, Iszydora (no clue if that is spelled right), strolled down the path. So at least we had taken the taxi to the right place. Immediately, Dominika's family welcomed us in and took us to the kitchen to have Polish compote, a drink that is made of a mixture of whatever fruits are in season. Then, Iszydora gave us homemade pyrogies for lunch, which were soooo good as well. Beats the frozen stuff we have in the US anyday.

We had the whole afternoon before us and Dominika and her mom and relatives had some errands to run. So Colleen decided that she wanted me to dye her hair while they were all running around. We spent the afternoon in the courtyard behind the house trying to give her highlights with dye that turned out to be totally crappy and a waste of money. We even ended up babysitting the nieces for a bit. They were totally cute and spoke only Polish of course, so mostly we just pushed them on the swings and played with hoola hoops.

The next day- Tuesday- (I'll call it Day 1) was the beginning of the pilgrimage. We had to wake up at something like 5am. We piled into the big van that Dominika's uncle would drive while we walked the pilgrimage and drove to the center of town where a huge crowd of pilgrims had gathered outside the cathedral to hear morning mass. The pilgrimage began in the center of town where people filed out in their respective groups. It was all color-coded. We were members of the Green Group, which was somehow affiliated with the Salvatorian Priests. Let me comment here that priests in Poland are sooooo hot. I can't believe how different it is from the US. There are so mnay young and energetic priests here. OUr green group even had the "hippy priest" who wore a bandanna and played the guitar and everything. Also, most of the priests wore the long, black robes for the whole march. There were even a bunch of monks. I can't imagine how they marched along in those robes because it was soooo hot all the time.

There was also a huge contingent of military personnel from Poland and Germany doing the pilgrimage. They were decked out in their military finery and singing their church songs like the rest of 'em- although I must say that they added a great energetic and military songish version of these religious canticles to the pilgrimage. My favorite was the Polish soccer cry that had been converted to a cry for "Jesus!"

So we started on our way with the Green Group. It was really fun to begin with. We marched out of Warsaw in a huge parade and everywhere we went people on the streets waved and shouted out "God bless!" (in Polish of course). Groups walked in a big smooshed crowd together. I'm not sure how many people were in each group- a few hundred probably. I think there were 4000 people total in our pilgrimage. Each group also had rigged up a speaker system where down the left side of the group 4 or 5 5 people would walk with a tall speaker mounted on their back and rope extension cord that ran from one to the next. It is hard to describe, but maybe you can imagine the walk group: probably 7 or so abreast and then maybe 100 people long, a rope with speakers intersperesed running along the left side. People with flourescent jackets ran up and down the left side shouting for us to "move up," "go faster," etc. This is where it started to turn into too much of military march. These guys that regulated the movement of the group also felt it necessary to inform us a million times that we could not wear sleeveless shirts, that we had to go faster, be quiet, etc, etc.... Being American, the rules started to drive us crazy (America is a comparatively rule-free society and the structure can drive us independent spirits batty at times). I think it might have been better if we knew what to expect and had been prepared for such stringent rules. However, I somehow had it in my head that the pilgrimage would not be so structured, but rather a large group of interesting people walking freely in a giant wave down the pilgrimage path and the goal of higher spiritual attainment... I was approaching it more as a huge hike across rural Poland, where I could commune with the beautiful countryside and enjoy the company of my friends. Not the right attitude for this particular pilgrimage.

The first day was great though. Everything was still novel, and I revelled in the new and exciting experience. We walked in incremental spurts- normally anywhere between 5 to 10 kilometers at a time, and then we would rest for a bit and enjoy the incredible hospitatlity of the locals. That first day, the people of Warsaw and the surrounding area came out in droves to line the roadsides, push pastries, sandwiches, compote, and apples into our hands, and cheer us on our way. Our feet weren't tired yet, and the energy and brilliance of the day and the people in our company pushed us forward and filled our day with laughter and excitement. We met a great Aussie guy, Daniel, who had decided that he wanted to experience the pilgrimage, although he could only spare one day to walk. It was fun, and he was great company. Granted, by the end of the day we were groaning about the tiredness of our feet and wanting to crawl into our tent and never emerge again.

We camped with the medical group rather than the green group because Iszydora scammed the pilgrimage and pretended to be a doctor. She was trained as a nurse, so it wasn't actually too far from the truth. And she did her part by helping to pop some pretty nasty blisters, and wrapping our tired feet. Every night there was a mass and "appel"- which is singing good night songs to Mary. I'm not a big one for going to mass all the time as all of you know (and you're probably wondering why exactly I wanted to do this pilgrimage anyway- NO, I have not become a fanatic Catholic. Rather the opposite in fact). The Appel was fun and interesting though, as it was a Polish tradition I think and everyone is such a warm community singing together.

Day 2 started on tired feet and a hot sun rising over the countryside. Daniel was gone, unfortunately, so our small English-speaking contingent had shrunk even smaller. Rather self-consciously, I made sure to wear a t-shirt and abide by the Pilgrimage rules. So we started walking, and walking, and walking some more. Even though it was only the second day, things started to blend together into a slow monotony already. At one point, the soft, melodic drone of Polish prayer almost put me to sleep on my feet. Colleen started pondering whether we should find ourselves some caffeine pills in order to keep going. Day 2, however, was interrupted by a really interesting visit, mid-morning to the church of St Maximilian- I'm not sure all of you know who he is, but he was a really amazing man- a priest- who volunteered to give his life in the place of another at one of the Concentration Camps during World War II. So it was great to see where he came from. There was also a wedding- two couples from the pilgrimage shared a beautiful wedding with everyone there. Afterwards we paraded through the streets and Colleen busted up to the front of the line where she walked pretty much right next to the bride. I was amazed because the bride walked a loooong way in her dress and high heeled shoes! Our feet were aching in tennis shoes, how could she do it?!

The afternoon of Day 2 found Colleen, Mike, and I alone as Dominika and Iszydora were too exhuasted and in pain to continue forward. So the three of us attached ourselves to the military group and learned some rousing military hymns. We also managed to detatch ourselves for much of the walk and walk along between the groups. This was soooo much better because we could actually talk and we weren't being barked at all the time by the people that ran up and down the side and regulated the progress of the group. We could go off into the trees to pee without worrying about being left behind the forward surge of the group. Ahh, the freedom. The unfortunate part of this particular afternoon was that, although we were told to march with the military people (we always kept them in sight) they didn't actually end up at the medical camp, but only in the vicinity. So we were rather lost for where to go. We dragged our way across a long, hot stretch of road through the middle of a flat and never-ending hay field. The asphalt had literally melted under our feet and squelched and yelped as we repeatedly lifted our feet from its sticky grasp. Just when we thought we couldn't bear it a moment longer, we rounded the bend and saw a field full of supine and khaki-clad bodies. Break! Thank God! We lowered our aching bones onto the pointy stubs of the hayfield, mindless of the discomfort, and downed a whole bottle of water. One last leg to go before we could collapse for the night. Forced to our feet, and hobbling around like 80 year old grannies, we pushed forward. Military chants of "Jesus" sustained us for awhile, but not before long I began to feel like my legs were turning to cement and then shattering and crumbling away from the knee down. I could feel the asphalt reverberating up through the sole of my feet and into my shins. We walked past a building that looked suspiciously like a monastery, with a few of the medical-type vans parked out front. We didn't see anyone, however, and I thought, "this must be the medical camp," but they told us to go with the military group, so onwards we went. Only to end up in a giant military camp where we looked enviously at their set-up- large tents, portable showers, chefs, and tables laid out with tablecloths.... they had it good!! We were roughing it with a tent and our soup, open-faced sandwiches, and forest toilets, and here they were livin the good life! Not that I mind roughing it or can complain- as we were with the medical group, we still had it much better than the other pilgrims. Anyway, we saw no one upon arriving at the military camp, and decided we must have passed the medical camp afterall, and had to turn around and add a couple additional kilometers to our trek. Needless to say, all I wanted was a bed that night.

Day 3 arose much the same as the previous day. Again, I was criticized multiple times for my sleeveless shirt (I must insert here that scores of Polish pilgrims also broke the sleeve length rule, although our American tanks were perhaps more scanty than their's). Everything else was filthy dirty so I donned a shirt that a nice lady willingly offered. And we set out on the march again. We had a few delays int he camp that morning though, so we started half an hour behind everyone else. I didn't mind because I much preferred walking without the group. The three of us, plus Dominika, Iszydora, and Dorothy (the cutest, sweetest little Polish girl who was part of our group) all walked together. Pradoxically, our energy was high so we spent the first two hours of the day belting out church songs, christmas songs, chitty chitty bang bang, whatever we could think of that would spice up the walk a bit. What else to say about the day? We walked, and walked some more... my feet were better than Day 2 (I had prophesied a Bell Curve of Pain, which seemed to be coming to pass), although Colleen and Dominika reached the peak of pain and blisters on Day 3. We had lunch in a field- there was no soup left in the mad rush for lunch, so we found a few limp open-faced sandwiches of pickles and eggs, but otherwise just tried to rehydrate ourselves.

We dragged ourselves through the heat of the afternoon again in a cloud of Polish hymns and rosaries.

Washed our feet.

Put up the tent.

Took a crap in the forest.

Went to sleep.

Day 4. Same, same. We tried to get a head start on the pilgrimage, but went down the wrong road and had to take the long way round to meet up with the rest of the pilgrims. I didn't mind as a I greatly enjoyed walking separate from the groups and actually having the chance to soak in the beauty of the countryside. quaint little farmhouses and fields of green and gold stretching to the horizon. Cows mooing in the distance, and colorful rags tied to celbrate our coming fluttering on fences. However, we were starting to get a reputation for being rule-breakers and this had to end. We received the death sentence that from then on we had to respect the sanctity of the goup and walk the rest of the time with everyone else. Of course, I understand the purpose of it all- safety and accountability and such. But it all became more and more like a forced march and the rules, rules, rules (as well as our increasing feeling of isolation and being a burden, rather than a welcome contingent of the group) led us to decide that it was time to leave the pilgrimage. We had had a wonderful and very interesting 4 days, but it was unlikely that the next 6 days would bring anything new or lessen our feelings that we didn't belong there. Maybe it's just that none of us were religious enough to endure "the suffering" that brings on the spiritual enlightenment of the pilgrimage. Our intentions weren't there- we didn't want it enough to endure 10 days of sameness and drudgery and isolation. Maybe it was mostly that we couldn't speak Polish and always felt on the outside and too needy on our hosts. I don't know exactly. Anyway, we were led to pack up our bags and take a bus back to Warsaw on the eve of Day 4. A rather rushed goodbye- I was sad not to be able to spend much quality time with Dominika, although the pilgrimage probably wasn't the best place for that anyway- and we were off.

And here we are today in Warsaw. Spent a comfortable night in the hostel last night. Took a looooong shower this morning to scrub myself free of the filth. We're headed for Lithuania tonight.

Colleen and I were a bit disgruntled and snappish this morning after an overnight bus ride from Prague to Warsaw. The Eurolines bus was quite nice, but we still didn't manage to get much sleep. We're in Warsaw now at the bus station, just hanging out until around noon in case Dominika is able to come meet us. If she isn't here by noon we will find our way to her house. I know her flight arrived at 9:30, and we kind of just missed eachother with the emails, but anyway, it'll work out either way. And then it appears that the pilgrimage is off to a start at 5:30 tomorrow morning. Colleen and I will be cavorting with the cows of rural Poland for the next two weeks, so don't expect to hear anything from us. Judging by the extreme heat of the last few days in Czech, this may turn out to be a hellishly hot walk across the country. I wouldn't mind a few rain showers to be interspersed with the merciless sun....

I believe Kutna Hora is one of the more obscure, yet most interesting places a person can visit in Europe. It's a small town about an hour outside of Prague. What is so fascinating about the place is the BONE CHURCH. Yeah, that's right, there's a church that is practically constructed from human bones. I say "practically" because the walls aren't actually made out of bones- in fact, it looks rather like a normal church from the outside- but the whole inside is rather ornately, or garishly (however you see fit to describe it), decorated with the bones from 40,000 humans. You walk in and the first thing you see is skulls everywhere. Skulls and femurs are strung together and hang like streamers from the ceiling, massive pyramids constructed from densely stacked white bones sit in all corners of the church, and in the center hangs the pride of the church- and enormous, intricate chandelier constructed from bones of every part of the human body. I kept thinking that this should be the site of a third Tomb Raider movie, if, and when, that comes into being. It's really an incredible place to see!! What happened was that for some reason I can't quite remember the graveyard of the church became known as an especially holy site and wealthy people from all over wanted to be buried there. But it was already chock full of human bodies, so they had to do something with the bones. They hired a Czech woodcarver to exercise his artistic skills and put those bones to use by decorating the church- this was in 1870. Rather morbid perhaps, but I must commend the creativity of the endeavor!!

Africa is behind me and the rest of my trip looms close. I am with Colleen in Prague right now. We had a great reunion- haven't seen eachother in over a year! It's nice to be back in Europe for awhile. I really do love this continent- the old, beautiful architecture of the cities, camping and getting away from the backpacker crowd (mostly only Europeans camp), the sun (it is hot and it feels like summer!), and Colleen of course. I'm not going to write much now because Colleen wrote a big, long account of what we've been doing here in Prague. So I'll send you to her blog for the most recent update: www.colleenbean.blogspot.com

To everyone in Kampala, I miss you tons already!

When I woke up this morning I felt horrible and started having delusions that perhaps I had contracted malaria. After all, after a nice respite for the last few weeks, the mosquitoes have returned at night with a vengeance. My mosquito net did not serve its purpose well last night. I hadn't noticed, but Kupe, the guy who cleans my room, had moved my bed, so the mosquito net no longer fitted like it should have. I spent a restless night fighting off those infamous blood-sucking beasts. Anyway, I am feeling better now, and think it was just one of those typical traveller's sicknesses that cannot be avoided, and usually pass quickly. Of course, it would happen right when I am about to leave! Normally I get sick within the first week of arrival, and I had thought that it was amazing that I passed my entire time in Uganda without being sick at all.

I had a wonderful time last night- Hannah, Danny, Freda, and Mike Hendricks all came for dinner. It was one of those convivial settings where everyone sits around the table for hours and discusses everything ranging from Mugabe's imminent downfall, to the laziness of Cape Towners, to our recent, and uninspired, viewing of the Spanish film "Talk to Her." After everyone left I took on the Victorian mien and flung myself onto my bed in a fit of melancholy, wishing I didn't have to say goodbye to such a great group of friends. It's such a depressing thing, having to say goodbye. Everytime another departure approaches I try to avoid the unavoidable moment of realizing that I am leaving, and that I really have no idea when I will next see the person that played such an important role in that stage of my life.

My last weekend passed fairly uneventfully. I went to the craft market one last time, wandered the streets of downtown Kampala, hung out at the house, and had dinner and a movie with Hannah and Danny. Saturday night was interesting because there was a graduation party for Makerere University MBA and MSC students at Maria's Place. LaRuan and I were invited to attend, and then one of the organizers decided that it was absolutely necessary to introduce me as a law student from the United States, and I had to give and impromptu speech in front of around 100 people. I don't think I sounded too much like an ass, but still, impromptu public speaking is not my favorite pastime.

So I'm headed into the last couple of days here. Got a few things to finish up at work, but I'm about ready to go. This is what I will miss the most from Uganda:

1. fresh squeezed juice and pineapple every morning;
2. matatu rides across country with 20 other people crammed into a van;
3. maribu storks- and the fear of being crapped on by a 100 lb bird every time I walk under a tree;
4. jewelery shopping at the craft market, and making up necessary lies in order to get a better bargain;
5. long walks in the morning past trash heaps and through clouds of black exhaust- it really is very nice;
6. swahili rap music videos;
7. tea time- samosas and Ugandan donuts;
8. dance parties at Maria's place;
9. prolonged power outages that give me an excuse not to work;
10. LaRuan, Walter, Hannah, and everyone else!

The disaster that was my hair is on the way to repairing itself. I had my head shampooed consistently for over 2 hours yesterday until my scalp felt like it was being scraped raw. I need to go back on Monday for another shampooing because there is still some wax left. yuck. I have really short hair though now, and it is kind of cute. Well, it's a radical change for me at least!

I am feeling a bit disappointed because I was getting all excited to go on a trip to one of the National Parks this weekend. But it ended up being sooooo expensive- twice what I thought it would be, so I can't go. sad, sad. The problem is that there is no public transportation to get to these places, so you have to hire a car and driver, which can be outrageously expensive. So I will see no giraffes, lion, or hippos on this trip to Africa... However, missing such experiences motivates me to come back to Africa when I am working and have a bit more expendable money (and maybe my own car). And that will happen! Besides, Walter and I made a promise that we would do the Cape to Cairo thing someday.

This visit to Africa has really been fabulous. And I definitely want to come back and explore more of this beautiful continent. Hopefully, I will have a job out here in future, so that will give me the chance to have ready access to the many wonders of Africa. I'm still thinking about pursuing the USAID foreign service officer career track. If that works out, I could spend 2 years at a time in different countries around the world. I would think somewhere in Africa would for sure be included in that! Of course, I still have to figure out how the heck I get a job like that...

For some reason these posts sometimes publish in opposite orders- i.e. the newest post is not at the top. I'm not sure why this happens, but I just wanted to add a disclaimer note that a newer post may sometimes be second, or maybe even third?

Small catastrophe. So I went to the hair salon on Sunday to get dreadlocks. I was assured that the guy there knew how to do dreadlocks on caucasian hair. ha, right. He used the twisting technique, which works on African hair, but not caucasian (you have to use a backcombing technique instead). Basically, it looked kind of cool (although at times when I got a glimpse of myself I thought that I looked rather like Sideshow Bob)- tiny, little twists all over my head- but it was not "dreads." I kept the twists in for a few days, but then they started to get loose, and they never dried, and I didn't love them all that much, so I decided to take it out. I managed to untwist everything and brush out my hair. The only problem is that everything was covered in wax and I can't get the wax out of my hair now! ahhhhh. The wax just repels the water. It's kind of funny actually- I could totally give myself an awesome mohawk if I wanted. But now I have this waxy head that barely even resembles normal hair, and I want it out! I am going back to the hair salon today to see if they can get it out. Hopefully I don't have to cut all my hair off... I already have it cut a lot shorter than I've had in probably 10 years, but now I might have to just go for the bald style. Actually, it might be kind of interesting to shave my head, although this is not exactly the method I wanted to use to get there. Man, why do I get myself into these crazy situations? I just wanted dreads!

Walter left this morning to go home to Zimbabwe for a couple of weeks. Since I am leaving next week, that meant that this morning was the big "goodbye" for me. I already miss Walter! He's such an awesome guy, and he and LaRuan and I were pretty much inseparable for the last two months. So it is going to be a bit strange spending my last week without him. When will I see him next? The hard part about meeting such wonderful people while abroad is that you really have no idea when you will be able to see eachother again. I have no doubts that I will see Walter again sometime though. If I am ever anywhere near the African continent I'll always make sure to stop in and visit him! Besides, he's told me so many whacked out stories about Zimbabwe that I will have to get him to prove it all to me someday(you wouldn't believe the stories that boy tells- Komodo dragons who milk cows, witches who fly in baskets using voodoo across the world, magic caves with invisible walls....). Of course, he thought my stories of 100 lb Alaskan cabbages were just as fantastical!

Colleen's probably going to be a wee bit annoyed with me when I see her in Europe. I got coerced into buying this fabulous basket... only problem is that it's huge cuz it's a laundry basket. I am going to fill it up with random crap that I don't want to take with me on the rest of this trip and make Colleen take it back to the States for me. Well, at least it has a handle. I think the hardest part will be taking it on the few train rides from Berlin to Prague to Warsaw etc, especially cuz I have my other backpack as well.... at least on the airplane I am sure I can just check it as a bag. Sometimes these things are just too good a deal to pass up!

So that's what I did this weekend. Hung around Kampala and did a bit of shopping. I bought some fabric as well, which is probably my fave thing to buy. I love going to the tailor and having things made... I think I am going to wait until India and then have some clothes made there.

We went to the orphanage again too. This time we bought the kids a bunch of new clothes. They were so cute. As soon as they saw the new clothes, everyone stripped naked right in the main room and rummaged around to find the perfect new outfit. Well, not that they were really that discerning- it was mostly just an odd assortment of tops and bottoms that didn't really match.

As happens when the "end" of anything approaches, I begin to start getting impatient for whatever is next. I can almost count the days left in Uganda on my fingers now- 12 days.... Days that will mostly be filled with work and the last few things I want to do before I go- some shopping, getting my hair done, visiting the orphanage, going to dinner with friends. Walter is going home to Zimbabwe for a visit to his family next week, so I'll have to say a premature goodbye to him. Sad! But at least Hannah will be back from the UK next week and we'll be able to hang out. I missed that girl these last couple of weeks.

I've budgeted my remaining Ugandan shillings to the last cent. I really don't want to have to exchange any more money. I hope things don't end up costing more than I estimate!! I'm guessing it will cost about 30,000 shillings ($15) to have my hair done in dread locks, and then another 30,000 for the basket I want to buy.... I should start making a list of everything, instead of just organizing it in my head.

By the way, I'm reading "The Prince of Tides" right now, which is also an excellent book. This has been a summer of good readin' so far!

The dirt sneaks into every pore, tinting my skin a rusty hue. One day it's the result of slogging through the heavy mud that apparently blankets every roadside in this country. The next day it comes from a more devious source: the seemingly innocuous air. The gentle summer breeze blowing in off the lake is, in reality, a fine cloud of dust winging its way across the country, in search of fertile resting grounds. I stand under the spray of the shower and watch rivulets of thick brown water run down my legs and pool around my feet. I thought I had a tan, but a little soap and water reveals that it's only a tan of the temporary sort. I call it getting a little Ugandan sun.

I begin to think that Mother Nature knew what she was doing by giving our African neighbors skin that cleverly hides the layers of dirt at the end of the day.

I'm confronting the fact that this is going to be a year of becoming a close acquaintance with the dirt of our planet- and that's not in a figurative sense. My shoes, which have already faded from blue to mottled gray, will undoubtedly be unrecognizable once I return to the manicured streets of suburban America. That is, if they make it that far.

On Saturday, after we went to the orphanage we went with Naheed to an Ismaili celebration at the mosque in Kampala(for those of you who don't know, Ismaili is a "branch" of Islam- it is quite widespread in East Africa. Many of the Indians here are Ismaili). It was some kind of special celebration for something that I never quite figured out. The funniest part was when a bunch of little kids in the community performed some dances- they were sooo cute. Some of these kids were about the same age as the orphans we had spent time with earlier that day. Amazing the difference that growing up in a happy family environment makes in a kid's confidence....

Random experience of the day: I ate my first "Ugandan eggroll"- it was a boiled egg wrapped in a layer of mashed potatoes. very strange.

A lot of people have been asking me about Bush's recent visit to Uganda, and the reaction over here. So here are my thoughts:

Reaction to Bush's trip... well, its certainly not anything monumental. I think most Ugandans don't really care and see it more as a publicity stunt and political maneuvre to advance his own personal agendas, and not anything special for Uganda. He was here for something like 6 hours, gave a speech, watched some people dance and sing for him... some people here love America and support Bush, but probably more think he's a bully and not really out for the good of the world. Most people associate him exclusively with the recent wars against terrorism, which they did not support. No one here supports terrorism of course, but they think going to war was totally unjustified. I've heard quite a few jokes about Bush going around certain circles here- for ex. there is a consensus among many Ugandan men that he's a bit of a sissy because he isn't taking advantage of Clintonesque presidential perks. There's a bit of a different approach to such "moral" issues over here! In fact, I've yet to meet a Ugandan who didn't like Clinton.

Well, that's about all I can say! His visit didn't exactly make waves- maybe more of a gentle lapping effect.

Dancing at Club Silk, a scant few hours of sleep, and we were up early Saturday morning. I had to go to work in the morning and try to get a couple of things accomplished-- unsuccessfully-- and then we met up with Naheed to go to Owino Market and do some shopping for the orphans. Naheed spent the last week in Kampala volunteering at an orphanage and at a local school. Actually, my friend Hannah arranged for Naheed to help out at the orphanage. When he first went to the orphanage he was so appalled by how destitute the children's lives were that he sent out a plea to friends and family back in Canada to donate what they could to make these children's lives just a little more comfortable. The generosity that flowed forth was astounding! Naheed collected quite a large some of money in just a couple of days, so we had to decide how to spend it- to decide what the children needed most.

There are 20 children, ranging in age from a few weeks old to around 5 years old, who live in a house with no electricity, no water, none of the simple things that we consider a "necessity" in our everyday lives. They have simple, wooden beds, but no mattresses. Scraps of chewed up and stained foam serve as a mattress, if anything at all. The whole house has a stagnant, slightly sour smell, no doubt from a thousand bed wettings and no effective means to exorcise the smell. Half the children sleep on the bare planks, with not even a sheet to cover them. They have no shoes. Most of them have no pants, although perhaps a threadbare, filthy shirt hangs from their thin shoulders. Probably 30% of the children have AIDS. They have no medicine.

There are four wonderful women who work at the orphanage. These women live the same desperate lives as the children, but they give what little they can. The orphanage is entirely funded by a local man, who rents the house for them and provides basic necessities.

So what to buy for these orphans? They needed so much, where to even start? We decided to go out and buy mattresses, blankets, and sheets for all 20 children and the 4 women who took care of them.

When looking for anything, Owino Market is the place to go. So we wound our way through the labyrinth of stalls, past scheming hawkers pushing their wares in our direction, until we found our way to the "bedding" section of the market. As in much of the world, shopping in Uganda can be quite a process- for lack of a better word. It takes skill and perseverence to arrive at a reasonable price without aborting the deal mid-bargain, and walking away grumbling beneath one's breath. After some time, involving much charm and pleading with our new "friends," we managed to procure three hefty bags filled with sheets and blankets. We added to this a couple of bags of toys and coloring books, and we were on our way.

Arriving at the gates of the orphanage, conscious of our rather awkward role as unexpected, but much needed, Santa Clauses, we deposited our gifts in the front room of the house. The women, thanking us profusely and smilingly so happily, made me feel gratified, yet at the same time more aware of the yawning schism stretching between the poor and the rich of this world than ever before. In the States, I would never by any stretch of the imagination consider myself rich. But compared with these children, I live like royalty. And how much of my material world is really necessary to my happiness? Realistically, very little. It is enough to have a warm place to lay my head, food to keep me from going hungry, a little intellectual stimulation... Just imagine, there are so many people in the world that don't even have these very, very basic comforts. And, in some ways, these kids are the lucky ones. At least they have a roof over their heads, instead of having to wander the streets at night...

So we left the blankets and headed back out to find some mattresses. There was a mattress shop down by the Old Taxi Park that was able to fill our demands, and a young man who worked there even loaded the mattresses into his truck and gave us a lift back up to the orphanage (riding high on top of the mattresses in the back of the truck, I got quite a few shocked looks from passers-by. Apparently, seeing a white woman riding as such is akin to seeing a monkey driving a motorbike).

This time we stayed at the orphanage to play with the children. Those children are some of the most beautiful and well-behaved children I have ever seen! They never cry and always wait patiently for their turn to participate in the activity of the moment. They always listen and obey when anyone tells them to do something. I think the child in them never had the chance to really see the light of the world. Instead, it is the wisdom of a person who has seen and suffered much that shines through their eyes and echoes in their unnatural silence. Even the 6 week-old baby, when nestled in my arms, stared mutely up at me through vague, yet simulataneously all-knowing, eyes.

You can tell that they crave human touch and loving. The favorite game was "pick me up and put me down." Each child waits patiently for his turn to be lifted high off the ground in your arms, and put down 5 seconds later. I think they could play this game all day long if given the chance. Their faces light up with uncontained glea and gurgling laughter bounces off the walls. You should have seen when LaRuan introduced them to piggy back rides! Running around the garden, with three tiny little bodies at a time hanging off his back, they squealed with joy and clamored for more...

We will go back next week. Naheed left some of the donation money with us, so we'll be able to find some clothes for the children, and in doing so, hopefully be able to help fill a few more of their basic needs. Besides, I want to give what time I can to bring a few more smiles to their faces.

Have I mentioned that my boogers are black? I wonder what color that would make my lungs... The only other time this ever happened to me was in Manila. I don't think the pollution in Kampala is nearly as bad as Manila, but still, it can get overwhelming at times. I wonder why I didn't notice it so much in Bangkok, or say Cairo, which are supposedly much worse than here?

Last night was fun. We went out to the one and only Thai restaurant in town, and then to a bar that has live jazz music on Wednesdays. I've never seen so many mezungus (the oft-used phrase meaning "white person") in one place here in Uganda! It was a bit overwhelming actually. It makes me appreciate even more the fact that I am having a unique experience living with a Ugandan family.

It's so dark right now that it feels like night. I sit at my computer in the small rooftop library, waiting expectantly for the heavy stillness to break, and the rain to come pouring from the clouds.... the lights flicker, fighting against blackout, and there it is- the soft patter of raindrops on the tin roof becomes a heavy roar. The roof takes the sound and sends it reverberating through the entire building. The everyday droan of the workplace is drowned out in the river coming down from the sky. I can't help but take my eyes from the computer screen and stare out at the smear of watercolored landscape over the roof.

The power's out again. typical. At least we have a generator that will last for a short while. Hopefully the power will be back before it all dies. I want to be super productive today- progress with the paper and get things finalized with the 2004 brochure that I'm working on. Not much exciting to report- just boring work stuff.

Another weekend, another adventure. That was not meant to sound banal, but rather, a statement of life at the moment. Although for some reason today I have been in one of those boredom funks. Don't ask me why. I just got back from a fabulous weekend in Rwanda.

When I first got here I sat down and made a list of all the places I would like to visit during my weekends in Uganda. Thus far, I have managed to visit most of the places on that list: Sipi Falls, Jinja, Ssese Islands, and now, Kigali.

We made reservations for the bus to Kigali for 6am Friday morning. It was one of your typical coaches that you can find anywhere in the States- although a bit more cramped. Luckily, we had the front row, so we were riding in style:) Lots of leg room, and a splendid view of the blurring landscape as we flew past. As Naheed pointed out, this bus ride was like a huge road trippin group of young Ugandans. Imagine 50 or so people crammed onto a bus that is BLASTING Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera over the loudspeakers for hours on end. Not to mention Celine Dion. Why, oh why, must she be so popular in Uganda?

After a bit of a tussle at the border- LaRuan's visa to Uganda was all screwy for some reason, and they didn't want to let him leave- we arrived in Kigali around 2pm. Surprisingly, John Bosco, a guy who was a participant at one of the ILI-Uganda training courses, was there to meet us. This guy, JB, was nice, but he did spend a little too much time trying to convert us... Half the people I meet in Africa seem to be Born Again Christians. This can range from the general Christian church-going nice person, to the obsessive trying-to-preach-to-everyone type. It gets a bit tiring. I guess I'm just not very tolerant of people trying to force their religion onto others.

So we didn't actually do much on Friday in Kigali. JB walked us around town a bit, but there was nothing to do because it was a holiday and the place was dead. We were turned away by some nuns at the mission when we sought a room (aren't nuns supposed to be nice and charitable to poor backpackers?) Actually, I have a strong suspicion that JB said something rather offensive to the nuns- he's a bit righteous in his religious beliefs. Well, things turned out better anyway because we found a small, and very reasonable hotel. I even got the "ladies discount" for sharing a room with a male. ha ha. Actually, LaRuan and Walter had to pay more because they were two males sharing a room- of course, we dubbed it the "gay tax."

Visiting Rwanda gave me a chance to dust off my rusty French skills. I didn't do too bad actually- although my vocab has definitely disintegrated. I also found some of the Rwandans quite difficult to understand because they seemed to merge the local language into French at times. It's not nearly as "sexy" as the French spoken in other areas of the world...

On Saturday we went to Butare, a city in the south, close to the border with Burundi. There, we were able to visit the National Museum and buy some really cool crafts at the boutique. Rwanda, on the whole, was a lot more expensive than Uganda, but these crafts- wood carvings, baskets, etc- were way less expensive than anything you'd find in Uganda. Kind of strange actually. The other reason we went to Butare was because LaRuan thought there was a massacre site that could be visited. Maybe there was, but we definitely didn't see it... It's a bit of a morbid thing to do while travelling, but I really think it is worthwhile to visit such sites in order to learn about the horrors of humanity, and not to repeat them (I know, I'm idealistic) in the future...

We ended the weekend in Rwanda by visiting New Cadillac- "the" nightclub in Kigali. Now, most of you know that I'm not really that big on going dancing all the time, but it is soooo fun here! Africans really know how to dance- or more exactly, to shake their asses. It's amazing really- it's almost like they can isolate only those muscles and disconnect it from the rest of their bodies. All of the music videos, Tv, the media... every music video must have at least ten or so close-ups of some ass shaking. In fact, the really popular show here- "Big Brother Africa"- actually features a "shower hour" where the people on the show are featured taking showers. Can you imagine if they showed that on Big Brother UK?!

I've got ants in my pants. Literally. I keep feeling little itchy bites. Just when I think I've killed them all, another one attacks. This is the second time in my life I've had this lovely experience. I must have stepped on an ant hill on the side of the road somewhere... Of late I've had a lot of contact with little, red ants. For example, the morning we woke up at the beach on Ssese Islands, the whole beach was swarming with ants. Of course, we were determined to go swimming, and ran yelping past the ants into the lake.

Work is out of control. Deadlines and more deadlines. No time to work on my gender report. Will I be able to get it done???

I am taking a "break" from work by leaving by the very-early hour of 6pm tonight to meet friends and go bowling. Hmm, it'll be time to remember how much I suck at bowling. I think in order to be good at bowling people need to be weird bowling freaks who join leagues and go everyday. No offense to anyone out there who's in a bowling league...

Went to an Ethiopian place for dinner last night. Ethiopian food is so good. I think I could eat it everyday. My fave foods are probably: 1) Thai, 2) Indian, 3) Greek, 4) Japanese, 5) Ethiopian, 6) American Southwest, 7) "real" Italian, 8) Middle Eastern (Lebanese, Egyptian), 9) Swiss, 10) Vietnamese.... If something really good is not on the list, it's probably because I haven't had it yet! Spanish, Moroccan, and Chinese rank high, but probably not the top ten. Ugandan food isn't that great- pretty bland and boring on the whole. I do like the fried grasshoppers though. I've revised my description of them a bit- now I think they taste more like shrimpy popcorn. Oh, so anyway, the reason that I mentioned our Ethiopian dinner last night is because Mama Maria has arranged for the cook from the restaurant to come to her place next weekend and teach us all to cook Ethiopian! I'm excited- it's so fun to learn to cook different ethnic cuisines:)