tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50666437788774086122024-02-21T08:10:31.087-08:00Jesse UnstuckJesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-69598439209315563952013-01-28T22:43:00.001-08:002013-01-29T00:57:50.923-08:00How to Travel the World<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> This is not
a comprehensive guide on how to travel the world, I'm not experienced or motivated enough to write that. Plus it wouldn't fit in one blog post. But it is how </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>I've</i></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">travelled</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> the world. </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> been to 5
continents and 22 countries (adding two more in the next couple of months)
since leaving home for the first time eight years ago. Here’s how I've done it, and
how you can too:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%;">1) Get university
credits for <o:p></o:p></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">travelling</span></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> <span style="font-size: small;">Are
you in university or college? Thinking of going? Depending on your school and
program of choice, you may be able to get university credits overseas. At my
university they offer programs called Study Tours, which give students the
opportunity to travel to such varying places as New York, India, Mexico,
Ecuador, and many more. These study tours are available for students studying a
range of topics, from geography to biology to art to fashion design. They allow
groups of students (anywhere from 10-25 at a time) to travel to other parts of
the world and actually </span><i>see</i><span style="font-size: small;"> what it is
they are studying, with an instructor or two there to explain everything (which
is clearly better than reading about it in a textbook). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> In
university I majored in Geography and International Issues, with an extended
minor in Latin American Studies. This allowed for a lot of studying overseas.
The first time I got on a plane I was headed to Spain for a month on one of
these study tours. It was that trip that ignited my passion for travel, and for
the rest of my university career I took every opportunity I had to get my
credits while </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">travelling</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> I studied volcanoes, geomorphology, religion and city
planning across three <a href="http://www.ufv.ca/geography/Programs/Stu_Sch/Hawaii_Study_Tour_2007.htm" target="_blank">Hawaiian</a> islands. I learned about glaciation, super
volcanoes, forest fires, and the history of national parks in Grand Teton and
<a href="http://www.ufv.ca/geography/Programs/Stu_Sch/Yellowstone_Adventure_in_Geography.htm" target="_blank">Yellowstone</a>. I saw firsthand the effect of rising sea levels and wave action
all down the Washington coast. I spent a month in <a href="http://www.ufv.ca/geography/Programs/Stu_Sch/Mexico_Study_Tour_2008.htm" target="_blank">Mexico</a> experiencing the
vibrant culture, drinking tequila that’s actually </span></span><i style="line-height: 115%;">good</i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> (and learning why), exploring countless Aztec ruins, and
discovering religions I </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> even know existed. All in the name of education.
I probably got about 30% of my university credits this way. And I learned a
million times more than I would have sitting in a classroom. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMfwBwcz3o9qidM2umBFf3Qg9Yo2vhyphenhyphenckcsYEzl4x4uAKYRykxBExJyfcQa2DUIW6Mb_skCW4Xkkt-MUHhQJLRm1kNebRttWs4L4TU311wB3DWrVgj4soWf7Whf_2A3PwVoQS3_Ih5Ma1M/s1600/115_22856840400_4_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMfwBwcz3o9qidM2umBFf3Qg9Yo2vhyphenhyphenckcsYEzl4x4uAKYRykxBExJyfcQa2DUIW6Mb_skCW4Xkkt-MUHhQJLRm1kNebRttWs4L4TU311wB3DWrVgj4soWf7Whf_2A3PwVoQS3_Ih5Ma1M/s320/115_22856840400_4_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, this is school</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> So don’t
think you have to wait until you’re done school to start </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">travelling</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Do your
research and find out of your school offers similar programs. I promise you won’t
regret it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b>2) Do an
Internship</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"> Again,
something you can do as part of your education. An overseas internship may be
offered through your university for credits or you can find your own and just
use it to pad your resume and experience. Many internships are either partly or
fully funded, it’s just a matter of finding them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">This depends
on your area of interest, but if you want to avoid doing an internship in an office
building down the street it’s a good idea to look at your country’s
international development agency. Canadians can find many international
internship opportunities through the <a href="http://www.acdi-cida.gc.ca/internships" target="_blank">Canadian International Development Agency</a>
(CIDA), <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">while
Americans should be able to find them through the <a href="http://www.usaid.gov/work-usaid/careers/hiring-mechanisms/student-internships" target="_blank">US Agency for InternationalDevelopment</a> (USAID). </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">Another good
option is <a href="http://www.aiesec.org/cms/aiesec/AI/students/International_Internship.html" target="_blank">AISEC</a>,</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> a global student-run organization that can help you find funded internships in
the areas of development, management, education and engineering/technical.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">A couple years ago I had the opportunity to do an internship
in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, organized by my alma mater. I’d already graduated
at this time, but it was easier to do an internship through the university and
having that support system rather than trying to find my own and going in alone
and blind. I spent three months interning at a non-profit organization called
Women Fund Tanzania, and learned so much more about the country and its people
than I would have just travelling there on my own. I also volunteered at <a href="http://kidzcareafrica.org/childrens-home.html" target="_blank">KidzCare Tanzania</a>, a children's home and nursery school which I </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">wouldn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> have known about it were not for the connection made by my
university. After my internship I spent a month travelling around Kenya and
Zambia on my own, something I would have been terrified of doing alone had I
not already been living in Africa for the last three months. Scared to travel
alone? Do an internship or volunteer in the area first, you’ll soon get over
your fear!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMO3zqhP9aJFj7-h1ji7evY_XunMbjbtEGWlvE3JWEh6U9hnv5jlp64QtHVUwC1VsPi_7i3sPDhhEUhjwBrWUlHufayrG9MFWp65Lv-VCIprHKg8S4CeLDixok-srhrDbDWBXAPSV_8WFL/s1600/251162_10150666556440393_1388203_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMO3zqhP9aJFj7-h1ji7evY_XunMbjbtEGWlvE3JWEh6U9hnv5jlp64QtHVUwC1VsPi_7i3sPDhhEUhjwBrWUlHufayrG9MFWp65Lv-VCIprHKg8S4CeLDixok-srhrDbDWBXAPSV_8WFL/s320/251162_10150666556440393_1388203_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With some of the KidzCare boys</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">PS: Because of the internship I did in Tanzania I am going
back to Africa for another internship this year, this time in Kenya. Make those
connections and opportunity will abound! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b>3) Work on a Cruise Ship</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">In late 2011 I decided I needed a paying job that allowed me
to travel, so I applied to work on a cruise ship. I had applied to work at the
shore excursions desk on board, thinking that since </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> done all these things
I would be the perfect person to sell them! Well I </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> get hired to sell
shore excursions but I did get hired as a youth </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">counsellor</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> (kind of like a camp </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">counsellor</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> at sea). The only experience I had working with kids was some high
school work experience at an elementary school, a little bit of coaching and my
time spent volunteering at KidzCare Tanzania, but that was enough. The great thing
about being hired as a youth </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">counsellor</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> is that it’s a seasonal position: I’m
only needed when kids are on breaks from school, so I don’t need to spend nine
months at a time at sea. My first time at sea was one week in the Caribbean for
spring break. My second contract was three months cruising between Seattle and
Alaska in the summer. And I’ll be returning to the Caribbean for a month this
spring. Winter contracts are available too, but I chose to skip out this year
and spend Christmas at home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Don’t enjoy working with children?
There are plenty of other options at sea. Cruise ships need people with retail
experience to work in the shops, servers, cooks, and busboys to work in the
restaurants, bartenders in the nightclubs and bars, dancers, singers, musicians,
and other entertainers in the shows. They need security guards, maintenance
workers, lighting and sound technicians, </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">DJs</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> fitness instructors, hotel
employees. Engineers and sailors. You name it; you can do it on a cruise ship
(almost). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Pay varies between cruise lines
(some great, some not so great) and also varies depending on the country you
reside in based on cost of living, e.g. North Americans are paid more than
someone from the Philippines. Flights to and from the port are paid for by the
cruise line, as is a hotel room if required before you board the ship. On board
you’ll be given a (very small) cabin which you’ll usually share with a roommate
and all meals will be free. Alcoholic drinks </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">aren't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> free but they are damn
cheap in the crew bar! Shore excursions are also free, you just need to request
them ahead of time and hope you get something good. On my last contract in
Alaska I did over US$2000 worth of free excursions, including things like
snorkelling, </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">zip-lining</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> whale watching, wildlife parks, rafting, etc. And with
all these things being free, I was able to save basically all the money I made!
To spend on more travel of course. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBslEbAasEscVxspOMQRI9b-eujxt6UxdzZJjwoN_mpYZ1QdfWnf913DT8zGx181WRAmd-bIxg3T1SodulKBCYNxGOycLTIzEm6W1EpYb6U2VQp5p_rTctOHA1t5a1G-l5edOrIlHx4mNe/s1600/580933_3680354741612_895786082_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBslEbAasEscVxspOMQRI9b-eujxt6UxdzZJjwoN_mpYZ1QdfWnf913DT8zGx181WRAmd-bIxg3T1SodulKBCYNxGOycLTIzEm6W1EpYb6U2VQp5p_rTctOHA1t5a1G-l5edOrIlHx4mNe/s320/580933_3680354741612_895786082_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearly excited about free food on board</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b>4) Teach
English</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Did you know that you don’t need to commit to a yearlong
contract to teach English overseas? Neither did I until recently. I had always
been interested in teaching English, I even studied for my TEFL certificate,
but I </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">didn't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> want to sign a yearlong contract then go to the other side of the
world and absolutely hate it. Every English teaching position I looked into
seemed to have a yearlong contract attached to it, which is all well and good
if you know you enjoy teaching. But I </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> have a clue if I would even like
it, so I </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">hadn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> pursued any positions seriously until I came across a company
that hires teachers for English camps. I discovered <a href="http://englishbeyondborders.org/" target="_blank">English Beyond Borders</a>
(EBB) through a friend that had worked with
them, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. In South Korea students have
a month break in summer and a month break in winter. During these breaks some
of the universities put on English Camps, where the students come for two to
four weeks and learn the English language from a native speaker. The university
that EBB works with will fly English teachers to South Korea, put them up in a
dorm on campus, and pay for all meals (in the cafeteria) while they’re teaching,
plus provide an acceptable </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">pay cheque</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> They even allow teachers to fly home up
to a month after their contract is finished, to allow time to explore the
country. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> I
just did this for the first time this January and, besides the bitter cold, I
absolutely loved it. I taught for about two weeks and then hung out in Seoul
for another five days or so, although I could have stayed longer. Flights paid
for only two weeks of work? Yes please! I am definitely applying next winter if
something else </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">doesn't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> come up. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Eg29tp7oYfqAaOJcbORlMhSe2Jc33aOE2aaOcP2eTTleo-skMIYpBR2cDQ1FHsjfcnDCQY16eOQPm_x8qJi4Ra7Jfx3aSmDBDZmDPossSSq9RwIuPH-Wbv00PXkWFWLOC4TfYhfL47R2/s1600/2017_10152417395965401_1166648414_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Eg29tp7oYfqAaOJcbORlMhSe2Jc33aOE2aaOcP2eTTleo-skMIYpBR2cDQ1FHsjfcnDCQY16eOQPm_x8qJi4Ra7Jfx3aSmDBDZmDPossSSq9RwIuPH-Wbv00PXkWFWLOC4TfYhfL47R2/s320/2017_10152417395965401_1166648414_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My Korean students and I</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> You don’t need any teaching
experience for this job (I </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">didn't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> have any), but you do need be a native
English speaker from an English speaking country and have at least a bachelor’s
degree. </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b>5) Strap on
a backpack and get out there! </b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"> No excuses, if you want to travel
just do it. I did two big backpacking trips, one around South East Asia and one
around South America, all on the money I saved selling TVs and video games at Wal-Mart.
If an underpaid Wal-Mart associate can do it, so can you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD00Gf2WbAHWCW5bMs3mQb24ebTK8MFP4exlpG9WpIRqB16baaD_zsF4TFENJqhFbVRp9jfOuJ5gbiFv-H6Sb3jhn_-vqmgOrjrPMlOt1MlTlgMfLkXteQc3dR9sHxFVt1d6pcK-nYrkDT/s1600/734307_10152367636040401_1549009967_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD00Gf2WbAHWCW5bMs3mQb24ebTK8MFP4exlpG9WpIRqB16baaD_zsF4TFENJqhFbVRp9jfOuJ5gbiFv-H6Sb3jhn_-vqmgOrjrPMlOt1MlTlgMfLkXteQc3dR9sHxFVt1d6pcK-nYrkDT/s400/734307_10152367636040401_1549009967_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You too could pretend to march into a giant Pringles can in the Salar de Uyuni</td></tr>
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Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-733502630811737262012-01-08T01:09:00.000-08:002012-11-25T21:48:04.656-08:00On Board for the FutureI am taking part in <a href="http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/12-01/join-bootsnalls-indie-travel-challenge-2012.html" target="_blank">Bootsnall's 2012 Indie Travel Challenge</a>, in which they are posting a different prompt, question, or challenge every week for all of 2012. This week they want us to post our 2012 Indie Travel List. Part resolutions list, part bucket list, it's meant to help us focus our travel plans so we can take concrete steps toward achieving our goals.<br />
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<br />
The other night a group of girlfriends and I got together with a stack of magazines, scissors, glue sticks, and a few bottles of wine, and envisioned what it was we wanted for our future. We cut out images that fit our vision of the future and we each created our own "vision board", a visual reminder of what we want out of life. Some of their vision boards had images of nice homes, families, or wealth. Mine, inevitably, was a little more global in perspective (maybe because I only buy travel magazines):<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKeK1N_NFTFq-oL280cbcv9_nYtnsJNM3CzzKETbCCIN9heOWzBU3A1PO7DK2auf5Ixj0M_k-ZUuyJPkieiriGSbw2XWGX3htn6oG75Lh8jFj6d6BQmEBhlG_64ydhsnYiYMGx0stJLRtS/s1600/415703_10151114233270401_566755400_21763752_182332846_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKeK1N_NFTFq-oL280cbcv9_nYtnsJNM3CzzKETbCCIN9heOWzBU3A1PO7DK2auf5Ixj0M_k-ZUuyJPkieiriGSbw2XWGX3htn6oG75Lh8jFj6d6BQmEBhlG_64ydhsnYiYMGx0stJLRtS/s400/415703_10151114233270401_566755400_21763752_182332846_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My vision board</td></tr>
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I tried looking through magazines the other girls had brought, and nothing appealed to me. Images of babies, bedroom sets and wedded bliss just didn't fit my vision. So it looks a life of travel for me, and I am just fine with that.<br />
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Below is a list of my goals for the future in relation to the vision board above. Some of these are part of my travel bucket list, others are just general goals. And they're not necessarily just for this year, as I'm not sure how much travelling I'll be able to do this year. I figure if I have my goals displayed on my vision board <i>and</i> on my blog, I will be more motivated to achieve them. Here's hoping.<br />
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1. Go to Guatemala and learn Spanish. Properly. This is a dream I've had for a long time and I resolve to do it. If I can manage it, I <i>will</i> do it in 2012. A friend of mine is planning a trip to Nicaragua this year, so I may tag along and head to Guatemala on my own afterwards.<br />
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2. Volunteer abroad/work overseas. I've already done this, but I plan to do more of it. Maybe teaching English? I want to find a job that I LOVE and look forward to going to every day.<i> (UPDATE: In January 2013 I will be teaching English in Seoul, S. Korea. Maybe I'll love it?)</i><br />
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3. Go back to Africa. If all works out, this could be happening next year. Included in this goal is trekking into Bwindi Impenetrable Forest in Uganda and seeing the gorillas. And visiting Madagascar. I think my life would then be complete. <i>(UPDATE: In February 2013 I'm going back to Tanzania as an intern and research assistant)</i><br />
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4. Take a trip on a boat. Anywhere. Preferably somewhere tropical, but I'm not picky. After sailing on the wooden dhows in Zanzibar and Lamu last year, I think I'm in love. <i>(UPDATE: As of March 2012 I work on a cruise ship so this is technically completed. But I was thinking more sail boat than cruise ship.)</i><br />
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5. Go to India. I have dreams of Varanasi that will not leave me alone.<br />
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6. Ride in a hot air balloon. Preferably in Turkey.<br />
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7. Go to Colombia. Sleep in a hammock in Tayrona National Park. Trek to the Lost City. Communicate in fluent Spanish after perfecting it in Guatemala.<br />
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8. Learn to surf and scuba dive. I think Australia sounds like a good place for both.<br />
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9. Buy a better camera and improve my photography skills. Last year I lost one camera (most likely after too many beers at a Vancouver Canucks game) and another was stolen in Nairobbery...I'm presently taking blurry photos with my Blackberry. <i>(UPDATE: Some photos I took in Tanzania will be on display at a local gallery in December, guess my skills are alright!)</i><br />
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10. Get those tattoos I've been thinking about: dragonfly for my grandparents; pink star for Chantelle, my very dear friend that passed away; and Nazca lines just because I love Peru. Now that this is out there in cyberspace I have to actually do it right?<br />
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11. See penguins and glaciers in Antarctica. A friend and I have decided to do this for our 30th birthdays. Better start saving now.<br />
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12. Get healthy and happy. I'm going to start by hiking more. I live in the mountains, so I don't really have an excuse not to.<br />
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There we have it, 12 goals for 2012 and beyond. What are your goals for this year, travel related or otherwise?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://bna-art.s3.amazonaws.com/www.bootsnall.com/articles/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/indiechallenge.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This post is part of Bootsnall's 2012 Indie Travel Challenge</td></tr>
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<br />Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-87742619629435127302011-11-07T02:54:00.000-08:002011-11-07T02:54:56.558-08:00Screw FearI'm taking part in <a href="http://www.bootsnall.com/" target="_blank">BootsnAll's</a> <a href="http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/11-10/join-the-30-days-of-indie-travel-project.html" target="_blank">30 Days of Indie Travel Project</a>, in which they are inviting bloggers from around the world to join them in a daily blogging effort reflecting on our past travel experiences.<br />
Today is Day 6 and the topic is FEAR:<br />
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People are always telling me how brave I am to travel to all these "exotic" and "scary" places. They always say, "oh, I could never do the things you do, I'd be too afraid". I've had people tell me that they're afraid to stay in a hostel. Really? What exactly is scary about a hostel? You know that movie wasn't real, right? <br />I don't consider myself all that brave, yet I often find myself doing things other people are too "afraid" to do.<br />For me, travel is not about being brave. It's not about overcoming my fears, although that is certainly a part of it sometimes. I see it like this: I want to do something, so I am going to do it. It's that simple. Sure, I get scared sometimes. But that's not going to stop me from exploring the world and experiencing everything that I want to experience. Even if I have to do it on my own because everyone else is too scared to come with me.<br />Everybody gets scared, but that shouldn't stop you from doing a single thing you desire to do. And besides, <i>travelling is not scary</i>. Get out of your damn comfort zone for once.<br />
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<br />I'm going to tell you about just a few of the somewhat scary things that have happened to me, and how they have not changed my desire to get out of my comfort zone one single bit. These are not in any particular order.<br />
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1. On my first day in Malindi, Kenya, I was talking to this guy named Nero about the things I planned to see and do while I was there. I mentioned that I wanted to go see these particular ruins outside of town, but I didn't know how to get there. So Nero offered to take me there on his motorcycle. I was a little hesitant at first because I had just met this guy, but I finally agreed because I like free transportation and he seemed nice enough. He drove me out to these ruins and then took me to the little beach town of Watamu (which was incredibly beautiful). He even took me into the village where I met his mother, brothers and baby sisters, all living in a little mud house. And we went to his dad's bar, where I got to try munazi, the local palm wine. I went all over the Malindi area with him and saw places tourists rarely see. And then things got weird. I went back to my guesthouse and told him to call me later about a reggae show he had mentioned. I almost immediately passed out due to a long day and when I awoke hours later I had a bunch of missed calls from him and a few irate text messages. Then I heard yelling outside. I peeked out my window and there was Nero yelling at the man at the front desk, who was smart enough to keep the front door locked at all times. I decided right then that I wanted nothing more to do with this guy, put my headphones on, and tried to go back to sleep. In the morning the man at the desk told me that Nero had been threatening him because he wouldn't come upstairs to let me know he was there. He even tried to fight a security guard. He said this went on for quite a while, but he stood his ground and I'm glad he did. That guest house employee was my new best friend.<br />
I avoided Nero for my last couple days in Malindi, but it's not like I wish I hadn't met him or anything. If I had been too scared to get on that motorcycle I would have missed out on all those experiences. I wouldn't have seen the beautiful beaches of Watamu and got a lovely henna design on my arm, I wouldn't have gone through villages where all the children chased after and yelled "<i>ciao</i>!" at me instead of "<i>jambo</i>", I wouldn't even know what munazi is. So, even though things got scary a little later, I don't at all regret getting on Nero's motorcycle. And I'm sure I will hitch a ride with a stranger again if it means I get a free tour. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watamu Beach</td></tr>
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2. I have always loved baboons. I don't know what it is, but they are one of my favourite animals. So when I was at Victoria Falls in Zambia I was delighted to see dozens of baboons of all sizes all over the place. I assumed they must be used to people since the area was crawling with tourists, so I didn't hesitate to get within feet of them. Well, actually I kind of had to because they were crowding the pathways. After strolling among baboons for a while I stopped to take a picture of a particularly large one sitting on a fence. As I was taking the picture he growled at me a little bit so I backed up. As I backed up another even larger baboon came from the side and jumped on me. I screamed and he grabbed my bag, which was attached to me, and tried to make off with it. I had to fight this baboon for my bag for what felt like minutes (it was probably only a few seconds). Finally he let go and ran away but he ripped the front of my bag nearly off. Shaken, I quickly left for an area with fewer baboons and none of them bothered me again. I'm just happy it was my bag he ripped and not a body part, because that guy was strong and could have done some serious damage like ripping my arm off. I still like baboons, I just think that was a particularly evil one.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The picture I took just before I was attacked</td></tr>
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3. I was in Melaka, Malaysia, wandering around the night market with my friend Jodie when I noticed this man that seemed to be standing either at the same table as us or one table over for the last while. I thought I must be imagining it, but as we moved around between vendors he was always close by. Finally I discretely pointed him out to Jodie and we decided to lose him. We pushed into a crowd of people and made our way to a different section of the market, but this time he was clearly following us. He saw us look back straight at him and he knew we were on to him. He started walking faster toward us and we pushed our way faster through the crowd, worried about what exactly this man wanted. We dashed into a brightly lit store and then out a second entrance that took us out onto a side street. We wanted to just leave the area altogether and get away from this guy, but we didn't want him following us home so we stopped at a cafe to wait it out. While we were eating a delicious piece of cake we saw him walk by the cafe, probably looking for us or some other foreign girls to harass or who knows what else. We waited for a while to make sure he was actually gone and then walked home, checking behind us the whole way. I have no idea why this man was following us, and I'm sure if he tried anything the people in the market would have done something, but that was definitely a scary few minutes of my life. Am I afraid to go back to Malaysia now and peruse night markets? Of course not, strange men could follow us anywhere.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEtyi6JCEkistTRQJhZih2PApWo-WMoCo2cBZC1rkLtDnVok7pXL8tY6F3TigcfJ6yLTLk1nGf6k-_xorCkDLLPfaWMI5eGZQnHxTWvNSqoybAklM4MDML956GWUh06BZzpNid3yIcyJb/s1600/n566755400_5071584_3200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEtyi6JCEkistTRQJhZih2PApWo-WMoCo2cBZC1rkLtDnVok7pXL8tY6F3TigcfJ6yLTLk1nGf6k-_xorCkDLLPfaWMI5eGZQnHxTWvNSqoybAklM4MDML956GWUh06BZzpNid3yIcyJb/s320/n566755400_5071584_3200.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melaka at night</td></tr>
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4. When I was in Thailand I paid for a bus to take me from the east coast to the west coast, where I was headed to Phuket. It was one of those mini buses that are usually reserved for tourists, and this one was filled with my friends and I plus a bunch of other backpackers. I think there were over ten in total. We got on the bus and drove for hours before stopping at a restaurant where they told us we would have to switch buses. OK, that was fine, it happens occasionally. So we waited, and waited, and waited, and then they told us that that bus wasn't coming and if we wanted to get to Phuket that night we would have to pay for another bus. The other travellers and I banded together and refused to pay again, so eventually the person who seemed to be in charge decided to take us to the office. At the office they told us a bus would be coming shortly, so we waited for a while. And then they told us that the bus wouldn't be there til morning so we had to get out of the office as they were closing. We didn't even know the name of the town we were in so there was no way we were going to go out there in the middle of the night and try to find a place to stay until morning. We argued this with the woman running the place and told her there was no way we were leaving that office and we wanted our money back, etc. And then we noticed the menacing-looking men with motorbikes standing at the entrance. As we noticed them a few of them pulled out what looked like broken table legs with nails in them from behind their bikes. And they stood there holding them, like they were threatening us with them. So we had this woman threatening to throw us on the street and these men on the street who looked ready to beat us with table legs. This was not a good situation. We discussed it with each other and finally agreed to just pay this woman again if she would get us to Phuket that night. It's not like it cost a lot, it was just the principle of the thing: we didn't want to pay for the same trip twice. But I would rather pay twice then get beaten up in some unknown town over a bus fare.<br />
Through this experience we made friends with the other backpackers on the bus and a bunch of us ended up going to Patong Beach, Phuket together. We got an awesome hotel there for a ridiculously low price thanks to one of the Aussies on the bus who was headed there, we drank altogether too much Sang Som and towers of beer and pretty much had an awesome time. If it weren't for those scamming bus people we would never have bonded like we did. So our negative situation turned into a positive.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bus scam crew</td></tr>
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Now some people will say, "see, travel is scary, these things will happen to me too!". But guess what? I've travelled through 5 continents and 17 countries and these are the most fear-inducing situations I can come up with off the top of my head. After these, and many other misadventures, I'm still alive and in one piece aren't I? I think that's all that matters. You can be scared of things all you want, but don't be afraid to live. I say screw fear, do what you want.Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com1Mission, BC V2V, Canada49.133714 -122.31128849.123324499999995 -122.331029 49.1441035 -122.29154700000001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-64938815487042878472011-11-04T16:16:00.000-07:002011-11-04T16:58:12.019-07:00Budget ShmudgetI'm taking part in <a href="http://www.bootsnall.com/" target="_blank">BootsnAll's</a> <a href="http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/11-10/join-the-30-days-of-indie-travel-project.html" target="_blank">30 Days of Indie Travel Project</a>, in which they are inviting bloggers from around the world to join them in a daily blogging effort reflecting on our past travel experiences.<br />
Today is Day 4 and the prompt is: MISTAKES - <em style="color: #070604; font-family: Arial, sans_serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Everyone makes mistakes. We forget to ask for Coke without ice in Mexico and spend the rest of the trip in the bathroom. Or we arrive at the airport for a 7pm flight only to realize the flight left at 7am. Tell us the story of your worst travel mistake.</em><br />
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I don't think I've made any major travel mistakes. Sure, I've made some errors or misjudgments here and there, but they just add to the adventure. Most of my small mistakes have had to do with money. Not bringing enough of it, not budgeting properly, etc.<br />
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Like the time I didn't think to bring any cash with me to Jamaica. I just brought my debit card, thinking this was a touristy place full of resorts, there will be an ATM somewhere to get cash out. Having travelled all over the world to places with dodgy or nonexistent ATMs, I really should have known better. I was staying in the small town of Negril (not in a resort), where there were actually a few ATMs....but they were all for local banks not on the Visa Plus or Cirrus network. There was one Scotiabank or some other big bank in town and when I found it there was a lineup ten people deep. When I finally got inside the building I was going to put my card in the machine when I heard a big boom and a crash and the lights went out. I went back outside and there was a power line down in the middle of the road. Awesome. Some locals told me that this had happened before and it would probably be a few days before they got it fixed. Luckily I was there with friends who were smart enough to bring cash and were happy to lend me money. It worked out okay I guess because I spent less money and it gave me an excuse to walk down the beach to town every couple days to check on the ATM, meeting interesting locals along the way.<br />
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When I was in Peru I again had to borrow money from a friend. This was more of a budgeting mistake though. I probably drank too much beer and had altogether too many good times in the months leading up to this, spending my money on things I had not budgeted for. But that's not a bad mistake is it? It just means I was enjoying myself. When I arrived in Cusco I went to pay for my Inca Trail trek, for which I was leaving the next morning, but I was over $100 short and the bank wouldn't let me take out any more. I gave them what I had and went in search of the guy I'd been travelling with. He was nice enough to lend me the money to cover it and then I had to make a phone call to my mom, asking her to send me some money. Damn, I hate doing that. By the end of my trip I had to get my mom to pay for my flight home too. But in the end I paid everybody back and I don't regret going over budget at all. Why travel all that way just to spend all your time worrying about money? Enjoy it, you never know when you'll be back again.<br />
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<br />Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com2Mission, BC, Canada49.133714 -122.31128849.123324499999995 -122.331029 49.1441035 -122.29154700000001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-10570406111975020492011-11-04T02:58:00.000-07:002011-11-04T16:57:48.277-07:00You Got a Fast Car, I Want a Ticket to AnywhereI'm taking part in <a href="http://www.bootsnall.com/" target="_blank">BootsnAll's</a> <a href="http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/11-10/join-the-30-days-of-indie-travel-project.html" target="_blank">30 Days of Indie Travel Project</a>, in which they are inviting bloggers from around the world to join them in a daily blogging effort reflecting on our past travel experiences. I don't think I'll be writing a post every day, just whenever a topic strikes my fancy.<br />
Today's prompt was MUSIC: "<em style="color: #070604; font-family: Arial, sans_serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Music and travel memories often go hand in hand. A song can inspire our explorations, or it can take us back to a specific place and time. Tell us about your travel playlist and what it means to you."</em><br />
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<em style="color: #070604; font-family: Arial, sans_serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"> </em><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There are many songs that I like to listen to while travelling, or that inspire me to get back on the road. But it's those songs that remind of a certain time and place in my life that will always be special to me. Most of these aren't songs that people would typically associate with travelling. Here are a few of those songs: </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Fast Car - Tracy Chapman</b></span></span><br />
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Ahh the Llama Fuckers: Kiel, Kurt, Guy, Hamsah, Dean, Kerry, Justin, and myself. Fast Car will forever remind me of travelling through South America with this awesome group of people. Our group was made up of Aussies, Kiwis, Canadians and an American. Some of us met in Argentina and we picked up the others in Chile, where we embarked on an epic trip through the Uyuni Salt flats and then through Bolivia up to La Paz. I'm not even sure which country we first started singing Fast Car in, but trying to remember the lyrics became an everyday occurrence. And we were terrible at it. One person would sing one line and forget the next one so someone else would have to chime in. After a few weeks we still hadn't made it past the first verse. </div>
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Wondering where we got a name like Llama Fuckers? Courtesy of a tour guide at the silver mines in Potosi, Bolivia. His name is Efra, look him up if you want to blow shit up in a mine and get a bad ass name like ours. </div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I Kissed a Girl - Katy Perry</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">It's not that I even like the song, because I am not a big Katy Perry fan. But it</span><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> will always remind me of my best friend Chantelle and a camping trip we took in the summer of 2008. We were camping out in the backwoods of British Columbia, at a place we like to call Moon Rock. To get there you have to drive up into the mountains on a logging road, way out in the middle of nowhere. After a couple of days spent there camping with friends Chantelle and I decided to go on a beer run, a trip that would probably take about an hour by car. We were driving too fast along this winding gravel road, listening to I Kissed a Girl and singing along at the top of our lungs, when we took a corner too fast and started spinning. The car ended up on its side in a ditch and there was no way we were getting it out. Because our cell phones had no service out there we had no way to call for help, so we started walking back to camp. At first Chantelle was crying about the car, but soon I had her laughing at the situation and we sang I Kissed a Girl as we walked back.<br />Chantelle passed away last year after moving to another province the year before. Now every time I hear this song I think of our last awesome summer spent doing everything together, and how it didn't matter that we were stuck out there in the wilderness far from everyone. Because we were both stuck out there with our best friend. </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Ice Cream Truck - Cazwell</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Earlier this year I went to Negril, Jamaica with a group of friends. We had three little cabins on the beach, all in a row. There were five of us girls and two guys. Ice Cream Truck was our wake up song. Well it was the girls' wake up song anyway, I'm not sure if the guys really appreciated it. Whoever woke up first in the morning put this song on at full volume so all three cabins could hear, often with the video. Who doesn't love waking up to hot guys with popsicles? At night we had dance parties to it. You can be sure the neighbours loved us. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Put Your Hands Up For Detroit - Fedde le Grand</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">When I was on the island of Phuket, in Thailand, my friends and I stayed in Patong beach with some people that we'd met while being scammed into paying for the same bus ride twice. We were threatened by thugs wielding broken table legs, it was quite the adventure. We went out to Patong's main party area, Bangla Road, with these fellow scammees (?). We spent the night bar hopping and I swear this song was playing all night, everywhere. It wasn't really, but it seemed like it through my Sang Som induced haze. I spent the next year or so wondering what the hell this song was. I had the beat in my head all the time, but I couldn't remember any of the words so of course I couldn't look it up. Then one day I was perusing YouTube for new music and I clicked on this video. I don't think I've ever been that excited about a music video where women are dancing in their underwear. Gotta love it when that happens. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><b>Low - Flo Rida</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Thailand, 2008: this song was everywhere. It was an assault on my ears and I couldn't escape it. It was playing on the radio, in clubs, at the full moon parties. We heard it blaring from almost every car that drove past (I'm not exaggerating). I'd be laying in bed and hear it drifting in through the window. Me and the girls I was with still laugh every time we hear it. Apple bottom jeeaans, boots with the fuurrr. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Roxanne - The Police</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">In reality, this song reminds me of any hostel bar, anywhere. But I'll go with <a href="http://www.lokihostel.com/en/lima" target="_blank">Loki Hostel</a> in Lima, Peru in April of 2010. It was the the last week of my South American backpacking trip, I was running out of money and I'd decided to spend it (the last of my money and my trip) laying low in Lima. Laying low isn't exactly easy when you choose to stay in one of the best party hostels. I won't go into details, but I will say that Loki is crazy and those large bottles of Cuzquena go down pretty quickly when you're playing the Roxanne drinking game over and over in the hostel bar. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I'm including these last few songs because they will always remind me of my time spent living in East Africa this year. Plus I think more people need to know and appreciate African music. You don't have to understand what they're saying to enjoy it. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><b>Mzungu Kichaa</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/MzunguKichaa" target="_blank">Mzungu Kichaa</a> means "crazy white man" in Swahili. He's a Dane that was raised in Tanzania and sings in Swahili, the official language throughout East Africa. His style of music is called Bongo Flava and it is unique to the coastal area of Tanzania. I met him at a Canada Day party at a Canadian High Commission residence in Dar es Salaam, where he was performing. My friends and I enjoyed his music so much that we bought his album on the spot and went to see him perform again a week later at the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/TheBeatFestival" target="_blank">Beat Festival</a>, where we were introduced to even more incredible East African artists, like <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Dela/15275668476" target="_blank">Dela</a> and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/YvonneMwaleMusic" target="_blank">Yvonne Mwale</a>. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I don't like this song any more than Mzungu Kichaa's other songs but this video was filmed in Dar es Salaam, the city I lived in, and it makes me feel a bit homesick. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><b>NWA Baby (Ashawo Remix) - Flavour</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">This song comes out of Nigeria, but it was HUGE in Kenya when I was there. It was one of those songs that played numerous times per night in every bar. We had it on repeat in our backpackers in Mombasa and I was so happy when I found it on someone's iPod at the floating bar in Lamu (where the customers get to be the DJs). When you're surrounded by the unfamiliar it's nice to find something that you can agree upon with everyone around you. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><b>Kigeugeu - Jaguar</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">This is another one of those songs that was playing everywhere while I was in Kenya. The song is basically about everyone from your friend to the pastor screwing you over, but we'll just ignore the meaning and enjoy it :)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I could include so many more songs on this list. In fact I'm thinking of more as I type this (Madonna anybody?), but I think this will do for now. To most people these are just songs, but to me they are Thailand, Bolivia, Kenya. They are my memories. </span></div>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com0Mission, BC V2V, Canada49.133714 -122.31128849.123324499999995 -122.331029 49.1441035 -122.29154700000001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-55588553245790768872011-07-13T07:36:00.000-07:002012-01-17T17:50:43.653-08:00Hello Life. Where Are You Headed?<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><b><i>"I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where </i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><b><i>I'm going is what inspires me to travel it." </i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><b>- Rosalia de Castro</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">I love quotes. Other people seem to be able to articulate my feelings so much better than I can. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">I'm down to one last week of interning here</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> in Tanzania and I don't know where I'm going with my life. I can see the path, but it gets blurry about two months down the line. I like to think that I have a rough idea of what my life will look like, but in reality I haven't got a clue. What do I do next? Do I apply for those cruise ship jobs I've been thinking about for so long? Or head to Australia and work for a year? Do I go to Guatemala and learn Spanish? Do I apply for more internships and come back to Tanzania? Or do I go home to Canada and apply for graduate programs?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Starting next week I'm taking a month to travel through Kenya and Zambia. I'm hoping that during the time on my own I will be able to think and put things in perspective. Maybe it will help me decide which blurry fork in my path I want to take. Or maybe it won't. </span></span><br />
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Whatever I do next may determine the path the rest of my life takes. No matter where I end up, I am excited for the journey</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span></span><br />
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</span>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com0Dar es Salaam, Tanzania-6.822921 39.269661-7.0751805 38.953804 -6.5706615 39.585518tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-57322897276244800292011-07-10T08:15:00.000-07:002011-11-04T16:57:10.633-07:00A Lake, a Crater, and the Place Where You Can't See the End Last week I did something I didn't think I would be doing for a long time. I didn't plan on coming to Africa this year, but this internship came up and here I am in Tanzania. So last week I went on safari (the Swahili word for journey) in some of the most beautiful places on Earth: Lake Manyara, the Serengeti, and the Ngorongoro Crater. <i><b>CHECK</b></i><br />
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Five other interns and I took a bus from Dar es Salaam up to Arusha in northern Tanzania, a trip that was supposed to take 9 hours but instead took 11 and a half, even with the excessive speed we were going and all the passing we were doing. But this is Africa time, I'm getting used to it after two months. A driver from the safari company, <a href="http://www.bushroutes.com/">Bush Routes</a>, picked us up at the bus station and took us to get supplies (ie. beer and popcorn). We thought it fitting that the duka (store) we stopped at was called Mzungu Super Market. <i>Mzungu</i> means "white person" here in East Africa, and that's what I'm called nearly every day. It used to bother me, but after a couple of months I guess I've gotten used to that too. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing our Masai shukas in the Ngorongo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The expert tire changers, Hassan and Said</td></tr>
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In the morning of day one we were picked up by our driver/guide Hassan, our cook Said, and a trainee, Richard. We stopped at a market out of town to get Maasai shukas, a checked fabric that is the traditional clothing of the Maasai tribe, to use as blankets. They were originally made of animal hide but now I think they're mass produced in China. Meh, they still look authentic. And they kept us warm while we checked out zebras at 6am.<br />
Before we set off for the 120 km drive from Arusha to Lake Manyara we stopped to check the tire pressure. Not that it did us much good because about halfway there one of the back tires blew out. Hassan and Said had us back on the road in no time though and we made it safely to the entrance of Lake Manyara. Once we were inside the park entrance we had a slightly larger problem: this time the clutch went. It was starting to seem like this safari was doomed from the get-go. But being the positive, plucky Canadians we are, we cracked open the beers that we were smart enough to get at the Mzungu shop and spent the next three hours drinking our Kilis and watching the troop of olive baboons that had surrounded our truck looking for any <i>ndizi</i> (bananas) we might possibly drop. Sorry <i>rafiki</i>s, only <i>bia</i>s here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5CwZM3B6aXusIYBjfrmaW1qdu89wds_45XUm_AqSybzWV_v6gu0GCKCsP-8BX_9FU8AcWP43lX-JssPRrX5qhU6PN4i-jjLve-EMOql649fR__yLoDsZnzVyLn4z81YJve2lyEf_gXih/s1600/DSC05929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5CwZM3B6aXusIYBjfrmaW1qdu89wds_45XUm_AqSybzWV_v6gu0GCKCsP-8BX_9FU8AcWP43lX-JssPRrX5qhU6PN4i-jjLve-EMOql649fR__yLoDsZnzVyLn4z81YJve2lyEf_gXih/s320/DSC05929.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baboons and beer. I think they go well together</td></tr>
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After three hours of entertaining ourselves by taking pictures of baboons, a friend of Hassan's that was driving by offered to take us to the hippo pool while the clutch was being repaired. His truck looked cool, and who doesn't want to see hippos? So in we hopped and we went off to the hippo pool. On the way I saw my first ever wild giraffe and then the first live wildebeest I've ever laid eyes on. They were quite a ways away from us, but it was still exciting to see animals other than baboons. Then we came to the hippo pool, where all the hippos were underwater. All you could see were their ears. I now know that is the way a hippopotamus spends most of its life. Seeing one out of water is a major event.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-WrUPFHahBDtwawR_5KvtSxJd7srPUyqvFGhcpxyHVzxGbm7cnwt-1h8fKps8C__5MvfxGWmEW_MML-KOs7Tc6R22thT8wLTZuWxvT41toFuPCv0a2iKp3IU3tA8hvPOr6rxLMwwukxI/s1600/DSC06039cropped2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-WrUPFHahBDtwawR_5KvtSxJd7srPUyqvFGhcpxyHVzxGbm7cnwt-1h8fKps8C__5MvfxGWmEW_MML-KOs7Tc6R22thT8wLTZuWxvT41toFuPCv0a2iKp3IU3tA8hvPOr6rxLMwwukxI/s320/DSC06039cropped2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This vervet was happy to see us</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiFWk3Xib_X3OgC956yUkStSTGKznZ_ntSYABeNEuflTBQww-vmuWANN3IvCTN7_DEnWSHf8BCBIJP98tf0ZujUYm4gCDwjfLLEwHxQu2DQGcD7qbVhyY5hhHpFV8Od-npWpBLvr5f20l_/s1600/DSC06088cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiFWk3Xib_X3OgC956yUkStSTGKznZ_ntSYABeNEuflTBQww-vmuWANN3IvCTN7_DEnWSHf8BCBIJP98tf0ZujUYm4gCDwjfLLEwHxQu2DQGcD7qbVhyY5hhHpFV8Od-npWpBLvr5f20l_/s320/DSC06088cropped.jpg" width="295" /></a> Hassan and the boys must have got the clutch fixed right after we left because a few minutes after we arrived at the hippo pool our truck pulled up. After that all the animals started coming out of the woodwork. Lake Manyara is the most underrated of the three parks we went to, and I absolutely loved it. The setting is beautiful under the dramatic western escarpment of the Rift Valley, and it is the only park in the area that is green all year round. It may not have wildlife everywhere you look, but that's the exciting part: you have to seek them out. We saw more wildebeest and giraffes, and then there were zebras, cute little dik diks, impalas, and many other animals. When we saw the vervet monkeys every one of us yelled out "blue balls!" at the same time, which would be really odd if vervets didn't have bright blue and scarlet genitalia when aroused. There are vervets on a university campus here in Dar, so we'd just been waiting to see them in the wild. Our first day ended up being really good in spite of the breakdowns. Plus dinner was awesome (Said makes probably the best homemade soup I've ever had) and we got to stay in a lodge that night when we had only paid for camping.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_W6ioDBNR_2SOw97Wc9dK2hE03oQrK-qXaguixVmMNdaajre9r3vix1MQWJAw0B6TqMfB96BmMQnyKw4nwSq_VMMg3RQ1OwlN3LvneP9wMZGOILQBOYP8J0PTyNeBptthpwEjq9iu2Xb/s1600/DSC04421edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_W6ioDBNR_2SOw97Wc9dK2hE03oQrK-qXaguixVmMNdaajre9r3vix1MQWJAw0B6TqMfB96BmMQnyKw4nwSq_VMMg3RQ1OwlN3LvneP9wMZGOILQBOYP8J0PTyNeBptthpwEjq9iu2Xb/s320/DSC04421edited.jpg" width="320" /></a> On the way out of Lake Manyara on day two we saw the tree climbing lions that the lake is famous for but many people think are just a rumour because they're rarely seen. But they're real, people! And they climb trees like no other adult lion does. This was the first lion I've ever seen in the wild, and it was in a tree. That was pretty awesome. After the lion sighting we had another hours long drive from the lake to the Serengeti. Along the way<br />
we saw many Masai, from very young boys to older men, herding goats, cattle, and donkeys just as they have always done. And somewhere along the way, just because it was us in the vehicle and we're not meant to get anywhere in Africa quickly, the same back tire blew again. It didn't take too long to get it fixed but we still ended up getting to the Serengeti late. We had time to do an afternoon game drive, but it was pouring rain so I think most of the animals were in hiding. It's not like there weren't any animals at all though. We still saw herds of buffalo, hartebeest, elephants, ostriches, and more zebras. We also saw Pride Rock (you know, from the Lion King?). It does exist! But then we saw it again. And again. And again. It turns out there are at least a hundred granite kopjes in the Serengeti that could have been Disney's inspiration. Oh well, the first one was exciting anyway. And from then on I had "the Circle of Life" stuck in my head. Even when the pop top roof didn't close properly during a heavy rain, and we got soaked while inside the truck. But I'm from BC, I love rain.....It's all part of the adventure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVS00o9pwtWezOYIF8Q8AIZlYdZFeVZApW0lU6SycKBowBWfsrBFCNYhs6Qu9_A9RD6eFZe7LgKIXNTy8OF3aT1YWgZ4iqenbaiCi8OOoOEKO9_8gUTOPWuvyc8sbUokJYVig2XnMFwvf/s1600/DSC04485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVS00o9pwtWezOYIF8Q8AIZlYdZFeVZApW0lU6SycKBowBWfsrBFCNYhs6Qu9_A9RD6eFZe7LgKIXNTy8OF3aT1YWgZ4iqenbaiCi8OOoOEKO9_8gUTOPWuvyc8sbUokJYVig2XnMFwvf/s200/DSC04485.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What? Getting rained on inside isnt normal?</td></tr>
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We got to our campsite and started to set up our tents just as the sun was setting. Then this Aussie guy appeared out of nowhere and said "you can't put those tents there, there are safety rules", and he got very angry and rude. Apparently tents can't be close together for safety reasons? What are they going to do, catch on fire? I think we would rather be closer together with the lions, hyenas, and warthogs roaming around outside. Our guide, who camps here all the time, had never heard of this rule but we moved anyway. Normally I love Aussies, but this guy was a major jerk. No wonder there was so much space around his tent.<br />
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On the third day we got up very early for the morning game drive and saw the sun rise in the Serengeti, and once again "the Circle of Life" began playing over and over in my head. We got a much better view of the Serengeti on this day than we did on the day before, and I could see where it's name came from. <i>Siringit</i>, in Maa, the language of the Maasai, means "place where you can't see the end" (in the words of Hassan). Or more simply put, "endless plain". In the light of day the Serengeti stretched on forever, and I really couldn't see the end. It was like the Canadian Prairies, except there weren't any farmhouses or towns to break it up. In the Serengeti there are only lonely acacia trees and herds of animals, and the occasional Maasai village which blends into its surroundings.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuTp8Se46LQMeOZ-4_JcYME1ecrupfEMHJngbcwMhQdRy893wk-UgOS5tgU0G-wIJRGxUVv4dKzqdUppA6hxDv4KXh9-PUOigsDWNPAC-n8w0I_lUbA36oZmrkJSKt2DlPtr7vYfwAdgz/s1600/DSC04532edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuTp8Se46LQMeOZ-4_JcYME1ecrupfEMHJngbcwMhQdRy893wk-UgOS5tgU0G-wIJRGxUVv4dKzqdUppA6hxDv4KXh9-PUOigsDWNPAC-n8w0I_lUbA36oZmrkJSKt2DlPtr7vYfwAdgz/s400/DSC04532edited.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise in the Serengeti<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgeGMbpr1s9xvBl4JmGg1uLrhX5VYT6Mjyr35d3zQadUtswU60Lbr1DBBUH9Qomz5EDgeJ98Lu1Yjrdo1W5tidV_j1IBv0ZB0iNovfsnoVbiAHTVleU4mg0797S_GlhhWKcyhAJ8iVMN02/s1600/DSC04611edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgeGMbpr1s9xvBl4JmGg1uLrhX5VYT6Mjyr35d3zQadUtswU60Lbr1DBBUH9Qomz5EDgeJ98Lu1Yjrdo1W5tidV_j1IBv0ZB0iNovfsnoVbiAHTVleU4mg0797S_GlhhWKcyhAJ8iVMN02/s400/DSC04611edited.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Wmy7KMpbvslOLwP_h7Oy5h_4oaMiKkgHzChtgx0DKPwkCOzhT2kWT-2ZvCZdSe4KQL6-IdEujUxvj3juqLOBYhiam0sehi2uOMSWhfu8dYHtxxpuPaPE9X4OiPkS9Vl8__lHab-Q-B2j/s1600/DSC04613edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Wmy7KMpbvslOLwP_h7Oy5h_4oaMiKkgHzChtgx0DKPwkCOzhT2kWT-2ZvCZdSe4KQL6-IdEujUxvj3juqLOBYhiam0sehi2uOMSWhfu8dYHtxxpuPaPE9X4OiPkS9Vl8__lHab-Q-B2j/s320/DSC04613edited.jpg" width="240" /></a> The Serengeti, easily Tanzania's most famous park, covers an area of 14,763 sq km and is contiguous with the Masai Mara in Kenya. It is between the Serengeti and the Masai Mara that the great migration, a mass movement of over one million wildebeest in search of food and water, occurs every year. This is the largest movement of animals on Earth, and seeing it on the Discovery Channel made me fall in love with this (what some would call ugly) animal called the wildebeest. They do have a quite comical appearance, and according to African legend they were assembled from spare parts, but I have a soft spot for them. I think we just missed the migration this year, but we still saw the occasional bearded rebel wildebeest that stayed behind. What we did see on this day were more elephants and warthogs and hoofed mammals such as gazelles, and zebras (there are 200,000 zebras in the Serengeti alone). And we saw not one, or two or three, but <i>four</i> leopards. Three of them were a mother and her two teenage cubs playing together, and then we saw another lone leopard later. We also saw a very handsome male lion lounging on a mound with what appeared to be a collar around his neck. I guess they're studying him, but a collar doesn't seem to me to be the best way to study a wild animal.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitASH62U1eLMflOOWTgHR4iyKgWxvUD4xC9snmiF01UorQuDfsd7zNynAwmQkj-FpQW078sz0-HdlbgUSfXKBzAnzI0lZVULL611diOCHkQ1Igi9rLGLTm3gVdFsoaziwuA4btqOOWjT-/s1600/DSC04575cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitASH62U1eLMflOOWTgHR4iyKgWxvUD4xC9snmiF01UorQuDfsd7zNynAwmQkj-FpQW078sz0-HdlbgUSfXKBzAnzI0lZVULL611diOCHkQ1Igi9rLGLTm3gVdFsoaziwuA4btqOOWjT-/s400/DSC04575cropped.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Impalas keep their eyes on two playing leopards</td></tr>
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We had more truck adventures in the Serengeti, of course, because we're just lucky like that. First we had another flat tire (a different tire this time though) and then we got stuck in the mud. Another truck stopped to help but we still had six girls in flip flops standing in the mud trying to push the truck out. On top of that our truck started to have radiator troubles, and the boys had to put litre after litre of water into it. On our way from the Serengeti to the Ngorongoro Crater that afternoon we had to stop numerous times to let the truck cool down and put more water in it. I don't even know how much water we went through. We actually had to get bottles of water from other safari groups driving by, it was that bad. And one of the windows started leaking. Luckily not on my side this time, because our quick fix of stuffing a dirty rag in the window didn't work all that well.<br />
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Late in the afternoon we stopped at a Maasai village that does tours. Not really because we wanted to, but because the truck needed to cool down anyway. The tour that we did was very awkward. We paid 20,000 Tsh each (about $12CAD) to go into this village, where we were rushed around and then rushed out. We first went with a Maasai in groups of two into a house. The Masai live in small round houses called <i>bomas, </i>which are made by the women out of sticks and mud. They have no windows, only a small entrance and a very small hole in the roof for light and for the smoke from their fire to escape. The boma I entered had a very low ceiling and only had room for two beds and a fire pit. Five people live in this home; I hope they like each other. The bomas are arranged in a circle inside a fence made of sticks. In the centre of the circle is another enclosed area where baby cows and goats are kept, and on the edge of the village are fenced in areas where the adult goats and cattle are kept in close quarters at night. We paid a visit to the cattle and the goats and then we were rushed outside the fence to a small building that serves as the school. The children were in the school at almost 6pm, so they were obviously there just for the tourists. We were in the school for all of a minute and heard the children sing part of a song before we were ushered out again, followed by a room full of dirty children. We were brought to an area where they were selling overpriced beaded jewelry and we were urged to buy something before we were rushed off back to the truck. This whole experience was disappointing and I hate that people live like this, in this village that's basically been set up for tourists.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVCZ5Go-59zY_wGdOljJ0FqG_uTcQy3ZxqHa5fFAFkS0OnCEyDEVqzyFaUhuRhpFBrdqkqBDnAm27elHf_XIy7M2SJBR9vD9Zl1rlGqXRaf7gezyyfKeIPv-RIU2ZMbNfJuAlFOZifO42G/s1600/DSC04637edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVCZ5Go-59zY_wGdOljJ0FqG_uTcQy3ZxqHa5fFAFkS0OnCEyDEVqzyFaUhuRhpFBrdqkqBDnAm27elHf_XIy7M2SJBR9vD9Zl1rlGqXRaf7gezyyfKeIPv-RIU2ZMbNfJuAlFOZifO42G/s320/DSC04637edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Maasai boma</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD7mvRt3QdQvM-zMOf4IwWlHEs1RHdG-5T1RFQBnG14bHyoo8xkVCLaUf3eV9BOqGpOUPBw9SKfagVvUkNKMlM_VzO9hpf0cRHVjFH40cPxw-Rq_wYZ_vemvlIj8V3VqkuvU0y4-gYpW_4/s1600/DSC04646cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD7mvRt3QdQvM-zMOf4IwWlHEs1RHdG-5T1RFQBnG14bHyoo8xkVCLaUf3eV9BOqGpOUPBw9SKfagVvUkNKMlM_VzO9hpf0cRHVjFH40cPxw-Rq_wYZ_vemvlIj8V3VqkuvU0y4-gYpW_4/s400/DSC04646cropped.jpg" width="203" /></a><br />
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That night we set up camp right on the rim of the Ngorongoro Crater. Once again we set up close to another tent, but this camper didn't mind. He said we could move our tents closer, or even come on into his if we got lost. How nice! During the night there were wild boars sniffing around the tents. We didn't see them but we sure saw what they left behind. I'm just happy I didn't step in it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chilling in our tent on the rim of the crater, staying safe from wild boars</td></tr>
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We definitely saved the best for last. Hassan had taken the truck into the mechanics the night before so were good to go and on the fourth day we got up before sunrise and descended over 600 metres from the heavily forested rim of the Ngorongoro Crater to the plains of the massive caldera below.The Ngorongoro Crater is part of the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, an 8300 sq km area consisting of the Crater Highlands and vast stretches of plains, bush, and woodland, as well as a long string of volcanoes and calderas, most of which are inactive. Large calderas such as the Ngorongoro Crater are now teeming with vegetation and wildlife because of their fertile soils and favourable climate. At about 20 km wide the Ngorongoro Crater is one of the largest calderas in the world and is said to have the most dense concentration of wildlife in Africa, and this seems pretty accurate. Animals flock here due to the permanent water and grassland. Everywhere you look there are herds of zebra, wildebeest, impalas, gazelles, and massive buffalo. I couldn't believe how many wildebeest there were. They may have already migrated north from the Serengeti, but there were hundreds of thousands of them in the crater. And where there were wildebeest there were zebras. I think most of the 200,000 zebras that are supposed to be in the Serengeti are actually here. I've never seen so many animals in one day.<br />
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The many animals we saw also included several hyenas. There were some on their own but there was also a large family, including pups, playing and darting in and out of their den. Hyenas are surprisingly cute when you see them up close. I always had this image of hyenas giggling maniacally, piling on top of each other and rolling around as they tear into the flesh of a recently killed wildebeest. Or even disemboweling still-live prey on the run. Hyenas are terrible, frightening creatures, but when they're just hanging out, sleeping next to road or playing with their pups you kind of forget all that. They look rather sweet actually. If a little bloody.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cows on steroids?</td></tr>
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And the best part of this whole safari? The lions. We saw quite a few lions in the distance, mostly sleeping, but we did see a couple males out for a walk. And then we came upon three females: two laying down in the grass and one literally right on the road. Being this close to a lion is a crazy feeling. We were obviously in the safety of the truck, but still, she was <i>right there</i>! This is nothing like seeing them in a zoo. This lioness likely just took down a large animal, like the dead buffalo we saw surrounded by other lions. She is powerful, she is beautiful, and she doesn't care in the slightest that we're there. She was just sauntering around the road between trucks and even laying down right behind some of them. I was standing up out of the top of the truck, practically right next to her, separated by nothing more than a few feet of air. If she was desperate for food she could have easily had me or anyone else there for breakfast. Not that this ever happens in the crater, but the possibility is there. Ever watched <i>The Ghost and the Darkness? </i>Yeah, that was a true story and man-eating lions exist. Even if this was the only exciting thing that happened on this safari, being this close to these massive felines would have made it all worth it. </div>
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Even on our way out of the crater we were continually seeing animals. We actually saw hippos out of water! One big guy sleeping in the grass and a whole family, including a baby, playing by the water. Just to prove to us that they do come out of the water occasionally. We saw a lot more zebras, some elephants, and some monkeys just before we started the climb out of the crater. On the very bumpy and windy (we stood up out of the truck the whole way) way up we each cracked another Kili, put on some Bob Marley, and watched the herds on the crater floor fade away til they looked like ants. When we reached the rim of the crater we saw another tree-climbing lion. She crossed the road right behind us, and walked into the woods and up a tree. Two sightings in one safari? That's luck. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These guys eat prickle bushes. Yum?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably the last tree climbing lion I'm going to see for a while</td></tr>
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Despite the challenges we faced, I think this was probably the best safari in the history of safaris. We may have had a lot of car troubles, but it was still an incredible trip, and it was definitely the girls I was with that made it so. If even one person had been angry, upset, or sullen about any of the problems we had it would have changed the mood of the whole trip. But J, K, D, A, M and myself were really positive the entire time and made the best out of every situation. Whether it was a leaking truck, a flat tire, disgusting drop hole toilets, angry campers, or the lack of cheetahs and rhinos (not so surprising, as they are both endangered), we all accepted it and made the best of it. How many other people get to visit a mechanic shop in the middle of the Serengeti? Twice? I couldn't have asked for a better group of girls to travel with. Driving through the plains of Africa with these girls, singing Buffalo Soldier with a Kili in hand, surrounded by zebras, hyenas, lions, and wildebeest will forever be one of my favourite memories.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You may have eluded me this time rhino, but I still love you</td></tr>
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This trip also left me with hope for the future of my adopted home of the last couple months. Twenty eight percent of Tanzania's area is under some form of protection such as national parks, game reserves, and conservation areas. This is a higher percentage than any other country and is a huge commitment for such a poor nation. Living here in Tanzania I've learned that the Tanzanian government makes a lot of poor decisions, but the decision to preserve heaven on Earth was definitely the right one. It leaves me wondering what else the government of this country could do if they cared enough to do it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvBjvweMOENINvxDqEaQledzyFC1-5SjftRtnJyXZIK0Qg4M-lpQhvVt2idCkvVjOts8yht_u-Cvr_ry32ST4TX6VuI-6oW1ELOlyWg4q8-esMz2HrlMnMX793u5n_eO9X8GUZZBVrI90I/s1600/DSC04520edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvBjvweMOENINvxDqEaQledzyFC1-5SjftRtnJyXZIK0Qg4M-lpQhvVt2idCkvVjOts8yht_u-Cvr_ry32ST4TX6VuI-6oW1ELOlyWg4q8-esMz2HrlMnMX793u5n_eO9X8GUZZBVrI90I/s400/DSC04520edited.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com1Arusha, Tanzania-3.365789 36.67445-3.3816405 36.654709 -3.3499375 36.694191000000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-81783497749507842112011-06-17T05:12:00.000-07:002011-11-04T16:48:13.725-07:00I'm From Vancouver and I'm Embarrassed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Here I am in Africa where people are protesting over corruption and oppression, and at home in Vancouver they riot over a hockey game. On Wednesday night I wanted so badly to be at home watching the Stanley Cup finals with all the other Canucks fans but by Thursday morning I was happy to say I was nowhere near that city. It was the weirdest feeling to be sitting in my guesthouse in Africa in the quiet of the early morning, watching the coverage of the riots and feeling like I was safer here than I would be at home. Because if I was at home I am sure I would have been downtown Vancouver that night, trying to escape what looked like a war zone in a politically volatile country. </b><b>I never thought it could happen, but right now I am ashamed and embarrassed to say I am from Vancouver.</b><b>But I also have hope that the world will see the cleanup efforts by the people of Vancouver, and realize that senseless violence and destruction are not what our city and our hockey fans are all about. The people that were there by 7am Thursday morning in their Canucks jerseys cleaning up the mess of the night before are the real fans and the real face of Vancouver. Thank you to those people and thank you to those that are working to identify the criminals that attempted to destroy our beautiful city. I'm proud of where I'm from and normally I want to shout it to the world. I just hope that the next time I tell someone I'm from Vancouver they don't immediately associate me with the ignorant acts that took place that night over something as stupid as a hockey game. I hope they think of our great hockey team and of the beauty of Vancouver and BC. It really is the best place on Earth. Please don't let this change that. </b><br />
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<b>GO CANUCKS GO</b></div>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com2Dar es Salaam, Tanzania-6.822921 39.269661-7.0751805 38.953804 -6.5706615 39.585518tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-61408080401578175662011-06-12T06:23:00.000-07:002012-01-17T17:45:29.977-08:00Under the Same Sun<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Recently I</b></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> had a meeting at Under the Same Sun (UTSS), a local NGO that aims to improve the lives of persons with albinism (PWAs) in Tanzania through advocacy and education. Albinism is a genetically inherited condition that affects people all over the world. In Europe and North America it affects approximately 1 in 20,000 people, while in Tanzania and the rest of East Africa albinism is much more prevalent, affecting around 1 in 2000 people. I’ve only ever seen (or noticed) a couple people with albinism in Canada, while in my one month in Tanzania I’ve already seen quite a few. The effects of albinism include a lack of pigmentation in the hair, skin, and eyes. This leaves persons with albinism more vulnerable to sun exposure and other bright light, and they have a much higher risk of skin cancer and impaired vision or blindness. The sores and scars they get from sun burns and skin cancer can look like a contagious disease to people who don’t know any better, so PWAs are often avoided, mocked, and bullied. Another serious problem in Tanzania is widespread social discrimination of PWAs because of powerful beliefs, including the belief that raping an albino woman will cure AIDS and the belief of many people that the body parts and organs of PWA’s have magical properties that can help people obtain wealth and success. PWA’s are often killed for their body parts which are then used in potions and spells by witch doctors. This is a problem that has not been majorly publicized, as there is a belief that PWAs in Tanzania “disappear”, they don’t die, and therefore deaths are not often reported. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Under the Same Sun was started in November, 2008, by Peter Ash, a Canadian man (from Langley actually) with albinism, after he saw a BBC program about the killings of PWAs in Tanzania. He contacted Vicky Ntetema, the Tanzanian journalist who initially reported the killing and use of PWA’s organs by witch doctors in July of 2008. Ntetema went undercover as a businesswoman interested in getting rich (one of many things witchdoctors say can be accomplished with potions made of PWA’s body parts), and visited ten different witch doctors in rural Tanzania. Some of them promised to make her a potion made with ground albino organs, starting at a price of $2000. It disgusts me that these witch doctors and others can put a value of only $2000 on a human life. Ntetema was repulsed and disturbed by this as well, and that is why her life is in danger (she has received many death threats since bringing this story to the world), as are the lives of thousands of PWAs in Tanzania, many of whom have gone into hiding. Shortly after Ash contacted Ntetema in late 2008 they formed UTSS with the primary focus of education and advocacy as well as assisting PWAs with access to information, education bursaries, health care, and other community support. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Read the article by Vicky Ntetema that first brought attention to the murders of persons with albinism in Tanzania <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7523796.stm">here</a></span><b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">.</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><b>The majority of PWAs are classified as legally blind, and this makes excelling in school and the workplace extremely difficult. Glasses, magnifiers, and special vision sensitive computer equipment are in low supply in Tanzania. Students often do poorly in school simply because they can’t see what they are reading. A lot of them fail the standardized grade 7 exam because the font size on the test is too small, and they end up dropping out of school. Without an education PWAs are often discriminated against in the workplace and have difficulty holding down jobs because of their impaired vision and inability to work in the sun. Once teachers are educated on the condition they can make provisions for these students by letting them sit closer to the blackboard, giving them more time on exams, and increasing the font size on class handouts. Parents also need to be educated on the condition. Many parents don’t bother sending children with albinism to school, because they don’t see the point. Sending a child to school is seen as an investment, and if a parent doesn’t expect their child to excel, or even live past the age of 30 (the average life expectancy of PWAs in Tanzania), why spend what little money they have on them? To combat this problem, UTSS is currently sponsoring 318 PWAs to go to school through their Education Scholarship Fund, in levels ranging from primary school to PhD programs. Students chosen for these scholarships are generally from rural, more vulnerable areas or they have already been attacked or abandoned. The post secondary sponsorships are particularly important, as very few PWAs pursue higher education. The hope is to have a high output of educated PWAs in Tanzania, so that they can advocate for and defend themselves. </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><b>Persons with albinism have a lack of melanin – the pigment that protects skin from ultraviolet light - putting them at an extremely high risk for skin cancer. Students sponsored by UTSS are taught how to protect against the sun’s harmful rays and are provided with items essential to their health which may be unavailable in rural areas such as high SPF sunscreen, long-sleeved shirts, trousers, and wide-brimmed hats. They are also provided with health education and medical treatment such as eye exams, skin care, and cancer treatment should the need arise. With adequate protection from the sun and access to medical treatment, persons with albinism in Tanzania should live as long as any ordinary person, as they do in other parts of the world. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEvIbMg8GfnNR5e3ytrY9-ERGOKsf1wvogxTOV3Dfb9vCO_J8GLFxaZ0ZnQxJ6whHDl9m-lcmdgl3Y64ToV_Fz7cefC5jx5mu9cs5zgHms9yUePqAtZnniI7N_jO5zEUM8HFwdyg2___c/s1600/Pale-Persecuted-Albinos-Hunted-Terrorized-Tanzania.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEvIbMg8GfnNR5e3ytrY9-ERGOKsf1wvogxTOV3Dfb9vCO_J8GLFxaZ0ZnQxJ6whHDl9m-lcmdgl3Y64ToV_Fz7cefC5jx5mu9cs5zgHms9yUePqAtZnniI7N_jO5zEUM8HFwdyg2___c/s320/Pale-Persecuted-Albinos-Hunted-Terrorized-Tanzania.jpg" width="230" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> When we met with Ntetema at UTSS she told us about some of the beliefs surrounding persons with albinism in this country. There is a myth that PWAS’s are not human, but ghosts, and this is why when they disappear people don’t do anything about it. Related to that, there is a myth that albino children are the result of their mother sleeping with a white man or with a European ghost. They don’t realize that the father must also carry the gene that causes albinism, so many men abandon their families when an infant is born with the condition. In the past it was believed that any family with albinism was cursed by the gods, and touching the child would bring bad luck. If anything went wrong in a village, say a bad crop or a drought, the family with an albino child would be blamed. For a time, in northern Tanzania albino children would be treated like family by the chief and given anything they needed as they grew up, only to be buried alive in the chief’s grave when he died. This was so they could serve the chief in the afterlife. Somewhere along the line a money hungry witchdoctor came along who started telling people that the organs, body parts, and blood of PWA’s could solve their problems, rather than cause them. At first it was taboo to kill a PWA for body parts, but it was ok to take parts from someone who was already dead. So people began robbing the graves of PWAs. This led families to bury their albino family members in the floors of their homes, in unmarked graves, or in graves sealed with cement. Eventually, as the demand for body parts rose, people began attacking and killing or maiming PWAs. Bodies are usually found with missing limbs and sometimes with a whole in the neck where their blood has been drained out. Since 2007 there have been reports of 70 attacks on PWAs in Tanzania: 60 murders and 10 attempted murders, as well as 10 looted graves. The actual number of attacks is most likely closer to 100. Despite the fact that most of those killed are children, murders and attacks go unreported because often the family is involved or they are too scared of retribution to report these crimes.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwTgBxOrt8LjHqqldcb-fS9cxjiUc5URP7EwcbvhWeKMeUG8dBn30PwJPo8hMS6yI8Xitu2NAUBWzqsBaRS3BuJE2i7yn8mft4NAc-ZE7Jzl6yvXJmvTz8PJer5JTQDAYx-JR2iNF0TLg/s1600/350.0.1.0.16777215.0.stories.large.2008.12.04.mariam28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwTgBxOrt8LjHqqldcb-fS9cxjiUc5URP7EwcbvhWeKMeUG8dBn30PwJPo8hMS6yI8Xitu2NAUBWzqsBaRS3BuJE2i7yn8mft4NAc-ZE7Jzl6yvXJmvTz8PJer5JTQDAYx-JR2iNF0TLg/s320/350.0.1.0.16777215.0.stories.large.2008.12.04.mariam28.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> Ntetema told us the story of a Tanzanian father of four children with albinism. In the year 2000 three out of four of his children were poisoned and killed when they ate a meal provided by someone they knew. The youngest only escaped because he was a one year old baby and therefore did not share the poisoned meal with his siblings. After the grieving father had buried his two teenage daughters and young son some men came knocking on his door, looking for his youngest child. To protect his only surviving son he left everything and fled with him to another village, as thousands of other Tanzanian albinos are doing. So many families have fled their villages that refugee centers have been set up for them in schools. UTSS is currently working with UNICEF to improve the conditions of these centers, which are not equipped to handle so many people. In the case of this father, he found out after fleeing to another village that two of his children’s bodies had been stolen from their graves. The father didn’t even report the murders until years later, and not because he didn't love his children. Up to 90% of Tanzanians believe in magic and witch doctors, everyone from your average farmer all the way up to politicians. Even the president of Tanzania did not publicly decry the killings until there had been 19 murders reported. 19! Clearly even the president believes in the magical properties of PWA organs, and only spoke out when pressured to. Most of the murderers of PWAs are not taken to court because of corruption, fear, and Tanzania’s culture of secrecy. Even in cases where murderers have been charged, justice is only very slowly being served. Out of 63 murder cases where charges have been laid, only 3 have gone to court. From these 3 court cases 11 people were sentenced to hang, but all 11 of them are still alive and well, albeit alive and well in prison. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>The problems facing PWAs are much more widespread than just Tanzania. One witch doctor has said there is a powerful network of people involved in the murders of PWAs and the export of body parts all across East Africa, including police officers and politicians. Murders of persons with albinism have also been reported in Kenya, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Swaziland, South Africa, Guinea, and Nigeria, and have surely gone on unreported all over Africa. I had no idea that persons with albinism in Africa faced such hardships, as I’m sure most of the world has no idea. More people like Vicky Ntetema, Peter Ash, and the staff of Under the Same Sun need to take the risks and publicize this issue, or innocent men, women, and children are going to continue being murdered or mutilated simply because they were born without pigment. The rest of the world needs to hear about the heads of infants with albinism being transported across borders and the fingers of PWAs being worn on necklaces as good luck charms. The world needs to wake up to this </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"><b>tragedy and something needs to be done.</b></span><br />
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</div>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com2Dar es Salaam, Tanzania-6.822921 39.269661-7.0751805 38.953804 -6.5706615 39.585518tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-77789089101077653612011-05-29T11:39:00.000-07:002012-01-17T17:49:59.445-08:00The Future of Tanzania<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> </b> Last week three other interns and I went to an orphanage in a rural area just outside of Dar es Salaam. It is run by a British couple named Mary and Rob Notman who have lived in Tanzania for approximately 12 years. There are 15 kids living in a house on acreage where they grow their own vegetables and have lots of room to run around. Besides Mary (who doesn’t live at the orphanage) there are two women, or Mamas, there to care for the children. There is also a two room school house on the property for local kids to attend. Mary doesn’t want the kids to feel as if they are living in an institution, but in a family home, so there are no signs or anything to indicate that there is an orphanage there. It’s down a long dirt road with fields and trees on all sides. If they can't be with their parents this seems like a pretty good place for children to grow up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9nSDg_KwQb0XPVXC4XhbQNAT17OR3kev-Jr46ux_5L5Fwjb1jXvcwnlwpraYWr3Y651UaEh5UtaBFzjEsbb_Tzg1cx8Jp0twydf7fp9hxq46hPK_xw7msAasWmd6NPWRgugmdJaAymmDj/s1600/DSC05243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9nSDg_KwQb0XPVXC4XhbQNAT17OR3kev-Jr46ux_5L5Fwjb1jXvcwnlwpraYWr3Y651UaEh5UtaBFzjEsbb_Tzg1cx8Jp0twydf7fp9hxq46hPK_xw7msAasWmd6NPWRgugmdJaAymmDj/s400/DSC05243.JPG" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> A stable place to call home is very important for these children. Most of them are orphans because one or more of their parents died of AIDS. According to Avert, an international HIV and AIDS charity, there are presently over 1.3 million children in Tanzania who have been orphaned as a result of AIDS. Over 100,000 Tanzanians are infected with HIV every year and quite a few of the children at the orphanage are HIV positive. Some of them have other disabilities, such as the set of twins who were born with club feet, or the baby with deformed legs who came to visit. When we were at the orphanage the twins had recently undergone surgery to correct one foot each and both had casts on. One of the twins had to back go to the hospital on the day we visited because the open wound beneath his cast had started to bleed. If it wasn’t for Mary and her organization who would make sure these kids received medical attention? Probably no one and they would be left to suffer. This breaks my heart, but at the same time I’m so happy that there are people like Mary and the Mamas here to care for these amazing kids. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> When we first arrived at the orphanage in the morning we spent an hour or so at the school on the property. The kids couldn’t have been any older than five, but they were so smart. I helped them with the alphabet and they knew most of it (in English). They mainly just had problems with M and N. And they knew all the colours in English as well. The teacher just had to point at something in the classroom, and they could name the colour. This success has come without the use of any school supplies other than a blackboard, some coloured chalk, and a couple posters with the ABCs and some animals on them. The kids sit on the floor and they have no books or pencils. There are not even doors or windows on the building, so when it rains the classrooms are full of water. I have to give a lot of credit to any teacher who can successfully teach in such a bare-bones classroom. These kids are so great though, I think it would be a joy to teach them in any setting. When the kids went for their break we played a game called follow the leader, and I immediately had two little girls clinging to my hands. I had comforted one of them earlier when a classmate was hitting her, and she just stuck to me after that. Maybe I just don’t spend much time with kids in Canada, but these kids seem so much sweeter and just eager for somebody to pay attention to them. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KJohFA0Yp4r6mqjE6mJPsnjvSGUmAIXv1o0fW9Q_pTOhc2MZa0tL-EPJiScwBZC9ai42IXhVloc2DXSbysY2LGUdV9uAP4p_Y_TxwZj4e1cARn7w7d0oFja2ydD7n6X-nS6KIsopBSRt/s1600/DSC05289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KJohFA0Yp4r6mqjE6mJPsnjvSGUmAIXv1o0fW9Q_pTOhc2MZa0tL-EPJiScwBZC9ai42IXhVloc2DXSbysY2LGUdV9uAP4p_Y_TxwZj4e1cARn7w7d0oFja2ydD7n6X-nS6KIsopBSRt/s320/DSC05289.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> </b> The kids who live at the orphanage are especially great, and I spent the most time with them. After my morning in the school I spent the entire rest of the day with the kids and easily formed an attachment to all of them. Despite many of them being HIV positive they all seem like happy and healthy kids, even if they are a bit small for their age. We played games with them all day and they even attempted to teach me and the other interns how to sing and dance. That must have been entertaining for them, considering how little rhythm we have and how well they can all dance by the age of 6. They also braided our hair a lot; I think they loved having four girls with long hair around, as their hair is all cut short. We ended up with some pretty interesting hairstyles. And of course they documented the whole thing once they found out we had cameras. I love the things kids takes pictures of: dishes, a corn stalk, somebody’s foot. They are so good at entertaining themselves with so little. These kids have a big yard full of sand that they play in for hours, just drawing or building things. They have a couple books and free magazines to read. They have one soccer ball and a basketball hoop, a couple drums, and each other. And that’s all they need. They’d never say no to some new toys, but no video games are needed for these children. Kids in Canada could learn something. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">PS: We will probably be making and selling a calendar later this year to help send the older kids to secondary school. Secondary school is not free in Tanzania, even in government schools where tuition is 15 USD per year, plus fees for everything imaginable. To even get into a government secondary school a student has to pass a standardized national exam. If they fail they must pay to go to a private school, where tuition is usually around 500 USD. This makes it extremely difficult for orphans like these kids to get an education. They’re so smart, and they just need that little bit of extra help. I’ll keep you posted :)</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">"It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men. "</span></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">~Frederick Douglass</span></b></span></span></div>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com2Dar es Salaam, Tanzania-6.822921 39.269661-7.0751805 38.953804 -6.5706615 39.585518tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-50724827546255613242011-05-25T21:49:00.000-07:002012-01-17T17:56:30.406-08:00A Party in the Kitchen<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Some of the dresses at the kitchen party, all <br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Last weekend two other interns and I went to a wedding with Mary, the executive director of Women Fund Tanzania. I believe the bride, Agnes, is Mary’s niece. This was actually a pre-wedding event, called a “kitchen party,” which only women are allowed to attend. It's sort of like the Tanzanian version of a bridal shower. Traditionally, this event would have been held in someone’s kitchen, with only the bride’s close female friends and family, and some women from the groom’s family in attendance. They get together to show support for the bride and give her advice on life, marriage, and motherhood. Today, this tradition has grown into a huge event, usually held in a hall to accommodate the 100+ women invited. Each wedding will have a different colour or fabric pattern associated with it (a kanga) and each woman attending is expected to wear it. If it is only a colour, say blue, the women can wear any blue outfit. If the bride has chosen a certain fabric though, all the women will have dresses or outfits designed and made out of the same material. The range of dress styles at this kitchen party was incredible. They were all so beautiful. Some were short, some were long, some looked traditional, and some were very modern. We felt a little out of place in what we were wearing; I wish someone had told us the colour of the kanga beforehand.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The bride in yellow</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It took a while for the kitchen party to actually start, which is apparently normal here. We spent two hours waiting for everyone to arrive, and the bride doesn’t show up until all the guests are seated, so it was a lot of waiting in the heat with little water to drink. Once the bride arrived and the party started, it consisted of mostly dancing. Almost every song came from a different region of Tanzania or a different country in Africa, and a lot of them had different dances to go along with them. We had so much fun dancing for hours with these ladies. They just let loose and dance like crazy nonstop, not like Canadian weddings where people have to be urged to get out of their seats and then they only dance to one song. I think the fact that it was just women there also helped; there were no men to interfere with the fun. (No offense to the men). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">At traditional kitchen parties the older women give the bride advice on things like sex and how to be a good wife, as well as anecdotes from their own marriages. This seems like a beautiful tradition, this passing down of information from one generation to the next, but unfortunately the advice they give is generally to benefit the man in the relationship. It’s all about ways to please her husband, how the man is superior, how the wife needs to remember her place. Not so at this modern kitchen party, where Mary the women’s empowerment advocate was chosen to give the main speech. In the middle of the party Mary made a speech to the bride in which she talked about remembering who she is, what her values are and where she comes from, and not to lose these things simply because she is married. She told Agnes to respect her husband, but also remember that there are two people in a marriage and to respect herself as well. She also told Agnes to talk to someone if her husband beats or rapes her. Mary’s friend translated all this for us (it was in Kiswahili) and told us that often when a husband is beating his wife (which is common), he will stop after someone talks to him about it, but will continue if no one knows. These are the kinds of things brides need to be told before getting married in Tanzania, and all of these women at the kitchen party are there to support her and answer any questions she may have. Seeing how supportive women are of each other here gives me hope for women’s empowerment in this country. It is a good thing men are not allowed to attend these events though, because I can see how some of the things said would be offensive to husbands. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKczV3hUR9hzAnlJxzb-MkEX64a0sRXqNUnP7mDIBzITGLLItB3eWcKHdB-4zvHd_Q-E3oTSAyPJOcidmJY2sgMPk36JjzN_rA5-_zmBMpULBakLkem-uXUjTxqtAz3uVDXkKKyc2txaC/s1600/DSC04690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKczV3hUR9hzAnlJxzb-MkEX64a0sRXqNUnP7mDIBzITGLLItB3eWcKHdB-4zvHd_Q-E3oTSAyPJOcidmJY2sgMPk36JjzN_rA5-_zmBMpULBakLkem-uXUjTxqtAz3uVDXkKKyc2txaC/s400/DSC04690.JPG" width="400" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>With my two wedding dates</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There are several other events involved with a Tanzanian wedding. After the kitchen party comes the bride’s send-off party, where people also wear the same colour of kanga. Both women and men, including the groom, are allowed to attend this party. It is mostly people from the bride’s side of the family again, but some members from the groom’s side are invited as well. There is another party for the men, like a bachelor party, and then there is the typical white wedding ceremony followed by a reception with dinner and dancing. All of this can get very expensive, so each guest is asked to contribute to the cost of the wedding. Weddings are very important in Tanzania, so people are willing to spend a lot of money on any family or friends that are getting married. Couples receive very expensive gifts, the best each guest can afford. It is not uncommon to receive televisions or even cars as wedding gifts. There is not as much pressure to get married in Dar as there is in other areas of Tanzania. In rural areas women are married off for economic reasons to “good families”. The family of the bride may receive a large dowry, or maybe a couple of cows in exchange for their daughter. This is not legal but of course it still happens, as it does all over the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com0Dar es Salaam, Tanzania-6.822921 39.269661-7.0751805 38.953804 -6.5706615 39.585518tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-84486891798204483552011-05-24T00:04:00.000-07:002012-01-17T17:58:47.154-08:00Hakuna Matata<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b> </b> I started Swahili lessons this week and they're going really well. I have two teachers, Deo and Big Boy, and they make class fun, which makes learning so much easier. Greetings are very important to Tanzanians (there are over 100 ways to greet people), and not greeting them in return is considered very rude. People I talk to are so happy now when I speak even a little in Swahili. I have a long way to go yet, but at least I can answer when people ask me "Habari?" or "Hujambo?". FYI, this is usually answered with "nzuri sana". </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ninapenda Tanzania :)</span><br />
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Swahili on the roof with Deo</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b> </b> I also got to start my internship at Women Fund Tanzania this week, even though things aren't official yet. We're still waiting for papers to be signed, but we've worked out which days I'll be at WFT and what it is I'll be working on. I'll be in the office three days a week and occasionally I'll be going with Mary to meetings or out in the field to meet women we could possibly help in the future. WFT really needs help with publicity and finding donors or other organizations with similar interests, so the other intern and I have already started a Facebook page which we will be updating regularly and using to link with other organizations. Who knew Facebook could be such a great tool! If anyone would like to check it out here's the link: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Women-Fund-Tanzania/113785412039439">http://www.facebook.com/pages/Women-Fund-Tanzania/113785412039439</a> . There's not much to it yet as we just started, but like it and help spread the word on this great up and coming organization, the first of it's kind in Tanzania! We will also be working on the WFT website and a pamphlet and we will be creating a database for the Fund as well as researching potential donors. I'm starting to realize that development work requires a whole lot of time spent in an office these days, and not much time spent out there doing the physical side of it. We had a meeting with someone from CIDA (the Canadian International Development Agency) yesterday, and he said CIDA employees now spend most of their time in meetings and doing paperwork. It's not like the old days of building schools and teaching best practices to rural farmers. I'm just happy to finally have things to work on, because I spend so much time just sitting in the office waiting for people to show up.<br />
Speaking of CIDA, we had to go downtown Dar to the Canadian High Commission for the meeting yesterday and we were invited to come back and watch the Canucks games there if they make it to the Stanley Cup final. How awesome would that be? The Canadian High Commission is the closest thing we're going to get to home around here, that's for sure. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I was starting to feel really good about Dar es Salaam, getting to know people and just feeling generally more comfortable here, when one thing yesterday kind of ruined it. We were having a really good day, with ten interns crammed into Iddi's van on the way to the High Commission, singing a song Iddi taught us in Swahili. The song goes like this:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jambo, jambo bwana</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Habari gani?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nzuri sana</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tanzania yetu</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hakuna Matata!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b> </b> It was so much fun singing this song in Swahili over and over again with our taxi driver. I feel like we're really connecting with Iddi and making friends with him; some of the interns have even been to his home and met his family. That made it particularly difficult when we were pulled over later on the way home. We were stuck sitting in traffic and this police officer must have noticed a bunch of 'mzungus' and thought, oh, easy target. There were dalla dallas going by with people hanging out the doors, and trucks loaded with goods, with people sitting on top of the loads, along with bajajs whizzing by along the shoulder. And he decides to pull us over because there are two too many people in the van. It kind of shows you how corrupt people in a place of power can be here. The dalla dallas are privately owned and the cops tend to turn a blind eye to them depending on which wealthy businessman they belong to. Your average taxi driver has no influence on them. The officer looked so angry when he was talking to Iddi and we were terrified that he was going to lose his license/vehicle or have to pay a huge fine/bribe. We saw Iddi going into his pocket for his wallet, but luckily he was let go with just a warning. Or so he says. We didn't see him hand any money over anyway. This experience showed us just how much of a target we are, just based on our skin colour, no matter how at home we may begin to feel here. We have to be more careful to obey laws that are often merely suggestions for the average person. But like the song says, hakuna matata. We're always going to stick out here, so there's no point worrying about it. I'll take the necessary precautions to keep myself, and my new friends like Iddi, safe, but beyond that, no worries!</span></div>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com2Dar es Salaam, Tanzania-6.822921 39.269661-7.0751805 38.953804 -6.5706615 39.585518tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-7730304977118773802011-05-06T14:09:00.000-07:002011-11-04T16:55:38.395-07:00Is it Possible for Me to Be Bored with Beaches? Today was a pretty useless day as most of it was spent suntanning and swimming in the ocean at a fancy resort, yet again. Not that I didn't enjoy it, I absolutely love the beach, but it gets old when that's basically all you're doing three out of four days. Plus the only people at the beach are a few tourists and some fishermen. I'm not sure why nobody goes there, but its really not very exciting. I wish government documents didn't take so long to be processed, I just want to start this internship. Hopefully next week!<br />
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The beach at White Sands resort</div>
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Despite the repetitiveness and uselessness of my afternoon, today was actually really good. This morning me and two other girls went to the Mwenge carvers' market, a fair sized market on the edge of town filled with fantastic carvings, paintings, jewelery, sandals, and dresses. Tanzanians are amazing artists. I wanted to bring everything home with me. The thing I loved best about this market, though, was how non-pushy the vendors were. This was such a great experience compared to Jamaica, the last country I was in. There the vendors were all grabbing my arm, insisting I buy things I didn't want, putting bracelets on my arm when I wasn't interested, and not taking no for an answer. At the Mwenge market everybody was just really friendly. Of course they all wanted to sell us things but they weren't fighting over us and pushing things on us. They would show us something and if we said no, that was fine and that was that. They wouldn't keep on asking how much I would buy it for (I hear it's like this all over the Caribbean. I'm sorry Caribbean, you're beautiful and all but you're not my favourite). This is the way I like to shop: help me when I need help, don't hound me. Yona, our taxi driver, did come into the market with us, so I'm not sure if that made a difference. But either way, I love how nice Tanzanians are.<br />
While I'm happy and on the topic of things I love about Tanzania: I love how green Dar es Salaam is! Not green as in environmentally friendly (because that is something it definitely isn't), but there are just trees and grass and plants everywhere. For a sprawling city of five million people this is very unusual. Nearly every street is lined with big, leafy trees, theres the occasional cow or chicken, and some residents have started up their own form of urban agriculture. They're planting corn and other vegetables in the empty spaces next to office buildings and stores. I don't think urban agriculture is officially allowed in Dar, but I do hope they keep up with it because it is such a good thing and it allows city dwellers to become a little more self sufficient. And maybe they won't have to buy produce from outside sources as much. Because even for us we noticed today that produce can be ridiculously expensive here. And if its expensive for us, how could someone who makes only the equivalent of $200 per year afford it? Food prices are rising globally and that is bad news for your average Tanzanian.<br />
The good news is that we are meeting with a local security company tomorrow, and maybe, just maybe we'll be able to use dalla-dallas and bajajs sometime soon?Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com0Dar es Salaam, Tanzania-6.822921 39.269661-7.0751805 38.953804 -6.5706615 39.585518tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-88256368207220076072011-05-05T13:44:00.000-07:002012-01-17T18:00:36.526-08:00Welcome to Dar<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b> </b> And welcome to the most disconnected from life I have ever felt. Not from life at home, I have internet so I know what's going on there, but from life here in Dar es Salaam. I've been in Tanzania for four days now and only now am I beginning to feel like that's actually where I am. I've been living in a house behind a gate in a wealthier part of the city with a bunch of Canadians, taking taxi's everywhere, shopping in Western style stores, eating at Italian restaurants and sunbathing at fancy beach resorts. This is not how I travel. Usually when I arrive somewhere I grab a map, walk out the front door of my cheap hostel and wander. I go to local markets, barter a little, eat mystery food from carts on the side of the road, maybe get lost a few times. And I always use public transportation like buses, tuk tuks, motorcycle taxis, ferries, etc. <b> </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b> </b> Because this internship was coordinated through a university I have to play by the university's rules. And their rules say safety first. This means taking taxis everywhere, always in groups of at least two. I am not even allowed to use a tuk tuk (or bajaj as its called here), despite the fact that it would be much faster and cheaper. And no ferries because, oh no, there may be pirates (there are Somalian pirates around, but they've never attacked the ferries). Everything I do has to be planned and approved. Its incredible how hemmed in and typically North American I'm feeling. And I hate this feeling. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> If things continued this way I may have gone crazy. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> But today, for the first time, I walked down the street to a bakery and a fruit stand and it was like being given a day pass from prison. I can't believe how freeing that was, just walking down the street and buying fruit. I realize safety measures are there for a reason, but seriously, I have no more chance of getting mugged on the street or hit by a bus </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">here than anywhere else.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> T</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">oday I also met with Mary and Brian from Women Fund Tanzania and I was reminded of why I'm here. Mary seems like an incredible woman and she is so excited to get this fledgling NGO off the ground. After talking to her I'm<b> </b>excited too and I can't wait to get started and be a part of herstory (as she calls it). We're still waiting for Immigration to approve our resident visas so I can actually start my internship, but on Monday I'll be meeting with them again to go into deeper detail on what my project will entail. I also met two CIDA interns who work in the office just above where I'll be working. It sounds like they are working on really good projects that I can't wait to learn more about. These two have been here longer than me so they also have a lot of really helpful information on life in Dar. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Simply getting out of my gated compound and meeting people that live and work here has made me feel so much better. And I'm sure once I start working I will feel more like I'm actually in Tanzania, not just a humid version of North America where I can see Africa through the windows. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b> </b></span>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com2Dar es Salaam, Tanzania-6.822921 39.269661-7.0751805 38.953804 -6.5706615 39.585518tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-19047368894301589272011-05-01T11:29:00.000-07:002011-11-04T16:53:24.407-07:00Africa What?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> Am I really going to be in Africa on Monday? It sure doesn't feel like it. It feels like I flew down to Houston just to hang out in the airport. I don't think my brain has accepted it yet. But thats normal for me I guess. It won't hit me until I walk through the airport doors into the heat and humidity of Dar es Salaam, the largest city in Tanzania. Until I'm sweating in a taxi crawling through traffic, wondering what my life is going to be like for the next four months. I hope that these next four months will be fulfilling, enlightening and educating. I already know that they will be filled with incredible people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> I'm doing an internship in Dar for three months with an NGO (non-governmental organization) called Women Fund Tanzania (WFT). WFT is a non-profit, women's rights organization based in Dar es Salaam, the largest city in Tanzania. In a country where women lack visibility and their contributions to society are undervalued or unnoticed, this organization aims to increase women's rights and empowerment through the implementation of a functional funding mechanism for women's groups. My job will be to assist in the organization of a coffee co-op. I will also be assisting with an organic coffee project in Arusha and another project with the Masaai. It's a good thing I like coffee, but I am completely and utterly inexperienced in this area and am a little worried about how much help I will actually be to them. What I am hoping, though, is that my three months spent with WFT will give me the experience and knowledge I need to work with similar organizations in the future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I hope to spend my life in the field of development, and even though women's rights are not what I had in mind they are an extremely important piece in the development puzzle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Throughout my three month internship (plus a few weeks of tourist time) in Tanzania I will continue to update this blog for anyone interested in the life of a lowly intern in an African NGO. Hopefully this goes well. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="http://maps.google.ca/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=217220781475921607636.0004a0c5074bceb999964&ll=31.653381,-22.851562&spn=108.779693,0&z=2">Click here for a map of where my trip will have taken me by tomorrow afternoon</a></span></div>
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<br /></div>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com1Houston, TX, USA29.7601927 -95.369389629.319101200000002 -96.001103600000008 30.2012842 -94.7376756tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5066643778877408612.post-59032696723140034422011-02-22T02:06:00.000-08:002012-01-17T18:04:06.096-08:00Unstuck<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px;"><i></i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – he realized that he was not his car, he realized that he was not his job, he was not his phone, his desk or his shoes. Like a boat cut from its anchor, he’d begun to drift.</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>*There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – he took the wind for a map, he took the sky for a clock, and he set off with no destination. He was never lost.</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>*There once was a man who became unstuck in the world – instead of hooks or a net, he threw himself into the sea. He was never thirsty.</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>*There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – with a polaroid camera he made pictures of all the people he met, and then he gave all the pictures away. He would never forget their faces.</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>*There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – and each person he met became a little less stuck themselves. He traveled only with himself and he was never alone.</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>*There was once a man who’d become unstuck in the world – and he traveled around like a leaf in the wind until he reached the place where he started out. His car, his job, his phone, his shoes – everything was right where he’d left it. Nothing had changed, and yet he felt excited to have arrived here – as if this were the place he’d been going all along.</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b> - Castles in the Sky</b></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5I5kU0ZvmWM7bKELdS3EHLhZrliIZtcLKq5SOcbIZIGfgB2Kv_NreuhHYgoeN0MLseNOYG4Chf4fQAjF20hy6dD5nu3SB6PNm2Nej_KeDbjHtebFPkGyYKStedSgrgq3ND-9LWNZNzaE_/s1600/31737_10150195104470401_566755400_12134174_4398677_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5I5kU0ZvmWM7bKELdS3EHLhZrliIZtcLKq5SOcbIZIGfgB2Kv_NreuhHYgoeN0MLseNOYG4Chf4fQAjF20hy6dD5nu3SB6PNm2Nej_KeDbjHtebFPkGyYKStedSgrgq3ND-9LWNZNzaE_/s320/31737_10150195104470401_566755400_12134174_4398677_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">The first time I heard this quote it sent a chill down my spine. Becoming unstuck: what an idea. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 22px;">It's such a simple word for an action, a feeling, that I couldn't ever really describe.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 22px;">Becoming unstuck is exactly what I've been trying to do since I was 19 years old, possibly even earlier. When I was 19 I went to Spain. It was the first time I'd ever left North America and it made me realize I didn't need to be stuck in the town I grew up in. I could move to Spain if I wanted to. I could <i>do</i> anything I wanted to. I <i>could</i> take the wind for a map and set off with no destination. And I've done it. Only for weeks or months at a time, and then I always end up back where I started from. But that feeling of complete and utter freedom that I get for those weeks or months is better than anything else. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 22px;">When I return home I feel like I'm a different person than I was when I left, but everything here is the same. My job is still there, my phone is there, my closet is full of the same old shoes. My friends are doing the same thing they were doing last time I saw them. For a brief time, this sameness feels new and exciting to me. I can read signs and menus in English, I actually have clothes to choose from other than what I have in my backpack, I can have dinner with my family and catch up with my friends. But soon enough, I begin to feel stuck again. I'm stuck going to the same old job, stuck going to the same old bars with the same old people, stuck driving down the same roads every day, stuck seeing and doing the same old things. I love this place and it will always be my home, but soon enough, I inevi</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 22px;">tably feel the need to unstick myself. I'm feeling this need again now. I need to pull up the anchor and drift away to new shores. I need to become unstuck. And in a few days I will be, temporarily. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 22px;">Jesse Unstuck</span></span>Jesse Olundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06180410092402881867noreply@blogger.com3Mission, BC V2V, Canada49.133714 -122.31128849.123324499999995 -122.331029 49.1441035 -122.29154700000001