The World's most beautiful cemetery, Tibetans in Switzerland, Steak and more steak

We had lunch yet again at Don Julio - the amazing steak restaurant just down the road from my hostel. Delicious!

In the evening we attempted to go for a Tango show at Cafe Tortoni - Argentina's oldest cafe - having been established in 1858, but when we got there, the show was oversubscribed and we couldn't get in. I did however get a free history lesson from a Tibetan-Swiss guy with us. Apparently Switzerland has one of the largest Tibetan communities out of Tibet. In the 1960s, Red Cross resettled 300 Tibetans in Switzerland and an additional 150 orphans were adopted by Swiss families. 

The next day I finally made it to Recoleta cemetery, and I admit, it is the most beautiful cemetery I have ever been to. It was almost like visiting a museum - amazing sculptures, beautiful tombstones etc. It was the first time I had seen bodies buried above the ground. I always assumed that "six feet under" was the norm, but apparently in some places, people are buried at ground level. Most of the bodies were in mausoleums. 

I got to where Evita was buried and there were people crying at her grave. It was quite touching given she died in 1952. I recall asking someone who worked at the cemetery to direct me to her grave. He started hitting on me and I remember thinking "how inappropriate is this? Should you really be hitting on people at a cemetery?" The cemetery was huge - I walked around for hours and i'm not sure I got to see everything. Some of the mausoleums were in disarray - perhaps a wealthy family that no longer had money. In some, you could see bones falling out. Some were so touching because of the melodramatic sculptures - the wailing maidens were a fixture throughout. 

There was one mausoleum that had a sculpture of a woman and a dog. I wondered - was her dog buried here? Did she die of rabies that she contracted from the dog?

After the cemetery I went to a brewery down the road where I had a few beer samplers. In the evening I went for dinner with a friend and her friend. After that we partied the night away - highlights include meeting a long haired Chilean artist who played Mulatu Astatke - the godfather of Ethiojazz. It was a great day and night!

Buenos Aires city tour part 3

ECONOMICS

If you’re wondering what happened in Buenos Aires to encourage the development of luxury buildings based on literature, the answer is simple – Money. The story of Buenos Aires and Argentina in general  is one of rags to riches back to rags.

In a nutshell early in the 20th century Argentina became the world’s 7th richest country but since then it has slowly declined with remaining among the top 15 world economies around the 1950s but now only being classified as just an upper middle-income country. Its greatest troubles are credited to high inflation (between 10-25% in 2013 depending on what source you trust (official Government figures of privately estimated statistics), political insecurity through most of the 1900s and lots of economic turmoil including unequal income distribution (which could explain all the strikes in Argentina.)

MADRES DE LA PLAZA DE MAYO (Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo)

The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo is an association of Argentine mothers whose children disappeared during the military dictatorship, between 1976 and 1983. They came together while trying to learn what had happened to their children, and began to march in 1977 at the Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aires, in front of the Presidential palace in public defiance of the government's state terrorism intended to silence all opposition.

The military has admitted that over 9,000 of those kidnapped are still unaccounted for, but the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo say that the number of missing is closer to 30,000. Most are presumed dead. An estimated 500 of the missing are grandchildren born in concentration camps or prisons to pregnant 'disappeared' women; the babies were given in illegal adoptions to military families and others associated with the regime. Their mothers were generally believed killed. The numbers are hard to determine due to the secrecy surrounding the abductions.

EVITA

She was a legend and what most people know about her is that she was Argentina’s beloved first lady who died of cancer at the young age of 33. What most people don’t know about her is the reason she is still loved in the eyes of many in Argentina and beyond. In my time there I had her being described as an angel, a saint and after reading up a lot on her I see why the people loved and still love her.

Eva was born the last of 5 children in rural Argentina. She moved to Buenos Aires at the age of 15 to pursue a career as a stage, radio, and film actress. She met Colonel Juan Peron in 1944, two years before he became the President of Argentina. She was a proponent for labor rights, championed women’s suffrage in Argentina (resulting in women getting the right to vote in 1947.) She fought for the rights of the poor, the orphaned, the jobless. She fought for the rights of illegitimate children who were marginalized by Argentinian law. She herself was the result of a relationship between her very poor mother and a wealthy rancher who had a family of his own. She grew up stigmatized by the abandonment by her father who had returned to his legal wife and family. She grew up branded a “bastard.” At the age of 15 she ran off from her poverty stricken village with a musician to Buenos Aires to seek a better life. In Buenos Aires she suffered as she had little formal education and no connections. She eventually managed to rise up the ranks of media and have a stable income and an apartment of her own.

It was at this time that she met and fell in love with the future President of Argentina. They met during a fundraiser for an earthquake that had killed 10,000 people. He had organized to have a sort of artistic festival as the fundraiser and she was one of the artists in attendance.

This rise from rags to riches and all her charitable work and support for the downtrodden in Argentina coupled with her early death result in the love that Argentinians have for her. It would be a few days before I would see young Argentinians wail at her burial site in Recoleta cemetery – even though she had been dead for over half a century. 

Tigre island, Buenos Aires

After the little shower incident highlighted in my previous blog post, I had exactly 3 hours to sleep/sober up and head to a little town called Tigre in Buenos Aires. 

Tigre (Tiger) is a town to the North of Argentina. It lies on the Parana Delta and is a tourist attraction. The island was created by several small streams and rivers and was founded in the early 1800s.  The name comes from the jaguars that were hunted there in the past centuries. In modern times Tigre is best known for the celebrities who have homes there including Madonna. 

The idea to go to Tigre had been hatched the night before at the hostel - before my night of partying till 6am...As such, when I woke up I really debated with myself if I wanted to go. I was suffering - suffering. In addition, there was one person in this group who I had a serious aversion to. I generally like most people, but there was this one girl who I just did not like. The trip turned out to be ok. It wasn't the most beautiful island I have been to or anything. As such I would advise anyone going to Buenos Aires to skip it - nothing much to see. Buenos Aires itself had many more beautiful sites than Tigre.

We eventually got back to our hostel at 7pm and I went straight to bed. 2.5 hours of sleep after a long night out is no longer what it used to be:-)

First day in Buenos Aires, Argentina

I finally had access to my hostel room around 2pm. By that time I had realized that napping for the day was a total waste of time - sleep is for losers:-) I decided to go to walk to the nearby plaza - Plaza Serrano for lunch. Lunch was delicious, the weather was perfect and I was enjoying the new scenery. After my yummy lunch I decided to walk to the Palermo lakes - errrr, I never got there. I think I went in the wrong direction, but everywhere I went was beautiful. So I decided it really wasn't that important for me to go where I had planned, given where I found myself was still beautiful:-) The joys of being in a city for a long time and having flexibility.

Somewhere along the way I met two Aussie girls who were also lost. We decided to get lost together. We found ourselves in a lovely Japanese garden. The first thing I saw were Mai fish and I instantly thought "Oh gosh! Those are the fish from screensavers." Yes my friends, they are real. 

I eventually parted with my new Aussie friends and tried to get to the Palermo lakes, but again it was all in vain. One hour later I had seen lots of forests and no lakes. Oh, and I had began to experience what I call the "Argentinian cat-call." It is as creepy as any cat-call you will ever experience passing near a construction site. Everywhere "pssssssssssst sexy lady!" "Pssssssssssssst!" Cars slowing down, "Pssssssssssss!" I guess I didn't see any other black women in my time in Buenos Aires.....but the catcalls were a pain. You never get catcalled by Brad Pitt or Idris Elba. It is always very shady characters who you just wish could stop. 

I finally found a lake and took a break. I sat on a bench and watched people roller blading and skate-boarding all around me. After a while I was surrounded by really beautiful but aggressive geese. I waited till sunset then began my long walk back to the hostel. It was a peaceful first day in Buenos Aires.  

The aftermath of wine country

                                   One of the reasons Thekenyanexplorer needed to reflect on her life

After my fun day in Mendoza - going out to the park, making friends over free wine, going out clubbing and discovering what I believe is the worst drink known to humans - Fernet, getting home at 6am....I woke up at 12:30pm.....Suffering. This was to be the day of the vineyard tour. I had already paid for it and I was not about to lose my money. I showered, drank lots of water and tried to look as functional as I could given my poor state. Around 1:15pm we were picked up from the hostel for the vineyard tour. On the itinerary were two vineyards and one olive farm. The van spent the next 45 or so minutes picking people from various hostels. I was already starting to feel unwell but thought I would survive the day.

Our first stop was the olive oil farm. We were escorted to a lovely room with all sorts of  hors d'oeuvres that either had olives or were to be dipped into different types of exotic olive oil - ginger, garlic, pepper flavoured....everything that would normally entice my senses. I felt a gag reflex. I promptly fled from the room, went and ordered a taxi (that cost me a pretty penny) to get me back to the hostel. I blame fernet. I spent the rest of the day so so sick. At the hostel I was advised to take some flavoured soda water to at least fill my stomach. I couldn't eat anything all day. I bought the soda water, went to a little park opposite the hostel and reflected on my life. My reflections were as follows: "Silly silly girl! You should know better! What is wrong with you? Why did you have to take so much wine, beer and fernet yesterday?" Having self-flagellated to an acceptable extent, I went back to the hostel. I joined people on the patio for free wine at 7pm, but sat there drinking my flavoured soda water. That day we were determined to find the buffet place, which we finally did. By that time (around 9pm) I was ready for my first meal of the day. I stuffed my face at that nice buffet place on Lazarus street. Haiya! I just realized how ironic that is. I felt like I was brought back to life from the dark place I had been during the day...on Lazarus street of all places. 

All of us went back to the hostel and watched "Taxi driver" followed by "The others." That reminds me I need to watch "The others" again. I love horrors!

Heeee- so this is wine country!

Picking grapes off the "roof" at the hostel patio

The park close to our hostel in Mendoza

In my first official day in Mendoza I woke up at around noon. I was in a 6 person room and was woken up by the sounds of new people moving in. I jumped out of bed. This was late! I had planned to go on a vineyard tour that was to depart around 1pm. My two new roomies turned out to be a really great German guy and girl. We instantly hit it off speaking German and hearing from them about their adventures in South America. I believe the standard list of questions for other backpackers I had met along the way was 1. So where are you coming in from? 2. How long will you be in South America for? 3. What does your itinerary look like. We quickly got up to speed with Max and Barbara. The best advice they gave me was to change the hostel I planned to stay in Buenos Aires. 

Max and Barbara: It is a party hostel

Thekenyanexplorer: Sounds like my type of hostel.

Max and Barbara: No, really! It is full of 18 year olds who don't know how to drink. You will wake up to puke on the floor. You can never sleep as people party 24 hours a day.

Thekenyanexplorer: Uh huh! Ok. Time to cancel my "Milhouse hostel" booking and change to this Eco Pampa place you guys have recommended.

They also had plans of doing the vineyard tour, but we quickly discovered there was a nationwide strike that day. Everything was closed. This actually became quite common during my stay in Argentina - nationwide strikes. The weather was rainy, but we all decided to go to a park nearby that was meant to be quite pretty. We waited at the hostel for a Norwegian friend of theirs and together we went to the park.

It was half an hour's walk away, and we spent an hour or so walking around at the park. I was so thankful for all the speed-walking I have been doing at Jaffreys as this was no normal stroll in the park. We were walking quite fast - which I actually enjoyed a lot. I am one of those people who get irritated when I am in Nairobi CBD and people are walking slowly as if they are in a wedding procession. 

After our cardio session at the park we went back to our hostel and had a few beers as we waited for the 7pm free wine. Now that I think about it, I don't think we ate anything that day other than some yummy chocolates that Jonas (our Norwegian friend) bought us. After the beers, we had lots and lots of wine. More and more people streamed onto the patio and at "free wine time" was when I realized just how many people the hostel had. Friendships were quickly made - lubricated by bottle's of wine and cemented with memories that none of us would clearly remember at a later date. The patio was something from another planet. I only realized that the plants hanging from the patio "roof" were grapevines, when we were provided with bowls to grab as many grapes as we wanted to have with our wine...Yes, true story!

At some point someone mentioned there was a great buffet place that cost around $10. We all walked there - by this point we were a group of around 15 or so very loud tourists. We never found the place and ended up eating somewhere along the way - no real recollection of where exactly. At some point Jonas mentioned he knew a cool hip-hop club in the middle of Mendoza. Off we went! I was out till around 6am and clearly remember hearing Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby got back," in Mendoza:-) Wonders never cease. My one poor decision for the night was having a few shots of some Fernet - an Argentinian liqueur. It was a decision I would really regret all of the next day. 

Going to Argentina baby!!

With a heavy head (terramoto hangover) I left for Valparaiso in Chile for Mendoza in Argentina. I really should learn to read maps. My original plan had me leaving Santiago in Chile for Argentina with Buenos Aires being my first stop, followed by Bariloche then Mendoza (wine country). Anyone who can understand maps would tell you that this made no sort of sense. Mendoza was closest to Chile. While in Chile someone told me how cold and empty Bariloche was, and I scrapped it off my itinerary. My main reason for going there was because I read the beaches were amazing - I had no plans whatsoever to end up in a coastal town during winter.....I also realized that it made most sense to get to Mendoza first then end my trip in Buenos Aires.

From my hostel in Valparaiso I took a cab to the bus-stop around 7am. Within 2 minutes of getting on the bus, I was out cold. I slept all the way till we got to the Chile-Argentina border hours later. The border process was a jistier version of the Kenya-Uganda border. We all got off the bus, went to "exit" from Chile then went to a different queue to "enter" Argentina. It was relatively painless as these were 2 countries in my South America trip I actually had visas for......heeee heeee. Tulivuka border - crossed the border.

At 4pm I got to Mendoza. The hostel was decent and it's main selling point was that they served free Malbec wine every day between 7-8pm. Malbec is a type of red wine whose origin is in Mendoza in Argentina. Think of it as a type as "Cabernet sauvignon", "shiraz", "merlot" etc are types. It's a bit of a big deal, but not found in general shops in our parts of the world. I went out to a nearby restaurant - ate pork, got back to the hostel and enjoyed lots of free wine and made good friends at the hostel. 

I knew I would enjoy my time in Argentina!

Touring Valparaiso

After my late night at the hostel hearing of people's travel adventures, I planned to go on a free city tour the next day at 3pm. I could not believe it when I woke up at 2pm and realized I was very likely going to miss the tour. I jumped out of bed, showered quickly, possibly only oiled visible body parts (hands, legs etc) and sped off. I was extremely hungry, but because of foolishly waking up late, I had no time to eat and had to go for a 3 hour walking tour on an empty stomach.

The tour was great in that they told us a lot about modern Valparaiso - artsy town, large port, UNESCO World Heritage site etc, but the tour was severely lacking in historical information. I love history and learning about different countries' past. I was hoping to hear about dreaded former dictator Augusto Pinochet. I wanted to hear about the Chicago boys - a group of US educated Chilean economists who in the 70s and 80s were responsible for free market policies that are lauded for the positive economic impact in Chile. Unfortunately we didn't get to hear about any such things. 

The tour was useful though in many ways - I got to see a lot of Valparaiso in a short time. We went to a place that sells 60 types of empanadas. I stuffed my face given how hungry I was. We used a few of the town elevators - really ancient but interesting elevators. We went to the port, walked up and down crazy hills. I felt energized. When I got to my hostel I actually walked up the hill. It was exerting, but not too bad given altitude was not an issue. If this had been a hill in Bolivia, I would probably have given up the ghost after 5 minutes. 

I got to the hostel and sat on the balcony with my hostel mates watching the sun set. We decided we were going out that night. I always do stupid things like that when I have an early morning bus/plane/train. It's some sort of self sabotage thing. We had dinner and drinks at the hostel then went out to party. We walked around in circles for an hour or so, finally gave up on finding the specific club we were looking for and just went into the first bar we saw. We found a place that sold "Terremotos."

"Terremotos" require a paragraph of their own. It is Chile's national drink and translated to "earthquake" mostly because of what it looks like, but it is might also be a forewarning for what your tummy will feel like after drinking this. It is served either in a half liter or liter cup and is sweet white wine with pineapple icecream. It is actually quite sweet, which is why I would say it is dangerous - so sweet that you don't realize how much you have had.

As we drank our terremotos we told horror stories. I'm not quite sure why.

I really struggled in the morning to wake up by 6am to catch my morning bus to Mendoza in Argentina.

Aaaaaaaah Argentina! I will enjoy telling you about my time there in my future blog entries. 

Valparaiso - home of artists in Chile

Valparaiso was one of those places I had never heard about before getting to South America, but once I heard about it, I immediately decided I would visit. As I said before, I found Chile to be a bit too conventional for my tastes - too clean, too organized, too-not-what-I-imagined-it-would-be. Everyone told me that Valparaiso was completely different from the rest of Chile - it was an artsy place, where people wore bold colors and dared to different in all kinds of ways. I quickly added it to my itinerary. 

I planned to take a 4:15pm bus to Valparaiso from Santiago. It was only an hour away by bus. I got to the train station, bought my ticket and the girl at the ticket counter, had a pretty bad handwriting. She wrote my bus would leave from platform 7....or so I thought. I waited and waited and finally at 4:30 I went to the booth to find out why my bus was delayed - only to find out my bus had left from platform 1. She told me I would have to buy another ticket or try my luck talking to a bus driver for the next bus - I tried my luck and was luckily able to get on the next bus without any additional charges. I had slowly been picking up enough Spanish in Bolivia to survive, have basic conversations etc, but I realized that I could barely understand anyone in Chile - they speak really fast and have a different accent. 

When I got off the bus to Valparaiso,  I was directed to another bus that would get me close to the hostel I was to stay at. My hostel was on top of a proper hill. Valparaiso is very hilly and there are old school elevators linking lower parts of the town to upper parts. The bus driver assured me that I would be at my hostel shortly when I hopped on the bus. Half an hour later, we had been driving and driving and driving - dropping people off and still no sign of my hostel. Another half hour later I was now the only person remaining on the bus and I started to panic. Of course I had no idea where we were. I kept on asking the driver if he was still going to get me to my hostel and in his rapid fire Spanish, I think he said something like, "The moon is wearing a purple dress." With this assurance I sat back, relaxed and enjoyed the view. My anxiety came back when we got to a bus parking lot - not quite different from bus station in Nairobi except for the fact that it was deserted. I remember thinking of what I could use as a weapon in my bag because by now I was beginning to think I was getting kidnapped. 

The driver got off the bus and came back with a broom and started cleaning the bus, "Cough! Cough! Ahem! I am still here." His response, "Yes the sun shines a brilliant blue." After this he proceeded to count coins. He then sat down, read a newspaper for 15 minutes and finally started the bus after that. In another 10 minutes I was close to my hostel. I was able to get a cab from the bottom of the hill. I was in no mood to lug my backpack up a hill for half an hour. I still have no clue why the driver took me around on a sort of not so joyful joyride.

I got to my hostel, rang the bell and a barefoot Indian guy with a British accent and long dreadlocks came and opened the door. I immediately knew I would like this town. It just seemed like a very chill place. He directed me next door where he told me I could buy some yummy empanadas (meat pies) for dinner. I went there, bought some food and drinks and came back to the hostel. It was such a happy place. I went to the lounge, ended up meeting lots of friendly people and we shared drinks and talked till the wee hours of the morning.

One particularly fascinating conversation was about ayahuasca. I had seen a documentary about this crazy natural hallucinogen that is used by healers in parts of the Amazon forest to give them visions that enable them to cure sick people. One of the tourists in our midst told us how he had spent a few months living with a tribe in Ecuador in a forest and that he had used ayahuasca to "become one with humanity", "open my mind" etc. I sipped on my beer and thought to myself, "Some people are just from a different planet." 

Arrival in Santiago

I got to Santiago around 4pm and took the metro to my hostel. I stayed at a place called Princesa Insolente (the rude princess) and it was one of the hardest hostels to find. Poor thekenyanexplorer had to carry her backpack for around 30 minutes to find the hostel. The directions there made no sense. I had evening plans with a lovely Chilean couple I had met on the streets of Bahia in Brazil. I had notified them on facebook that I had arrived and they invited me for a night out with them and friends. 

I had a huge dinner alone at a place close to my hostel. After my 24 hour bus ride with no liquids and a few snacks, I felt like "splurging" and eating a proper meal. I don't remember exactly what I ate, but I remember that I had a huge 1L beer to go with it. Aaaaaah! The joy of a large meal and a refreshing beer. Later on we went to watch a dance show by a Chilean group that was performing Colombian inspired music.....Yeah, I am still confused by what that was:-)

My Chilean friends and their friends were really kind. I have to confess though that of the 4 South American countries I went to - Brazil, Argentina, Chile and Bolivia, Chile was my least favourite. It's hard to explain why, but my main reason was that it felt so conservative and not exotic enough. All the other countries had tribes, different races, unique cultures etc, but Chile felt like a generic European country - which is fine if I am in Europe, but when in South America, one clearly has expectations of "flavour", "rythm", "excitement." I never found that in Chile. I guess it's kind of like Wazungus who come to Kenya and expect to see jumping Masaais, lions everywhere, people walking around in their "tribal" clothes and instead find Nairobians in Western clothes sipping lattes in Java. 

It was not Chile's fault - I just had my own expectations of the place.

"Great expectations make frustrated men" - Hama Tuma in The Case of the Prison-Monger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gulliver's Travels part 7: Sicily

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

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

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

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

*****

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

Gulliver's Travels part 2: Arrival in Vienna

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

****

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

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

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

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

The king's quarters

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

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

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

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

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

I slept well that night.

Traversing the Bolivian desert and salt flats day 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Traversing the Bolivian salt flats and desert - day 1

I got into the town of Uyuni around 11pm on a Sunday evening, and was off for a desert expedition early the next morning. I left my hostel around 9:45am and walked to the place where we would be departing from. We were to leave at 10:30am but by 11:30am there was still no progress. In La Paz, I had been told that the trip would be in a 4*4 and that we would be 6 in total (excluding the driver.) I eventually met the other travelers as we waited for our transportation to arrive. There were 2 German girls (one who was more Australian than German given she had a really strong Aussie accent, and had lived there a long time), one German guy, one Uruguayan guy, one French girl, the Bolivian driver and myself. By the time we departed, there was a long line of jeeps leaving the town for the salt flats and the desert. I am a tourist, but I must confess that I feel a bit upset when I realize that I am not unique.....all a thousand plus of us heading off to see the same sites:-) Our driver was really great so pretty soon we were able to lose the long lines of jeep.....vroooooooom.....Eat our dust:-)

Our first stop was the train cemetery. Construction of the rail was completed in 1892, and the trains were mostly used by mining companies. In the 1940s, the mining industry collapsed and many trains were abandoned here.  It was such a beautiful sight. All these abandoned trains in the desolate space. It looked like something from an old Western film. It was beautiful. After this we drove for hours and all we could see around us was salt. We passed some little salt hills in the beginning, but after that the landscape was all flat. It was amazing - as far as your eyes could see, the ground was all white. I have never seen anything like this - except for snow - and even with snow, there was always buildings or cars to break the landscape. In the car, one of the other travelers began talking about all the really creative pictures one can take given the never-changing background. I was about to eat a banana I had in my bag when she mentioned that it would be a great prop for pictures. It is the fascinating little beat up specimen you will see in pictures below. When we got out at the spot where people mostly take such pictures, I was amazed. The ground was solid salt and we were told that it extends even more than 9m deep into the ground. It was solidified salt. We had a fun time taking crazy pictures here before sitting down to enjoy our lunch - a little picnic on our salt carpet. Brilliant! During lunch hour the Uruguayan guy and I ironed out some differences.....Suarez is the devil for what he did to our Ghanaian brother - Asamoah Gyan, but I don't blame all your countrymen.... just him.... and malipo ni hapa duniani (payback is on earth:-)

The Uyuni Salt Flats (Salar de Uyuni) is the world's largest salt flat at over 10,000 square km, and an elevation of more than 3600m (~12,000 feet above sea level.) It was formed as a result of transformations between several prehistoric lakes. The salt is extremely rich in lithium. 50-70% of the world's lithium reserves are found at Salar de Uyuni. 

After this we drove for half an hour and arrived at the Incahuasi Island that was full of giant cacti. This was where I learnt for the first time that I had been doing it all wrong in South America. For a while I had wondered why in many washrooms, water pressure was too low to flush toilet paper. Many times I had waited for cisterns to fill 2-3 times before finally being able to get rid of all toilet paper. In the loo in the island, there was a sign that read, "Do not flush your toilet paper. Put it in the waste basket." I asked one of my fellow travelers about it, and she said, "Yeah, you should never flush toilet paper down the loo in most places in Central and South America." I was clearly confused, but I have taken it as it is......though I must say a latrine would be a much better option than having a pretend toilet that doesn't flush toilet paper.....who wants to have a bucket of crap in a loo......literally...

Enough about random crap. That island was amazing! Just imagine being in the middle of hundreds of miles of salt flats, and suddenly seeing an island with giant cacti in the horizon. I think Uyuni salt flats and the desert are an amazing site for sci-fi movies. I have never ever seen anything like it. The island was a hill, and in the beginning I had no intentions of going all the way to the top, but I somehow climbed up the whole hill. Every few meters I went up, I would look down and see the most stunning views of the island and the salt flats - I just had to keep going till I reached the summit. I sat at the top for a few minutes and marveled about nature. When one finds such beauty, you just want to save those images in your mind (and in your camera) forever!

Other amazing sites we saw were Devil's cave - a pre-Incan cemetery from about 500 - 800 AD. 

Again we drove for hundreds more miles in this amazing landscape and finally got to the Salt Hotel around 7pm. True to it's name, most of the hotel was made of salt. Our beds, were pillars of salt. The ground was granules of salt. The benches were pillars of salt. Something had been bothering me for the better part of the day. Within minutes of leaving Uyuni (around noon), my phone network had gone off, and had not come back since. I had enquired about it and someone told me "duh. We are in the middle of nowhere.....of course there is no phone network." I panicked and wondered "Oh gosh. Does this mean we also won't have wifi where we are staying?"  She added "In fact we probably won't have any electricity for the next few days." Now, I really panicked. I had been using my phone as my camera,and the battery was almost done by the time we got to the Salt Hotel. There were no sockets in the room. Thankfully a kind lady in the kitchen agreed to charge my phone for me for a few hours. 

I slept moderately well that night as the salt in the room made the temperatures bearable. 

Moving to Arembepe, Bahia!

At some point I realized that if I was to stay in Bahia longer, I needed to move somewhere cheaper. I decided to move to a town called Arembepe. Packing my backpack was a trial. I am not the neatest person in the world, and in the one week of staying in my own room at the hostel, I had thrown everything everywhere. I really wonder how everything made it into the backpack - that was nothing short of a miracle. As I waited for my friend to take me to Arembepe, I decided to find a nice quiet place with wifi where I could blog. I found a cafe in Pelourinho called "Cubanos". I wanted to order something cheap to sip on then stay therefor hours and use their wifi. I ordered a drink called "green coconut" and what showed up on my table was a humoungous green coconut, with a straw. Not exactly what I had in mind to while the time away - especially given the coconut could not stand on its own. Finally I left for Arembepe, and my backpack nearly killed me. I had forgotten how heavy that bag was. 

On my first day in Arembepe, we walked for half an hour to get to a very beautiful river and went swimming there. At some point I was getting carried away by the euphoria (and maybe the cachaca in my system too), and swam out further. My friends stopped me and told me not to go too far because of the snakes and the plants whose tendrils could entangle someone. I asked, "What? There are snakes in this river?" and my friends responded, "Yeah, but at this time they probably won't bite. They have already eaten." I didn't get the logic of it, but at that point I limited my swimming close to the shore. The day was so hot that at some point we passed a dead frog on the road that must have died from heat exhaustion - at least that's what I think. 

In the evening we explored the town and ate the most amazing acaraje in the city center from a lady called "Cachita". She has had her stand there for over 20 years. Yummmy! We then joined some friend's of my friend's friend for drinks. 

It was an early night after all the traveling. 

Cachita!

Islands and birthday parties.......!!

On my first Saturday in Bahia, my friend invited me for his uncle's 60th birthday party. It was lovely! His family were really great and the food was amazing. I couldn't eat as much as I was still having contractions from that herbal cough remedy. I did have some little dough coated cheese and shrimp delights. The cake was beautiful, and was surrounded by hundreds of cute little chocolates. I think it's a birthday tradition because the next birthday party I went to also had a cake surrounded by little chocolates. I had the most interesting discussions with his cousin's and siblings about race in Brazil. They said that even though Bahia is predominantly black, there is still quite a bit of discrimination against blacks with most of them being economically disenfranchised and many times being passed over for jobs in favor of hiring whites. There are quite a few Indian native tribes in Bahia, and the situation was said to not be any better for them. It was a very thought provoking discussion because I wondered how it works for those who are of mixed ethnicities. Of course I had seen many black people who completely looked like Africans, and I had seen white people who looked European, but I had also seen dark black people with green eyes or naturally blond hair or white people with tough afros or black people with Indian hair. I have always thought racism is such a stupid thing, and a lot of work too. To think that in South Africa, they had Black, White, Indian and then Colored (which I guess was the catch-all for mixed). In Brazil you even have more permutations of what people could be. Why is skin color such an important thing? It is so arbitrary. Discrimination could even have been along the lines of hair color for all you know. It would be a world of dark haired against brown haired, against blondes etc. What would happen if you grow old and your hair turned from black to white? Would you then move to the group? Anyway, my basic logic is that racism = stupidity. They also did highlight a bit that class issues are quite serious in Brazil. To quote one of the cousins "The poor people, we all get along/intermarry/work together/mix whether Black, White or Indigenous, but the higher social classes are the ones who discriminate against us."

Later that evening, we went back to the Old town and went out to a Samba club in the area. It was lots of fun dancing - it is all about shaking your hips and butt, which I can do. I was happy it had nothing to do with leg-hand coordination - of which I have none. The next day we left for the lovely island of Vera Cruz. Specifically we were going to a part called Nazare to visit my friend's sister. On our way out of Salvador, we passed by the large Bahiana woman statue, and we also took the Elevador Lacerda - the elevator connecting the lower part of the city to the upper part. If I am not wrong, I think Salvador must be the only town that has an elevator for public transportation. Salvador is unique in that the city is split into two parts by an escarpment with the top part of the city being close to 300 feet above the lower part. Since 1873 there has been an elevator linking both parts together.

We got on the boat to Vera Cruz and instantly people came on the boat selling cold beers. I could tell this day was going to be a fun one. It was a 45 minute boat ride to the island then a 1.5 hour cab ride to get to Nazare.

The first thing that struck me in Nazare were the horses. There were horses everywhere, and not just the Karen types like in Kenya. These were functional horses, skinny horses, worn horses. It was a strange sight. All the horses I have seen in Kenya are mostly ornamental/for show. No one actually gets around town on a horse, but in Nazare that was one of the forms of transportation. We got to my friend's sister's place and drank feijoada. Instead of the usually thick meal, this was a lighter version that you drank from a cup "to prevent you from falling asleep." It is crazy but true, Brazil is so hot that any time I have had a heavy meal for lunch, I have wanted to pass out.

We then left the house and walked along a lovely river and crossed a bridge. From there we got a lift to a birthday party my friend's family had been invited to. Yes, I know. I am a major poxer. Showing up at a 15 year old's birthday party when I don't know them:-) 15 year birthday parties are a big deal in Brazil for girls. I was told it is the equivalent of 18 year old birthday parties the world over. The party was great. Lots of nice people, lots of food and drinks. The music was so fascinating. It was zouk/kizomba. I could have closed my eyes and been in Angola or Cape Verde. It was really fascinating how African the music was. The other fascinating thing was how people dance. The birthday had people of all ages, but there was quite a bit of booty-shaking - even by the older people. I tried to picture a similar party in Kenya and most likely there would be two parts. One part where the older folks drank tea/pretended to drink tea as they were actually getting smashed and the other part where the younger people would be - probably with some booty shaking......but definitely no bootys would be shaking infront of the older crowd:-) It's a different culture I guess. I always say that culture is not a constant. What might seem normal to me based on my culture, might be completely strange to someone else based on theirs.

Another thing that fascinates me about Brazil is how old people are very flirtatious. I remember an older lady in booty shorts at the party telling a young guy that she wishes she was younger so she could take him. I was so amused. It is the same with guys. I have been hit on by really old guys, and I remember a friend of mine saying that guys even in their 80s still think they have a chance. They are quite confident though, and you have to give them marks in Brazil for all keeping themselves looking good even when much older. I definitely did get shown a family photo album in Bahia with grandparents kissing passionately....the things you will never find in Kenyan family photo albums....Hell, you might not even find one of grandparents holding hands, let alone standing closer than 1m apart....always have to have a tree or a chair in between them for decency's sake:-)

After the party, we went to a bar close by. I have never seen such amazing dancing as I did from two girls outside the club. It was a mash up of full 100, twerking, doing a split etc. Do not try this at home unless you are ready to be carried out on a stretcher. Nazare was also my first time I heard this music called pagochi. It was love at first beat. It started off when we were on the boat. This group of 8-10 guys started playing drums and a one stringed instrument (random musical outbursts in Bahia are quite common:-) It was amazing! You couldn't help but dance. Later that night we went to a larger club. That was where I witnessed the funniest scene. Here is the excerpt from a whatsapp conversation I had with my sister the next day:

Thekenyanexplorer: Yesterday at the club, there were some thugtypes who were speeding off on horses....and they had guns in their pockets

My sister: What?

Thekenyanexplorer: Yeah, like it's a motorbike

My sister: Speeding off on horses with guns? Now that's a blog entry

Thekenyanexplorer: You know! They were kanyagaing (stepping on) the brakes last minute. So you hear "Clopp! Cloppp! Clopppp! Neeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiggggghhhh!"

My sister: lol!

Thekenyanexplorer: Yeah, it was even scarier than a matatu (minibus) pandaing (climbing) the curb behind you.

That was a fun and strange night. The next day the process of leaving the island was a tough one. I hadn't realized that the part of the island we were in didn't accept credit cards, and we were out of cash to leave the island. Yeah, I know it's kinda pathetic. My main memories were dying of thirst and at some point sitting on the floor of Banco Brazil as we waited for my friend to get some money transferred into his account so we could get back to the mainland. This reminds me of one time I was almost stuck in Sicily, but that's a story for another day. We finally got back to Salvador and the main item on my agenda, was to go to the bus station and cancel my ticket out of Bahia. I was having so much fun that I knew I just couldn't leave. It was a long process though. You would think I was revoking my citizenship instead of just canceling a bus ticket - had to fill in lots of documents asking me if I was really sure I wanted to cancel my bus ticket. I was even expecting them to chuck alcoblow for me - "M'aam, are you sure you are in the right frame of mind as you cancel this ticket?" [Translated to Portuguese of course:-) ] 

Elevador Lacerda

Horse, sufferer wa Jah

Horsing around at the club

First unsuccessful attempt to leave Bahia

My bus to Brasilia was to leave on Saturday morning. Friday morning I woke up and went on a city tour with my friend. It was amazing and I really started to wonder why I was in such a rush to leave Bahia for the great unknown. I had a bus booked to Brasilia, but from there I would have to figure out my way to get to Amazonas which was all the way in the other side of this massive country, and then get a boat to Peru. I was beginning to really enjoy myself in Bahia, and woke up with the suspicion that I might change my ticket. We started off by going to the church called "Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks" that was the first church that African slaves were able to go to. They were not allowed to worship in any of the churches, and they really wanted to have a place of worship. It took more than 100 years for them to build it, and they worked mostly at night because they had to be on the plantations all day. Seeing it filled me with a sense of awe. I cannot imagine how difficult their lives must have been, and it was just admirable that they would put in so much work to have a place where they could congregate, encourage each other, sing/dance to lift their spirits. The strength of the human spirit through adversity is really uplifting. To think that all day they would spend slaving away, toiling on the land for no pay, suffering cruel punishments, and that by night they would go and build their own church - brick by brick. To know that given it took over 100 years to build, some of those who worked so hard never actually got to worship in it. It's sad, but also very inspiring. Up to this day, there are still church services held here and they incorporate the beating of drums and a few other things that are uniquely African.

We then walked along the full length of Pelourinho which is the historic centre of Salvador. It's history is a sad one. The word pelourinho means "pillory" - a wooden device that was used to punish people by locking in one's hands, legs and head.  Pelourinho was where public whippings would be conducted. The architecture of the place is such that it is quite hilly with a deep valley. Slaves would be forced to watch the public whippings to discourage them from any revolt or any "bad" behaviour - where "bad" behaviour included anything as small as completing a task slowly, looking badly at the master etc. It is said that the valley on Pelourinho was always filled with streams of blood from the public whippings. One can only imagine how much pain and suffering slaves went through in this square. Historically, Salvador is extremely important when talking about slave history. About 40% of all slaves who were taken from Africa entered the Americas through the port of Salvador. Salvador was also the first colonial capital of Brazil and its economy was driven by the sugar trade. Brazil was the last country in the Americas to abolish slavery - only abolishing it in 1888. Common literature states that Princess Isabella of Portugal was the one who finally emancipated slaves, but discussions in Bahia credit emancipation to Carlos do Patrocinio's influence on the Princess. He was a famous black writer, pharmacist, activist, orator, journalist etc who is said to either have been the princess's good friend or lover. 

After this we walked further down to the tonnes of galleries in the old city. My favourite works there were 1. The dancing Bahianas and washerwomen paintings by my friend, 2. A painting of Jesus and the 12 disciples as rastafarians and 3. Various works of cubism by a 72 year old painter we called "Superboy". "Superboy" sometimes stayed in our hostel and he was simply amazing. He told me that when the spirit touches him, he can stay awake for days on end and do 2-3 paintings. Even at his advanced age, he is still a very keen painter, and has trained quite a few other painters on technique.

After this, we went downtown to eat some feijoada. It was delicious. It's a heavy meal that has rice, stewed beef and sausages, beans and a side of chilli. After this meal, all you want to do is sleep on the floor - food coma. I finally gave in to the temptation to change my ticket. I tried calling them a few times, but to no avail. Up to the point I left Brazil, I only learnt how to call out on the last day- and that's because I just called numbers with the full code included ..+55....It is a process. Apparently you have to include a number for your network to call out, and also include a number for the region you are calling out of/calling into. So when someone gives you their number, you have to realize that you will need to include 5 digits before it depending on who your service provider is, where you are and where the other person is.....Greek, I tell you! No idea why anyone would make it so difficult. My friend and I had a few stops before going to the bus station to change my ticket. We went to the local market where I bought a herbal remedy for my cough. No idea what was in this remedy, but it was more of a problem than a cure. It gave me painful stomach contractions later in the day. I decided I would rather take my chances with the cough than with the scary contractions. We then stopped in a different part of town and had a few drinks of "Mulher Barbada (The Bearded Woman.") It was sweet, but that was a scary bottle - why does the woman have a beard? We then went back to Pelourinho and had a few drinks with friends at which point I started getting nervous I would be too late to change my ticket. Brazil time is even crazier than African timing. I found myself to generally be in no sort of hurry when in Bahia. I would plan to be somewhere in an hour, then I would meet someone on the street and chat for 20 minutes then have a beer with them. I just could not hurry up, and neither could anybody else. We finally managed to get to the bus station and change my ticket. We then came back and passed through a really cool restaurant near Pelourinho whose name I unfortunately forgot. It was a very busy day.