Monday, March 19, 2007

The one with the Disney song

So I’m sitting down to write an email to Megan on her birthday. In the background I hear what sounds like an ice cream truck (which may have been that, or may have been an army transport vehicle...really) playing “It’s A Small World”.

When I pull up Megan’s contact info Google automatically shows me our communications history. Sure enough, last year, when she was about to run in the Walt Disney World marathon, I sent her an email suggesting that she sing “It’s A Small World” the whole time.

I’ll spare you a spiel about the probability of improbable events (with the implied Douglas Adams digression) or about correlations, coincidences, or any other co-s. Instead, I’ll just comment that it really is a small world.

My dad has maybe never gone anywhere without running into someone he knows. St Louis? Sure. Jerusalem? Why not. And it’s starting to happen to me.

My first night in Sydney we went to some bar. A guy said “hey, you played in Perth for Sub Zero, right? I did, and apparently I’d played against him. And last night, at pickup, Matt showed up. “You play for Sub Zero, right? I used to play for Union Crew, from Chicago.

Laura works in the home office of Paige’s organization. We both went to school in Northfield at about the same time. As we were driving to Ssembabule last week I was discussing my plans to possibly visit Madagascar. Said Laura: “A friend of mine just returned from several years in Madagascar.” Replied Seth: “Scott? I ran into him just before I left town.” And Laura went to grad school with some other friends of mine, and we were both at Nina’s party last year.

On Friday we went to the market. I bought an elephant, whom I named Alan, who will be my traveling companion for many of my onward journeys. That night we went to a party, and when we walked in the host introduced us to his father-in-law, Alan.

In early October John and I, on our way to Madison for the night, stopped in at a gallery in Hudson, WI to see an exhibition of stuff by my friend Brita. Turns out, Brita’s stuff was in one gallery, while stuff from Nick was next door in another. He and Brita didn’t really know each other, but I’d met Nick earlier last year at the Excelsior Art Fair--he and my friend Phil are friends through skiing and woodcutting and such, and his booth at Excelsior was on the same row as my friend Colleen’s. When we got to Madison we described the coincidence to Kate and her roommates. Said a roommate: “Nick? I know Nick...”

Oh, and I think Laura knows Nick, too.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

The one with festooning

Apparently, my house was recently festooned with rose petals and candles. Congratulations, Bridget and George!

In other, less dramatic, news, the workshop is over now. I'm leaving tomorrow to visit Paige's field site in Ssembabule District for a couple of days, my first visit out of the city to a place where there's nothing touristy, just Ugandans living their lives.

When I come back to Kampala, I'll start making plans for the rest of my time in Africa. I''m not sure what comes next, but at some point I want to see (and climb) Kilimanjaro, I want to see animals, I want to see places. I might visit some of the people I met at the workshop, I might explore on my own, I just know I shouldn't treat these months as a Kampala retirement.

And on another note, the pictures are up for Fox Glacier, Copland Valley and Wanaka.

L8r,
sg

Saturday, March 10, 2007

The one where I rafted and rafted again



I left Sydney a day earlier than I'd originally planned, intending to go rafting on the Nile with PABs and some friends. We wound up going to Lake Mburo instead that first weekend.

We went the next Saturday instead. Phil already wrote about it, and what he says is true, and he was there, so I don't need to repeat his stuff.

My experience: We start out with a Class V right away. And it was no problem--we hit it, we stayed in the boat, it was great. Mostly because of the guides--the Nile is one of the safest white-water experiences you can have, but the guides aren't shy about telling everyone to "GET DOWN...GET DOWN", so for some of the most turbulent stuff we're crouched down and holding on while the guide does all the work.

The second rapid was only a Class III, but we went in and flipped immediately. The raft landed on my head, but it wasn't too bad.

The third, "Total Gunga", another Class V, was the only time all day I was a bit nervous heading in--it looked rough. And it was. The first big wave threw me and two others out, and the raft landed on my head again. We were quickly swept down to the bigger wave, "the G Spot", where the raft jumped and threw someone else out. I'd just come up for air when the raft landed on my head again, this time with me getting stuck underneath and needing to find my way out. I was in a bit of a daze for a couple of minutes, but after that I wasn't scared and I attacked and enjoyed each wave.

For a long stretch just before lunch we didn't even raft--we just jumped in, body surfed a light rapid, then floated our way down the Nile while throwing water hyacinth at each other.

After lunch we started by going over a ~12 ft waterfall, which was underwhelming as the raft's longer than that. We didn't lose anyone at the biggest of the Class V's, "The Bad Place", which I think may be the biggest commercially run eddy in the world. (And, of course, that's the only place the videographer failed to capture our ride...)

It was fun, and I even entertained the thought that I might want to go back later on before I leave Africa. We spent the night at a camp across the river and came back to Kampala early the next morning to get to work.

< insert week at workshop >

The workshop participants have Sunday off. On Saturday, when people were trying to figure out what to do the following day, Paige tells some people about our rafting trip. Sarah and Martha want to go but are a bit scared. Martha came to me to find out what it's like and for reassurance, and while I maybe failed to convince her not to be scared I did offer to go again to keep them company.

Paige spent all night working her network, trying to find us a 4th. We found a couple people who were interested, each of whom wound up not being able to make it. I headed over to meet Sarah and Martha in the morning, trying to formulate a backup plan if it was just the three of us. Luckily, Amini, a friend of Sarah’s from D(emocratic)R(epublic of the)C(ongo) whose name I surely misspelled, was gonna come with us. He doesn't know how to swim, and doesn't speak much English so he couldn't understand the guide that well, but there are lifejackets and he was willing to try.

This time, we were the only raft going down. (Though still with the safety raft, the kayakers and photographer.) The start of our introductory training on the water was fine, but the practice flip, not so much. Martha and Sarah were definitely scared and Amini was terrified. (As I imagine I would be if I didn't swim...) Martha begged the guide, Jared, to do it just one more time for practice but he refused.

So we started out, with me kind of excited, Martha and Sarah really nervous, and Amini in the safety boat, which at least takes the least turbulent line, hanging on for dear life.

I still wound up enjoying the day. Amini calmed down after a while and joined us in the raft for some of the smaller rapids, and seemed okay in the end. Martha kinda wanted to join him in the safety raft by the end but knew she'd regret not trying if she did. We flipped I think three times, with the one in the Bad Place being the worst. I'm not sure if "fun" is the right word, and I don't think they'll do it again too soon, but I think overall they're glad they at least tried it and everyone was at least sorta smiling at the end.

I have a DVD of trip the first week, and we got photo CDs for the second trip. So many of the pictures are up, most of which, including the one above, were taken by the rafting company photographer, though this one was all me. Sorry if they’re a bit jumbled—I still can’t figure out how to make Flickr display in the order I want.

chao,
sg

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

The one where I wrote a lot

So here's one way to catch up on my blog entries: I've temporarily unretired to, last week and this, coordinate the Basics of Community-Based Family Planning and Program Design, Monitoring and Evaluation Workshop. Paige is one of the facilitators and the host; I am her errand boy.

I’m sitting in on some of it—especially the Design, Monitoring and Evaluation part. Otherwise, I work with the hotel to make sure lunch is on time, track down missing luggage at the airport, arrange cars and drivers for our site visit, find and remove the cricket that’s chirping in a box in the corner, provide general organizational and technical support (i.e., collate papers and plug in the lcd projector), and schmooze a bit with some of the participants. (Inside note: including Ophelia '07.) In other words, I spend most of my time sitting outside, reading. And, when I can borrow Paige's computer, playing solitaire, trying to fix a problem with her network card, and—and here’s where this is going—writing stuff to upload later.

(And, last week, I helped the hotel security team catch a suspected thief who tried to join the conference under false pretenses. This man is no longer welcome at the Hotel Africana.)

So, New Zealand! Yeah, I hope my notes were good, because this stuff happened two or three months ago. But I had a fantastic time in New Zealand, and feel kinda guilty about not telling you about it. I’m sure I won’t do it justice, but I know that all (six) of you reading this will forgive me. The New Zealand posts are as follows (in the order they happened):

Adventure day in Rotorua (posted earlier)
Tongariro Crossing (posted earlier)
Wellington-Picton Ferry
Abel Tasman National Park
Lake Matheson and Fox Glacier
Benjamin and Elianna
Queenstown (posted earlier)
The trip through the South

Also loaded today:
Lake Mburo
A contest
Driving in Kampala
Wreading and Writing

Sorry to dump this on you all at once, especially because some of them are really really long... Soon to come: Rafting on the Nile…Twice.

ia,
sg

The one where I rode and met

So I was talking to a cutie in the hostel in Wellington while we waited for a bus to the ferry over to the South Island—she’d recognized me from the Tongariro Crossing walk a couple of days earlier. Then she sat down near me up on the top deck, and again when it got windy and we both went inside. Then, (and here JohnJohn will be mad at me but I think it worked out for the best), I abandoned her to sit with a coupla nice forty-somethings.

Beth and Lourdes are profs in the States who were in NZ for a conference. Beth, especially, knows LOTS of people around the world, and especially in Greece (which is why I went to talk to her) and, it turns out, Uganda and Kenya! She gave me several people to contact when I got to East Africa, and at one point even took my journal, opened her address book, and started writing down people and places.

(Lourdes knows more people in Central/South America; Beth’s computer is named Leroy, not George. They’re also recruiting—they think I should teach when I get back to the States…)

Anyway, I left the ferry and caught a bus to Nelson. It’s a nice small town, lots of artists and galleries and cafes and such. And the Museum of Wearable Art and Classic Cars, which I really wanted to see (for the Art, not the Cars) but didn’t get a chance to.

Pictures from the ferry are here.

The one where I paddled and walked

[From The Joyous Journal]
12/8

I’m on a boat in a storm!

Yesterday was great. (Or at least good enough to miss Wellington for…) Went sea kayaking in Abel Tasman Park, up in the north of the South Island.



Group of 7. Holly, our guide, who kind of doesn’t like tourists but was pleasant enough. A nice family from Holland, mom + dad+ two sisters. My kayak was w/Caroline, from ~Paris. (27, in NZ for 1 year, used to work Paris/London@[her company], now working for a room at [her hostel] in Nelson)

My original tour was only me so I got ‘upgraded’ to the “seals + otters”, or something like that, tour. Started by catching a water taxi north to Onetahuti Beach/Big Tonga Bay in the Tonga Island Marine Reserve. Had breakfast (we’d all eaten, but it was part of the company’s ‘experience’), got instruction, then headed out to Tonga Island. Slow going at first—had trouble adjusting the steering to stay in a straight line, C + I weren’t in synch, whatever… But the island was amazing—seals just hanging out, catching some rays or cooling in the water. Some of the kids came over to play w/us + show off—I could have easily reached out to pet a couple of them. Hard to take pictures—unbind camera case, remove camera, wait to start up, find the mode, take picture, reverse, all while making sure not to splash at all.

Then continued down the coast, exploring lagoons, stopping for lunch (good sandwiches, hot coffee, muffins, juice, fruit…), eventually making our way to Anchorage to end the day.

Stayed on a boat.
Aquapackers is a floating hostel aboard a 22m. WW2 Navy patrol boat. Just 6 of us; me + C, Amy from San Fran, Adam/AJ from Wellington (by way of London and 26th + 6th), a German guy. And Chris, the innkeeper. We’re anchored 60 yards offshore (at low tide). Had a barbie—cole slaw (good w/ no topping!), a veggie casserole, sausages, steaks. Same meal for 9 mos. straight for Chris but I liked it. Beer + wine in the fridge.

Went to sleep about 10 and woke up to a storm. Surf’s not too bad (would kill a kayak, but the boat can handle it…we’ll see about the raft trip over a bit later…) but it looks yucky out there—sideways winds, pouring rain. (Okay, but you know what I mean). And yesterday was 25º, sunny, and really calm! But we only have a 3-4 hr walk through flat ground to do by 3:30pm today—even if I have to get soaked + be miserable for a coupla hours it’ll be fine.

We’ll see if I walk w/C, alone, or with the whole group…

(Oh, and…)
Swam over to the beach + took a walk last night (~6pm). Loads of cool shells, and the west end (we’re anchored on the east edge of this N facing bay) had this amazing area where the beach met the forest with lots of caves. And [a giant rock with a hole through it:]



I thought—wow, I’ll have to come back tomorrow (w/C) to explore + take pictures…lots of pictures…

Today, back to Marahau, then Nelson. Tomorrow, bus to Punakaiki. Need bus next day to Glaciers, and to hike one of them, then to Wanaka to relax for 1-3 days,…

[journal entry ends]

We all walked together to Cleopatra’s Pool, then Caroline and Amy and I went south while the others went north. C had to be sure to be back earlier and Amy and I turned out to have some common acquaintances and she’s in graduate program I was really interested in at one point so I stuck with her. She turned out to be just one of the awesome people I’ve met along the way, nearly all of whom I’ve had no further contact with since…but maybe I’ll send her a link to this entry… Pictures of Able Tasman are here, including the group from the Anchorage.

sg

The one with ice

[…]

Pictures are up of Lake Matheson, and will be soon for Fox Glacier.

The one with Benjamin and Elianna



At home, it’s usually pretty easy to identify others who play Ultimate. Even when meeting in a complete different context, you can often just tell. (Ultimatedar?). But backpacking through New Zealand made it tough—most backpackers look like typical Ultimate players. So at breakfast, when I saw this woman who really looked like one, I was still too shy to say hi. Even though she was wearing an REI sweatshirt, so I knew she was probably from the States. Even though she was wearing the same shorts I was—shorts that Patagonia gives to Sub Zero and other Ultimate teams. In some ways, I’m really quite lame.

I left to go on my day-long glacier hike. When I returned to the hostel that evening I walked in with Søren. Breakfast woman was sitting on the couch, talking to Ben. I know Ben from Minneapolis—he played for another local Ultimate team, one of his roommates is one of my teammates, and he was there when we made the Turducken. But I didn’t know he was even gonna be in New Zealand.

We hugged it out.

Ben introduced me to Ellie. They’d met at a tournament in Nelson, which I’d apparently missed by 2 days. (She’d played for a coed team in Perth.) They’d made plans to meet up at the hostel and hike for a bit together. They invited me along on their hike the next day, a planned overnighter on the Copland Track.

We pick up with my journal, with a few red clarifications:

“Ben had to work at the hostel, so Ellie and I planned to hike in to the Welcome Flat Hut and meet him there later, then we’d hike out the next day.

WOW

So the Track, or at least the one-day section we’d done, was AMAZING. Ellie’s guidebook described the walk as ‘superb forest, river and mountain scenery…includes the natural hot pools at Welcome Flat.”

As Danny Devito in Romancing The Stone once said, “understatement of the year, asshole.” The first hour or so, once we’d crossed the river (cold water + sandflies suck) was along a path through a forest. There was some mud. (I stepped in to my calf. Ellie laughed. For a while. She went the other way and…stepped into mud.) We scrambled over trees and around streams and through very narrow cut paths. Then we walked along the Copland River. Absolutely beautiful blues and greens and greys in the water. We stopped for a long time just after the dog rock, by a small little beach w/ thousands of unique stones—reds and silvers and blues and blacks and greens, quartz and metallic flecks, sometimes all in the same rock. Some had multiple layers, and on lots of them the layers weren’t parallel or even crossed each other.

Then, scrambling over boulders. Then, along a shelf above the river. Then, a hundred yards up for a while, meandering along, crossing lots of streams and creeks. It started raining.

[Note that the entire time, we’re in this valley between two absolutely gorgeous mountain ranges, walking along the brilliant blue Copland River.]

A couple of creeks we had to take the flood bridges—ridiculously unstable 1-person-at-a-time contraptions that were often basically a coupla two-by-fours bolted together w/ some underwires for support and some netting or fencing for safety—_had_ to hold on the whole way across.

We sat for a while under one of the giant rock bivvies discussing Halloween costumes and such.

Eventually, Ben caught up just before we crossed the last creek.

We went up a hill. There was a phone there to ring the warden for some help w/ your bags.

Get to the hut—a big old [well, new] house. We’re all alone. Pay the hut warden. Just one other person there.

Hot pools: WOW. The source spring is probably 70º (which means 160º) at least. Burnt our feet a bit, but got in + it was incredible. We’re sitting in hot pools, in the rain. At one point I looked up—HOLY SHIT. Apparently, we’d been sitting basically a coupla hundred yards from huge mountains with jagged peaks, glaciers, 7, 8, 9, maybe 10 waterfalls, all hidden by the cloud cover. I’m pretty sure it’s the coolest place I’ve ever been, w/ awesome people.

So we decide to stay for an extra night. We probably have –just- enough food.

Next day we dawdled. Went to the springs—apparently, you can walk all through the area without walking through the red streams…

Went for a day hike towards the next (Douglas) Hut. Got stopped by an impassable creek so we sat by the riverside. They each napped. I read. We snacked. Took some pictures. I went for a swim in the Copland. Ben took some pictures of my willie. [Note: you will not see these.]

Went back, through the meadows and over the bridge. Now lots of people (lots of Israelis) in the hut—maybe 20 overall; it holds 31 or something and it was hard to tell.

Some time in the pools. Some reading by the river. A late dinner (more instant mashed potatoes in the dark!).

Went back the next day. Left the hut about 9am. Ate _all_ the food. Finished, just as my camera battery died, at 3pm. Waited for the bus a while, back to Fox and the Ivory Towers. Dinner in town.

Kereru all about, hanging out + posing by the garbage cans.

And then they invited me to spend another day with them. I cancelled my Friday reservation in Queenstown, tomorrow Ellie and I will bus to Wanaka; Ben will try to hitch and meet us later.
[journal entry ends]

We woke Ben when we left. Bus stops at every scenic overlook. Stops for lunch. Ben’s hoping to get there, if not he’ll e-mail and maybe leave a message on my cell. We get in at 2:30. Ben sidles up—he’s been there an hour after getting a ride from an Aussie and his Slovakian private guide.

We hung around town, made an awesome curried vegetable stir fry. We drank some, and went to bars.

The next day, Ellie and I went to…Puzzling World!

First a giant maze, with 1.5km (a mile and a bit) of walkways, each of which I probably hit at least 2-3 times.

Object: stop in each tower on the corners, then find your way out.
The “hard way”: yellow tower first, then blue, then green, then red.
Me: B-->G-->R-->G-->Y-->G-->B-->G-->R-->Y-->B-->exit.

Ellie was looking for red by the time I got to yellow, but it took her 45 minutes to find the exit so we wound up finishing together.

Then there’s a hall of illusions, including

- Holography—some pretty good ones
- 3-D faces that follow you—hard to describe but eerie and way cool
- a room at an angle—an effect used in LOTR!
- an awesome slanted room where it was hard to stand, balls rolled uphill, and chairs slid the same.

Finally, we took some pictures at the Leaning Tower of Wanaka, then headed back to town so I could catch my bus to Queenstown.

Pictures of all of this will be up...sometime... In the meantime, Ellie provided the picture above, and Ben's blog entry is here. Traveling with them was definitely a highlight. Hopefully for them too—the South Island of New Zealand sure beats Schenectady!

sg

The one where I saw The Penguin

I took 10-day trip through the south part of the Southern Island.

With me:
Another American, an Aussie, three Swiss Germans, three German Germans, a Vanuatuan Dutch, an English, and André, our Kiwi guide. Ages ranged from 18-40. We were all attractive.

We rode in a 12-seater van, pulling a trailer that was specially customized with spaces for bag storing, food storing, preparation, and serving, boot drying, other stuff doing, ...

Day 1: We met on a Sunday morning in Queenstown and immediately took off for Fjordland National Park. One nice thing: I’d volunteered to be the group banker. Which was nice, because I got a pre-printed sheet with everyone’s name so I could keep track of who’d given me money and what we’d spent and such. By referring to the list as we drove, and taking advantage of the fact that our names were listed in the order we’d signed up so couples were listed next to each other, I learned everyone’s name that first morning. (Which is unusual for me—if you recall, I made it to Day 6 of my trip to the Outback without learning any of my fellow travelers’ names.)

Our walk the first morning was a “3 hour” return at the very beginning of the Routeburn Track. The walk wasn’t that exciting, and our pace is s..l..o..w, but we wound up in a beautiful place between 5 mountain ranges. Not overly challenging, but our guide was testing us to see what the group had.

We headed off to a Gunn’s Camp, an old (miners’?) site, for the night. We made dinner, ate, and introduced ourselves in one of the cabins.

Through the week we all had our chores--I held the money and kept the books, others made sure there was always soap and water available for washing, kept the water jug filled, the van clean, stuff like that.

Each meal, there were people responsible for cooking/prep and for clean up. Our menu (and associated shopping lists) was predetermined. Breakfast was usually cereal, fruit and yogurt. The lunch spread generally included bread, meat, cheese, veggies and condiments for sandwiches. Dinners included pastas (pesto & sun-dried tomatoes, marinara sauce), rice with chicken and vegetables, fish and chips and the like.

{anchor: Day 2}: We drive down into Milford Sound to kayak. We’ve got an odd number of people (and we’re in 2-person kayaks), so I join John from New York, who’s been traveling around for a coupla weeks with two co-workers. (Angie is cute, and she calls the boys Ace and Gary.) We all shared some potato chips.

Our weather: sunny and calm most of the morning, in one of the rainiest places on earth. At one point mid-morning, our guide said “At 11:20, a breeze will come in and it will get a bit choppy, but nothing too bad.” The breeze and chop didn’t actually get there until 11:25.

We didn’t see much animal life until the end—we saw 4 seals eventually, playing or napping. But our guide convinced the other group that we’d seen a shark.

My overall impression: it’s very pretty and the scale is impressive, but I don’t need to be there for days on end. It would be neat to see it from the air, and when it’s raining and the cliffs turn to waterfalls.

Then we drove (and I slept) to Monowai. We expected rain, so instead of camping we stayed in what I can only describe as a miniature village with shacks from the 1950s. They were $15/night, and I had my own.

Day 3: The weather report was bad, so we changed our plan a bit. We walked about 7 miles in to the Green Lake Hut and dropped our gear.

The hike alternated between beech forests and low plains called Tussock Basins. (The party walks through these in The Fellowship of the Ring.) I stepped in mud up to my knee a coupla times with each foot. There was one tough ascent (I was carrying about 30 lbs), but overall it was pretty easy and the weather held off.

We took the entire 12-person hut. After dropping our gear, most of us went out for an easy ~2 hour walk up to the ridge to eat some chocolate. It’s there that we saw something I described in a bunch of postcards—a rainbow, sitting over a verdant valley with a lake on one side, mountains and forests and plains on the other. By any reasonable standard it was gorgeous, buy my response was “unhh”. New Zealand is chock full of those places, and I’d seen the something better the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that…

On the way up, Mike (a chemical engineer from Chicago and my science buddy for the week) asked if I know what “triskadicadecaphobia” is. I’m confused, but it turns out that he’d just gotten the word “triskaidekaphobia” slightly wrong. This starts a discussion in which I try to remember the word “sesquipedalianism”. But I can’t think of it, and it bothered me for days until I finally got a chance to look it up.

Day 4: We hiked out and drove east, leaving Fjordland and heading along the southern coast.

There’s a town near the coast called Tuatapere, or something like that. Population about 15, probably all in their 70s, but they had a Beth Shalom.

We stayed in a backpackers on a working sheep farm, about 4 miles from the southern point of New Zealand mainland. Our host, Justine, made us muffins.

Day 5: We visited Porpoise Bay (Curio Bay?) looking for dolphins. We didn’t see any dolphins.
We went to Slope Point, the southern tip of the South Island.
We stopped at a petrified forest. Okay, but neater than the pre-historic relics were the giant sea kelp attached to the rocks
We visited a forest and walked along the beach
We camped near another beach where there were supposed to be sea lines.

Dinner was a hangi, a traditional New Zealand dish where we buried our food in a fire pit with hot rocks. While it cooked, we headed off to see a spot where the penguins come in at night. It was pretty awesome—we saw 6 or 7 come ashore and…wander off into the woods in the sheep farm, as if they had to run to the store to pick up some milk or something. Eventually, they appeared up on the hill, where the sheep and the penguins just ignored each other. I kept thinking about how the sheep had no idea that most sheep would live their entire lives without ever seeing a penguin. So sad.

After dinner we took an awfully long walk through an invented path to finally find a sea lion. By the time we got there, it was too dark to see him. The walk back, over a previously existing path, was much quicker.

There was no hiking, but doing 10 small things in a day was much more exhausting than doing 1 big hike.

Day 6: We drove. Ate lunch and packed. Drove. Sprinted up a hill. Drove. I dozed off, most of the time.

Eventually, we arrived at Lake Ohau, near the Southern Alps. We hiked up about 2-3 hours to the campsite, during which Mike and I discussed googols and plexes and I tried to explain Graham’s Number. I carried lunch for the next day, for a total of 33 pounds. André said he had a surprise waiting at the top—it turned out to be a pot with a view. They’d built a toilet back in the woods—no walls, but great views of the mountains.

Day 7: A really cool hike.

We hit the bush line just above camp. As Mike said, “[I think] every state in the US is in New Zealand, too. We’re in Utah now.” We walked through desert, scrambled up rock and gravel faces, avoided the avalanches, hit the top. The weather—perfect. We had lunch on the top with incredible views of Lake Ohau, the Southern Alps, Mt Cook, Mt Tasman, etc… Came back down, broke down camp and came back to the bottom. It took all day; could have been 4 hours quicker if we’d hurried but that’s fine.

My trip down was the lightest yet—I’d had to carry lunch to the top, while most people just needed water, but without the food I only packed out about 24 pounds.

We camped for the night on some dude’s lawn. The dude was Tony, the place (Buscot Station) was weird. It’s like this stately (-looking) mansion on another sheep farm, but one that seemed to ooze Southern nobility. We were in the yard. Inside were Tony, a guy named Sam from Santa Barbara, an Israeli, an Irish guy, a Welsh~ish, and some of unidentifiable accents. Sam gave me a lot of whisky. The Israeli led…wait for it…a Havdalah service! (The ceremony to end the Jewish Sabbath.) It was my first in, like, 17 years, since my last time in youth group. Tony explained Sukkoth (the harvest festival) and Hanukkah to the Irish guy. We just missed Laura Veirs’ parents, Leslie and Val by a couple of days. It felt like the Twilight Zone, and not just because I drank a lot of whiskey.

Day 8: We drove off to Mount Cook Village for some day hikes, though first we stopped for supplies, and coffee and a bakery, in Twizel.

There was a hard walk and an easy one. I took the hard, which wasn’t that bad—something like 1200 steps up to the Sealy Tarns. From the top, great views of the Mueller and Tasman glaciers. With 20 minutes at the top, it took about 3 hours return.

Then, off to Fairlie. We stayed in rooms at a mobile home site, the Fairlie Top 10 Holiday Park. I did laundry while others cooked Christmas Eve dinner—spicy beans and rice with overcooked green veggies—spinach, broccoli, zucchini, bean sprouts, celery. The beans were too spicy for some so I finished 3 people’s dinners. Anita and Johannes made glug wine and we had a Pavlova for dessert.

Day 9: Off for our final hike, an overnighter up Woolshed Creek (by Mt Somers) to the Woolshed Creek (or maybe Pinnacles or Mt Somers) Hut. We walked up through the creek valley—a fun couple of hours of crossing back and forth as we worked our way up the valley, walking through water that hit waist level or higher at some crossings. We could have gone much faster with a smaller group.

Then we walked up to the crest(?) of the valley—we could have gone much, much, much faster with a smaller group. I got pretty frustrated, which definitely detracted from the hike. It’s kind of the nature of going on a group trip—you can’t go any faster than the slowest person, and if some people cross creeks slowly and others walk up hills slowly, the group will be even slower.

Dinner was the worst food yet, a pretty awful tuna-and-black-(Spanish)-olive-pasta. But, we had
-appetizers! Seaweed Rice Crackers w/cheeses (Brie, Camemberts, Blue)
- wine! André carted up a box.
- dessert! A cheesecake with chocolate.

Day 10: An easy hike out. We spent time cleaning the van, drying the tents, repacking all of our own stuff. Then we made our way back to Christchurch for the end.

We stopped at a bar for a beer (and to complete a survey, and have André sell us some shirts…). Then we got back to town. André drove off, to see his dad or his girlfriend or just get away from us. The rest of us had dinner together. (Most of us stayed in the same place, Linda was only two blocks away.)

Day 11, that’s when we scattered. Linda and Mike flew north. Caroline caught a ride west with Anita and Johannes. Hannah made her way to Nelson to do another trip. (And she’s in Uganda now, but I’m not sure where.) And I spent one more day in town before flying off to Sydney the next day. I walked around town, bought some gifts (cds for André (Garden State soundtrack, Laura Veirs’ Year of Meteors, Lou Reed’s Transformer), fur warmers for the Ys (penis, nipple)), sat in the awesome Botanic Gardens and wrote postcards, and had dinner at a fancy restaurant with Sascha. (Who might still have your postcards, Julie and Susan and Kate and Sarah and Mike…sorry if you never got them…)

So, sorry that was so long. If _anyone_ is still reading this and is truly a glutton, my pictures from the trip are here.

(or just Milford Sound or just Lake Ohau)

Ta,
sg

The one where I don't get no respect

Which is a good thing. According to the East Africa edition of Watching Wildlife,

"territorial male [hippopotami] back up and shower each other with urine and faeces as a sign of respect...".
They also
"mark territories and grazing trails by spraying dung and waving their paddle-shaped tail at the same time, spraying it all over the place..."
The book goes into more details, which you, gentle reader, will thank me for skipping.

My first weekend here, Paige had Monday off for Presidents Day, so we went to visit the Lake Mburo National Park, a small park about 150 miles southwest of Kampala (and on the other side of the world--we're 20 miles north of the equator, the park is in the south!). It's a pretty area, but, as PABs (Phil Anderson Bowen; Paige Anderson Bowen) often say, "we live in a zoo." So we were basically there to see wildlife, and we did.

We hired an armed guide (mandatory) to take a walk in the woods. We saw African (obviously) buffaloes, zebras, and a whole bunch of antelope--waterbucks, bushbucks, impala, duikers, oribis. One impala had just lost an antler in a fight that day—he had one antler, and one bloody stump. Also mongeese, the aforementioned hippos (though just in the water), and warthogs, which look exactly like Pumba from The Lion King.

We didn't see any monkeys on our walk; those were hanging around the snack bar. There was an olive baboon, and there were lots of vervets--the males have very distinctive bright blue or turquoise scrota. (I guess this post can't be in a children's book anymore...)

And...birds. It's pretty hard to be around here and not be amazed and fascinated by the birds. The standard work is Stevenson & Fanshawe's _Birds of East Africa_, and the PABs and lots of others have copies and many guidebooks include references to the proper pages when discussing avian life. We took a boat trip on the lake Monday morning, along with some Dutch doctors who came to Uganda specifically to look at birds and a Japanese boy who never spoke and wore serious mountaineering boots. We saw African (obviously) fish eagles, pied and malachite kingfishers, green-backed herons, and a African (obviously) wattled lapwing.

The big find was the African (obviously) finfoot--it's apparently not easy to find, but we saw several, including a family with mom feeding her two kids while dad hovered (well, floated) nearby.

Most of my animal pictures aren't great, so here's a picture of me at the equator instead.




sg

The one with a prize

A gift from Uganda (eventually) for the best answer to the following question:

This statue is available for sale at the equator. What is it supposed to be?

The one where driving in Kampala is quirky



In Melbourne, at some intersections you can only turn right from the left lane. In Kampala, you can turn anywhere, from anywhere, at any time.

There’s at least one, maybe two stoplights in Kampala, a city with about a million people, but sometimes there’s just no power. There are no lane dividers, and, if there’s no median, no directional dividers. Passing is always legal, maybe even encouraged. So if you want to pass a car, and there’s no one within 20 yards coming towards you, feel free to just veer into oncoming traffic and you might wanna maybe hit the horn in case they don’t notice you. (You wouldn’t want to pass on the other side because that’s where the bikes and the pedestrians are—there are generally no sidewalks.) And if there’s someone passing _you_ at the moment, that’s fine—they’ll just move over further.

All the while, there are boda bodas (motorized scooters, many carrying a passenger or two, or three or four, along with bags, beds, whatever) passing in and out of all available spaces from who knows what direction.

Phil’s favourite phenomenon is the jailbreak—once someone gets through turning right, other cars will join in, following closely enough that cars trying to go straight can’t get through the line. This continues until someone isn’t aggressive enough, allowing the cars coming the other way to sneak in and break the line. When turning, Phil will never be the one to end the break.

Oh, also, when a cop pulls you over (by flagging you down) you give him a ride over to the police station so he can write you a ticket.