Fortunately day two brought a little relief from the rain but not from the cloud. As we made our way up a further our guide took control of the situation and started chanting the Kilimanjaro mantra, pole pole (slowly slowly). We managed to climb into the clouds with only a hint of the previous days altitude headache, all it took was a little patience. This also led to my day two epiphany. I discovered the link between old people and flowers / plants. The clouds had reduced my vision (just like my nana) and the altitude had reduced my mobility (just like my nana) and I started to notice flowers (just like my nana). It was the craziest thing, once the parameters were changed I started enjoying flowers. Here’s some proof.

By day three we had passes through the rain forest, through the moon forest and into the alpine tundra. It was the first time you could see the full extent of a Kili campsite. I’m glad we were hiking in low season because by the look of things it must get pretty crazy once it’s at capacity. Our little two person expedition had swollen to 10 people with the addition of a guide, an assistant guide, a cook, a waiter and four porters. At high season each campsite can hold 100 punters which, by my maths, would equate to around 500 people. Apparently the toilet and rubbish situation gets well out of hand. It doesn’t take long before one starts putting two and two together, or more accurately starts timesing park fees by campers and you can see why tourism is the backbone of Tanzania’s lacklustre economy.
There are 5 main routes up Kili.
The two main routes max out at 100 people the lesser routes at about 50.
You can climb in 5, 6 or 7 days.
6 months of high and 6 months of low. Lets say an average of 50% capacity in low season.
So that is 350 punters entering each day, paying $110 per day, for an average of 6days, for 180 days of high season and half of that in low season.
One comment in the guest book summed up the most common complaint pretty well “cost of upgrading toilets = ?? Park fees per year = $60 million” hmmm I wonder where the moneys going?

By day five we were feeling great. Each day we had been acclimatising by hiking up to a new high before descending to camp for the night. The environment had been different and stunning every day but the time for cakewalks was over. It was time to measure ourselves against the mountain. We had made it to 4800 meters without too much trouble using the pole pole method but we were both a little fearful that no matter how slowly we climbed we were going to get worked by the last lunge to the top. Uharu peak is 5895meter above sea level and the last 1095 meters was hell. We were due to start at midnight but our guide (possibly not fully convinced of our ability) decided we should start at 11pm to get a jump on the crowd. I’ve learnt the when estimating the altitude you have gained whilst climbing a mountain it’s best to half the hight you think you’ve covered. Are we at 5000 yet? No 4900. Are we at 5400 yet? No 5100? This pattern continued until my mind was taken off the altitude by an overwhelming sense of nausea. It takes 6 hours the get to stellar point and another hour to walk around the rim to the highest point, Uharu peak. When we arrived at stellar point we were not greeted with the pre dawn glow and gentle breeze I had envisioned. We were met with –15degrees temps, 40 – 50 km winds carrying skin splitting snow drifts. We staggered around the rim, reached the peak (first people for the day might I add), took a few average photos and got the hell out of there. I suffered (noisily) for a good 3 hours on the way up and 3 hours on the way down. I haven’t really discussed Nat’s physical or mental state that much as yet and that is with good reason. She nailed it. Apart from a little breathlessness at the peak and a few tears at 3.30am (which is par for the coarse for her) she didn’t put a foot wrong the whole trek Upon arriving safely back at our tent she summed up her feeling with “I’m so glad we made it to the top so we never have to do that again”, I concur. Whilst climbing Mt Kilimanjaro was one of my life goals having done it I can safely say that climbing above 4000 meters is ridiculous. I thought many times on the night we sumitted , why the hell would anyone pay for this??? My feelings of bewilderment subsided as we returned to a more agreeable altitude and the sense of achievement kicked in. After 7 days without a shower we had both developed a tangy aroma that only a full bar of soap and a good 30 minutes of steaming hot water could cure.

My buns, they don’t feel nothin' like steel.

On a very different note we have received devastating news from home and are as a result we’re ending our trip early. We have loved writing about our travels and hope you’ve enjoyed reading about them. We will no doubt be off again some time in the near future and are already looking forward to blogging again.

Lots of love,
Nat and Ev

Mt Kilimanjaro remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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After reading the LP in an effort to formulate some sort of plan for exploring the city it became apparent that there isn’t much to “see” in Stone town. There are a few sights, Freddie Mercury’s house (very disappointing – no shrine, no histograph, nothing but a t-shirt shop), a b-grade fort and the sultans house but in spite of these crappy sights the rest of stone town is packed with intriguing Zanzibarian life. Stone town is a maze of tight, high, disorientating alleys where life goes on. Kids go to school, donkeys haul carts of building supplies, vespas speed past and veiled ladies do their best to stay out of photos. One of the highlights was the hustle and bustle of the nightly seafood markets. We didn’t like it quite as much as the Maputo Market but it was still a fun night out.

My Uncle Robert (PNG Uncle not Copa Uncle for those who often get confused) has spent plenty of time in Africa and implored us to get to some live music whilst travelling through Africa. We had tried and failed miserably a few times, particularly in Mozambique where we were subjected to that Portuguese song that has been rehashed for ads and footy stars world wide way too many times, I call it “there’s only one Tony Locket” or the “one tone rodeo” song. I was sure our night out in Stone town would right the wrongs. We had heard about a big gig going on at the fort. It was apparently an Afro / R&B thing and it sounded like the place to be so we gave it a crack. It was supposed to start at 8. We got in had a few beers as the crowd grew then two guys started spinning some hip hop records. Not my scene but it was just the warm up so I wasn’t too perturbed. As the crowd grew we took our seat a safe distance from the stage. By 9 there would have been about 500 people siting in the forts amphitheatre waiting for the fun to begin. There was a group of fun boys going off to the right of the stage, doing their best P-diddy impersonations. I once thought there was nothing worse than white people pretending to be black. I was wrong, black people pretending to be black is way worse. After 2 hours of warm up music we began to wonder “is this it” but just as we began to loose hope the first act came on. The P-diddys went nuts. After 30 minutes we went to bed. Sorry Uncle Robert. We are trying hard but failing miserably.

Note: Funboys to the right of the stage

We also partook in the classic Zanzibar day trip, the spice tour. It was pretty cool to see the huge array of spices and what they look like before they get dried, crushed, filtered and jammed into those little masterfood jars. It was tempting to buy a few kilograms of cloves but common sense took hold and we managed to reduce the spend to a few gift size parcels. Who’s going to be the lucky recipient I wonder?? We had a mega spicy lunch and stopped off at a cave where slaves were held until there was enough to fill a boat. We also stopped off at Mrs Sultans holiday house. She wouldn’t let him sleep with his 99 concubines while she was in the Stone town palace so he built her a holiday house. He’s an ideas man.

Zanzibar’s other drawcard is her beaches. We decided on a small beach town on the north of the island called Kendwa. Most of Zanzibar’s beaches have been conquered by the 5 star set. Fortunately there are still some beachfront villas that don’t cost an arm and a leg and we found one that wouldn’t break our renewed shoestring vows. After a nice lunch and a swim we wandered along the beach until we reached the over water bar of the neighbouring 5 star hotel. It was nearing sunset and the temptation of a beer over the water was too hard to resist until we discovered that a drink of any sort would set us back 10 euros which is about what we paid for our accommodation. We wandered back to the povo end of the beach, which incedently has the same white sand, the same turquoise sea and the same stunning vistas, to our humble beach bar for a $3 cocktail. Luxury is overrated.

Soap Box time! I have two thoughts that don’t really fit in to the blog in a logical flow so I have dedicated this chunk to them.

1) I know Swahili was around thousands of years before the Lion King but I still think Disney must be held responsible for the unbearable overuse of the phrase hakuna matata in Tanzania. I’m sure it wasn’t uttered nearly as much before they popularised it with their touching cartoon musical.

2) At times I can have a shortish fuse. I have very little patience for touts that persist with the “Jambo Jambo meeester” after you have told them you’re not interested in whatever it is they are trying to sell. I have discovered that the quickest way to piss of a tout is to shoosh them, especially with the shoosh action of index finger over shooshing lips. Of course once they get pissed of you have to brace yourself for the hakuna matata that inevitably follows. Damn you Walt.

Our last day on Zanzibar we finally ran into the tail end of the wet season that we had been chasing north. We have had beautiful weather for pretty much all of our time in Africa but we finally got caught in a tropical downpour. In an effort to stick to the shoestring vow, for at least a day or two, we decided to catch the $20 overnight ferry rather than the $35, 2 hour jetcat, for a combined saving of $60. This unfortunately meant we had a long wet day to kill in Stone town before our 9pm ferry. I didn’t mind the slow day. Nat worked herself into a restless frenzy, which I found mildly amusing. We got into Dar in the morning just in time for the heavens to open again. We spent the day wandering the flooding streets of Daresalam, which is nowhere near as exotic as it sounds. After a 8 hour bus trip that should have taken 4 hours we arrived in Moshi. The better part of the next two days was spent finding someone to take u sup Kili. We finally decided on the 7 day Machame route Mauly tours (http://www.mauly-tours.com).

Next blog will be about either our triumphant adventure or the many philosophical and physiological reasons why we didn’t make it. Either way it’s going to be a cracker.

Wait till Biggus hears about this!

Lot’s of love,
Ev and Nat

P.S. For all the doubters out there (I know who you are) Kingos has kindly offered to set up a tote.
Apparently you stand to make a lot of money if we don’t make it to the second camp…..

Zanzibar remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We had spent the morning travelling from Nampula, on a large bus for about 4 hours until about half an hour before arriving at our intended destination, the remaining passengers were taken to a small bus station and told to jump into a smaller van for the trip over the bridge to Ilha de Mocambique. At some time during the transition Nat had forgotten that she’d stuffed her boots under the seat. I was given the unenviable responsibility of reminding Nat not to forget her boots. I forgot. Apparently that makes me even more liable than her. Luis (proprietor of the imaginatively named “Casa Luis” Guest house) knew the manager of the bus line and called to see if the boots were still on the bus. When the message came through that they were not we instantly assumed that they either hadn’t looked in the right place or worse that one of the staff had found them and decided to mind them for us, indefinitely. The ramifications started to sink in. No Boots = no Kilimanjaro. We hitched and walked back to the bus station and asked if we could search the bus. We didn’t find them and after harassing the staff some more we gave up. Having something stolen has an instant effect. We found ourselves distrusting everyone, the rose glasses we had been looking through had been cracked and muddied. We formulated a very average plan B and headed back to Ilha for lunch.

Half way through lunch Luis popped his head into the restaurant looking for us. He mumbled something about boots… thief… now… We didn’t really know what was going on but we jumped in the back of his ute and headed back to the bus station. As we pulled into the station we were greeted by a group of 30 or so angry looking guys (most of whom were wearing kofias). At first I didn’t get it but then I saw the guy who had been sitting behind us on the bus, the front of his now ripped T-shirt covered in blood. His clothes were shredded and his face was bleeding in quite a few places. Sitting next to him were the boots. It looked like the damage had been done a while ago. He had been kept at the station for our benefit. We didn’t really know what to do. Was I supposed to slap him or abuse him further or thank the punishers??? I was tempted to take a photo but it looked like the thief had been humiliated enough. We grabbed the boots jumped back in the ute and got out of there as quickly as we could.

After all the commotion a relaxing arvo strolling around the island was in order. Ilha de Mozambique is one of a string of East African islands, all of which have had a very similar past. Fishing hubs for thousands of years, settled by Arabs as spice trading points, invaded by the colonies and used as administrative posts and finally turned into tourist meccas. The most famous of these islands is Zanzibar which has been a tourist mecca for years and years. Ilha is so close yet so far being an Indian ocean paradise. It’s got plenty of crumbling colonial buildings, a big fort, a touch of Islamic architecture, swaying palm trees and it’s surrounded by beautiful reefs and turquoise water. We stayed for a few days and in the whole time we were there we saw 8 other people that could have possibly been tourists. Beautiful island, hardly any tourists, what’s not to like! Nothing spoils an island more than poo and rubbish on the beach. There are twenty or 30 little coves all round the island and all but one of them are used for dumping of rubbish and dumping of dumps. We were tempted to swim, especially considering the temp was above 30 and the humidity was out of control, but the risk of running into a battle ship was too great. It really is a shame but we enjoyed our few days there all the same.

We headed north to Pemba for some chill out time. We really did chill out and as a result we don’t have anything exciting to tell you. We basically went into town a bit, swam a bit (no battle ships in Pemba) and read a whole heap. We had planned to travel overland into Tanzania but we met some girls who had just done the reverse trip and their tales of woe were enough to deter us. We decided to stay a little longer in Pemba and fly to our next stop, Zanzibar.

Rule 8: If this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.

Lots of Love,
Nat and Ev

Northern Mozambique remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We had a few days in Maputo to organise the next leg of our trip doing things like getting our Tanzanian visas and organizing flights. As always the places we needed to go were scattered systematically throughout the city making a succinct, mission accomplishing sojourn, impossible. It did however take us to some cool places we were unlikely to see otherwise. Maputo is a pretty shabby, kind of mouldy looking, place but the people are super friendly and it's got a really cool Latin / Afro thing going on.

So far the Moz food has well and truly exceeded our expectations. It's all about super fresh seafood and piri piri, loads of piri piri. We went to the Maputo fish market for dinner. It was one of those pick your own squid jobies. I'm thinking "what do I know about picking fresh seafood?" How is this a good idea in a country with substandard
hygiene? Fortunately our cook helped us and the meal was fantastic.

A few people have requested a kg update. I would love to know myself but the only scales we have found were at the Mapotu Central market and I tipped the scale at 110kg. Hmmm. If I had to hazard a guess I would go with 93kg however I must confess that the photo in the last blog made me look thinner than I am. Lets hope my exercise / piri piri ratio is low enough to keep the kgs dropping.

We spent heaps of our time people watching and chatting with the locals. Here are a few classic Maputo moments.

With our admin out of the way we set course for Tofo and more importantly Tofino point. Youngos.net had given me a mega hankering for surf and after being frustrated by flat surf in Cape Town and Durban I was hoping Tofino would fill the void. We stayed at a hostel called Turtle Cove, which was in the coconut groves behind the point. The place was fantastic but the owners were a joke. They were so inhospitable it makes you wonder why they went into the hospitality industry. I awoke to the light rustling of coconut palms and splinters of light shining through the walls of our grass hut casting a zebra
pattern on our mosquito net. By the time I got to the board rack the other three boards were missing, a sure sign that there was a wave about. Tofino is a 200 meter, sand bottomed, point break and on our first day in Tofo it was doing its thing. The water was light aqua, somewhere in the mid 20's, the early morning air was about the same. It took me a few waves to find my feet and for the first twenty minutes I was becoming concerned that 4 months out of the water was going to render me waveless. When I did hook into my first Mozabique wall it was a cracker. Clean, 4 ft, whackable and I managed to fluke my way all the way to the shore. It was a long wait in between sets
but with only the 4 of us out we all got a few good waves. I began to fade after my fourth wave as the inevitable spaghetti arms got the better of me.

Our grass hut

The set up, day 1

We spend the rest of the day wandering the sandy streets and checking out Tofo. It's a really cool town and I'm sure that in 5 years it's burgeoning backpacker scene will be compared to the Byron Bays of the world. Beachfront blocks of land are going for $10,000 USD. It's the perfect souvenir. Unfortunately you need to be a resident or business owner to buy one.

The next day we awoke to a much louder rustling of coconut palms thanks to a strong onshore wind that would all but kill the surf for the next few days. After a lazy morning we caught the bus to the capital of the state Inhambane, which is about as laid back as a city can be. Wide tree lined streets, crumbling layers of paint (pastels of course) on Portuguese or art deco architecture and beer gardens with outdoor pool tables. We had a massive lunch at the Mercado Central and worked it off with some fierce bargaining.

On day three I managed to get a cheeky wave in before the wind came up but with the new swell still few days away it was more about getting wet than anything else. I did however come close to soiling myself when a large fin surfaced in the choppy sea 10 meters away from me and pointing in my direction. Ant's cries of "DID YOU SEE THAT FIN!!" certainly didn't help matters. Fortunately my fears were relieved a few seconds later when a dolphin dove out of the next wave. I have been surfing and hanging out with two guys and a girl from Cape Town. It's funny how South Africans affect me. I definitely have a love hate thing going on. Fortunately my surfing buddies, Ant, Riyadh (and
Riyadh's wife Aniya) fall into the first category and we spend the rest of the day swimming eating and hanging out in the village with them.

(Photos c/o Riyadh)

The Surf cleaned up the next day and despite being a little small it was good fun. The rest of the week followed a very similar pattern and ended up becoming one big relaxing blur. We ended up spending a lot of time hanging with the Cape Town trio, surfing, interneting, drinking massive milkshakes, eating prego rolls, swimming and occasionally
venting about how horrendously run the hostel is.

We did manage to rouse ourselves from our close to comatose state of relaxation for Tofo's major draw card, swimming with whale sharks. There are huge plankton clouds just off the coast at Tofo and the whale sharks can't get enough of it. You're given snorkeling gear, taken out the back and once a whale shark is spotted it's into the
water for a closer look. The first time the driver told us to jump overboard there was a 5 meter shark swimming right towards Nat. It made a slow turn and sunk a little to avoid her and continued on its merry way. They are so docile and quite slow moving so it's really easy to swim with them. Once they want some alone time they slowly
drop into the deep blue. We had just stopped following one that had dropped when another surfaced a few meters away from me. It was very surreal. Riyadh's camera was having trouble focusing through the plankton cloud so it looks a little cloudy. In the water it was very clear.

The predicted big swell never really eventuated but the conditions gradually improved over the week. We had to share the break with a big group from Durban for the last two days but fortunately, by then the sets were marching in regularly and everyone was getting plenty of waves. We had a flight booked so extending, as tempting as it was,
wasn't an option. We decided to get up super early on our last morning to try and get a few in before we had to get moving. It ended up being the session of the trip. 4 to 5 foot, long clean lines and for the first hour or so there was only a handful of us on it. After
two and a half hours of joy I pulled into what is most probably my last wave until we get home. I dragged my self from the water, we said our good byes and started the trek north.

If you're keen to get some epic empty waves in moz Ant's a surf guide. www.surfing-safari.co.za

Nice point break, long workable rides

Lots o love,
Ev and Nat

Southern Mozambique remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Getting out of Vic Falls isn’t easy. For starters we were running out of currency and at the moment withdrawing money in Zimbabwe is financial suicide. The official exchange rate is US$1 = ZIM$250. The black market rate is US$1 = ZIM$20,000 which basically means that if we withdraw money from the ATM or cashed a travellers cheque, you will find that a can of coke costs you $56US. We had a couple of options for getting out: fly for $300ish each or hitch a ride on an overland truck heading back to SA for another tour. We wandered around town searching backpackers and pubs looking for overland drivers. We finally found a truck heading back but they were waiting on petrol money from their head office before they could make the 1300km trip to J’burg. They told us to wait at the campsite and they would let us know when the money had come through. After an excruciating 40 hours of waiting we finally got rolling. Trouble is getting fuel in Zim is difficult and expensive so we left VF with the truck running on fumes. Needless to say we ran out 30km short of the boarder right next to some elephants. The two drivers hitched across the border with as many water bottles as they could carry while we cooled our heels with the remaining crew. When they finally returned they discovered that the fuel lines were full of air which resulted in another hour or so of tinkering. The delay meant that we were going to be driving through Northern Botswana (the most elephanty part of the most elephanty country in Africa) at night. Five or six times during the night the truck would screech to a holt waking us from our sleep and throwing us from our seats. By the time we arrived at the Botswana - South Africa border it was shut. We finally made it to J’burg 48 hours late and more than a little frazzled.

We hadn’t heard too much about Lesotho other than reading about a horse trek Peter Moore did in “Swahili for the broken hearted”. It sounded like just the ticket so we got a car and headed further south. Before we got to the mountains in the south of Lesotho where we would be riding we had to negotiate the knot of nerves that is Maseru, the Capital. Rome, Paris and Bangkok have nothing on Maseru in the bad driving stakes. Fortunately with a population of 290,000 we didn’t have to endure the chaos for long. After a huge feed we hit the hay early in preparation for the journey. I knew 12 hours of riding was going to hurt. The degree of pain was the unknown. 5 minutes in I started to get a little bit a chaffing on my leg and it was looking like two days of pain. Our decision to do the ride was soon justified. The mountains of Lesotho are spectacular. Riding through the canyons, up and down rocky paths and across rivers I began to channel the spirit of John Wayne. I relaxed in the saddle and got a one hand on the hip, one hand on the reins thing going. I felt pain but more importantly I felt like a cowboy. The spirit of Calamity Jane must have been preoccupied. Nat didn’t feel like a cowgirl but she enjoyed it all the same.

We left our horses at the village which would be our home for the night and headed up the valley on foot for an hour or so to a waterfall. As we got to the top the sun started to soften and everything got that warm glow. We got back to the village just as twilight turned to night, the perfect backdrop for baked beans on toast and G&T’s.

After an early start we rode back to base camp and hit the road to Durban. It was a long but pleasant drive along the north edge of the Drakensburg ranges. The next morning we had a drive around Durban and ended up at the beach for breaky. I was hoping for a surf but as the photos show it wasn’t worth the effort. The city has a pretty cool vibe and we would have liked to stay a little longer but with our time with a car running out and lots more to see we headed up the coast.

St Lucia is Hippo central. We were going on a hike into the wetlands the following day but we got a little sneak peak hippo action when two mutone hippos stopped for a late night snack in a park opposite our hostel in the centre of town. The hostel has a guide who was kind of on crowd control, not letting us get too close, but we still managed to get within about 5 meter. I was tempted to move a little closer. It’s easy to forget that they are Africa’s most deadly animal. The next morning on our walk we found a herd (or is it pod? or even hip?) of about 15 hippos playing right near the bank of the river.

A Dutch couple we meet in Lesotho had just come from Swaziland and couldn’t stop raving about the Mlilwane game reserve in the Ezulwini Valley. I think it’s safe to say that after all the game viewing we’ve been doing we’re both looking forward to a change of pace but they told us that Mlilwane wasn’t your classic game park. Seeing as it was finally a step in the right direction (North) we decided to follow their recommendation. We arrived in the Valley in the mid afternoon and as soon as we entered the park we loved it. I’m not sure what exactly made this park so different. One of the cool things about it is the absence of predators. It sounds like a negative but it’s really cool being able to get out of your car and walk up to a zebra or ride a bike around without fear of a leopard dropping from above. We spent the arvo getting up close and personal with as many of the residents as possible.

Next stop Mozambique to find out if it really is unique to be among the lovely people living free, upon the beach of sunny Mozambique.

The waiting game sucks, let’s play hungry hungry hippos!

Lots of love,
Ev and Nat

Lesotho Natal and Swaziland remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We started with your classic Mokoro trip on the Okavango. Travelling a few hours into the delta we found a suitable campsite and set up shop. By the time lunch rolled around it was hot. I‘m talking really really hot. Our travel doctor told us not to swim anywhere in Africa. Something about a parasite that burrows under the skin. We chose to take local wisdom into account and passed the heat of the day with intermittent dips in the delta. Don’t worry Mum’s, we checked for hippos and crocs first.

Once the heat of the day had passed we donned our walkin shoes and headed to the local Hippo hole. Shortly into the walk we were stopped for the obligatory “in case of emergency” talk. Now I’m not one to doubt my own physical ability but I was hoping for more of a defence than run in a zig zag line. I was tempted to ask why we were choosing to ignore 100,000 or so years of man vs animal evolution but the prospect of a leopard dropping on me seemed remote at best so I decided to keep my thoughts to myself and take my chances. Besides I figured I only had to run faster than one person. Safe as houses. We saw some hippos but it was from a distance. I was hoping to get a bit closer.

The next morning we rose before the sun for a game walk around our campsite. It was worth getting up just for the sunrise. We saw plenty of cool stuff the highlight of which was a small family of big elephants that meandered to within about 50 meters of us. It’s was pretty impressive as was the sunset on our second night in the delta.

As I mentioned last post we are on a pretty tight budget and we need to choose our additional activities carefully. We decided that an hour flight over the delta was worth $75 USD so we locked it in and took to the skies.

After seeing the density of elephants in the Delta it wasn’t too much of a surprise when we came across this herd on the side of the highway.

The game viewing highlight had to be the Chobe River. Any more animals and I would suspect they weren’t there of their own accord. Every 100m there was something different. Plenty of elephants, hippos, bok, bok and more bok, crocodiles and enough birds to drive Bob Way into a twitchers frenzy.

These ones are for Bob. What are they?

At the moment Vic Falls is at it’s highest levels since the 50’s. More than 9 million litres plummet over the falls every second! It would be easy to get distracted by the 1001 adventure activities you can do; bungy, zip lines, canyon swings, river boarding, etc. We were really keen to raft the Zambezi but with that much water pushing through the lower gorge it was well and truly out of the question. I guess it’s a good thing because it brings you back to the reason for being here. We got up early (sleeping in isn’t the same when you’ve been on an uncomfortable sleeping mat for two weeks) and got to the falls shortly after sunrise. You can see the mist and hear the thunder from all over the town but as you walk through the National Park the sound becomes ferocious and the ground begins to vibrate. As we walked along the opposite side of the gorge the wind changed and within seconds we were completely drenched. Even though the falls are only a few meters away at times it completely disappears behind the wall of spray. It well and truly deserves its status as a natural wonder of the world.

The little dot in the photo below that looks like someone pointing at the mist is Nat.

With rafting out of the equation we decided to view the falls from a different perspective. The question was Micro light, Ultra light or Helicopter? Ultra light was the winner. Needless to say the view from above was spectacular. To see the whole river plunging over from above was awe inspiring. The photos don’t do it justice.

Botswana and Vic Falls were awesome. They’re friendly, have plenty of wildlife and many beautiful landscapes. It was hard to only use this many photos but, as always, if you like the photos you can check out our album at

http://www.travellerspoint.com/photos/gallery/users/Nat%20and%20Ev/

Arriving in Vic Falls spelt the end of our overland tour. It was just the right length. Camping is fun, for a while. Now it’s time to experience the African public transport system… Next stop??? The Kingdom of Zamunda?

How's the serenity?

Lots o' love,
Ev and Nat

Botswana and a little bit of Zim remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We didn’t really do too much research into the Africa beyond when the wet season is. We had plenty of other things to fit in that were a higher priority than the best game viewing times are in southern Africa. Had we done the research we would have discovered that in April (the very tail end of the northern Namibian wet season) Etosha’s legendary waterholes would become superfluous. The news was bad as we drove north from Swakopmund, it had rained heavily the previous night providing abundant water and lush vegetation for the notoriously shy Etoshonian animal population. We also got word that the group that had gone through a week before us had seen zebra. That’s it, just zebra. I mean zebra are pretty cool but for a park that is renowned for close encounters with Elephants and Lions and all the big exciting animals, to only see zebra would suck. We arrived, set up camp and headed out for what was looking like a vegetation viewing safari. After three days in Etosha I think it’s safe to say we got lucky.

I was a little worried I would find game viewing tiresome at times but we were lucky enough to see something cool every half hour or so and it kept things rolling only nicely. There are still a few animals left on the must see list (esp. elephants) but with the Okavango and Chobe coming up next week we should have plenty of chances to spot the crafty animals that have eluded us that far.

In the Late 70’s the Namibian National Parks Service though it would be a good idea to make a Noah’s ark style, come and see it all, game park. The chosen region, the Waterburg plateau, was our next stop. You would think that it would be best to start with an area already well stoked with African fauna but the powers that be opted for the much more scenic plateau. Of course less than decade later the park and all its game viewing facilities were pretty much useless (at least for their intended purpose) as all the animals decided they would prefer to live in their natural habitats. Who would have thought it! Fortunately the spectacular scenery remains and the facilities are great and Waterburg has some of the best hiking in Namibia. We only had the afternoon to cruise around but with our navigator / outdoors guru Rob always willing to push the boundaries of twilight we made substantial ground and got some great views from various points around the plateau.

Namibia has been a blast. Everyone I’ve spoken to who has visited Namibia and those we have met travelling around have all been in awe of all of its varied landscapes. Someone told me the annual tourist earnings for the whole of Namibia is about $16 million. If people knew how cool Namibia is I’m sure that figure would be much much higher and judging by the tourism development I’m sure the word is already spreading. I’m glad we came in low season and I’m glad we came before tourism really takes off. After stopping briefly in Windhoek we set an easterly coarse, bound for Botswana….

Dang! You got shocks, pegs... lucky!
You ever take it off any sweet jumps?
You got like three feet of air that time. …

Lots of love,
Ev and Nat

Northern Namibia remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The first few days of the journey was all about getting miles under the belt. Western South Africa and southern Namibia remind me a lot of the Red centre with vast open spaces and an endless blanket of low shrubs although the base colour here is more of a sandy beige than a red ochre and the endless plains are punctuated by massive mountain ranges rather than the relatively smaller ridges that divide the red centre. The similarities don't stop there, for anyone who has driven around the red centre you will no doubt remember the hours and hours of road in-between "attractions". Fortunately in recent years my tendency towards motion sickness has improved dramatically and the hours on the road are being passed effortlessly with a stack of good books. Plus if the books ever get tiresome you can engage in a few minutes of high speed game watching. Most of the time you can spot a bok or two, ostrich or even the rare mountain Zebra within a few minutes. Unfortunately the Namibian Brains trust thought it would be a good idea to build a tall fence along the side of the main highway (with is an unsealed dirt road) to protect cars from stray animals. Trouble is the animals seem to be on the road side of the fence more often than not and as the truck approaches they freak out dashing all over the place and at the last minute they make a dash for the open spaces beyond the fence only to run full speed into it to the horror of all on board especially the vegetarian member of our entourage….

Heading north from cape town we stopped for our first night in Lamberts bay, a small fishing village with a big fishy smell. Fortunately the fish processing factory wasn't in full swing so the stench was barely detectable once unless you were right near the factory. It was a windy night and the temperature dropped well and truly below the expected Africa minimum. Come morning I was ruing the decision to send my sleeping bag home from Cape town.

The next two days were pretty much more of the same, a couple of hundred kms followed by an afternoon of exploration. Our second campsite was at a beautiful campsite on the banks of the Orange river.

Day three was spent exploring Fish River Canyon, the second biggest Canyon in the world. I'm not sure who is in charge of the size based claims to fame but someone has a lot to answer for. Unless Kings Canyon (California) and Fish River Canyon are exactly the same size someone is telling fibs. Me thinks it's time to call in the good people from Guinness to sort this one out. We made camp and after a much needed swim at the camp ground we spent the afternoon walking around the Eastern rim of the canyon which became more and more pleasant as the cool of the afternoon settled in and with a wine in hand we watched another spectacular sunset.

By day four the vegetation was very slowly starting to change. The mountains were getting a little bigger and more frequent and by the time we reached our destination we were in the heart of the Namib desert. With a few hours of sunlight left after the big drive we decided to stretch our legs and test our dune climbing abilities. While the good people of Guinness are down here measuring the canyon they should swing by the Namib desert as I'm sure the dunes here are strong contenders not only for the highest but also the hardest to climb, with one step forward, and then 90% of that step sliding back. With the sun setting at record speed, as it always does when you're racing to catch it, our stroll became a death march to the top to catch the last rays of the day. The thing about sand dunes is that they appear small from ground level, as you reach what you think is the summit you soon realise that they are much much bigger than they appear. After 4 or 5 false summits my legs and lungs were burning, my eyes were stinging with sweat and my boots felt twice as heavy as they should. I finally caught up to Rob who was sitting at the top, looking like he'd taken a leisurely stroll. Nat joined us a couple of minutes later and watched another brilliant sunset. I wonder if sunsets are always this good but we more often than not miss them because we're still staring at a computer or worse, watching tele…

We started the next day the same way with a 5am sunrise from the top of Dune 45, another massive dune. After a hearty dessert breakfast we wandered the dessert for the morning ending up at Dead Vlei which is kind of like the Oils Blue Sky Mining cover surrounded by 300 meter dunes. Very surreal.

We have been staying at some pretty swish campsites thus far. It's all very civilised with plush toilet blocks overlooking rivers and swimming pools surrounded by deck chairs. It's not the roughing it in Africa one might expect. The food has been good, we're making friends and loving Africa thus far. Nothing else to report other than I'm getting a wicked truckies arm and Nat is still trying to work out what a hundred men from mars (aka a million men or more) has got to do with Africa….

It's supposed to be a challenge, it's a shortcut! If it were easy it would just be the way.

Lots o' love,
Ev and Nat

Cape Town to Swakopmund remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We had planned to start with the quintessential CT experience of climbing Table mountain. Sounds crazy after 30 odd hours on a plane although I have heard that exercise is the best way to counter jet lag. Unfortunately our plans changed when after 30 minutes by the carousel we discovered Nat's bag was still at Heathrow. Of coarse this is a dream come true for Nat. BA gave us 35 pounds to buy a new set of clothes but with nothing but the clothes on her back 35 pounds was never going to be enough. Fortunately our insurance also covers luggage delays and so rather than spending our first hours in Africa climbing a mountain we spent the morning searching for the perfect little top… I shouldn't jest. I'm a bit of a fan of shopping myself and with Nat in a state of euphoria we managed to stretch our budget to sneak a T-shirt in for me.

We hadn't planned too much for our first few days so when we awoke to find the table cloth covering Table mountain on Thursday and Friday we took the chance to spend a few days getting our gear in order and exploring the city. Friday Arvo we decided to head over the back of table mountain to go for a swim and to watch the sunset over the very snooty Camps Bay. Camps was out of control with a massive cross shore gale blowing so we headed up the coast to Clifton for a dip. Nat was feeling under the weather so I had to brave it alone. Despite the unseasonably warm dry weather very few people were venturing into the water. I was worried it was a shark thing but as soon as the first wave washed around my ankles the reason became very apparent. Describing the water as cold, invigorating, freezing, bitterly cold or frigid wouldn't be doing it justice. I'm not sure what the temp was but the Atlantic seaboard cops the currents from Antarctica and on this particular day it wouldn't have surprised me if chunks of ice started washing up on the shore. The cold shower after I got out felt like it was burning my numb skin. I found out later that the other side is much warmer but it's also much sharkier. I think I'd rather take my chances with hypothermia rather than one of South Africa's leaping great Whites…

Saturday morning was our last chance to climb Table mountain and with the top clear of clouds and all the shopping out of the way there was nothing holding us back. It's a gruelling hike, only a few kilometres but it's pretty much straight up so it's like climbing uneven stairs. Add to that the blazing midday sun, a temperature somewhere around 35, a lack of shade and a serious underestimation of how much water we needed and it made for a very tough climb. We had calculated that based on the number of people we had overtaken on the way up we were about the fourth slowest climbers. We comforted ourselves with the fact that if you take into account all the people who catch the Cable car we rocket up to the top 10%. I'm sure most of you follow the same hike duration philosophy as we do, that is – if the sign says 3 hours it should take less than two hours even if you dawdle a little. Everyone knows the duration signs need to cater for the lowest common denominator. I believe strongly in this philosophy and so with two kms of flat terrain to cover and only 30 minutes to cover it the last half an hour became a dash for dignity. I made it by 2 minutes, Nat scrapped in with about 3 second to spare by my watch. Still not ready for Kili but I think we're making inroads!

I always enjoy going to see local sport especially when you get to go to an iconic venue. My passion is rugby grounds. I guess it's like visiting famous battle grounds you've seen on TV time and time again. At present the list is a little light on but it was with childish
excitement that we entered Newlands, with it's table mountain backdrop. As formentioned, Capetownians have the same sporting affliction as us Sydneysiders, a rugby team that promises much but generally delivers little. As someone who feels this pain more than most (being both a Sydneysider and a Capetownian) Scott Tubman was the perfect spectating companion. We wer'nt really expecting a big crowd or a good game but we got both with the Stormers upsetting the Lions in front of a long weekend crowd. On a side note, Biltong is good. We also had the chance to hang out with Hayley and Ben Tubman a little over the weekend which was fantastic. It's was really cool to see them although playing with Ben made us realise how much we 're missing Hughie. Easter Sunday was pretty chilled out. We headed back over to Scott and Hayley's for Church and dinner on Sunday night. It was awesome to worship with so many people after not having a formal church service for three months. Thanks for taking us in and showing us a good time.

Monday Morning we took in the second quintessential Capetown gem. We went to Robben Island which is where Nelson was held for 18 of his 30 odd years of his incarceration. It's a barren harsh place and hearing of hardships political activists faced under apartheid from a former political prisoner certainly makes you wonder how such a policy was tolerated until so recently. Inevitably these kind of thoughts quickly brig you to the problems that plague the world today and it's hard to see how things are ever going to improve. I guess it's one step at a time and for South Africa the first few steps have been taken. Let's pray they keep walking in the right direction.

We rented a car and headed south along the beautiful Atlantic cost the views are absolutely magnificent (apparently). Once again visibility was to rob us of visual splendour. Fortunately the Pacific coast was cloud free and so we decided to check out the local African Penguin colony. Despite the fact that African penguins have had a rough trot over the past decade there are still plenty of the little guys and as a result there is only loose protection. We arrived in the late arvo just as the penguins were returning home with bellys full of partially digested fishies for the wife and kids, hmmm smells yummy. We watched from a distance for a while but curiosity got the better of us and we decided to see if we could get a little closer. it got to the point where I was seriously tempted to pick one up but fear of vicious penguin mauling kept my hands at bay.

The next morning we got up early and drove the last 30 kms or so to the tip of Africa. I was prepared for disappointment. I'm always a little sceptical about attractions of geographical significance (despite my love of geography) The most budget of these attractions would undoubtedly be the tropic of Capricorn. Very disappointing. Fortunately the Cape has much more to offer than a geographical claim to fame. We also walked around to the Cape of Good hope. There was something stirring about standing on the headland and envisioning Cook and then the First Fleet rounding the bend and heading for Australia. It must have been tempting for them to stay in Cape Town enjoying the good life rather than venturing out into the unknown.

After a leisurely drive around false bay we headed inland to the Cape winelands for a few days of fine wines and hearty meals to make the most of the wine before we venture out into the land of poor viticulture. I have always been a big fan of town planning and the guy behind Stellenbosch (Mr Stel) did a might fine job of crating the perfect little wine town. We only had time for one Vineyard in the afternoon but with 12 different wines to taste and a generous guide I don't think I could have made it through the second vineyard. After a brief arvo sleep we headed out to a restaurant that specialises in local dishes. Safe to say anywhere that takes such pride in it's wines is bound to take a similar amount of pride in there food. And of coarse every good meal needs a healthy glass o vino to bring the flavours out. we left feeling very contented and ready for some serious snooze time.

I have some other, more confronting, thoughts about Africa that I'm going to post on my old blog site http://evsnow.blogspot.com/

Tonight we meet our travel companions for the next three weeks.
Fingers crossed...

Cute and cuddly boys, cute and cuddly...

Lots of love,
Ev and Nat

P.S. Only had to drop my pants three times in Cape Town.

Cape Town remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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I spent most of my time with Vitalik and Arman neither of whom speak much English (although I suspect Vitalik knows much more than he lets on) so most of the time we communicated in charades and very slow broken English and broken Russian. Russian isn’t considered a beautiful language but Vitalik speaks it with such joy and passion that at times I could have sworn he was speaking Italian. I heard these three expressions on a regular basis.
- Evan you are very good man
- Evan you are reality man (by which he meant I was a real man)
- I think it’s ok, I think it’s fine (used as a word of comfort when I had botched something up)

The other highlight was spending time with Andy and Sarah. For starters they watch West Wing, play Settlers of Catan and 500 and Sarah is an awesome cook, a skill witch become so much more valuable when every restaurant in town servers the same dishes, Plov and Shashlik. It was also awesome to witness at close range the work they are doing here and the profound follow on affects it is having in a struggling part of the world.

Our unofficial assimilation officer was Alice, who took it upon herself to make sure we felt at home as soon as we touched down. Alice has a British / Belgian thing going on so she sounds British and on the surface seems British but has a cool continental undercurrent. It’s kind of hard to explain but what I’m trying to say is we really like her.

It was hard to leave, especially in such a rushed fashion but I’m sure I will see some, if not all of them again. In fact on our farewell card we received strict orders from the most dainty of the CR team Masha who informed us “you must come back to stay with us for 5 years and then you can go home!”

On the Kg front Kaz wasn’t too helpful. Despite all the manual labour the plentiful, cheep, heavy meals kept me at a stable low 90’s. Still got some work to do but I’m sure Africa will get me well and truly into the 80’s.

Nat is still collecting her thought re Kazakhstan so keep an eye out for a "Kaz according to Nat" update.

As promised here is my new trackie.

For now it’s time to push on with the sounds of TOTO on loop in my head….

Here’s looking at you kid

Ev and Nat

Kazakhstan round up remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The first was a hike in the Tian Shan mountains that we could see from
our kitchen window whenever the weather (and smog) cleared. Saturday
morning the CR crew along with a visiting team from Belguim boarded
our 'marshuteka' and headed for higher ground. The road is pretty bad
in Shymkent and by the time we got to our start point it had well and
truly deteriorated to the point where we had to disembark numerous
times so our poor little van could get the extra clearance required to
negotiate potholes. After a harrowing journey we decided to break
early for our picnic lunch. On the whole Kazakhstan isn't a
particularly beautiful country but the mountains are certainly one of
the exceptions to this. We found a clearing by a river with grass that
would challenge the St Andrews greens for a putting surface and set up
a feast of a picnic. It's always a little hit and miss when everyone
is told to bring something, fortunately this was definitely a hit all
the way down to toasted marshmallows for desert.

Post lunch a few of
the party decided to take the low road while the Starrs (regulars in
the mountains) and the Snows (who are training for Mount K) decided to
take the high road. With nothing to follow but winding animal paths we
rumbled most of the way through waist high thorn shrubs and patches of
snow in a straight line towards the summit. With time against us it
became more of a work out than a stroll with the last few hundred
meters up a sheer hill, precariously destabilised by recent rains and
melting snow. Once on top of the massive peak it became apparent that
we had taken the hardest possible route. It was a bitter sweet victory
and needless to say the descent down the south face of the mountain
took a fraction of the time of our northern acsent.

The second task required much less physical strength but was proving
just as difficult - trying to get our hands on some horse. Horse is
more of a speciality of steppe dwellers so getting our hands on some
Horse sausage and Besbarmak was tricky. I thought all was lost until
on our last day at work Nat was given the day off from cooking and a
specialist was called in. I can happily say horse is a lovely meat. It
has a distinct yet understated taste similar to venison and the
portion we got was very lean. The horse sausage, which is served with
a healthy dose of fat, was also very tasty but the spices kind of hid
the flavour so it could have been any meat really. All in all two
thumbs up from us. A big thanks to Sar for making my equine dreams
come true.

The third task of getting a Kazakhstan Trackie was proving dificult in
Shymkent but I'm pleased to say I have acquired a horrendous shinny
tracksuit in Almaty. I'll try to post a photo of the afore mentioned
outfit in the next post. Something to look forward to

The biggest bummer about leaving Shymkent was that we had to cut our
last week short for medical reasons. It sucked to have to say bye to
such an awesome loving group of people in such a rushed way. Hopefully
it's not the our last goodbye and we will get a chance to see everyone
again sometime. The good news is everything appears to be in working
order and as a bonus I got to experience the full extent of the Kazakh
medical system. I won''t go into too much detail but this is what's
been going on over the last few days. I noticed a lump. I talked to a
doctor friend from Shymkent. Let me say now that dropping your pants
in front of someone is much harder once you have had lunch with
them.... Anyway she recommended we head to Almaty for an ultra sound.
There is a good international clinic in Almaty and so we first we
headed to them for a referral. After dropping my britches for a second
time I was sent to the local hospital for the ultra sound after being
told 'whatever they tell you and whatever they want to do, don't let
them do anything!'. I was taken to the office of a local doctor with
very cold very firm hands and ordered to drop 'em for the third time.
After testing my pain threshold I was sent to a large Russian woman
with an even larger peroxided hairdo. There was a long queue as I
entered and whilst I had my pants down for the fourth time my doctor
decided to join us barging in exposing me to the next victims who were
of coarse curious to see how I was getting on. My Kazakh Doctor
decided that my predicament was due to the cold and recommended a
coarse of "physical heating". Ahhh, I'll pass this time thanks. We
headed back to the International Medical Clinic with the printouts and
after one more pant drop I was given antibiotics and told that I would
need to get myself checked in a week's time. At least the South
African Doctors should have warmer hands... Sorry, didn't get a soft
copy of the ultrasound so no photo's.

Only a few more days and we head to Africa (via a Big Mac at Heathrow)

Sure I'm flattered, maybe even a little curious. But the answer is no!

Lots of love
Ev and Nat

Last week in Kazakhstan remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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By Nauryz Eve everything is spotless and phase two starts. Phase two involves tackyifying the city. By this I mean finding whatever decorations are available and plastering them all over the main public areas of the city despite there lack of relevance to the start of the farming calendar. Christmas declarations and Flower day declarations featured most prominently but the most disturbing decorations were those paying homage to Disney’s Shrek. Fortunately with the already eclectic mix of ornamentation on display even Shrek seemed a natural part of the festivities.

We too had been eagerly anticipating Nauryz but not for the communal clean up, nor the concerts, markets and food stalls that would line the square but for the biggest day of the Kazak racing calendar. Kazakhstan is made up of many people groups but the two biggest are the Kazakhs and the Russians. Under the Soviet Union Kazakh culture was seen as being very lowbrow and it feels like that prejudice still exists to a certain extent today so when Kazaks are whipped into a nationalistic frenzy and given the chance to let their hair down and be as Kazakh as they possibly can you can bet your bottom dollar that there will be plenty of equine action.

The buzz was palpable we left our building to head to the Hippodrome. Although it was tempting, we resisted stopping and listening to the Kazakh concert (it’s not an attractive language when spoken and singing doesn’t really improve the listening pleasure) hooked up with the CR team and made our way to the outskirts of town to the Royal Shymkent race track. Animal lovers - skip the next few paragraphs or perhaps stop reading now.

We didn’t have to wait long for the main event, Kokpar. Kokpar is kind of like polo but rather than hitting a ball the riders fight over the carcass of a goat or sheep. I believe in the game we were watching the contested beast was a sheep. In times gone by they would start the game with a live animal but in this modern day and age they have progressed to slaying the sheep before the game begins.

This is basically how the game is played

The start is similar to water polo with all players partaking in a race to the sheep (as I mentioned this has been made considerably easier since animal cruelty laws prevented the use of a live sheep). Some players go for the “ball” others try to block but eventually someone gets a clean grab at the ball.

If they are lucky they can make a break for it but usually the effort of picking up a slain beast from the ground whilst on horseback slows the winner down enough for the other team to grab a leg and a horseback tug of war ensues.

Once the initial contest is established the game becomes remarkably similar to rugby without a backline. Basically every man and his horse tries to get a hold of the ball. This is also where rucking comes into the game although with their feet in the stirrups, rucking is near impossible, so they do the next best thing: whip the opponent's head until he moves and you can get a clean grab at the ball.

Once someone gets a clean break they will tuck the sheep under a leg and bolt for the goal. A strong enough player will be able to give the sheep a good swing and release from a distance whilst at full pace to avoid another ruck / maul on the try line. As demonstrated by this fine Kazakh shooting from the 3 point line.

Of coarse if the shoot isn’t taken in time things can get pretty nasty around the goal as demonstrated by this poor filly who was pushed into the goal by the rolling maul.

After the end of the match everyone has sore hands and hoofs.

The fun didn’t stop there; the next event was Catch and Kiss (or hug if you can’t get close enough for a kiss). This crowd pleaser involves a female rider who gets a head start of 20 meters or so being chased by a male rider for 300 meters. If the man catches the woman they ride back the 300m and the man is allowed to show her as much affection as is possible from horseback. The real fun starts when the women makes it home safely as rather than being kissed she has the privilege of whipping the poor suitor for the return leg. Spurred on by the crowd she gives it her all, beating him for all he’s worth.

There are a few other games of horseman and horsewomanship but the most prestigious event is the Shymy 3000. Unfortunately Royal Shymkent doesn’t have the funds for a starting gate so the start is dictated by someone false starting and the rest of the field ignoring the official’s flags and giving chase. My preferred horse didn’t make it to the starting line in time and spent the entire race giving chase from a good half a lap behind. He did me proud but never closed the gap and the false start took line honours.

It was very cool being part of such a spectacular cultural shin-dig, the weather was good the food was fatty and the locals were going off. If you’re thinking of visiting Kazakhstan I encourage you to coincide your trip with Nauryz.

When he beat the odds, they changed the rules. When he broke the records, they weighed him down. But he had one thing on his side...the faith of a boy. Together they lived a legend that inspired a nation and won the heart of the world.

Lots o’ love,

Ev and Nat

HAPPY (Kazakh) NEW YEAR!!! remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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CR is an aid organization that seeks to meet needs with resources. It’s kind of like a huge Vinnies on a wholesale level, but rather than selling goods, CR gives them away to welfare organisations that reach out to those most in need across the globe. CR started in Hong Kong in 1995 with a handful of people including Andy who is now heading up the Central Asia branch. Hong Kong is a city of excess in a region of poverty and with a little effort the discarded goods of an affluent society can make a huge difference to people in poverty stricken countries. The other key factor is that Hong Kong is one of the busiest harbors in the world and with thousands of cargo ships heading off to every corner of the globe CR has been able to spread the love! So CR can fill a 40ft container and send it to any port and the cost is a tiny fraction of the value of the good it contains.

CR Central Asia was set up to access the harder to reach areas of this region. It has only been in operation for three years and is growing rapidly to keep up with the growth in welfare groups helping people throughout Central Asia. Basically there is way more need than they can meet and hopefully in the coming years CR can close that gap.

A few years ago I went to visit a friend who was involved with CR in Hong Kong. I only had a few days but in that short period of time it was clear that the work they were doing was having a huge impact on thousands of people. Being a tiny part of it was so uplifting that since than I have been waiting for the right time to go back. When planning our trip we were keen to take some time to get involved with aid work and to see what was going on out in the field first hand. A few of our friends have been involved with CRCA and through discussion with them and careful consideration we decided that we could be of use and a few emails later it was locked in.

CRCA consists of 9 full time staff, two from Australia, one Belgian girl, one American guy and 5 Kazakhstanies. It’s an awesome team and we’re really lucky to be able to spend time with such cool people.

The one small hurdle for us has been that the majority of the office work needs to be done in Russian. This has made it harder for us to get involved in that side of the operations, which in a country that loves red tape, is a substantial chunk of what CRCA spends time doing. That being said there is still plenty of work to be done and thankfully lots of it doesn’t require any language at all!

CRCA was given a building and some land in Shymkent by a British aid organization when they first arrived and as the team expands more and more of the building needs to be renovated to house the growing operations. I have been helping Vitalik and Arman renovate the ground floor of the building using my extensive building skills(!) One would think that having a father who is a builder would automatically equip me with a wide range of skills and on one level it has, I certainly think it has given me enough confidence to give anything a crack, but it has still been a learning experience! I have thus far painted, plastered, sanded, tiled, fit doors and cleared land.

Nat on the other hand has been in the more familiar surrounds of the office and the kitchen. She has been mainly helping with the English side of the admin which primarily involves communications and reports although she has also been called on to cook lunch for the team 4 days a week. Her biggest challenge has been coming up with recipes with a very limited range of ingredients and big cost constraints (aim $1 per person per day). Needless to say she has come up with some delightful variations on the standard fare of carrots, cabbage and potatoes (a big thanks to Sal and Tam for the helpful input). The girls in the office have loved having her there and are constantly surprised with the vigor with which she attacks any work she is given (which is normally the jobs they don’t want to do). She has also been involved with the ‘individual help’ department. This is CR’s way of reaching out to our neighbours in Shymkent. Basically the poor of the city can come to the office and we have a room full of all sorts of clothes, school supplies and toys and they are given as much as they need. It does require some background work and sometimes we visit their houses to assess what they need most. Both Nat and I have visited a few peoples houses and it’s amazing how welcoming and hospitable people are. One could speculate that it’s because they are buttering us up and normally I would be skeptical, but in-general we have found the people of Kazakhstan to be unbelievably welcoming, something to aspire to really.

On Wednesday all other activities are ceased for container day, also referred to as going to the Gym. This is where the rubber hits the road. Each week we have a specific objective, for example this week we were going through a newly arrived container and sorting the contents into five containers all going to different places. The most urgent shipment is going to Afghanistan and thankfully today we managed to fill the complete order so after it gets inspected by customs next week it will be on its way! This is particularly exciting for us as it is something that we have been more heavily involved with and also because a few weeks ago it looked like the shipment was going to be delayed or not go at all due to a funding crisis. Fortunately a few of our friends from home stepped up to cover the transport costs and when it leaves the compound next week it will certainly be thanks, in part, to them.

CR does an awesome job and the crew here have all given up a lot to serve the people of Central Asia. It’s an honour to be able to get involved even if it is only on a short term basis. Our time thus far has been challenging, thought provoking, tough at times and but generally, a whole lot of fun. We are really glad we ended up here. I’m already dreading saying goodbye to such an awesome group of people.

If you have any specific questions about CR or what we have been doing feel free to email us or comment and we'll get back to you asap.

In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns.
Lots of love,
Ev and Nat

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On Friday afternoon we caught a mini van to the boarder and negotiated a taxi for the last 20 kms to our hotel in Tashkent. We knew we would be in Tashkent for a few days waiting for our new Kazakh visas so we decided to do a little exploring on the weekend. Samarkand has long been a mecca for Muslims and travellers alike. It was the biggest hub for Central Asian trade during the 14th to 17th centuries and as such became a major stop on the Silk road bringing in such riches that no expense was spared in constructing buildings during the period. In more recent times it has become a quintessential stop on the hippy trail. As we approached the Old Samarkand it was easy to see why people have been drawn here for centuries.

I'm going to let the photos do most of the talking.

After a awesome weekend in Samarkand it was tempting to head further west to Bukhara and Khiva but it was time to head back to Tashkent for our rendezvous at the Kazakh embassy. I was looking forward to the train trip back. I was 80% of the way through a trashy spy thriller leaving me just the right amount pages to fill the 4 hour train trip. Half way through the first page the girl next to me said hello. I have blogged about this already but allow me the chance to reiterate; once you start or become involved in a conversation on public transport you're committing to continuing the conversation until one of the parties involved reaches his or her destination. Needless to say I didn't get to start reading until we were back in Tashkent and didn't finish my book until the wee hours of the morn!

Apparently once upon a time Tashkent was a beautiful and ancient city. Unfortunately we were 50 years too late. An earthquake in 66 destroyed most of the ancient buildings and thanks to the wisdom of that time the city was rebuilt in Faux Islamic / Soviet architecture. The Tashkent of today is a stunning mix of concrete and blue corrugated iron domes. Despite this we set out to see if we could uncover any gems that had made it through the architectural slaughter. We failed. Fortunately we had more luck with our re-entry to Kazakhstan mission. Everything went really smoothly and once again we left surprised at how easy the red tape part of our journey has been.

By this stage our briefcase of Sum was starting to look dangerously low and with lots of souvenirs to purchase we were in dire need of more Sum. It was time to break ground, it was time to acquire some Sum from within the belly of the beast. First strike was our Hotel they told us to try the Hotel Mir who told us to try the Askana Bank who told us to go to the international banking department who told us to go the the Uzbekistan National Bank. As far as I could tell we were being told to go to the reserve bank and ask them to cash our travellers cheque. Seemed like a long shot but 3 hours and 4 taxis later we were getting desperate. We made it through the rigorous security and into the nerve centre of Uzbek banking. Now it was a matter of finding an Uzbek government official who would help us. After a few misdirection we finally found the Sum counter and the Uzbek Granny who evidently controls the one place you can get more than 20000 sum at one time. No wonder the black market in Sum is alive and kicking! A few forms and customs declarations later we left with our 150000 sum. Hardly seems worth it for $150.

The next day we got the chance to visit Teen Challenge who are one of the organisations CR support throughout Central Asia. We drove out of Tashkent to the TC farm where people are helped to overcome addiction and to reenter society with new skills. Part of the project is funded by micro businesses that help the students learn a skill and also to learn about a good work ethic. It was a blast to see all the micro businesses in action and to be so welcomed by brothers in a foreign land. I was asked to say a few words after lunch. "Not much just 15 minutes or so". I choked and didn't put my best public speaking foot forward but they were gracious and thanked me for sharing anyway.

We rounded our time in Uzbekistan off with a night at the Opera. We had booked early and got great seats in the front row. It wasn't strictly Opera, it was a concert that showcased a mixture of Uzbekistan's finest performers including orchestral music, Uzbek singing and dancing, opera and ballet. It was great to get just a taste of each of the styles, however I can say that whatever good work was done in me by the movies "Save the Last Dance" and "Centre Stage" has been completely undone and it will be a long time before I sign up for a ballet performance. My Favourite had to be the opera, I was literally tingling at the end of one piece. Who Knew!

I am the best goddamn dancer in the American Ballet Academy. Who the hell are you? Nobody.

Lots o' love,
Ev and Nat

Uzbekistan & The Silk Road remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Actually it was good fun. Anyone who has been camping with me will know I love a good tree bend and smashing trees in general. It's not a anti-greeny thing, I love trees, it is just that there is something so satisfying about expressing human kinds' dominance over nature. The task for the day was to clear a part of the site that had at one time been a park but had degenerated (or more accurately regenerated) into a full blown forest. There are a few NGOs that use the site so we had plenty of workers, it was time to wind back the biological clock.

That took care of my birthday day but as for the night I thought it would be nice to go out to dinner with the CR crew. I asked a few people and they seemed reluctant but agreed to go out. I asked Arman and he asked what time?? I said 7ish. I cant be sure what he said as he doesn't speak much English but I did recognise the words Superstar KZ (aka Kazakhstan Idol). That's when the penny dropped. The begrudging responses were those of people giving up the highlight of the TV week. With a few quick adjustments plans changed and I hosted my very first Idol party. If you're keen to become an Idol of some sort I would suggest you try in Kaz, based on the people that got through I'm pretty sure even I would be in with a fair crack of taking out the whole thing.

With Idol out of the way we hit the town for dinner and dancing. Arman (being the expert on all things Kazakh) showed us a thing or two about how to pick up using different dance moves. As far as I can tell my best bet is doing the 80's shoulder shimmy thing whilst cornering my chosen target. I move closer and closer until she does the Banannaramma Venus hand wavey thing back at me at which point it's all over. I tried very hard but Nat was very good at the Bannanaramma hand wavey thing and in the end I gave up.

After a "relaxing" Sunday shopping in the Shymkent bazar we boarded the train to Almaty. We didn't book in time to get into the good carriage but the people at the back of the train were really nice so we were happy to save the $30. Unfortunately the beds in 3rd class are only about 5ft long which has my feet hanging over the edge by a good foot which made It very hard for people to pass without toughing my feet. It was also very unfortunate that the height of the bed plus the length of my feet placed my big toe at crotch height. Needless to say I was always grateful when passers by chose to give me a little backside rather than the front!

We went straight to the embassy to put in our applications only to be told to return at 2pm. Our friend JP who is a regular at the Uzbek embassy had warned us that if you turn up at the advertised opening time you're likely to be 30th in cue. He also warned us that the waiting room was open air and with the snow coming down we weren't too keen to wait outside too long. It leaves you with a tricky equation. We shot for 30 minutes early and ended up 7th in line. Not too bad. Shortly after 2 the guard informed us that unfortunately the visa processing gentleman decided to have an extra long lunch and there would be a delay, a delay that would leave us out in the -5 waiting room for an extra 75 minutes. The lunch was probably a good thing as the diplomat was in such a good mood after his lunch that our applications were processed on the spot (as opposed to two weeks) without the $50 US urgent fee much to the disgust of our friend JP who had made the 16 hour trip from Shymkent twice (once to lodge and once to collect) and still had to pay the urgent fee.

We were kind of hoping for a few days in Almaty to do a bit of sight seeing but with work to be done at CR HQ we decided to head home the following night. This gave us the afternoon to wander the streets and most of the next day to do something a bit more substantial. Seeing as I missed out on my birthday boarding it was decided that we would head to Chimbulak for the day. We got up the next day at 7ish got all rugged up and headed out into the still snowing Almaty morning. The traffic didn't seem to be moving too much but after a few minutes we managed to get a bus. 20 minutes and 100 meters later we decided walking might be faster. You would think that in a city used to snow they would be well equipped to deal with the 30cm fall. Cars' wheels were spinning out of control, police were trying to get to accidents, traffic was at a standstill, the city was pretty much in meltdown. It was a long cold walk across the city to the bus stop for the ski resort and by the time we got there it was already after 10. The meltdown had obviously affected this side of the city too. We waited for 20 minutes for a bus or a taxi and when the taxi arrived he asked for 2000 tenge ($20) as opposed to the 60 tenge (60c) it would cost us to catch the bus. I said no, Nat was happy to start with but was ruing the decision after another 5 minutes standing on the side of the road. I was confident we had made the right decision but when the next taxi pulled up I caved and got ready to be bent over. I say taxi but I need to clarify. Basically hitchhiking is more accurate. Anyone can take paying passengers for a negotiated price. Some people even splash out on a taxi sign. The second suitor was a little more gutsy, seeing the "Touriska" stuck in the snow he shot for 10000 tenge ($100) for the 10 minute trip. Fortunately the number 6 bus came as we were trying to talk him down and we got away with 60 tenge. the next stage of the journey requires you to get a 4WD taxi. We picked one up within minutes and it looked as if we were home and hosed until... 1km from the resort our trusty steed began to wheel spin and blow way too much black smoke. The hill was ridiculously steep and to be honest I'm surprised anyone makes it to the resort. We did get passed by a very ingenious VW driver who had converted his front wheel drive into a rear wheel drive simply by reversing up the 10km hill, fishtailing the whole way might I add. We bid farewell to our 4WD and walked the last kilometer. It appears we are unable to ski without a serious hike involved. I hope our luck changes before we reach the Andes! the morning had all but run out by the time we got Nat some skis and purchased out lift tickets but it looked like there was hardly anyone around and there certainly wasn't a queue for the lift so it looked like we were in for 4 hours of power.

I think at some stage the resort owners must have been given the choice, do you want a high speed detachable quad chair to replace the crappy double you're currently using as your arterial lift OR would you like to blow a whole lot of cash on a flashy electronic ticket scanning system. They chose poorly. We scanned our tickets in the flashy turnstile and prepared to get whacked in the legs by the nondetachable double chair. There were only a few people on the hill and the 30cm of fresh was still more or less untouched other than the central groomed run and even that had some sizable patches of untouched snow. After a few runs we realised they were about to open lift 2 which accesses the higher reaches of the resort. We managed to be the first up that chair and the run down was glorious. It's not a great hill but gliding through powder is pretty awesome no matter how short the run is or how steep the terrain is. We continued to hit the upper slopes for the rest of the arvo and had a great time. Had things gone to plan we would have been skiing on 3 week old snow with patches of grass popping through everywhere but as luck (or Divine intervention) would have it the delay in our trip delivered us the best conditions of the season thus far. nice.

This Friday we head to Uzbekistan for a few days. I promise in the next few weeks I will write a post on what CR does and how we fit into that.

Also a reminder that you can see more of our photos in our Album
http://www.travellerspoint.com/photos/gallery/users/Nat%20and%20Ev/

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"Once again, things that could've been brought to my attention YESTERDAY!"
Lot's of love,
Ev and Nat

Chimbulak and Almaty remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The trip was supposed to take 3 hours. Not with Ayrton Sennavich behind the wheel! As we sped out of Shymmy Nat fell asleep leaving me to fear for both of our lives. The first major problem is that it is disrespectful to the driver to wear your seat belt (it shows a lack of trust in their driving) and as a result seat belts are superfluous and are removed from most cars. One would think that the numerous headstones and roadside memorials we passed would make them reconsider this cultural oddity or perhaps no one has shown them the "reduction in deaths when seat belts were invented" data...

The second problem was lack of audible communication. This inevitably leads to a game of charades. The real danger starts when you pass headstones of famous sportsmen who have perished on the Shymkent - Turkistan road. Every famous person's death was commemorated in story form by our wanna-be theatre-sports driver with both hands whilst we speed along a muddy, potholed, foggy road at 100km. Firstly he would say "champion" whilst acting out whatever sport the particular person was champion of. First was a boxer then a wrestler and then a horse rider of some sort. Once the dearly departeds sport had been correctly guessed he moved onto the style of crash. The most perilous for us was the boxer who apparantly rolled his car 11 times. This was acted out with both hands revolving around each other and moving up and down at the same time. It didn't matter how many times I said Da Da Da he wouldn't stop (and take control of the car by putting his hands back on the wheel) until the prescribed number of spins / rolls had been acted out. Against all odds we made it to Turkistan alive, and Joelvi had shaved a full hour of the normal trip time.

Turkistan itself is a nothing town but it has been an important pilgrimage sight for Muslims for a long time due to a number of 1000 year old mosques and an unfinished Mausleom that is pretty awesome (although we have been told that our next stop, Samarkand, in Uzbekistan is 10 times better). It was a chilly day and wandering around some of the smaller white rooms of the mausoleum felt very much like exploring a fridge. We did find a thermometer in the main hall and the temp was a very fridge like 1 degree. With a bit of wind chill action taking photos outside became a race against time. I regretted ignoring Nat's advice to take my gloves.

The ride home wasn't quite as harrowing as the memorials had already been pointed out and the fog cleared revealing a very brisk but beautifully sunny day. We did pass some sort of horse gathering. I'm not sure exactly what it was but there were at least 200 horses being ridden around in a tight bunch. I tried to get the driver to stop but either my charades weren't up to his standards or he didn't feel like stopping as he decided to ignore my request. I should have insisted, it's often the things that you stumble upon that end up being the highlights. At least we are guaranteed of seeing some Kazakh horsemanship on the 22 March (Kazakhstans New Year) and what better way to celebrate with a game of goat polo! Stay tuned for that one.

IN OTHER NEWS

Skiing is looking more and more promising as the temperature plummets and we get a few decent snow falls. Sunday afternoon was about 15 degrees in Shym but by late that night the mercury was hovering at 0 and by the morning it was -10. It's was awesome to wake up to a white Shymkent and a flurry of sizable flakes that lasted well into the day. We had another good dump today. Unfortunately we had the contents of a shipping container unpacked on the CR car park when it started. It took 7 big burly blokes 2 hours to repack the whole thing and by the end we were all very cold wet and exhausted. On Friday we head to Almaty for a few days to get our Uzbekistan visas and to hit the biggest (of 2 or possibly 3) ski resort in Kaz. Very excited!

On the Russian front the lessons are powering ahead. We thought we were signing up for one hour two nights a week however every lesson ends up being 2 or 3 hours so it's pretty full on. I think the reason for the long lessons is that Russian is so complicated that it takes that long to cover one rule. It's ridiculously complicated and has way too many rules and way way too many exceptions to the rules. Nat is studying very hard and is endeavouring to learn all the rules. I'm taking a "I'll do it on the night" approach. No prizes for guessing who is doing better, although it turns out I have a natural ability for perfect Russian pronunciation so it's a closer race than you may imagine ; )

One of my friends (a well travelled chap) went to India recently. I asked him how he found it and his answer was so eloquent I thought I would share it with the world!
"India is a sack of sh#t. Still waking up in the morning and just thrilled not to be in India." - anon

You had...these gloves...all this time...and you never told me!?
Duh! Yeah! We're in the Rockies!
I'm gonna kill you Lloyd!

Lot's of love,
Ev and Nat

Turkistan (and Shymkent update) remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Our apartment is right in the middle of town, on the top floor of an 'individualista' building. Apparently there were only a few different styles of apartment blocks built during the Soviet-era (making it very easy to shop for apartments) but ours is a unique building, meaning it was more likely to have been occupied by the elite back in the day. To my untrained eye it kind of looks like most other apartment blocks in Shymkent - a massive block of run-down cement with corroded pipes sticking out all over the place. You definitely don't want to start thinking about the safety of the gas pipes or water heaters here! The inside is pretty standard fare for this part of the world too – a different type of floral wallpaper in each room and plumbing which leaves a little to be desired (ie you can’t actually put toilet paper down the toilet here). Our pad is pretty much smack bang in the middle of town which is great for eating out, exploring on foot and generally feeling at one with the city. It is nice to have our own little piece of Shymkent and to feel as though we are part of the community.

Our flat is top left

Our living / meeting / bed room

Soviet storage (i guess they didn't want people to feel like they needed more of anything)

We have been doing lots of exploring around Shymkent – discovering the shops, the main bazaar and all the foreboding statues around town. Shymkent certainly has some quirkier aspects… like the massive MiG fighter plane statue (an ode to WWII pilots who trained here) and the three amusement parks (one of which offered the frightening prize you can see in the picture below.

Amusement park prize - Turns out the US is looking in the wrong central asia country!

Food has continued to be a highlight of the trip. It’s not that the Kazzak food is particularly gourmet or even tasty but what is lacks in quality it certainly makes up for in the thrill of surprise. Deciphering a whole menu would take a few hours so we normally spend a few minutes trying to work out as much as we can before the relentless waitresses get the better of us and we end up taking what is effectively a stab in the dark. You win some you lose some, we have certainly won more than we have lost. I thought we were onto a sure thing at the local Mexican joint. We ran through an assortment of Mexican dished until we came across some the waiter seamed to recognize. I got the Burritos and Ev ordered the Tacos. The Burritos were spot on but Evs Chicken and Lemon soup was about as far from Taco as you can get.

After the constant harassment in India, walking around in Shymkent has been fabulous. Most people think that we are Russian until they try to talk to us, and since there are no tourists here, usually people are pretty excited that someone from ‘Afstraliya’ would come to Kazakhstan. However the locals don’t seam to understand that Russian isn’t a universal language and despite pleas of "я не понимаю" (I don’t understand) we still get a barrage of questions in Russki. This is particularly problematic when we get wrong number calls and the caller is sure that if they try hard enough and call back enough times we will miraculously understand, as was the case at 2am last night. From our few Russian lessons I can safely say this ain’t going to happen!

All the people that we have met in Kazakhstan have been incredibly kind and friendly. From the waitresses who patiently perform charades to explain what all the items on the menu are. To the man at the bazaar who decided he wanted to pose with the sheep’s head for me. The other day we went into a shop in the evening to buy Ev a cap he had found and fallen in love with. When we got to the cashier, a big Kazak man appeared, and the cashier informed us that he wanted to buy Ev’s cap for him. We’re not sure if he is normally that generous, or if the fact that he had obviously been drinking played a role. Anyway a few minutes later he gave us his cars number plate (we think he was trying to write his phone number but got muddled) and lots of full body hugs he finally let Ev go.

One sheeps head please

Apart from local drunkards we have made a few friends. There is a lovely (English speaking) Pakistani guy who works at one of the local internet cafes who takes every opportunity to talk cricket, the bread sellers at the bottom of our building who compete ferociously for our daily 25c bread purchase (I almost started a bread war by switching sellers) and a Russian guy from the other internet place who welcomes Ev with a hearty handshake every time we drop in.

That pretty much sums Shimkent up. It’s a wacky but very friendly place with lots of quirky buildings, monuments, practices and people. We’re having a great time and I think that is largely due to this cool city.

we're not in Kansas anymore Toto,
Lot's of love,
Nat and Ev

Shymkent remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Next stop was the Green Bazaar to pick up some fermented horse milk and Horse sausage then on to a local Shashlick (similar to shish kebab) restaurant for some traditional Kazakh food and equally traditional Karaoke. After a very early start and a huge day it was time to crash out for 14 hours of Quality sleep.

The next day we had the chance to go to a Sunday club in Russian. It was a very cool experience hearing some of Hillsong's finest P & W being cranked out in Russian. The best we could do was hum along. After listening to the message through my translator (Andrew) we met a few of the people Crossroads help in Almaty who give disabled kids a chance to learn and experience things that they normally wouldn't have the chance to. This is a hangover from the soviet system where physically and mentally challenged people were segregated and ignored. It was great to meet people who had dedicated themselves to helping others in this way and it was also encouraging to see the end result of CR work before we had even started helping out.

One of the quirky characteristics of Kazakhstanies (both Russians and Kazakhs) is a fear of the cold. You would think they would have developed a thick skin over the centuries but no, they will crank whatever heating system is available to the max. This was particularly evident on the overnight train to Shymkent. Sub zero outside, high twenty's inside. I was uncomfortably hot by the time we had got to our cabin. We resorted to getting off the train wearing less than we should when it stopped to get our core body temperatures down so we could make it through the night without cooking. We were taken to our flat given a few minutes to freshen up then it was straight to work! But more about Crossroads next time.

One of the first things we noticed is that English is pretty much useless here. No signs are written in English and even the most basic phrases / words such as excuse me and sorry are received with a blank look followed by a flurry of Russian / Kazakh / Uzbek or some other variety of Central Asian tongue (not that we can tell the difference!). This also proves problematic at Crossroads where two of the 9 staff don't speak English and two of the staff (Nat and I) don't speak Russian so lots of things need translation. We have taken up the challenge and have decided to learn Russian. Thus far we have just learnt the Cyrillic Alphabet but next week we start tuition which we will have two nights a week (costing us $3.50AU an hour!). Hopefully we will be able to get around and communicate a little better soon.

After the Cold War, the AK-47 became Russia's biggest export. After that came vodka, caviar, and suicidal novelists.

Almaty remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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That concluded our time in India so we thought we would let you know what India has meant to us.

Nat's thoughts

The first time I came to India I LOVED it. At least I really liked it while I was there, and began to love India in my memories of travelling there. This time my experience of India hasn't been quite so rosy. In part I think this is because the novelty factor wasn't there this time - and so the hard things in India became annoying rather than quirky. And there is a LOT to find annoying in India... I'll just give you my top five:

1. Dogs are everywhere. Now I don't like dogs at the best of times but in India you can't escape the filthy, mangy creatures which roam the streets at all times. I'm sure they all have rabies. And they spent half the night barking.

2. Nothing is clean. We're budget travellers. We know that the hotel rooms we stay in are not going to be luxurious. However, when you start to spent a little bit more money on a hotel room you hope that the result will be at least a new level of cleanliness. Instead our experience has been that more money is more likely to buy you AC or a TV in the room - while the level of scunge remains the same. Nice.

3. Harassment from all corners. Most people will tell you that one of the hardest things about India is how much everyone harasses you. In Delhi if you walk down one of the major streets in a tourist district for 100 metres you are likely to get yelled at by 100 people offering/strongly recommending you take up their offer of a hotel, a rickshaw, a taxi, food, Internet etc etc. And when I walk around without Ev I get a whole other list of offers (usually starting with 'hey sexy baby')! Saying no to these offers usually requires saying no about four times and ignoring people entirely. And it takes its toll - fending off people all day long is exhausting and leaves me feeling like I am completely heartless.

4. People lie to tourists a lot. I know that not everyone in the world is going to be truthful but it did feel as though every second person we met lied to us directly. Most of these experiences did seem to happen in hotels though.

5. India makes you sick. In total I was very sick for a total 7 out of 31 days which is rather more than I would like! And I'm not a sickly person. But Delhi belly is not a joke and seems to happy to everyone, no matter how careful they are.

Now I've had my whinge - I should say that there have been lots of things I have enjoyed about being in India a second time. The places that I have enjoyed the most have been:

1. Munnar - the scenery here was absolutely stunning. Beautiful tea plantations spread for miles around

2. Darjeeling and Gangtok - again the mountain scenery was beautiful and the towns a little bit smaller and more laid back (probably because it was the off-season for them!)

3. Alleppey - this was probably my favourite town. The backwaters were beautiful and wandering around on them offered a lot of insight into people's lives in the area.

4. Delhi - I'm not 100% why I like Delhi so much but I think there is definitely something excellent about big cities where you can explore different sights and areas for days. My favourite moments were when I discovered little shopping enclaves in the middle of nowhere.

Aside from the specific places I loved, it has to be said that the advertising is on the money... India really is incredible. India is an assault on the senses. It is the loudest, most colourful, smelliest place I have ever been too. It has incredible food and drinks, a dense and complex history and offers so much to see and do. And some of the people we met (usually the ones not involved in the tourism game) were incredibly kind. Despite all the harder parts of travelling here I would still recommend that people visit sometime (although maybe only for a couple of weeks - I don't think there is another country that is anything like India.

India According to Ev

I'm so glad we came to India. I was really scared about lots of how I was going to cope and on the whole I think I've come through the 5 weeks all the better for having seen India. It's a crazy place and on the whole I have really loved it and I think in time I will look back very fondly and the things we have seen and done.

There are a few things I have come to accept as being quintessentially Indian;
- A horn loud enough to deafen the unlucky soul it's honking at
- The ability to litter no matter how beautiful and pristine your surrounds are
- A complete disregard for personal space
- Hocking spit everywhere and making the most foul noise possible in the process (to be fair I think China has this one won hands down but the Indians are trying to match them)
- Backwards bargaining is expected
- The right to view westerners as a meal ticket. This one was hard to come to terms with. I think we have a strong sense of justice that sometimes clouds the reality that even though we are getting scammed and don't like it, it's only a couple of bucks. It's hard not to overreact.

My three highlights have been:
- The Backwaters of Kerala
- Munnar Hill Station
- Food in India is sensational from Aloo Gobi to Nestle Bar One (30 cents of mars like goodness)

I still haven't worked out how the little bucket in the toilet is used?? Might save that investigation until next trip!

And the most important statistic....

Do NOT go in there!
Nat and Ev

Delhi India round-up remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Ganges in the Foothills

Roadworkers stop traffic for a blast

Auli is a 20 minute gondola ride from its service town Joshimath. Upon arrival in Joshimath we headed to the gondola to get to our accommodation for the night. It was then that the full extent of how bad the ski situation was fully hit home. The manager of the gondola told us that while the gondola was working the other lifts were non operational (due to lack of snow) and our accom was as a result a 3km walk down the hill from top station. Not that keen on a night hike with all our gear we decided to stay in Joshimath and to check out the sitch the next day.

Mountains behind Joshimath

3am and the Indian cuisine / lack of hygiene (Indias not Nats) finally got the upper hand starting a 12 hour toilet-a-thon for Nat. With 90% of the channels in Hindi and the bad reception due to the mountains we ended up watching ESPN and Animal Planet way way too much. In the process we learnt a lot about the FA cup and snakes care of Austin Stevens, a South African version of Steve Irwin. http://www.animalplanet.co.uk/austinstevens/index.shtml

The next day after some serious medication we were ready to hit the slopes. As we ascended out of the valley the surrounding ranges became visible. It was a truly awe inspiring view and this time the skies were crystal clear. We passed over the place where we intended to stay and realised why the lift wasn't operating. The biggest patch of snow inbounds was 1m by 20m.

Nat tried on some hi tech boots and took her pick of the fluro straight edge skis and we were off on an uphill hike to find some rideable snow. I resorted to stopping ever 300m or so and providing Nat with Chocolate incentives to keep her momentum up. It worked and by stop 3 (which was at a cool little Buddhist Gompa) we could hear cheering coming from further up the mountain.

Ev pre hike just above Top Station

We arrived at temporary base camp. Still a good 1000 meters or so to go but at least we knew we would get a run in. It turns out we were far from alone. We had timed our day on the snow to coincide with the Indian Army Uttaranchal Divisions race day. Fortunately they had restricted themselves to a 200m course and the upper slopes were all ours.

One run was enough punishment for us and we headed back down to Joshimath for some more Austin Stevens. The return journey was just as arduous but we decided to stop in Rishikesh to break it up a little. Rishikesh was made famous by the Beatles who hung out here in an ashram for a few months, writing most of the white album before becoming disillusioned and returning to the UK. Ringo actually went home early because he wanted more meat. What a little trooper.
www.thebeatlesinrishikesh.com
I too became disillusioned very quickly. Such a beautiful town set on the Ganges in the foothills of the Himalayas, it's a shame about all the neo-hippys.

Holy man, Holy river

Back to Delhi and hopefully a Kazakhstan Visa!

Auli and Rishikesh remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Unfortunately, the Delhi experience hasn’t gone quite as smoothly as planned.

Drama number 1. After too many train and bus trips Ev and I took the plunge and splurged for a flight from Darjeeling back to Delhi. We figured that a 3 hour flight on even the dodgiest airline had to be more fun than a 27 hour train trip back to Delhi.

The journey started on Sunday morning, when we got ourselves up at 5am so that we could wedge ourselves on a share jeep from Gangtok to Bagdogora airport. Share jeeps are the way to get around in the mountains as they are quicker than buses and travel popular stretches every 30 minutes or so - but drivers take anywhere up to 18 people in a normal jeep (yes this is the standard jeep made to fit maybe 11) so they can get pretty uncomfortable. On this particular morning we were lucky - only 15 people were wedged into our jeep. But it turns out I have a stronger stomach for hair pin turns than most - cause five of our fellow passengers spend most of the 4 hour journey vomiting out the windows of the jeep. Nice.

We arrived a few hours ahead of the flight but we didn't mind since we figured it was better to be early than rushed. Five long hours of waiting later - our flight was cancelled due to bad visibility! I'm sure we should have been glad that the cheap airline was choosing safety over earning a few extra dollars but from where we were sitting the fog / pollution looked pretty mild. Don't airplanes come with some pretty sophisticated gps gadgets these days?

Anyway, after a mild panic about how the heck we were going to get to Delhi (the flights on the next two days were already full) we headed to the train station. After much discussion with Indian train staff in what can only be described as very pigeon English we established that there was a 5pm train to Delhi for which no sleeper tickets were available (these are the bed-like seats that you get whenever you go on the train overnight). But... we could buy an unreserved ticket for a normal seat, wedge ourselves on the train and from there negotiate with the train conductors for any available seats we could find. Only in India! Well despite my fears of spending the next 29 hours wedged in an upright seat with 10 other people and Ev's snowboard - we decided to go ahead and give this plan a shot. And low and behold it worked! After some lovely sucking up by Ev a few hours into the train trip, we bought ourselves two second class tickets. So in the end, some 39 hours after we left Gangtok, we arrived back to Delhi.

Drama number 2. The first thing we had to do in Delhi was to head to the Kazakhstan embassy at the other end of town to pick up our visas for the next two months. Some of you would know that we are planning to work with an organisation called Crossroads while we are there. The Kazakhstan visa process is a little complex as you need a letter of invitation in addition to all the standard paperwork. But we'd organised our letter - written in Russian - a few months ago so we headed off to the embassy fairly confident about it all. Bah bum... Turns out we really should have found more about our Russian letter as it was actually requesting a business (rather than tourist) visa. So when we rocked up saying that we were visiting people and doing some aid work it didn't really jell with the very strict and very unyielding consulate representative. After some panicked emails and phone calls to Kazakhstan we developed plan B -head back to the embassy tomorrow for a one month visa which does not require a LOI and which we can hopefully extend while in country. We'll keep you updated...

Drama number 3. When traveling around cities we normally just pick up rickshaws or other transport as and when we need it - preferring on the whole to save our money and walk. Today we decided to negotiate with a rickshaw driver to take us around for the day as we figured that we wanted to see a fair bit of Delhi and it would cost us far more to pick up individual drivers each day. So we found one who agreed to take us round for 400 Rs which seemed like a good deal both ways. Half way into the day we stopped at a petrol station and he asked us for some of his money to put towards petrol. Pretty standard practice really. Unfortunately we only had a 500 Rs note so we gave it to him expecting change. You can guess what is coming can't you... Well he gave us 100 Rs change but refused to give us any more back promising that he would continue to wait at each place we wanted to go. But low and behold, at the National Museum, the very next stop, we came out of the Museum after half an hour to discover him gone.

It's not a lot of money but at this point we were feeling pretty frazzled and frustrated with how often in India (and Delhi in particular) you feel like you are being ripped off. So Ev had a good yarn to the next rickshaw driver who picked us up - and he suggested that we put in an official complaint to the tourist police. Ten minutes later we found ourselves in the New Delhi police station trying to work out what the heck we were doing there and if there is any merit at all to filling in a police report. After telling our tale of woe to three people we were given a blank piece of paper and told to write our report. Only the good lord knows what will happen to that piece of paper but I'm sure it won’t get our driver into too much trouble. We declined the offer for tea in the officers’ mess as we had a train to catch.

To the hills for a little skiing!

When I first heard that Marge was joining the police academy, I thought it would be fun and zany, like that movie, 'Spaceballs'. But instead it was dark and disturbing like that movie, 'Police Academy'.

Nat and Ev

Delhi dramas remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We set off for, as the promos say, Small but Beautiful - Sikkim, our destination for the night was the capital Gangtok. On clear days you can see Gangtok from Darjeeling (so I'm told) but the share jeep takes 4 hours, All the way down the valley and all the way up the other side. Any respectable journeys on Himalayan roads involves numerous hair pins, some serious reversing, lots of horn blowing and many heart stopping moments as tyres verge on the edge of sheer cliffs. Despite the heart palpitations the journey to Sikkim was spectacular. Beautiful powder blue glacial rivers surrounded by Lush green peaks.

Due to it's proximity to china and the fact that China has never acknowledged Sikkim as part of India the Government has lavished this underpopulated state with well more than it's fair share of Federal Funding. I'm not sure if it was the government overspend or the high proportion of Bhutanese, Nepalees and Tibetan people but Sikkim was very very nice by Indian standards. Flash shops, few scungy dogs and no beggers. we had a great couple of days in Gangtok and the surrounding areas. I would love to come back in summer to do some hiking.

Next stop Delhi for some Kazak visa love.

I'm not kidding, that boy's head is like Sputnik; spherical but quite pointy at parts! Now that was offsides, wasn't it? He'll be crying himself to sleep tonight, on his huge pillow,
Ev and Nat

P.S for more photos click here http://www.travellerspoint.com/photos/gallery/users/Nat%20and%20Ev/

P.P.S People have been asking about Nat's involvement in the blogging process. I'm more into blogging than she is so I start and she edits and finishes them off. I promise I will let her be the sole author soon.

Darjeeling and Sikkim remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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There's nothing like being frisked to help you remember that you're not in Oz anymore. Even though we've been frisked a few times during our trip thus far - we didn't head to the movies in Bangalore expecting it. Especially since we went to see Happy Feet. Happy feet was part of our half time detox in Bangalore. Other features of the 24 hour program were McDonald's x 2, Shopping in a mall and hot water.

After Bangalore we fly to Varanasi where, at the airport, we ran into more union heavies. This time they were protecting the lucrative Airport city run from those dastardly auto rickshaw drivers. We didn't cave in to the exorbitant prices and went on a mission to get a better deal. We found a rickshaw driver dropping someone off. He was seemed keen to take us until the union heavies started yelling at him and off he went. Our resolve strengthened and we marched out of the Airport complex into rural India to track down a fair price. Even when we found a willing driver at a good price he still had to pay the airport heavies a 50Rs cut of the 150rs fare.

Our Hotel was just behind the most southern Ghat and was a great starting point for an arvo stroll along the Ganges. Varanasi is a really interesting mix of cultures and religions. I find the religious mix really interesting in India. Not only do you have your ghats for all the different types of Hindu Gods you also have Islamic and Buddhist Ghats. Are they just trying to get in on the action or is the Ganges sacred to all three religions? I asked a few questions but never really got a comprehendable response.

After our Mumbai experience we decided to go for a Middle Eastern Dinner. It lived up to the fabulous meals we had in Mumbai and two weeks of not getting sick had convinced Nat that this time it was safe to eat the salad. Not so. The first of many dashes to the bathroom was somewhere around 3am and they didn't stop until 4pm after a pre train round of medication. With a 12 hour trip ahead we needed to use all the ammo we had. Numerous tablets and powders later all was sorted - at least temporarily. Unfortunately it didn't give us too much time to see Varanasi. Nat gave me orders to go and take a boat trip by myself. Reluctantly I left my sick wife and drifted along the Ganges. It was amazing. Even though I had walked the same stretch the previous afternoon, drifting past and watching the hive of activity on the shore was spellbinding. At the same time there was a kite festival and with the winds blowing the kites out over the river it was an enchanting afternoon.

Our run of good luck with the trains ran out that evening. We got to the station for a 9.20 train. At least the station signs are realistic with the train time, train name, departure time and how late it is appearing on every sign. You get the feeling big delays are part and parcel of train travel in India. Ours was only one hour late apparently. Two hours late. Three hours late. Four hours late and with the temp dropping by the minute our train finally arrived. 14 hours latter we arrived in Siliguri, not our final destination. A quick rickshaw and jeep later we were half way up the hill to Darjeeling at a place called Kurseong. One of the truly helpful people we have meet thus far helped us wander around the boarded up town trying to find reasonable lodging. Once we had accomplished this it was time to hit the snooze to get ready for our 5.20 wake up call.

The Darjeeling Toy train runs from Siliguri to Darjeeling everyday and takes up to 9 hours to make the climb. We had decided to catch an alternative toy train which is basically the locals version. Taking workers and school kids up the mountain in the Old School Darjeeling express. The longer train is Diesel powered where as our locomotive was a fine old steam powered beast stopping every few Kms to fill up the water tank and to empty the ashtray below the furnace. This was a perfect opportunity to get out and check out the inner workings close up but also a good chance to get as close the the heat as possible. Apparently the weather is very very unusual as DJ is normally a mild place getting down to 5 or so at night and up to 10 during the day in winter. Not so this year its hovering on the bad side of 0 and there is a fog permanently hung on us and the surrounding mountains. The main attraction of DJ is the view and without it its like Disneyland without the rides. Still lots to do but the main attraction is currently out of order. On the plus side having an open fire to warm yourself by in your room is very tidy indeed. It has also been very cool experiencing the Nepalese and Tibetan influences in this region.

One more day here and then we head north into Sikkim (which is also all about the mountains) With a bit of luck the clouds will lift and we will get our first good look at the Himalayas!

Mysore, Bangalore, Varanasi and Darjeeling remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Other than that, the travel is getting much easier and the four hour trip flew by especially when the first gusts of mountain air burst into the open air bus. Munnar is one of the many Hill Stations where the colonials retreated to escape the coastal heat. On our journey we travelled from sea level to 6800ft and from 30 down to 5 degrees.

After finding suitable lodging we headed off into the hinterland with Mani our rickshaw driver. The scenery of tea plantations clinging to steep hills dotted with old plantation homesteads evoked a regal colonial feel. The main destination was top station. To me top station suggests a building of some sort. Luckily the view from the station (which is just a lookout) more than compensated for the lack of a building with warm cup of tea and something to eat.

Unfortunately, whilst shorts and thongs are appropriate attire for the coastal regions of southern India they most certainly are not appropriate for Munnar. This became very apparent on our 2 hour decent from top station, as the dusk temp dropped to 7. The wind chill in our open side rickshaw made the journey all the more memorable.

The next day was dedicated to Fauna. Up early we caught another chockers bus to a wildlife reserve two hours away. Chinnar park is the best park in Southern India for Elephant spotting. These odds didn't help us however as we wandered around for three hours. We think we saw a wild boar but we can't be sure. I hope it's easier than that in Africa.

Unfortunately two weeks in India has already given me a healthy scepticism of advice and information. It was this scepticism that made me reluctant to believe our host when he said "Sorry sir, it is not possible for you to get to Coimbatore tomorrow, there is a strike. You will need to stay one more night here" followed by a nice little head wobble. Undeterred and with time running out we set our alarm early to make the 7am bus. As we arrived at the main street the only people around were the local union heavies making sure no one was working and stopping every car to make sure they were on urgent business. We saw a few dodgy vans, full of people, with big Milk signs on the front.

You would think in India of all places there would be someone willing to take us, some sort of strike day black market but nope, there was nothing. I felt like a junkie trying to score a hit, quietly asking people in the street if they knew anyone who would take us for a handsome reward. The heavies had done a bloody good job of shutting up the towns folk and nobody would take us. Close to 9 we returned to our lodging, failures, our heads hung in defeat. In the early evening, under the cover of darkness, we paid top dollar for a 6 hour taxi to make up the time.

Not much to say about our night in Coimbatore. The only reason we stopped there is because we couldn't make it to Ooty that day. I was sick and somehow this hole of a city was pressing all the wrong buttons. I wanted out asap. Early the next morning we caught a bus to Ooty and left Coimbatore in our dust.

I was a little disappointed with Ooty. I think the highlight is the toy train and as we intend to take the famed Darjeeling toy train we gave the Ooty one a miss. We probably should have gone for a hike to see the surrounding plantations and colonial past but after a few big days we decided on a cruise around town.

With all the stuff that happened in between Christmas and New Years we didn't have the chance to celebrate Nat's birthday. An opulent birthday dinner was promised and with a good selection of Classic British Hotels we decided to celebrate at the ritzy Savoy. We went all out, three big courses, cocktails and a table by a roaring fire. I was starting to worry when I realised the price of the cocktails was more than our accommodation for the night! Fortunately with the exchange rate the total was a budget stretching $43.

You might notice there has been little mention of my weight. this is why. With meals like this I think I'm still at 102. I have started biting my nails in an effort to catch something soon!

Next stop Varanasi.
You had me at hello,
Ev and Nat

Munnar and Ooty remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The backwaters were pretty incredible. They are beautiful - lush and green and full of pretty algae (no doubt due to all the nutrients in the water), with lots of little backalleys that wind between people's houses. The backwaters are also used by the locals for EVERYTHING. Brushing your teeth, washing out the cooking pots and pans, washing of clothes, having a bath, swimming, kayaking - probably used in place of a toilet too although we have no direct evidence of that. Kind of disconcerting when you start to wonder where the fish you ate for dinner came from.

All that kind of leaves you with mixed feelings about the backwaters. I guess that's just the way it is in less developed countries. The people have no choice, the government has no money to offer an alternative and so life goes on and the locals develop iron guts to cope with the living conditions. It also hit me today that the living conditions of Indians haven't been quite as bad as I expected. Even while floating in a canoe along a backwater alley we heard the distinct sounds of Microsoft Windows shutting down. I'm sure if our train left Mumbai during the day we would have seen plenty of poverty but the rural population seem poor but not destitute as I had expected and on the whole they seem happy and friendly.

With time in short supply we had to leave Alleppey although if we could have stayed a week we would have. We caught a bus to Cochin and wandered the streets of Fort Cochin at sunset. It was almost time to escape the heat...

Be excellent to each other,
Ev and Nat

By the way...
You can see more of the photos from our trip by clicking on the "nat and ev" link under authors and then clicking on the "more photos" link. Dumb place for a link to the photo gallery - but what can you do...

Also - if you want to be notified when we post on our blog you can subscribe to it. Follow the link on this page...

Backwaters and Cochin remains copyright of the author Nat and Ev, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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