A couple of good quotes.

I think I posted this quote before but I am going to post it again. It was graffiti on the wall along a canal in Belgium:

"Death is not the greatest loss in life.The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live"                                                       -Norman Cousins

This internal death is what happens when we are too afraid to make change and try new things. This might be one of the biggest lessons Paul has taught me. I remember when I was just 19 and we started dating and we were talking about desires for the future. I have had tendency towards paralysis rather than action when uncertain, lacking confidence to just push forward in a direction even if that direction isn't 100% what I think I want to do. He said it's better to reach the end of life and look back at all the things you have tired even if you never found your hearts calling rather than to reach the end of life and have done nothing or one thing you didn't like. That understanding is a gift to freedom. I think of how much being with someone who has such an ability for future planning has created for me and the boys, and what it means to be here now.

I can't believe we have been here 5 weeks. We will be leaving Moshi in a week. It will be Paul's half term (something like that they call it) break, between Tanzania and Uganda. We will spend a week 'vacationing' here in Tanzania before we move up to Uganda. I will miss so much Grace, the woman working here where we are staying. She has been so kind so much a source of pleasant surprises.  I will miss our Swahili teacher, Sia. Such a woman who is kind, firm and so strong. I will miss too Ben, the gardener here who is quiet and will find a stick to lightly scratch Swahili words into his arm to show me how they are written. I will miss more than that but those three come to mind. Each day there are new things to tuck into my heart. Last week I found a group of deaf people who have a sewing collective and I signed to them (they use the same alphabet as us) in Swahili. They were so delighted to have a tourist try talk to them. When I was leaving one man was almost going to cry with gratitude, I felt the same way, another thing to tuck away.

Another guest was reading a book left here, Scribbling the Cat, and she read to me this passage and I had to take it down too. I feel so grateful we aren't just returning straight from Africa home. We will have some other stops along the way. I have a new appreciation for our friends whom have lived here returning home. This quote seems to sum it up well:

In late December I went home to my husband and to my children and to the post-Christmas chaos of a resort town, but instead of feeling glad to be back, I was dislocated and depressed. It should not be physically possible to get from the banks of the Pepani River to Wyoming in less than two days, because mentally and emotionally it is impossible. The shock is too much, the contrast too raw. We should sail or swim or walk from Africa, letting bits of her drop out of us, and gradually, in this way, assimilate the accesses and liberties of the States in tiny, incremental sips, maybe touring up through South America and Mexico before trying to stomach the land of the Free and the Brave. (page 72)

Scribbling the cat by Alexandra Fuller

Traditional Wedding celebration

Here in Tanzania there are supposed to be 120 different tribes. Many of these tribes had chefs and kings. Now the tribes are under the Tanzanian government but there are still Kings and Kingships that are recognized by those tribes as per tradition. One of Paul's classmates if the king of one of the larger (6,000) local tribes and they have become friends. Last Saturday he invited us to attend part of a traditional wedding celebration for his sister in law.

Paul and his classmates had a half day of review for the parasite test. The boys and I had signed up for a cooking class. It was really really fun and the kids really enjoyed it too. We made samosas (sadly samosas are extremely labor intensive and take about 3 hours to prepare and they are so delicious that you can eat an entire batch in minutes. A nice eye opener for the kids and they were so proud of them they saved one for Paul and one for Grace- so cute), a very common local tasty salad, Ugali (what I have written about before, the maize cooked THICK eaten with fingers and used as a vehicle for other foods), and cooked greens and meat to go with the Uglai. I bring this up because we thought we'd missed our chance to go with Paul to the wedding (long story) and when finished the class and ate our fill of food. 

Paul contacted us just as we arrived back home and said take a taxi and come out, have Kelvin (the taxi driver we use a lot) call this number and get directions. So, we excitedly, and hurriedly, changed into our nicest outfits and had Kelvin get directions. He had no idea where the specific place we were going was and he doesn't speak a lot of English and I try to jabber away at him and pretty much every taxi ride he laughs a little and tells me 'umm. I don't understand' and turns his head away as if wishing by not looking I'd quit. So now we are driving and it's becoming more and more lush and like the country side and we are more and more off the main road and banana trees shading coffee trees are all you and see. It's quite pretty, the road is more and more bumpy. He keeps stopping to ask where this place is and people answer with various degrees of confidence and length of speech. Each time 'I say what did they say?' He would then answer 'this way'. I keep offering my phone for him to call the mystery person to guide him in, all the time wondering if Tanzanian men have the same stereotype as men in the states asking for directions, I feel grateful that it's Kelvin we are with not someone I don't know because I feel like he won't leave us in some random place. At one point we are getting very close (but I don't know it) and he picks up a woman who guides us the last of the way. Turns out we have been directed the whole time by the bride's father who meets us at the road and walks us in. He introduces us to the woman who rode with us, who turns out to be his sister. He is a very funny, extremely warm and gracious host.  

We walk through the celebration area which is filled with chairs (and many are filled and I see people just watch us walk by) and back through a gate into one of the houses. The chairs are all along the open spot and back 3 deep between the banana trees as well as in the middle of the open area. Once in the house we are offered drinks and told to eat. The kids and I are not really very hungry since we just pigged out on our cooking food (and I found out later the kids were even more full since they had kept sneaking handfuls of the samosa meat mix all during the class because it's aroma was just too good). We are polite and take a little of everything. There are several traditional dishes, one of which has very firm whole green bananas and meat in it and another that has parts of the organs and what not, of cow. I ended up with a, very generous piece of black something. I think stomach or ruminant- I never ended up deciding if it was best to chew it with the smooth thick facial side against my tongue or feeling the geometric pattern of ruminant pressing down, if you ever eat a piece you will have a very long time to decide for yourself as you chew on it. Paul and his friends (the king and one other classmate) were drinking the traditional banana beer from wooden mugs. I was excited to try that having heard about it from another local person. It really does taste of banana and it is like banana and sort of like kombucha mixed. There is a thick chunky like froth on top that you have to blow aside or let just rest against your upper lip and drink the liquid underneath, a skilled drinker must filter it with their lips. It made me think if that is how mead used to be maybe? The kind they talk abut in Pillars of the Earth and the Songs of Ice and Fire books. 

The ceremony were able to attend was the groom's family coming to give gifts to the bride's side. We walked back out of the house and sat, at the very last minute, with the king (her father joked that his daughter was so important that even guests flew in from America to attend). They introduced everyone in the different sides of the family and elder members of the community. There is more ceremony and then bride's parents and grandparents are wrapped in blankets and the aunts are wrapped in kangas (the cloth they tie up as skirts and more) this is all happening one individual at a time. At any point a family member can refuse these things and the proceeding has to start over or they can say it's too cheap and you have to give them a little money too. The bride then pretends she doesn't want to come out and they have to bribe her and she puts on a show, then she has to go around the crowd and find her groom who is 'hidden'. He will then ask her, in front of the whole tribe, to marry him. All of this is done in good fun drama and her father was the MC (I am sure that isn't what he is called though) and I could tell, even though it was all in Swahili, that he is a very charismatic and funny man. Around this time some men come hefting out two big plastic open barrels of traditional banana beer. People in the Scio area will know these types of barrels as the kind the local farmers ferment hog feed in. The barrels sat quietly and bubbled the top froth over the sides. The bride then uses guards on handles and drinks a little herself before giving some to her husband then to his family, the elders and so forth. Eventually this drink is poured into small clean buckets and passed then large plastic cups. After that we all ate again! We were sooo full. After eating there are traditional dances where the women invite the men's family in and so forth. 

The boys sat very well through all this. L had a small pad of paper and was drawing various things after we had finished eating. This was very interesting to the local children who began to gather around. I gave one of the sheets of paper to O to fold into origami, I told him do the balloon, the kids eyes got so wide when they saw a flat piece of folded paper get blown up into a cube. That sealed the deal and the mass of children grew and O kept folding. They all wanted one. They were also taking L's drawings but I discovered it was to just run them around to O to fold up! L and one of Paul's friend's each took turns drawing the parasites they'd been looking at under the microscope. I had Paul's classmate label them in Swahili but I kept that one! By the time it was suggested we could sit and visit in the house there was a crush of kids about 3 deep around them.

The boys both knew the two of Paul's classmates from their time at school in lecture and they seemed at home chatting and joking with them. Later in the night Paul's friend, the another classmate, his father and brother in law give us a ride back to town. It was so incredible to be included in the event and they were all so very sweet and generous. We felt really special to be included. After we arrived home Grace told me she had set out some of her dinner for me to try. So I ate another helping of food, this time it wasn't a full serving at least!

Tonight I tried to tell the night guard I want to run tomorrow so I will need the gate unlocked at 6 am. This Massai man doesn't speak English. I told him what time, in Swahili. Then Grace said I had to go tell him in Swahili but in Swahili time as well, so I did. But that ended up confusing things because he had a cell phone and he showed it to us then she asked me 'is it English time?', I think because she uses the 24 hour clock. In the end the three of us worked it out, and he tells me I will not need to find and wake him up like the other morning (this is all Grace translating of course). By now I know where all the keys are to the pad locks and doors so I can let myself out of the actual B&B (and Grace sleeps in another building out back) but not to the gate to get OUT onto the street (no, dirt road really). The other morning I knew my cab was waiting but there was no way out until I got the guard up and it took some doing, who technically wasn't supposed to be tucked away sleeping. When I signed/English/Swahili-ed my explanation about the guard sleeping and me trying to wake him for so long, Kelvin the cab driver, just laughed. 

What time is it? Where did that come from?

Understanding what time people mean can sometimes be tricky. Most of the world uses a 24 hour clock and not am or pm. Here add in that with the fact that locals use Swahili time. You start counting at 7 am with the start of the day. 7 am is 1, 8 am is 2, 9 am is 3 etc until 6 which is 12 then you start over. Levin keeps his watch on Pacific time no mater where we are so if you ask him the time he (or you) will add 10 hours (or subtract 2 is easier) and flip the am/pm. Most locals know if they are talking to a muzungo (white person) the time the muzungo gives is not Swahili time but it can cause some confusion. I had a mix up with the taxi driver the first time I asked him to get me at 6 am to go running, we got it figured out. Today I texted with our Swahili teacher about getting a ride from her husband tomorrow and she texted me in Swahili with Swahili time. I had to have the boys verify that I calculated it correctly because of course they understood it the FIRST time she explained it to us. Curious to try your hand? We will be picked up at 3 and return home at 10.

When we were on our way back from the safari I saw some people outside of smaller villages walking with big home sewn sacks full of empty plastic bottles. I asked where are they doing with those bottles? Since there is no 'recycling' in the sense that we think of but there is recycling in that people use and reuse things. Victor told me they collect them, wash them and sell them in town. Then people use them for kerosene, gas, cooking oil, etc. I have seen oil being sold this way at the market (not store but market). Later we were stopped at a tourist shop (perhaps he gets a commission? He said they have nice washrooms) to use the restrooms and stretch and I saw the staff picking bottles out of the garbage as well. The thing is.... I am now less interested in that oil at the market because I find myself over thinking the washing method as well as what might have been in the bottles previously.

I also now understand why all the milk served warm at the local restaurants. Milk here, as well as many places, is sold in the shelf stable boxes and I somehow imagined the restaurants using this. Of course it makes more sense they would not. I saw the daladalas (small buses, like a van but that somehow pack a lot of people in) returning from town with various scratched up (and dirty on the outside) buckets and containers all tried up along the back and top. I asked Victor what they had sold in town in those buckets. He said milk, they go into town and sell it to restaurants and hotels. On one of my morning runs I ran by women in town selling them out of these buckets on the sidewalk and the buckets smelled a little sour. I saw them pouring them into re-used bottles with big funnels. Back at he hotel, where I meet Paul's classmates for the run, I saw their Massai night guard walking a giant plastic bottle back to the kitchen. So now, as I understand it, when I am out and we get milk we are getting that milk and they heat it for safety rather than service. Only now I wonder about the place where the boys and I found thick milkshakes (rather than the one we had early on that was an interesting take on milkshake: frothy milk, as if whisked, and a small scoop of ice cream)..... What are they doing with that milk since it's cold? Sometimes knowing too much isn't helpful.

Safari!

The boys and I went on a four day Safari this week. It was more than words can describe. Everything we'd hoped for and more. We had a driver and a cook (all standard I learned) and camped, they provided the equipment. It was really comfortable but not luxurious.

We left here on Tuesday and drove to Lake Manyra, after at least 4 hours of driving we got to the camp ground. Since it was hot we set up camp and had lunch then went on a drive after it cooled (you won't see animals in the hot of the day so much). Lake Manyara is known for it's tree climbing lions, the only place they do this. We were permitted to come across 3 in a tree and see a 4th climb up, 2 males and 2 females. We also had a herd of elephants slowly crash through the brush and surround the safari car and browsed for a while there RIGHT next to us. We saw many animals and birds. Baboons and monkeys are really they are so plentiful you may start to dismiss them but they are so amusing to watch. Here we saw some baboon behaviors close up, one grooming a younger one held it strong and forced it down then finally it scampered away. You could just imagine the dialog as if it were a child. Similarly when one adult baboon reached around and grabbed a youth by the neck and yarded it quickly across the road as if to say there is a car coming! watch where you are going. Of course I was excited to see one up close nursing while being cradled on it's mother's lap.

That night our camp was in town and walled and had hot water as well as a small pool. The kids enjoyed the pool along with a giant type of crane that is a scavenger. That night I could hear so many insects I tried to listen and tell how many types of sounds I heard, but couldn't it was a loud constant noise. One was so high pitched like a squeaking bike tire. Before I feel asleep a drum circle started in the distance. I had to tell myself I was in Africa not at Oregon Country Fair.

We set off the next day for another long drive to Serengeti. This time we drove through the Rift Valley, along the rim of Ngorongoro Creator, through Masai Paradise, before arriving at the edge of Serengeti.

Along the way we stopped and visited a Masai village. They sang us a song and showed us a dance, had us participate, showed us a home, where they keep their herds, and the school house. Their life is one full of hard work. Their homes are small oval like wood structures covered with mud and dung. You need to duck to enter and walk and there is a small pin for a suckling calf (since they drink the cow milk they take the calf away and, I presume, each house tends to one if needed), 3 very small low wood beds covered with a hide and upright sticks between. Between that is an area for one to sit and cook. They cook over a wood and dung fire and eat meat, milk and blood (they don't cook the milk and blood). The entire house had one window the size of a softball. This village had to buy water. The school house was also a small wooden structure with mud and dung walls. They said it was kindergarten only. They were all wearing the traditional blankets and the ones who had shoes had the homemade ones from tires. That was all they had. They may have had a change of clothes (blankets), the one L sat in had a basket in the area and our guide the Chief of the Boma (Boma is a village), said it was for extra clothes or personal things.

That night we camped in an open camp in the middle of the Serengeti, which means endless plains and that is no joke. When you drive in you really see nothing but plains and some very distant mountains. I can only imagine how it felt to navigate on foot. We were lucky enough to see two lions right in the road it the shade of a small tree. It was so hard to not just open the door and snuggle them, you want to, they were only 2 feet out the door of the car!!! Their paws are the size of my hand and they are killers but they still look sooooo cute and they look like they'd be so soft. I asked our guide, Victor if he'd ever petted a pelt. He said the fur is soft and the mane was wiry.

That night we camped in the middle of the Serengeti. There were giraffe eating in the near by trees and a good sized group of mongoose ran through the camp. We had a nice chat with a Spanish couple who told us a hyena came into the camp the night before and they thought it was a lion by the sounds it made. Also that day they'd seen a pride of 17 lions. That night I just laid in the tent thinking we are actually in the middle of the Serengeti, camping. It was hard to believe.

The next morning we got up at 4:45 am and put on all the warm clothing we had because we'd booked a hot air balloon ride. We had our hot drink 'to warm the body' and were watching the shooting stars in the black, predawn sky. The camp had an enclosed area for cooking and one for eating but otherwise it was open. We were standing between the two enclosures and our tent was maybe 30 feet away. One of the boys was going to do something back at the tent and Mohammad, our cook, said he would go with them since it was not safe a hyena could get them. I was then conflicted with a slight wondering irritation that, 'I wasn't informed of this the night?' and relief at not knowing this since a hyena had come into camp and tried to get the hanging garbage can. I did feel gratitude to him being so protective of the kids. He was so sweet and made us SO MUCH food each meal, I felt bad we never could finish it. The boys loved his soup he made each night, one night was cucumber soup.

The balloon ride was incredible. None of us had been on one. This one held 16 people plus the pilot, Nick. Nick said it was the 3rd largest size around. We saw animals (hippos in the river and a mother cheetah with two juveniles running were highlights) but the scenery along was spectacular.  I quietly spread some of my grandma's ashes as we drifted, I thought she would have liked that. After we landed our balloon took a little time meeting up (there were 3 balloons total) because there was a herd of elephants passing that we looked at. One had a shortened truck by half due to being caught (Nick said most likely) in a snare. We enjoyed a story of the history of hot air balloons and champagne going together (ask the boys to re-tell you sometime),  they served us cava, not champagne, and then they drive us to an English breakfast. At that location they set up 3 loos (everything here is Queen's English so it's swimming costumes instead of bathing suits, and loo instead of restroom etc) and they had 3 sides around them and a sign that said 'A loo with a view'. Which was quite true when you saw a big herd of elephants pass by in the distance. We were picked up by Victor and had a game drive before the long long drive to Ngorongoro Crater.

The Ngorongoro Crater is considered one of the seven natural wonders of Africa. I was told the world as well. It is the largest unbroken crater in the world. Our camp had a beautiful view, set up at the rim. It was quite chilly, again all the clothes we had came on, and zebras were eating the camping area grass. I guess they never have to cut it with them eating away. This night Mohammad tells me the boys can not walk alone at night because of the buffalo. Although there are so many tents I think the tents are as likely as getting trampled as an individual walking. That night I realized that the moon is enough light to navigate easily to the bathroom but maybe not enough light to avoid the piles left behind by the grazers. I also learn that when you use flush squatty potties with vigorous power you are best to navigate yourself behind the door and reach to flush with a hasty retreat to avoid over spray. All these restrooms in the parks and conservation areas have a very specific pungent smell. I feel certain that it's the big predators coming and marking their territory.

The next day was clear and beautiful but windy so we had good views but no rhino sightings. The rhino apparently, with his tiny ears, doesn't like the wind because it whistles directly into it's ear hole and causes it discomfort. So, the 25-30 they have there were hidden in grass or the woods.

We certainly can't complain though we saw so many things to the point that it was emotionally overwhelming, to see the animals so close and so beautiful. I also was excited seeing what I 'asked for' nursing animals (elephants !!!!! SOOOO cute) and young ostrich, hippos etc. Amazing. The boys loved it. They, once again, impressed me so much. They were never complaining, never. It was hot and so so dusty, bumpy, and hours of driving. I think I consumed a quarter of a cup of dust at least. The one thing we (the 3 of us) did complain about was the tsetse fly, not only do they bit so hard though your clothes it hurts!! Then when they hit bare skin they leave a raw spot lasting for more than a week, but they are really hard to kill. You feel really satisfied that you killed one then you didn't and it flies away and you feel cheated. We agreed we'd rather the mosquitoes, no seems, and the other small sneaky black fly to the tsetse fly.

Now we are back in the busy city at our walled B and B. I wonder if it really happened.

Paul comes back tomorrow. Sounds like he has had a great week, his team is a good group, they finished their project, and he is already really enjoying his time at the beach (they were suppose to snorkel today). We will get to hear more about it when he comes home. I think he'll be tired, it's a 6 hour drive. It's weird how those long bumpy drives exhaust you but they do.

It happened

After 40 days on the road a child has mentioned being a little homesick. They have been AMAZING little travelers, so good. The only thing to entertain them being our surroundings, each other, paper, pens and books.

Beef Tounge

Part of what I love about traveling is trying new things and learning about new food. Things that sound gross to me because of my cultural socialization I try to override and try anyway. Maybe some of you heard my story about making my own beef tongue at home. To summarize it, gross not a really super fun experience in touch, smell, sight, and then I couldn't bring myself to taste it. 

Yesterday the boys and I went to a place that serves Tanzanian food as well as burgers and fries. I told them they had to order something Tanzanian. I asked the woman which items were most Tanzanian, I ordered what she said was a typical dish of cow tongue. I choose to have Uglai with it, a thick cooked substance you use to eat foods with your hands. I think I wrote about how I learned to make it here as well. 

The tongue came and it had some vegetables and a brown thick sauce, a side of cooked greens and they gave me utensils wrapped in a napkin. I did wonder if everyone gets them or I did because I am not local. It had a nice enough flavor but some of the pieces I ate had big fat chunks in it and I wasn't sure if I could discretely pull those out and set the aside. I did sneak a few out and wrapped them in paper. I asked the boys to taste my dish and L did then said 'My bite had something crunchy'. O later told me it looked like tongue but I didn't' think about it and if I had I would have said 'No thank you, tongue!'. There were a few pieces with big vessels in them and that began to disturb me as did the strong taste that started to build in my mouth. Then my fingers ran across the slight sand paper like taste buds that were not trimmed off and I began to recall my time with my cow tongue at home. I became more disturbed. I managed to eat all but 3 pieces of meat. That felt pretty successful.

monkey post script

Yesterday the boys and I went to a place called Honeybadger lodge. They have a swimming pool and you can pay to use the pool and eat lunch. The lunch comes with a dessert. We had finished our lunch and ate a bite of dessert and wanted to go swim then eat the rest. I told the lady we are going to come back to this, I didn't want her to clear the dishes. She said we should cover it otherwise the monekys will come and try to take it and that they are very cheeky.

I loved that she said they were cheeky. I told her the bathroom story and she shook her head and said again they are very cheeky. I asked where they are and she said probably resting.

Non native speaker

This is a post I stared when we first arrived in France, which is why it kind of goes back to the start of our trip and then to now and back again etc.

I am envious of people who can speak more than one language. When you meet Europeans, in particular, they can often speak a minimum of 3 then speak or understand more. If they say 'I speak a little English' then they have better grammar than you do. I tried to pronounce Flemish words and pretty much failed. When you listen to it spoken doesn't sound as hard as German to me but similar. I have had the conversation with my Spanish friends before that 'American English' seems to be spoken more at the back of the mouth and Spanish is at the tip of the tongue. Flemish seems to be with the front of the tongue but maybe at the roof of the mouth. When I can get a word right it feels like my tongue is dancing. I have teased them that I can throw in a t, k or q sound in the middle of the word then maybe a en or ir on the end and make it Flemish.

In France I felt like I could glean the written words but not always understand the words spoken. They letters they pronounce disappear to my ears but they say they are saying them. I expected to understand more Italian because of my ability to get by in Spanish (notice I say get by not conversational). That was not so for me at all. I was trying to say the word for lemon in Spanish to Gesi's mom then I tried French (not knowing it in Italian or Albanian) then come to find it's lemon with an accent.

When we first left Belgium it felt like if we had just been there a bit longer I could start to make sense of what I was hearing. You can get the gist of a conversation even if you don't know the words but you can also be really really wrong about what you THINK is being spoken about. Today I wonder how I could have thought that. On my morning run today, one of Paul's class mates had a shirt that said Hakuna Matata (like the lion king, no worries) and when we returned from the run the man at her front desk said nice shirt. Then she asked him what Hakuna (then some other word, I have no idea how someone can remember words like that) and it turned out someone had said 'nice boobies' to her. I tried to re-tell that story, upon the return here, to Paul. I couldn't get Hakuna matata quite right and was asking Grace how it is said. She was pausing and saying 'who said that to you? What are you trying to say? What in English?' But I couldn't remember exactly what that translated to. She said 'no, you are saying something bad'. Then I figured out what I wanted to say and she was like 'oh, okay yes that is fine'. She went giggling off into the kitchen and kept laughing. Paul and I were wondering what I had ended up saying. Moments later when he left the room she whispered to me what I had said. Turns out if you change one letter in Hakuna you are talking a woman's private parts. So close yet, so very wrong.

So far I think we haven't had any giant mistakes. L-man and I each had some missteps on our first showers in Belgium. He washed then conditioned with two types of liquid body soap where as I choose to shampoo with conditioner, then condition with facial soap, finally I washed with a bar of special soap for the skin we got that all clarified pretty quick.

I just asked the kids what is it like to be somewhere you can not speak the language.

O says:

It's like being normal, it's normal, but it's like a different dimension. Everything is kind of the same but not the same at all. You can kind of understand what people are talking about by looking around.

Me: The above is when we were in Belgium. Bellow is me asking now, in Tanzania. I re-asked the same question.

O: It's the same as Mexico kind of. Because we have been there enough, it feels the same. Maybe further along in the trip it might be different because it will be a really long time instead of just a few weeks.
Me: You realize it has been more than a few weeks now? It's been 5 weeks.
O: Here in Africa (feeling like a few weeks), Europe was kind of like America. So, it didn't feel that different. Because everyone mostly spoke English. It's just like being at a friend's house who's parents are immigrants.
Me: Ok- that is interesting for you to say because I think more people here speak English than some of the other places we were before. Are you talking about speaking English or the familiarity of the cultural expectation?
O: The culture felt more familiar and everyone there was more familiar because of Lennie and Gesi.
Me: What is the biggest cultural difference you notice here?
O: Europe and here?
Me: Either Europe and here or Home and here.
O: Ummm I would have to say home and here.
Me: What is the biggest difference you noticed
O: Sanitary things.
Me: Like what?
O: Like trash burning and stuff like that.(I think he also mean because trash can just be a pile on the ground, and you feel like you are just littering).
Me: What other things do you mean by 'stuff like that'.
O: America and Europe feel cleaner than here.
Me: Just because you see less trash on the ground at home?
O: Yeah, and kind of maybe because in America things are put together more smoothly and you don't see as much the stuff that is holding everything together. But it is different than Mexico because you don't see re-bar sticking out everywhere.

L says:

It's kind of normal for me because we've been in Mexico and it's slightly normal because they speak Spanish.*
*meaning he has been around people not speaking English.

Me: Same as O, the above being Belgium, below being now.

L: I feel fine because I have been in a lot of different languages that speak different languages.
Me: What if you need help?
L: Most people speak English.
Me: Is that okay to assume?
L: I am not assuming it just saying most people do.
Me: Do you mean they are fluent?
L: Depends on who you talk to.
Me: What do you do if someone doesn't speak English, has that happened to you?
L: It hasn't happened yet.
Me: Have you seen me trying to talk to someone who doesn't?
L: (giggle) yes. (Oso next to him laughs too).
Me: Why did you giggle?
L: I didn't giggle, I just laughed. Because Gesi thought it was funny when you tried to talk to her mom.

When I ask what they think it must be like for someone to come to the US and not speak any English (like an exchange student):

O: It would be really hard, like going to an Alien plant. You wouldn't understand anything. But then again why would you go to America if you couldn't speak English.
Me: Well we travel to places where we don't speak the language.
O: Yeah but mostly when we go mostly lots of stuff is in English.
Me: So what if you want to go to the US?
O: I don't know. Learn English or get someone to translate.
Me: Why should someone have to learn English to come to the US?
O: No you don't have to learn it.
Me: Do you think it's easy to come to the US or to go together places?
O: Maybe go other places.
Me: Do you imagine people in the US are very friendly or helpful to people who come who don't speak English?
O: Not really.
Me: Why?
O: I don't know just how Americans are.
Me: Well are you saying that because you think most Americans don't speak other languages besides English?
O: And Spanish.

At this point I am a little surprised at his answers and we just had a conversation. The point he was trying to make was that the US is very large and in the other parts of the world that we have so far traveled they are used to more cultural diversity than we are.

This is interesting to me as well, since we, the US, is the 'melting pot' where so many different things come together and I have noticed that the US culture places so much value on independence and doing whatever you want. In some of the other places we have been they are used to people all doing things a specific way but they are used to seeing other travelers with other languages and culture........

Here is for L and what it might be like.

L: Same thing that I feel kind of except it depends on the student. I have traveled to Mexico and I am used to being places where people don't understand me.
M: Have you felt confused about how things are done at any point on this trip yet?
L: Yes. Uh. Probably that you have to tell when you want when you want your food, when you order food to be delivered in Africa. You have to tell him when you want it. Because we ordered it at about 5 and it didn't come until about 7 (meaning it isn't like America when they food will be made when ordered and delivered at next time ready depending on how busy they are with other orders). You have to pay for bathrooms and water. I thought it was interesting if you had a train ticket you just have to validate it and use it, you don't have to buy it for a specific time.

I realize I should have asked them if they notice that everywhere we go people have known a measure of English but there are many people in the US who only know English and no other language and don't even attempt to try. As I make this statement I realize I am saying it from the experience of living in Oregon and Colorado and not the East coast or some other really big culturally diverse city, I may totally be putting my foot in my mouth. I also wonder if they are slightly buffered by some of what I am asking since I am the one who has been figuring things out, finding the way and following the map, so to speak.

I say, I totally can relate now to how hard it must be the first few months. Here it's not even like I am trying to speak with everyone in Swahili but I try and my brain feels fogged up. I only know how to say a few scripted things and if you respond to me off my script then I have no idea what you are saying. It is the same in Spanish. I know what to say or ask then they give me a slightly different answer or try to ask me something else and I am lost.

My feet under me

I finally feel I have my feet under me a little more. It is the small kindness of strangers in a crowd. A woman taking the time to understand my attempts to understand what I am looking for when it is not in her store, then directing me to the corner. The woman in the corner helping me and saying karibu tena (welcome again) and helping me write to down to remember. Another word open to me like a gift. My tired mind feeling shapes in the dark that slowly one by one become familiar. Slowly I am making connections. If you hear a rattling can or coins a young male is selling cigarettes (a pack or individual) and peanuts. Why do they sell them together? I do not know. Because people who smoke like to eat peanuts? I don't know but they go together. All these little things are like small hands helping me along.

I finally connected with two other women from Paul's class and went for a run. I am so happy for that. Running along the road inhaling the exhaust, the morning sidewalk dust sweeping, the burning garbage, creating a burn in the top of my lungs was still worth every bit. We had a view of Kili too. Some men yelled 'Polepole' as we passed (slow or slowly). The women I ran with keep a respectable pace and we briefly wonder aloud to each other what he meant. Later I saw two Tanzanian men run by and I said 'Look that is why they said it'. The men were running at a 7 minute mile pace. We can only run after sun up or before sun down. You should not walk at dark. Even a group of 4 of Paul's classmates were walking a few blocks and got mugged, no one was seriously injured.

Back at the hostel, where Paul's classmates are staying, I wait for my taxi and talk to a young Massai man. He is tall, wrapped in the traditional clothes, the circular tattoo cuts on his cheeks. He asks me 'why' and gestures to his face to indicate my sweat, why are you sweating. I say 'I ran' and I mine pumping my arms. He asks to the bus station? I tell him (best I can) where we ran (much further than the bus stand). He seems surprised then he studies my shoes, I have trail running shoes that I thought I could hike and run in. I look at his. He wears the same all the Massai I see have, tires with straps. I think his are probably better than mine, I would wear them. I wonder if my shoes seem pointless to him. I ask him if he has cattle (or I try to say do you heard cattle) then I think- did I see a glimmer pass his face? I probably  have just been extremely extremely offensive. I feel bad, I ask or you work here? Of course he does, he is a night watchman (as is the man I had to go wake up to open the padlocks on the gate of our B&B just to leave this morning). He is tolerant as I struggle to remember how to answer back in Swahili what my name is, he asked me in English of course.

I hope by the time I leave I will find someone who I can ask how you, logistically, use the dipper and water bucket in the squatty potties, for the front parts of a women. It just seems the wrong angle, I get the back and of things. Finally after 14 years of travel to countries with bidets, I had someone explain to me the exact way it is used and how it fits into daily life. I was happy to understand that it made more sense then 'I use it to wash my feet' and some other things became clear to me as well. All the small cultural things that are so normal to others they don't think to tell you. I was told I am not allowed to publicly name the person on the blog to thank them. But if you read this you know who you are :)

Our first full weekend here

Paul had a social gathering with his classmates on Friday evening at a local bar, I stayed with the boys. He said it was really lively and fun; live music, dancing etc.

Saturday our family joined an event planned by one of his classmates. It seems they plan different gatherings through the week and social events on the weekends. We rode by bus (3 hours and just a few extra people on the bus than the 32 seats available) to Arusha Snake park. This is a snake 'zoo' of sorts where you can see and learn interesting information about many snakes, the Nile crocodile, and more. The money from this (and the store they had) goes to support a clinic they have there for snake bites. The clinic is free and treats people who come in for snake bites, wounds, and complications. They treat roughly 1,000 a month. One vile of anti venom is 300.00 (yes US dollars) and if you are bit by a black momba you may use up to 9 viles. There were a few patients there being treated, one woman had a bite complications they were treating, the original bite had happened in '09. It is a valuable service to the people in the area and they educate people on how to respond to a snake bite (not cutting the area etc).

Of the caged snakes the spitting cobra looked the meanest to me, of the caged snakes. They had a big python and two different clippings about pythons that had swallowed fully grown humans, the python they had was not big enough to swallow a human but it was big. One of the staff told us it takes them 4 people to hold the snake when it is time to clean the cage. They had some other animals/birds that couldn't be released into the wild, one being a baboon who would reach through and stroke your arms, I was a bad mother and didn't jerk L's arm away when she 'groomed' him, instead I took a picture.

Here are the boys impressions of the snake park:

O:  I liked it, I liked seeing the most poisonous snake in Africa, it's amazing seeing something so dangerous.

L: I liked it. I got see turtles and a baboon and the slim snout crocodile, which is an endangered species.

After we left the snake park we doubled back to go to a 'hot spring', not a real hot spring but a spring that was warm. It was a very bumpy road which we ended up taking a detour on because the bus wouldn't have been able to clear a bridge. Both on the way there and back the bus filled with sandy dust so you couldn't see. The spring was beautiful and clear and welcome after the hot dusty day. There was a random tortoise wandering near by and L saw a turtle in the water. There were fish that, once you stood still, would come and eat the dead skin off your feet and legs. That was something that was really hard to stand still and tolerate, even thought it didn't hurt. It was like a tickle but needles and also creepy in some ways.

Paul's classmates had arranged for us to eat lunch there as well. Due to various things during day we ended up actually eating there for dinner. They had skinned a male goat (there) and cooked it over open coals as well as several chickens, some fries, and chapati. This was a small open air 'restaurant', or snack bar might be better to say, and he had a low wooden table of sorts, some drinks in crates, and I am not sure what else he had or if he regularly cooked for people there.

We were so very proud of the boys who didn't complain once. There was about 6 plus hours of driving (including getting a bit lost on the way back in the dark to avoid the bridge, wandering through the brush by bus, on the way there a boy from the small village had offered, for a fee, to guide us by motorcycle) with lots of dust and bumping and no lunch. It was not at all a hard day and not hard to do as an adult but the boys just went with the flow of it all and chatted with the other adults.

When I ask them to summarize the day O says he liked the swimming and wants to go back. L says I loved it.

It makes me proud of them as travelers that they are tolerant and able to ebb and flow with the day as it unfolds. In fact as we got off our stop, once home, I heard one of Paul's classmates say you (to the boys) were great to have along and I complained more than you two! I actually didn't hear him or anyone complain.

Sunday I had planned us a day Safari trip to Tarangire National Park. We left shortly after 6 am and drove (the 3+ hours to the park) through a game park before the actual park. With in the game park there are many Maasai living. The government lets them live here free because it is illegal to take the wild animals (which are free to roam in and out of the National Park - of course) and the Maasai (this is all according to the Safari driver) do not. Instead they live there and tend to their livestock and are stewards for the wild animals.

We saw the villages from the roads and them going about their day. There were children as young as 4-5 (or so they looked) tending herds alone. I think we may try to take a cultural tour to a Maasai village. I am very curious about their culture. The day before we had seen a group of boys all in black cloth, skin looking coal black, faces white and dotted black with paint. This is how they dress for the month after their circumcision. The driver told me they can live for months on a mixture of fermented milk and animal blood and he told me how they mixed some for him to taste but when he brought it to his mouth to taste it, he smelled it and the smell was 'very strong, very strange' and he couldn't taste it. This is an example of some cultural sensitivities and norms. How smart they are to do this, a perfect use of resources and everyone here says they are very strong people who do not get sick and yet the story he told me about it (I gave a short version) made me almost gag in my mouth. Also interesting to me, is that they do not eat any dairy and meat together because it is disrespectful to eat living and dead parts of an animal together.

Once in the park we stopped for him to check in and such. We saw the cutest little monkeys (black faced velvet monkey, you wanted to cuddle them) the guide told us not to befriend them. He said they are crazy.

We were so lucky to see Impala, Cape Buffalo, African Elephants (including them walling in water, young males play sparing, and a baby nursing!! They actually have a lot of elephant in this park), Common Zebra, Lions (male and female), Cheetah (very luck to see this!), Warthogs, Masi Giraffe, Common Waterbuck, Wildebeests, Ostrich (also exciting for me!), and many many birds.

When we stopped for lunch the guide said he would stay near the safari car because the monkeys will get inside and if they don't find something to eat they will pee it in.

O's impression of the safari:

It was really amazing because we got to see actual wild animals how they really live not in a zoo or in a fake safari land. They could actually, the cheetah or lion, could go kill something they were not separated by a fence. Driving by them was dangerous because the elephants could flip your car (I am asking him now it that true and he said yeah they are strong enough).

Me:
What was your most exciting animal to see and why?

O:
Cheetah, because I like cheetah and the driver said they are really rare to see.

L's impression of the safari:
I loved it. I got to see a cheetah! Being there was slightly unbelievable.

Me:
What was your most exciting animal to see and why?

L: The cheetah because it is extremely fast and it was lucky we to see it not running, because if it was running we'd see it but it would been hard to take a picture of.

For me it was a sort of unreal experience. It is hard to believe you are really physically there in that wide open terrain with the trees silhouetting the iconic shapes you expect, looking down into a river that has spread out into a slow paced, many fingers wandering, across a flat bottom that is full during the rainy season. Seeing the animals come to drink, walk and wallow in it. Seeing the animals in the shade, the trees with marks or broken off from elephants. Hearing the animals making sounds to each other, the crack of the tusks of elephants at play, when the herds of ungulates tense and become alert at the presence of a predator.

To see how, in the wild, an ostrich is really quite big and their plum really full (compared to a stressed zoo one) and how the heard of elephants move in the natural environment. A baby in the middle, nursing then laying down before they all move on following the subtle clues given from the unbelievably large matriarch.

On our way out we stopped again at the exit (restrooms were only there and at the specific eating areas provided). Those cute monkeys were there. I saw them wandering around the small shop, I went in the shop and came out to find my family was still at the restroom huts. I myself had to go so I went over and the three of them came over with giant smiles on their faces, the boys hurrying up to tell me the monkeys have taken over the woman'e restroom and chased out a women.

As the boys tell me L is the typing and O in the parentheses:

The monkeys were just playing in the woman's bathroom and fighting (and taking out the garbage anything they could take out and destroying it and messing with it) and then a tourist came up and had to go to the bathroom (they chased her out) they started jumping their hind legs and hissing (and chasing her away from the bathroom) and she ran away screaming and we laughed then felt bad about it.

So... I think well they are tiny and so cute, I will use the bathroom and not feel afraid. I walk up and see 3 come out so how many more can really be in there? I ask you. Then I see a large one come near the door and a small one slip by. I think well maybe I will wait a second and he will move (and remember a large male is really only a bit larger than the largest house cat you ever saw, with a longer tail and longer legs) but he does not. So I come to the door and he comes at me then I back up (maybe my first mistake) and he starts to hurry forward reaching at me. I think well I have pants that stop bellow my knees what will he do if he 'gets' my legs? So I run a bit and he runs more. Paul and the boys laugh more at that. I loop around the men's hut and when I come back to the front I see a small one has a roll of unused toilet paper and takes it to the low wall where it happily (and is surprisingly quickly) sets up shredding the entire roll. By the time I run back to the safari car (and it's not really a car but that is what I hear it called) and return with my camera a woman who works there has come by and is tossing rocks at them. At which point I remember our safari guide said to do that if they come towards you at all when you have your lunches (otherwise they will take it from you or your box). I wish I had remembered that and later I tell our guide what happened and he shakes his head knowingly. I tell him I think I do not have a hard heart, because I did not stare down a small monkey. He had told me on the way there that they Massai have a hard heart (brave) because they can stare down a lion. Paul says now when the children are bad we can call them 'bathroom monkeys'.

Tanzania, on the other side

We are now in Moshi, Tanzania. The other side of the world, across the other side of the equator, and they drive on the other side of the road. The equator proximity makes the sun more intense (couple that with the anti-malirals and I am burning extra fast), driving on the other side of the road happens in many countries but I am still not used to it and find myself sucking in my breath when we make turns that feel like they are just going to collide into on coming traffic. It is a good thing we don't have our own car and I am not driving, period.

There are some good adjustments to me made in expectations for me in exactly how fast, and what I might get done in a day. I have been in 3rd world countries before that move at a different pace and this is that and more. I have been told, Kampala (in Uganda where we go next) will be much more intense, noisy, busy, and less safe than here so this is a good starter experience. Here I still don't understand the subtle cultural differences and expectations. There are many kind people and there are also people who walk up to me each time on the street trying to get me to buy something or follow me trying to ask where I am going and what I need but only as an end for them to get money from me. It is hard not to feel like I am seen only as a walking source of money and a little attacked, best way to describe it even if it isn't literal. People say you get used to it and it doesn't effect you quite so much.

It is about 6:30 am and I hear many dogs barking in the distance. Also at least 6 kinds of birds (the tropical dove sounds and some bird that makes a sound like a monkey) and I hear traffic slowly getting heavier. At night there is a group of SMALL yapping homeless street dogs which sleep all day then around five wake up and wonder out to yip and yap on and off for at least the first half of the night. I find myself thinking of how I read about the black momba snake. People have died from within 15 minutes of a bite and the snake can travel at 20 kmh. They often live in old termite mounds or porcupine holes. I wonder if one may come out of the termite mound the gardener here broke up in the front yard and silence them, then I remember it isn't abandoned. Then I find myself wondering why someone has poisoned them. I actually do like dogs and would think it terrible for them to suffer a poisoned it's just that they are so very very very very irritating to hear most of the night. Talking to the owner of the B and B I learned the main roads they run around at night are close to us. She told me (before I said anything!) she had wondered why no one had poisoned them. I know it's mean. I shouldn't even be putting that into written word.

The first Sunday we were here went to a social event for his classmates. They are from all over the world. They seem really a nice, extremely interesting, and diverse group. These next 3 months are going to be really enriching and great for Paul. He enjoys learning new things so much and to be with so many fun like minded people will be really nice for him. Sometimes I envy him going to a planned, catered to day full of interesting information and interactions. The boys and I are having a good time and having our own enriching and interesting days, DO NOT get me wrong. It can just feel like (for me)  a lot of work on many different levels some times like wading up stream, it will get easier as I understand more what to do. We are taking Swahili lessons (Paul has it at school, but the boys and I have been meeting with a tutor) and I think being a little more conversational and understanding the cultural customs (even though I've read about it before coming and have a small grasp) more will be helpful.

During one grocery store trip and I brought my small travel grocery bag. I gave it to them to use but they seemed annoyed or perplexed by it and put the plastic bag into my bag. The boys will say 'cultural iceberg' when we think something has happened but we aren't sure what. It is the model that AFS uses to explain how you see another culture. The things that you notice are different are like the tip of the iceberg. The rest of the cultural differences you don't realize are like the bulk under the sea. When two icebergs collide (you having a cultural misunderstanding) they don't even appear to have touched yet they have.

There is a Tanzanian staff woman, named Grace, at the Bed and Breakfast. She has been incredibly sweet and helpful. She went with me one day to the market (out door market with permanent stalls). We went by type of small bus. They are a van with a sliding door, a few men hang out the sliding door or the window of the door and bang on the top of the bus to stop. Somehow they know who is getting off where and will bang to stop the bus. Then people inside seem to know how to shuffle around so that the people staying on longer will be further inside. They stop to pick someone up and may stop 50 feet later for someone to get off. I wouldn't have had known which of these to get onto and then once there she paid for us (she had small change, I didn't but I paid her back) and the man taking her money wouldn't give her correct change, he kept more for me since I was white. At the market you can buy your own plastic bag (or bring a bag) and everyone was yelling (in Swahili) for her to bring the white person over to shop.

When we have traveled to places and we have small kitchens to use they are equipped with varying numbers of implements. I always think you really can get by with less in the kitchen, I don't need all the things I have in the kitchen at home. I could get rid of some of them. The B&B feeds us breakfast and then lets us use their kitchen space for our own lunch and dinner since we are here for 6 weeks. It has 2 knives, one wooden salad spoon, one spatula, one pasta serving spoon, a small one quart pan with lid, and a small saute pan. There is also a two burner gas cook top. We have use of those things, the silverware, glasses, cups, dishes, coffee press pot, and refrigerator. I did buy a bigger pot to cook with since cooking for 4 in the tiny pan is hard, I wouldn't say no to a cutting board but won't go buy one. I had a funny conversation with one of Paul's classmates from New Zealand he had a list of 3 items he always bring with him on travels. I have forgotten two of three but one was a vegetable peeler.

There is a place near us that is like a fun zone for kids. It has a play area, a pool and more. During the weekends they have more things: inflatable slides, Velcro wall, bouncy house and such. The boys and I went down and they swam. This pool was really nice for them. They also enjoyed the climbing wall behind it. I don't think they would sell it as a climbing wall but I think that describes it well, they have molded concrete into soft in and out rock like pattern that you climb up. It had about a 12 foot slope up to a flat area and that repeats 4 times. On the second flat area is a fish fountain and a 'kiddy' pool, this is only filled on the weekends. The top area might be 50 feet up or more. There are no edges to speak of,  just a straight drop off, if you fall you could break a bone or your neck quite easily. The staff say it's crawling with kids on the weekends. The pool had a very bumpy slide into it (you climb on the wall to get to the top), and two other smaller ones. The smaller ones made me a bit nervous since they were not attached. The boys loved it and can not wait to go back. They now like to make up an imaginary game where they also invent a kid's play area that is unsafe.

I took the boys on a TingaTinga tour. TingaTinga is a style of painting done in this area. It was a really interesting day and they got to each paint their own picture. The artist, Materu, set them up very carefully, showed them what type of picture they could paint, and stepped them each though what to do. It was quite sweet. People make very good use of objects that we would just throw away in a second. He had 3 brushes and used the paint can lids as his pallet. He worked out of an art co-op of sorts. There were different little shacks of sorts in a row that multiple artists worked out of. There were some good cultural exposures about people making their way with little. We had some garbage and asked where to put it and he pointed to a dirt mound. Here you burn your garbage, pretty much all of it. There was also a squatty potty time that later produced a very entertaining conversation between L and Paul.

The other day Grace taught me how to make Ugali and vegetables. Ugali is a thick paste you cook up and then ball up with your fingers to scoop up whatever the side dish is you made with it. It was tasty. I am not sure how confident I am to make Ugali on my own, particularly because she told me the first part of the water/maize mix needed to be cooked well (or you will have digestive issues- but the explanation was more detailed than that) but then you add more maize and it's not cooked as long, so I am not sure if I would cook it enough. Another night she showed me how to make chapati (flat bread) with come vegetables and meat. That was really good.