http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/PostcardJunkie/ Travel adventures in journals and photos from PostcardJunkie en-us Sun, 20 Dec 2009 22:15:04 +0000 Sun, 20 Dec 2009 22:15:04 +0000 Chango was literally beside himself. The old scarletbearded proprietor of the Cold Drink Hotel seemed to be everywhere at once reassuring the customers scolding the cooks greeting the newcomers who came through the curtained doorway. His prayer cap was askew his myopic eyes squinted into the gathering darkness where a few chickens scratched at the dust in the yard. The news from the kitchen http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Kenya/Rift-Valley-Province/Turkana/blog-443329.html Settled into my old room at Auberge la Caverne sipping cappuccino at the Bourbon Coffee Kigali green and rolling brushed by plump tufts of cumulus receding like waves in the distance I feel buoyed at peace. New York is a memory Vermont is a memory the great emotional upheaval Irsquod dreaded these past few weeks little more than a slight murmur of unease. The apartment hunt is on and http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Rwanda/Province-de-L-Ouest/Gisenyi/blog-415930.html Forty hours seven time zones and two dismal layovers after leaving New York I arrive in Kigali at halfpast three in the morning a somnolent mess of rumpled clothes driedout contacts and skin like wax paper. The bunch of us debarking in Rwanda shuffle through the airportrsquos halls like refugees apart from a young eager barrista manning the bar at the Bourbon Coffee shop the place is http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Rwanda/Ville-de-Kigali/Kigali/blog-415304.html In the morning Johannas and I toss our packs into the back of Gabrielrsquos pickup and with a few toots of the horn and a handful of merry waves we bump along through the streets of Ilha. Wersquore undoubtedly a curious sight at no point this week have I seen more than three or four other white tourists on the island and there are plenty of barefoot kids in varying states of undress to http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Mozambique/Northern/Island-of-Mozambique/blog-413844.html Rui is wrapped in a bedsheet and sleeping under the cashew tree when I set off for the train to Nampula. He wipes the sleep from his eyes raises halfheartedly offers to walk me to the station. I pat his shoulder and thank him for the offer but tell him to go back to sleep. ldquoEstou bmrdquo I assure him. The early predawn blue has begun to show in the sky and sleepy Cuamba doubtless h http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Mozambique/Northern/Nampula/blog-413801.html Under a kachere tree in the village of Mtunthama ninety miles over rough dirt roads from what is today the Malawian capital of Lilongwe a young Kamuzu Banda sat in short pants waiting for the dayrsquos lessons to begin. The beating of drums called the students from miles around like Banda the future Life President they came and sat in the shade of the kachere daydreaming at the puffs of http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Malawi/blog-413792.html And so on a sunny Wednesday morning in Maputo waking up for the last time in an apartment Irsquod only just begun to consider home Irsquove packed the last of my bags washed the last of my dishes polished off the leftovers exchanged a few brisk farewells sighed at a life that had seemed so full of promise and hauled my things into the back of a cab for the start of a very long trip home http://www.travelblog.org/North-America/United-States/New-York/blog-404956.html After a brief boozy farewell at Doogles on Thursday night we leave Blantyre in high spirits me ready after ten weeks in Malawi to move on to wider and wilder pastures and the others Marie and Eline from the Kabula Lodge Richard and Melise two expat friends at the start of a tenday holiday to the Mozambican coast. Spend enough time as a freelancer and you begin to forget what itrsquo http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Malawi/Southern/Mangochi/blog-400843.html It was a year ago that I left Morocco during the frantic buildup to the Eid one of the most important celebrations on the Muslim calendar and ferried my way back to Spain. In Malaga I wandered the Christmas markets and pounded the flagstones with restless feet overcome by a sudden surge of holiday longing. What was I doing so far from home sulking into the New Year In Barcelona I was a rio http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Uganda/Central-Region/Kampala/blog-397102.html After a rigorous trek across the Nyika Plateau and a few days of licking my wounds in Livingstonia Irsquove slumped back to Mzuzu in time for a cold drink a hot meal a hearty welcome and after a couple of days an equally hearty farewell. Itrsquos been a lovely and laidback fortnight in this pretty jacarandastudded city but at the risk of missing the ferry to Likoma and having my b http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Malawi/Lake-Malawi/blog-390171.html By the strange whims of Malawian transport the 1230 Axa bus to Mzuzu the poshest of the countryrsquos bus lines pulls into the Lilongwe depot at halfpast eleven its seats already full its aisles crowded with buckets and bags of produce leaking onto the floor. After a placid morning at Mabuya Camp a cup of coffee and a lazy hour spent sending emails the dayrsquos taken a turn for the http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Malawi/Northern/Mzuzu/blog-390168.html I remember arriving in Santiago de Compostela the great Spanish pilgrimage city on a cool misty Galician morning. It was that blue predawn hour when anyone with a bit of common sense is curled up beside a pretty Spanish girl not tramping around with an oversized backpack looking for their hostel. I had arrived by train from Madrid hardly the arduous soulsapping slog across 800 miles of http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Malawi/Central/Lilongwe/blog-390166.html In the cool blue predawn hours I say my goodbyes to Dar es Salaam. Irsquove arranged for a taxi to pick me up at the Econo Lodge at a quarterpast four and after a short restless fitful night in bed Irsquom hauling my bags onto the curb outside the Mohammed Coach Lines ticket office a grubby storefront a concrete box with three barefoot guys sleeping on mattresses on the floor. The http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Tanzania/blog-390164.html Therersquos a steady rain falling over Stone Town in the morning and Irsquom dodging ranksmelling puddles on my way to Mercuryrsquos where a taxi driver waits to whisk me away to The Palms. With my Zanzibar goodbye just days away I suspect these next three days will be my last and in effect only bit of beach time on the island. About that fact I have few regrets. While hardly immun http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Tanzania/Zanzibar/blog-389015.html For two weeks Irsquove shopped at the market and diced tomatoes in the kitchen and sat on the couch watching ESPN over a plate of lukewarm leftovers in most ways itrsquos been as unexotic a fortnight as you could possibly imagine in Zanzibar. Itrsquos also been a huge relief. Homeless for close to two years having my own place my own household routine has been about as foreign and thril http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Tanzania/Zanzibar/blog-389014.html Ali Baba will find a place for me. He makes this promise sweat shining on his fat Buddharsquos cheeks eyes pinched and squinting into the sunlight. In the week Irsquove spent in Dar hanging around Chefrsquos Pride while Ali Baba works the crowd itrsquos grown obvious that this is a man with a chubby hand in many pots. He gives me the number of his nephew Ibrahim the owner of a popul http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Tanzania/Zanzibar/Zanzibar-City/blog-390160.html Itrsquos a gray dreary rainsoaked evening when we roll into Dar es Salaam. The commotion at the bus station the porters grabbing at our bags the hopeful cab drivers jangling their keys in our faces is more after six cramped hours than me and Joost can stand. We overpay for a taxi winding through the darkening streets while the cityrsquos homeless adjusting their blankets and boxes http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Tanzania/East/Dar-es-Salaam/blog-390158.html Leaving Arusha behind driving through market towns and fields of maize and bright sunflowerfilled pastures I arrive in Moshi upbeat ready to square myself for the journey south. Surprised to see two weeks pass in Arusha having glimpsed not a single lion or leopard or loping giraffe I donrsquot want to linger long memories of a month spent worrying over finances in Nairobi are after all http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Tanzania/North/Moshi/blog-390156.html Itrsquos winter in Arusha a colorful tourist town sprawled against the slopes of Mt. Meru just sixty miles from the Kenyan border. Since arriving from Nairobi Irsquove spent a few days ducking touts ogling tourists and huddling on my hotelrsquos rooftop terrace through the cool windy nights. Itrsquos a busy week full of fresh impressions and the excitable energies of my first days i http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Tanzania/North/Arusha/blog-390153.html Irsquove left Nairobi for a few days in Nakuru where Irsquom meeting up with my footballer friend Peter. When I last saw him in November Peter was upbeat hersquod spent the months since leaving Naivasha in talks with Mathare FC a team that at the time was in a heated race for the Kenyan Premier League crown. They would eventually finish second to champions Tusker. Peter had been in http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Kenya/Rift-Valley-Province/blog-390150.html