If Kampala was in the United States, it would come with a Surgeon General’s Warning. Between the exhaust-clouded streets of downtown and the death-defying motorcycle taxis (“boda-bodas”) that weave through it, residing in the city may be hazardous to your health. But like most things that come with such warnings, Kampala can be addictive. Coffee shops with character; friendly, English-speaking locals; the biggest used clothes market we’ve ever seen (courtesy of your Salvation Army donations); picturesque views of the city’s rolling green hills; the 24-hour nig [View Full Entry]

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It was midnight when we crossed the border from Kenya to Tanzania on the overnight bus. And since buses aren’t allowed to drive at night in Tanzania, the driver pulled over in the first town and everyone slept for six hours; we curled up on the bus seats while others made beds of cardboard and sprawled out on the sidewalk til the sun came up and we could continue. Late in the morning we arrived in Dar es Salaam—tired, sweaty, and relieved to be off the mostly unpaved road after a full 24 hours of travel from Kenya. Though Dodoma holds [View Full Entry]

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On the overnight train from Nairobi to Mombasa, we felt as if we’d stepped back to the days of British colonialism—black waiters in pristine white uniforms serving three-course meals to a car full of European travelers, while hundreds of Africans fought for elbow room on the crowded benches of third class. Supposedly the train once even featured a seat in the front from which men in khaki safari suits could shoot at passing game. But this time around, perhaps in a small belated act of retribution, the resources being plundered were our own: one of Randy’s bags was stolen out [View Full Entry]

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After crossing the border into Kenya, we arranged to catch the first lorry heading south towards Nairobi. We paid before actually seeing the vehicle. That was our first mistake. The truck that soon stopped in front of us had 20 cows crammed in the bed and a skeleton roof of thin metal bars that criss-crossed above the cattle. We climbed atop the steel frame, secured our backpacks and butts as much as possible, and let our feet dangle down among cow horns and backs. We were joined by a soldier armed with an AK-47 for the truck's protection against shiftas (bandits), [View Full Entry]

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Our second time in Addis Ababa, we met a German aid worker and stayed at his apartment inside the guarded USAID compound. Henning showed us the city as he knew it: the local shiro restaurants, the decadent diplomats, and his views on the city's political turmoil. Together we celebrated New Year's at a classy party held in a mansion-turned-art-gallery overlooking the city. Our backpackers' attire of t-shirts and tennishoes set us apart from the crowd of rich Ethiopians and ex-pats, but that didn't stop us from feeling welcome and enjoying the dinner, drinks, and dancing. The Embassy worker [View Full Entry]

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Welcome to Anytown, Ethiopia. You’ve just stepped off a crowded bus; your ears are ringing from the music that blared for the past 8 hours, and the blood is slowly returning to your legs. The bus arrived on the main dirt road through town, a way lined with unmarked wooden shacks that serve as restaurants, bars, shops, and houses, though it’s difficult to tell which is which. The street is filled with everything but cars: kids in bright uniforms on their way to school; women carrying babies on their backs and umbrellas to ward off the sun; beggars with canes and [View Full Entry]

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When taking the ferry from Sinai to Jordan, you have two choices: slow and slower. The difference is $10 and about 6 hours. We boarded the slower boat and for the next 8 hours bumped elbows with the hundreds of young Egyptian men crossing the border in search of work. In our boredom we got to talking with an older Jordanian car salesman who assured us that we as Americans would be "very welcome" in Jordan, that the people were all friendly and peaceful--but in the next breath he dismissed Egyptians as universally "bad people" and Shi'ite Muslims as "dirty." Tolerance, [View Full Entry]

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Our passports were scrutinized no fewer than seven times at police checkpoints on the road from Cairo to Dahab--a route that took us over the Suez Canal and along the perimeter of the Sinai Peninsula. Sinai is Africa's link to the Middle East, and its desolate landscape has a long history of war and border disputes. The mountainous desert supports little life besides rugged Bedouins and wild camels--a stark contrast to the flourishing underwater life in the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aqaba. Sharm al-Sheik, on Sinai's southern coast, is known as one of the best diving spots in the [View Full Entry]

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Ah, Egypt, where the Nile flows north to Lower Egypt and we headed south upstream. We were confused too. We took a day train from Cairo to Luxor (9 hours for a whopping $6) to get a feel for the Nile Valley landscape. Egypt's geography is comprised of only 4% fertile land--mostly this narrow strip of palm trees and crop fields along the Nile through which the train tracks and the highway run. The remaining 96% is desert, broken by the occasional oasis. From the Nile we could almost always see sand dunes or barren rock in the distance--a reminder of [View Full Entry]

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To say that Cairo is chaotic and overwhelming is an understatement. Noisy, crowded, dirty, aggressive, claustrophobic, and intrusive all apply to this city that's home to 20 million people--1/3 of Egypt's entire population. From the moment we stepped out of our hostel on the first day, we felt as if we'd entered a different world. Here the streets are shared by taxis, pedestrians, stray cats, donkey carts, motorcycles, and tour buses. Most everything is written in Arabic, so finding something as simple as a cafe proves tricky. Policemen in crisp white uniforms stand around with big guns a [View Full Entry]

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