http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/le_flow/ Travel adventures in journals and photos from le_flow en-us Sat, 26 Dec 2009 22:32:41 +0000 Sat, 26 Dec 2009 22:32:41 +0000 Glimpses of Rwanda. 7th of December to 15th of December 2007. http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Rwanda/Ville-de-Kigali/blog-360321.html Moments in Burundi. 30th of November to 6th of December 2007. http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Burundi/West/Bujumbura/blog-247832.html The road was long and beautiful. It winded over gently undulating semisavannah across the Fipaplateau past small friendly villages and through deep and damp forest. Wouldnrsquot it have been for a twist of fate we would never have discovered that exceptional stretch of bad gravel and instead we would have been chugging up Lake Tanganyika on the legendary steamer MV Liemba. The steamboat had http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Tanzania/West/Kigoma/blog-238353.html Narrow strips of sunlight broke through the badly constructed walls of the shack which according to itsrsquo sign claimed to be a RETSULAUNT. The floor consisted of evened out cowdung a greyishbrown sense of cool on which I lay flat on my back trying to soak up as much coolness as possible. Outside the day was sweltering and languid. The men of Karonga sat chattering on rickety benches http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Malawi/Northern/Karonga/blog-233050.html 00 12. The sound of a dentistrsquos drill penetrating my temple wakes me up. Covered in sweat I sigh it's just a dream. Itrsquos not a dentistrsquos drill there are mosquitoes in the tent. A wild hunt begins and ends in handclapping then silence.02 23. Something has awoken the dogs. Loud barking ricochet in the distance as every dog in the village joins the cacophony. A dog yelps as his http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Mozambique/Southern/Inhambane/blog-225921.html ldquoYou are the reincarnations of Lord Varuna and Lord Vayurdquo the priest at the Shri Sanathan Mundal Temple in Stanger told us. We looked at each other in disbelief.ldquoDonrsquot you worry yoursquore just not aware of it yet but Irsquom 100 sure.rdquo He said and smiled as we nodded hesitantly.ldquoOf course you must stay with us here at the temple tonight together wi http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Swaziland/blog-223383.html I copied the tidalcharts for the coming month made a list of all the rivers we would encounter and stocked up on lightweight food and fresh water. Our plan to cycle the Wildcoast along its coastline appeared quite straight forward we thought as we studied maps and read up on Xhosaclans and their traditions. My list of rivers numbered 42 of which 20 were blind one had a bridge and yet anothe http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/KwaZulu-Natal/Durban/blog-220315.html It had been a cold night with little sleep. I looked out of the tent and found Mr Seja scraping off frost from his tent and efficiently packing his belongings into his red German rental car. We'd met him one day earlier as we resembling two bagladies had dragged our plasticbagged belongings across the border at Maseru bridge. He was efficiency personified. Punctuality rationality German h http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Lesotho/Maseru/blog-214163.html So strong was the smell of the green rolling hills that it literally attacked me with childhood memories. I wasnrsquot cycling through the verdant valleys of the Western Cape I was cycling down memory lane. Through an outdoor childhood spent at my grandfathers farm running through the high latesummers grass pulling pranks with my grandmother as she carried firewood down to the house and eati http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/Eastern-Cape/Port-Elizabeth/blog-210843.html Something had changed back in Cape Town. The winter had arrived and with the winter there was a change in mentality. The hordes of German tourists had left the city and Long Street that busy loud waterhole for the Bazbuz crowd had calmed down to a pleasant evening stir at weekends only. The strollers as the begging street kids call themselves were busy storing glue underneath the manhole cov http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/Western-Cape/Cape-Town/blog-201336.html 3000 km separated me from Aili who was in Cape Town not that the corrupt immigration officers at Lobito harbour cared. On the contrary they did their best to hinder me to get down to Cape Town by refusing me to leave the boat. After 36 hours they realized I wasnrsquot going to pay any bribes and I was finally let ashore. I wasnrsquot allowed to stay with my friend Kabila and the immigration http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Angola/South/Santa-Clara/blog-201044.html Somewhere north of Tsumeb in northern Namibia the German influence ceased. I found myself back in the African cultural heartland unorganized dirty crowded and vibrant. After some lame attempts by the Angolan borderpolice to extract bribes I was inside the country swarmed by teenage moneychangers. In a dirty 4x4 a fat white man with a wry face sat jammed between the seat and the steering wh http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Angola/South/Lubango/blog-172871.html They found a map of the crossroad between Africa Asia and Europe where someone had jotted down sharp lines for borders ldquoModest claims by Theodore Herzlrdquo it said. The map wasnrsquot of much help to them. They opened an atlas named the ldquoThe spread of the humble Jihadrdquo and they looked at a map that depicted the Mediterranean Sea with Arabic symbols and swords drawn on it. http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/Western-Cape/Cape-Town/blog-170560.html High were my expectations of the Namibian capital. A castle Neuschwanstein perched on the slopes between the Eros and Auas mountain chains with a quaint cobblestoned town centre of thatched roof houses was the least I expected. Of course this wasn8217t the case as we arrived at six o8217 clock to a nondescript busstation next to a soulless mall and the sky was as grey as in a Philip K. http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Namibia/-Kaokoland/blog-171830.html As we rushed down from Gaborone to celebrate New Years Eve in Cape Town we had been arrested by Karma police a mere hours drive before the big city in the small town of Worcester and sentenced to a 10day meditation course. Therefore I sat in silence on my small meditation cushion contemplating focusing. Around me were 35 other meditators all doing their best trying not to move not to look http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Botswana/South-East/Gaborone/blog-136184.html ldquoI never thought I would get out again. Hurrahrdquo The Pipemaker and the fairy looked at each other astonished and quite a bit amused. ldquoSo who would you be then if I may askrdquo The Pipemaker asked the little green man. ldquoMy name is I and Irsquom the genie of the bag.rdquo He proudly announced with a perky accent. ldquoWow so that means that Irsquoll get three http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/Western-Cape/Cape-Town/blog-170559.html The Flipperty Gibbets did what they knew best giggled then led the fairy into the kingdom. The road was a patchwork of donated tar a scar tissue of asphalt. On an open field to her right a group of kids taught a crimson kite to fly by gently stretching its string with rhythmic pulls then giving it some slack to try its own wings and rise above the silhouette of the Table Mountain and the tr http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/Western-Cape/Cape-Town/blog-166337.html Outside the sun was baking. Two boys stood talking to a young woman in the doorway of a large shed. They stood holding blueprints and scalerulers and were talking about things the fairy didnrsquot understand. As they saw her they stopped discussing and the young woman said ldquoHi. You must be the fairy that Buffy told me would arrive one day.rdquo She said. ldquoThe fairy that wants http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/Western-Cape/Cape-Town/blog-170553.html Without a doubt the fairy would have overslept and missed the full moon if it hadnrsquot been for Siren the farmrsquos grey donkey braying his usual three orsquo clock wakeupcall. A wakeup call that as usual turned into a wakeupjamsession as the aptly named roosters Posy and Florid joined in with their cacophonous crowing. The young man was still asleep. Careful not to not wa http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/Western-Cape/Cape-Town/blog-170555.html A mere stone throw away from the Turkish bath was a hair saloon. Moscow Carmine she read in bright red letters on the door to the saloon as she opened it. The saloon was empty but for a barber who was busy cutting with his scissors in the air. ldquoHi.rdquo The fairy said with a hesitant voice. Mr Moscow the barber didnrsquot notice and continued with what he was doing. ldquoIrsq http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/South-Africa/Western-Cape/Cape-Town/blog-166260.html