The Warm Heart of Africa

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First off, I must apologize for the lack of entries. However when you spend 3 weeks in internet free zones, writing blogs is rather difficult.
After climbing Kili, we headed back to Dar es Salaam for a few days. We left Dar on a 12 hour bus trip to Mbeya, in southern Tanzania. After a night in Mbeya, we took a minibus to the Malawian border. After an effortless border crossing (free Visas), we took the only minibus on the other side of the border to the town of Karonga, where we hopped on another bus to Mzuzu. Although it sounds rather hectic, the roads were quite passable, and the journey was very manageable. The hilite was definitely hydroplaning during a downpour, at which point Will tapped me on the shoulder with an "it's been nice to know you" expression on its face. After regaining control, the entire bus burst into laughter.
We spent the night in Mzuzu, and from there it was a simple 2 hour minibus ride to Nkhata Bay, currently the most popular stop for backpackers on Lake Malawi. For us, however, Superbowl Sunday was the only priority. After wandering town questioning every building with a satelite dish if they knew anything about "American Football", we came across a sports bar who was staying open for a small fee (the game began at 1:30am). Therefore, at 1:30 that morning, Will, myself, and 5 americans were drinking $0.50 beers and watching the coin toss on a projection screen about 100 inches large. In Malawi.
We spent a week in Nkhata Bay at a resort called Big Blue. We each had waterfront chalets for $7 a night, and spent our time watching DVD's, playing guitar, snorkelling, swimming, and canoeing. On our last night we headed to the local night club, Club 672, and drank beers with a number of locals we met throughout the week, and whose company we thoroughly enjoyed. Definitely one of the most hectic clubbing experiences of my life. Not only was I fending off prostitutes at every turn, the men there dance with one another, and are quite forceful that you do the same. Eventually you give in, however, because it means the prostitutes have to fight through the men to get to you.
From Nkhata Bay we got on the Ilala ferry, which heads up and down the lake once a week. After an overnight journey, we got off on Likoma Island, population 6000. Only one place to stay that was open, no internet connections, 2 restaurants, and the most friendly people we have come across on our trip so far. The lodge was run by a South African and an American, and we seemed to blend in immediately. The swimming and snorkelling were ideal, the island itself was an isolated tropical paradise, and there was a mini-library for us to gorge ourselves on. It was so nice, Will and I attempted to procure a plot of beach front property on the island. That, however, is a story for my next blog.
After 10 days on the island, and exhausting ourselves with the reading material, we hopped back on the Ilala with Lauren and Anthony (the lodge managers) for a booze-filled, good-bye ferry ride. Nothing quite like passing out under the stars on my sleeping pad with the waves putting me to sleep. From Nkhata Bay we took a painfully long and excruciatingly hot minibus ride to Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi. That is where I am now, spending hours on the internet, catching up on the world that I somehow managed to escape for a brief, but glorious, time. From here we head to do some climbing in southern Malawi, and then hop on a bus and head to Zimbabwe for world-class golfing, giant stone ruins, and perhaps even a military coup or two. Love lots, miss you all immensely (not just saying that), and go Canucks,
-Graham

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