Entrada final del blog

So you know it's going to be a big one. Grab your blankie and a hot drink, we might be here for a while folks. If you thought I've been subjecting you to my opinionated jibberish before... you're in for quite a ride.

Volunteering

Less than one year and you're kidding yourself that you'll make any significant change. 6 months was barely enough to even just start making a difference. Many volunteers come wanting to be Mother Teresa for 1 or 2 months and are surprised (and go home jaded) when they realise how little value they have added. If you are spending less than a year, you are just getting in way of people doing real work. The ones who benefit the most come with the knowledge that the experience will change them more than the community. They come searching for the answers to some questions and usually leave with, at the least, a hint or two.

Africa

Before I make big sweeping generalisation and make it sounds like I've lived a lifetime here, I confess that my experience in limited in time only by 6 months and in space only to West Africa, Morocco and Egypt. So most of the stuff I say is probably heavily biased and limited in perspective and in some cases probably just plain stupid. So read "In my humble opinion" before each sentence.

There is a facebook group a volunteer invited me to called "The Africa they never show you" and is worth checking out. The real Africa with it's big smiles, inspiring landscapes, enduring spirit is well shrouded in the war-torn, disease-ridden hell-hole that the media portrays it as. I must confess to my ignorance of this continent and the false conception and prejudice I carried when I arrived here. A few months is enough to fall in love with this continent and it's people. If you don't, there's something seriously wrong with you man...

That been said, Africa is riddled with corrupt leaders, the average person has a biased (but very outspoken) opinion on local and word politics based on third-hand information shared over a shot of Alomo and is often just plain wrong. It's hard to get the truth here. The local newspapers are rubbish (think Herald Sun on a bad day with less sports and more obituaries) and the only good publications are BBC Focus on Africa and The Africa Report which the average person cannot afford. So to know who to believe is tricky and I struggled with it, often referring to wikipedia which is not really the height of objectivity.

And Personally...

Before I left, people would say "This will change you man... you won't be the same". I don't know if it has. It's easy to be anyone and anything when you are away from home and especially if you're travelling alone and no one knew you from before. You can experiment and re-invent yourself without any criticism. I did do that. I thought about plenty of stuff and came to conclusions on a few.

The true test is when you return home so i guess the verdict is still out.

It (by "It" I mean the interesting people I have met as well, not just the experiences) has definitely opened my mind to new concepts, ideas and has revealed abilities and short-comings I didn't know I had.

Thanks

Thanks for tuning in guys. Hope to see you all soon in the next few weeks.

The curse of the Lonely Planet

This is what happens. Lonely planet writer lands in a semi-popular destination (eg. Aswan) and finds an off-the-beaten-track, well hidden joint serving cheap food to local clientele. He/She lists it as the number 1 or 2 cheap eats option and by the time you get there (only a year after the book was published) it has turned into a fancy restaurant with menus, table cloth and sometimes even fans. Not only have they lost their local market, budget travellers like me can't eat their either. The tourists with all the moolah would never go there because the book calls it cheap. Each time we try and find a cheap eats place, it's a semi-fancy empty restaurant with over eager, almost desperate staff. I'm sure Rizzo would agree - a classic marketing disaster. Usually the good joints are couple of doors down where the locals have moved to.


Oh! the sugarcane juice here... my god!


Egypt feels like Africa. There are trotros! Oh I miss trotros. While Morocco seems like a country having an identity crisis, Egypt is very comfortable with it's middle-eastern roots. Today I take a train back to Cairo. I plan on spending 2 nights in Alexandria and then catch my flight on 27th night (which gets there 30th morning :S) from Cairo.


See you all soon.

I miss...

5:30 wakeups,
the imam chanting,
roosters crowing,
goats bleating,
pigs going plain crazy,
bucket baths,
the polytank,
the water shortage,
the bike ride to the village,
the walks to the village,
the calls of 'blrafonno',
Evelyn,
french toast,
the beetles in the office,
dodowa internet cafe,
trotros,
the internet which never works,
the solar room,
the staff.
class 6 - Famous, Believer, Yaw, Emmanuel, Jerry, Prosper, Christian,
pure water bags,
jollof rice,
red-red,
wakye,
rice and stew,
yam and stew,
banku,
even fufu,
kenke,
small fish,
big fish,
pepe,
the nice lady store,
'Jesus is lord' store,
omlette for dinner,
kenke and fish,
the chichinga meat guy,
ball fruits,
Doris and her bananas,
power outs,
charades,
cards by candlelight,
pictionary,
saturday mornings under the papaya tree,
the goats in the front yard,
the weekend long funeral parties,
footballs games,
bodyworks under the starry sky,
nights drinking and arguing with Jewel about everything,
nights drinking and agreeing with Nana Yaw about everything,
nights drinking and watching Michi fall asleep in his chair everything,
peeing on those bricks next to the spot,
my bed and mosquito net with holes,
hell i even miss the malaria tablets,
and lastly but far from the least, the volunteers.

I lose my camera

7 months through West Africa - 6 countries with countless markets, trotro stations, crowded cities and now it has finally happened. Some of my well-wishing critics who know me only too well will say "What took you so long?". Well, i wish it had happened earlier. It's not so much the camera itself (which, though it was 4 years old, was working well enough) but all my priceless pics. The smiles from Ghana, the magical Dogon countryside, nights out in Accra, the sunsets on the Niger river, foosball on the streets on Ouidah, the blue and white medina of Chefchaouen - all gone.

And this is how it all came to be. I was walking around Marrakesh taking pictures. Seeing the snow capped High Atlas mountains forming a surreal backdrop to this crazy city I reached into my bag for my camera... but it wasn't there. I have given myself a fright like this many times but each time a more thorough search results in me finding it under the fat Lonely Planet or the can of deo. But this time it didn't. The only time I stopped between here and the last time I took a picture was to fiddle with my Ipod in front of a bank. Thinking maybe it fell out of my bag there I backtracked the 400 meters... nothing.... but 5 minutes in long time in Marrakesh to leave something lying around. Did someone reach into my bag and snag it? I'm paranoid about people getting near my backpack so it's hard to imagine someone putting their hand in without me noticing. On the other hand I was having too much fun singing along to my ipod and maybe didn't notice. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I lost my appetite and went back to my room and after another search of my bag, feel asleep depressed. So stupid!

I have few pics on Nana Yaw and Prince's computer which I can try and retrieve I guess but the newer ones are gone... and then there's Egypt still to come. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

So I need your help in finishing this sentence... "It's kind of for the best that you lost your camera because..."

Moroccan secrets

Instead of telling you where I been and what I've seen, how about I tell you about stuff you won't read in a guidebook eh?

One of the things which strikes you in Morocco is that old people aren't hidden away in some nursing home. I didn't realise that they were actually hidden away in Australia until I noticed old folks around everywhere - drinking tea, chatting, playing cards. Someone told me that if you get mugged or someone is giving you grief, seek out one of the old men sitting around and they'll fix 'em. I have watched locals stop their horsecarts to allow an old gentleman to pass. Remember those old folks sitting around in Asterix in Corsica? That's what it reminds me of. They even dress like that.

Bollywood is everywhere. Apart from the taxi driver i told you about, I have encountered bollywood in bars, cafes, movie theatres (which seems to show as many bollywood flicks as hollywood ones) and bootleg cd/dvd stalls. People sing bollywood songs when they see me or want me to come into their store. They love Amitabh Bachan, but then again who doesn't. And especially the oldies! While waiting for my bus I glanced up to see Dev Anand in his orange suit twitching that neck of his singing "Mein hoon... Banarasi Baboo".

Everyone loves and talks about the tagines and couscous but let me tell you about the gems which don't get the deserved hype. Bowl of escargot cooked in a spicy broth like "Jal jeera" for 6 Dh (thats 1 AUD). For vegos, they also have chick peas cooked in that spicy broth for 3 Dh. Soup bars where a bowl of soup and bread costs around 5 Dh and is the best thing on a cold day. Caramelised peanuts and almonds sold for 1 Dh for a small block. Individually set glasses of sweet yogurt for 2 Dh. Have a tagine or two but the real stuff is in places without a menu and without Obrunis.

I take it back

When I last blogged I was in Rabat. After, I walked through the Medina to the Kasbah in Rabat and was blown away. The archirecture, the colours are like nothing else. On my way back i got stuck into some Moroccan tucker and that's when i fell in love wih Morocco. Another post on that one though.

It has rained everyday. I should have packed a rain jacket.

After a day in Rabat, I decided to head to Tangier for Chefchaouen. Determined to save $2.50, I decided to catch the bus (damn weak AUD... ruining my trip). Through rain I walked past the taxi stand right in front of the hotel for about 500 mtrs to the bus stop. Soaked and unable to feel my extermities I clenched my jaw. tucked my hands under my armpits and stood at the bustop, bracing the rain. I spotted some cover 50 mtr away from where I could look out for a number 30 or 17 bus and avoid pneumonia. I enjoyed 5 seconds of cover until a homeless guy turned up and yelled at me in Arabic, I'm assuming to get out of his crib. Should have guessed by the cardboard and the stench.

No bus for 10 minutes. Demoralised and frost-bitten I shook my fist at Varuna and walked back those 500 mtrs and took a shared taxi.

Things looked up from there. The taxi driver warmed me up with a rendition of "Kabhi Kabhi" (Kaabe Kaabe according to him) when I told him I was Indian and I got a direct bus to Chefchaouen.

Though it rained all yesterday and it is threatening to again, this town rocks. It's on the foothills of the Rif mountain and the medina is mind blowing. Everyone is trying to sell you hash, a lot like them trying to sell you "massages" in Shanghai... except hash doesn't give you syphillis.

3 tablets to go.

This is not Africa

Its (where the &$^! is the inverted comma on this keyboard) really not. Wide avenues lined with trees, nice cars, cafes with apple pies and internet cafes which work (albeit with french/arabic keyboards). It feels weird. It has been raining the last two days and been quiet cold. I didnt expect Africa to be cold. Mali, which not too far, was scorching just over a month ago.

The medinas, the saving grace, in each city gives you a glimse of what old Morocco must have been like. They are beautiful. Narrow cobblestone streets flanked by bright blue houses tightly packed together. Small tea shops serving mint tea with people playing cards and ludo. Men loitering around smoking cigarettes bought individually with middle eastern tunes coming from shops selling roast goat sandwiches. This is more like what I was hoping for.

I spent the day in Casablanca yesterday and am now in Rabat. After lunch Ill head to Sale for the rest of the day. Tomorrow at some stage Ill take a bus to Tangier and then on to Chefchaouen where I intend to spend a day. Its a bit removed from this frantic city life.

5 more malaria tablets to go.