Egypt & Israel (& a touch of Palestine)

Over the past few weeks we took a tour through history- of ancient pyramids and holy biblical sites. In Egypt, we wondered at 3,000 year old preserved mummies, smiled from atop camels, and admired gorgeous arabic stone work in the 170 year old Muhammed Ali Mosque. We then traveled to Israel and Palestine, were we touched the stone where Jesus was crucified, and walked through the church built on the site of His birth, touched our toes into the water where He was baptized by John the Baptist, and stayed the the monastery at the site where Jesus performed the miracle of multiplying loaves and fishes. We swam in the Sea of Galilee and visited the wailing wall on a Friday evening, at the beginning of Shabat, as Jews flooded wall to pray.

Though we came as tourists, complete with sunburned noses, camera strapped around our necks, and good walking shoes (not intended as an insult to Bob, as he also wear good walking boots, just in case) we were certainly not walking through some glass encased museum. This is a place that so many people continue to call home, and places that have ongoing complicated relationships with both each other and the US (I am definitely understating and oversimplifying by turning this into some sort of teenage Facebook relationship status, but this is a travel blog, not a politics paper, so let me roll with it). The point is, we not only got to see some amazing places and pieces of history, but also got to meet some wonderful, and interesting people, from a whole wide range of backgrounds (which is a huge part of what this whole traveling this is about right??). From our tour guide in Egypt, who gave us lengthy, but insightful explanations about Islam; to our Palestinian cab driver in Bethlehem who talked about a time before the second intifada (in 2000), when checkpoints weren’t as many or as hard to get through, and walls didn’t surround the Israeli settlements; to a friend of a friend of Bob’s who is an American Jewish man, and skipped temple on a Friday evening to bring us down to the wailing wall and help answer questions we had about the wall, Judaism in general, the variety prayers and styles of dress we saw down at the wall, and whatever else we threw at him; to the multiple arab groups that came to stay at the monastery and shared their homemade dinners and desserts with us, even when we insisted we were full (I am convinced “Eat! Eat! You must eat!” is an arabic proverb) — we were lucky to meet so many nice people who took the time to explain a bit about their culture, religion, and land, or just plain spend some time with us. Some people expressed concern about us heading to Egypt, or just about coming to the middle east in general, but, as far as our visit is concerned, we felt nothing but warmly welcomed.

Egypt

Slide shows and captions will have to suffice- I don’t want to fall so far behind again! Check out our short trip to Cairo! 

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Israel

Another slideshow, but this time with a paragraph of my reactions first! OOOOOoooooOOOOh!

My little overall reaction to Israel would have a few different parts. From a wheelchair and general ease perspective- it was great to be in Israel. The sidewalks are nicely paved, there are wheelchair ramps, and even most busses are accessible. The bussing system and cities were easy enough for Hannah and I to even take a little day trip (the only struggle is that there isn’t much english, except right at tourist spots- these people love their Hebrew!). From a religious standpoint, it is definitely cool to see so many significant places from the Bible in real life, but, at the same time, it takes away some of the magic. The sights were Jesus once lived and taught are no longer small farming and fishing villages- what you are going most likely going to visit is an ornate church within a city that has been built on top of the ruins of another older church (old Byzantine churches were built on many of the sites where miracles occurred- as was determined by Constantine around the 4th century), that marks the spot where Jesus was born, crucified, buried, or performed miracles, and that church has a parking lots filled with tourists nearby that are wearing matching tour group hats. The perfect example is visiting Jesus tomb- you walk into a large ornate church (Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Inside there are hoards of tourists from around the world (cool points because we did run into fellow Benedictines from the Philippines), and these tourists are waiting in a long winding line to get into Jesus’ tomb, which is like a tiny, ornate room you can go into. We got to skip the line with Bob (wheelchair for the win!), but even so, there is a priest there, who is rushing people in and out- you maybe get 2-3 minutes, before he yells “times up”. It is hardly the amazing place of Jesus’ resurrection that you have in your minds eye. But finally, from a unique standpoint, Israel certainly stands out. It is such a modern country, yet it had so much history. It is a holy place for Islam, Christianity, Judaism, and Bahai. You can go to the old city in Jerusalem and be surrounded by orthodox Jews dressed like they just stepped out of eastern Europe in the early 1900s with long beards and fur hats, and Sunni Muslims dressed in burkas and hijabs, and then you can travel to a beach in Haifa, and fit in lounging in a bikini with a beer. Basically, whatever it is you are looking for, you can probably find it in Israel. To see what I mean, check out some cool pictures from our two week stay in Israel!

Jerusalem and Bethlehem

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Tabgha (and Capernaum)

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Nazareth, the Jordan River, and Dead Sea

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Haifa

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Our Final Time in India

Bangalore

Bangalore is home to the Asirvanam Benedictine Monastery. It is there that we got to meet back up wit BVCers Jon and Gabe, the two guys we first spent time with in Sri Lanka. This monastery even has an extra shot of Johnnie pride because the prior, Fr. Jerome, lived in the states for about 10 years and did his masters in theology at Saint John’s. We spent three weeks at the monastery and between teaching a summer english camp at the school and all of the Easter celebrations, the time absolutely flew by. For brevities sake on this blog, and because those were the main consumers of our time, I am just going to give a brief explanation of each, along with a couple other highlights from our stay. Any other time left, you can just assume I was napping, or walking down to a nearby shop to snag a cone of butterscotch ice cream.

Summer English Camp

When we first arrived, Gabe and Jon let us know that they had been working on and planning a summer English camp for 4-10th graders that they were hoping we would be able to help them teach. It was a two and a half week camp, so it ran nearly the whole time we were there, with classes each morning from about 9-11:30, and then some planning and a meet up with the new principle of the school in the afternoon. Using small writing, speaking, and listening tests we had created, we tried our best to split the students into groups, each of around 20 students, based on their ability. Generally, this was by grade, but there was definitely a mix since the camp not only including St. Benedict’s english medium school, but the state school that is taught in the local language- Kannada. The lowest group, called green group, was taught by two of St. Benedict’s teachers, who would be able to switch back and for between english and Kannada  as they taught. That groups end goal was for the students to write and illustrate  their own small books. The middle group, blue group, was taught by Jon and Hannah. Those two decided their takeaway project would be writing and performing short skits. Finally, red group, the highest level students, mainly 7th-10th graders from St. Benedict’s school with two 6th graders and a handful of state school students, was taught by Gabe and I. We decided that since students in India choose their path much earlier than in the US (even choosing a track- arts, commerce, or science for their 11th and 12th grade years depending on which area they would like to pursue in university), that a good takeaway for this high level group might be to research and present on their future career choice.

The camp could definitely be stressful at times as we tried to plan on the fly, accommodate everyone’s different expectations, and be flexible when new students showed up a week into the camp, or things just generally didn’t go as planned. Still, overall, the camp was fun and rewarding. I not only learned a lot from trying my hand at teaching, but also got the chance to get to know an awesome group of students, and teachers. Hopefully, even through the mess, the student’s also gained something, and were able to improve their english a bit, and become better prepared for the following school year.

The camp ended with a field trip (planned somewhat on the fly during our second week) to the science museum, and aquarium, and a park. With nearly 50 students and a day that was planned last minute, it certainly had some hiccups (luckily Hannah and I met the group at the museum and were able to miss out on the bus trip there where apparently on of the little ones puked on the bus), but again, it all worked out. As a surprise for Hannah, Gabe, Jon, and I, Meena (the school principle) had asked all of the students to make cards for us. As not only Hannah and my last day teaching, but our last day in Bangalore, getting cards we could take with us was extra special. Most cards were addressed to some variation of “Mam (ma’am)”, “Piper, ma’am” or “Pipper Ma’am”, which is the term they use in India for a teacher instead of saying “Mrs. ____”. My favorite card I received came from one of the two 6th graders in class, who ended her card by writing, “I no (know) about you. You like orange colour. You have brothers and sisters.” Both true statements, so, at least I know someone had been listening.

Easter Weekend!

Easter weekend started off with a stations of the cross on good Friday. The stations themselves were large and beautiful, each with a painting inside and accompanied by a larger than life angel statue. When we arrived, these stations had barely been started, but with workers working non-stop right up until Friday morning, they were finished just in time (I truly have never seen work like that done so quickly; the same workers were also rushing to create the buildings for a new university and dorms on the monastery property, that was making equally if not more impressive progress). We joined the large crowd of people at the first station. In front of the crowd was a large truck that had been loaded up with enormous speakers to blare religious tunes out of; this truck is what everyone followed from station to station. In front of each station was also the prior and several other priests and brothers, as well as novices (monks who have yet to take their final vows) all dressed up to act out each scene. The path was rocky and hilly, so, with Bob, we were unable to do them all, but we caught the first few and then looped around to see the last few. At one point, we were sitting near an empty cross by the final stations waiting for the group to make their way back around, and we turned just for a second, and when we looked back again, one of the novices was up on the cross covered in red paint. It even had something put in it to make it appear coagulated and like real blood. It was hot, he was skinny, and he was standing on one foot, which meant you could see he was uncomfortable, sweating, and taking painful looking breaths. When the group finally made their way around, someone in the front actually cried. Truly the most grotesque depiction I have seen- you’ll have to check out the picture below for yourself to get and idea of truly how much fake blood these guys used. It was frightening.

The following day we actually brought a bit of easter fun to someone who had never celebrated it before. Meena, the principle of the school, had invited all of us over for dinner. She made us aloo parathas (a sort of thin potato filled bread that you dip into curd- they are sooooo good!), and we brought hard boiled eggs and some left over dye from holi (the hindu color festival) and dyed easter eggs! She is hindu, so she doesn’t celebrate easter, but she was excited to share some of our traditions with us, and we were even more excited to eat her cooking.

We left her house with just enough time to change and rest for a bit before heading to Easter vigil at 11:30pm. When we showed up, the entire front of the church had been decked out in Christmas lights. Once inside, the church that night was full of women in sparkling sarees, and little girls in poofy dresses. For the most part, men sat on the left side of the church, and women and children sat on the right. Since there wasn’t enough space, people also sat on the floor behind the benches (it was an especially good spot for little one looking to catch a nap during the service), and that is where Hannah, Bob and I sat as well. The highlight of the service came at midnight, when suddenly, the lights were turned out, and loud thunder crashing noises were made over the speaker. A gray tomb had been created at the front, and a strobe light was flashing on it as a statue of Jesus was slowly lifted up into the tomb. When the statue was in place, the thunder was replaced with celebratory music, the lights were flicked back on, and the strobe lights were replaced with multi-color flashing lights. You may have had a nice easter vigil service, but I feel confident that your church simply did not live up to the theatrics put on in Bangalore- you missed out big time. Other than the raising of Jesus at midnight, the service went on more or less normally- or at least I assume it did, as none of it was in english. However, we were able to make out the words “Neil Armstrong” several times during the homily. After the service, we were able to join the brothers and sisters, who celebrated with cake and snacks before heading off the bed.

The following day, Hannah played Easter bunny by hiding little suckers around the courtyard for Gabe, Jon and I to find, and handed out little “easter baskets” she had made. (Since christians are a minority in the country, and things like dying eggs and the easter bunny are more american traditions, it is actually very hard to find easter candies or baskets). Easter lunch again had a special celebratory feel, and we got amazing food like this fried cauliflower, and fruit salad with ice cream. That evening, Hannah, Gabe, and I went over to the home of one of the teachers, Reena, who is our age and a member of the church. She had a small Easter party at her house with her sister, and some other friends. We ate and danced, and generally just enjoyed spending the evening with some fun people our age. It was certainly not my average Easter, but it was a happy one, and one that will always stand out.

Other Highlights

• Cricket!: Though we knew virtually nothing about cricket, it just seemed wrong not leave India without catching a match. So, Jon and Gabe, taught us the basics about the game, and we snagged tickets for the next IPL match- Royal Challengers Bangalore vs. Dehli Daredevils. Cricket in India is especially fun to watch because these are the top teams- meaning that players from national teams all over the world (Australia, South Africa, West Indies, etc.), come to play in the India Premier League (IPL). We got some cheap jerseys outside the gate, and made our way into the stadium looking like true fans. Unlike a baseball stadium, you can’t snag a beer or hotdogs, but we did get some tasty grab and go style indian food. And the atmosphere was otherwise similar- the crowd even go the wave going at one point, and one little boy had brought a baseball glove to help him catch a cricket ball. The main difference that was instead of home runs, we were cheering for “fours” and “sixes”, and instead of trying to get someone out, you want “wickets”. Our favorite fans at the game were a group of guys in turbans with long white jubas that they had taped red letters onto to spell out the team captains name.
  

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  So you can impress your friends (and more so I can show off that I actually learned something), cricket has two main kinds: there are Test Matches, which are matches that can actually last days, and there is Twenty20, which last about 3 hours and is what is played in the IPL. Twenty20 means that each team gets 20 overs, each over being 3 balls (pitches, throws…). The first half, one team bats and the other team bowls, and then, for the second half, they switch. At any time there are two batters- these batters run between two sticks (wickets), and each time they switch they get a point. Surrounding the batters all around in a circle is also a small, several inch high wall. If they hit the ball over that wall, in any direction, in the air, it is 6 points, and if it bounces and goes over, or if it hits the wall on the ground, it is 4 points. Conversely, if the team in the outfield catches the ball out of the air, or if the bowler (pitcher) hits the wicket (the stick behind the batter), then the batsman is out. There you have it! Now you know the super basics of cricket- go impress your friends!
  

• Mysore: Another highlight was a day trip we took to Mysore, where we were able to tour this gorgeous, ornate castle. Though, if I am being honest, the more memorable part of the trip was that, along with one of the brothers, we were accompanied by a monastery driver- quite possibly the most impatient man I’ve ever met. At a certain point, it almost became humorous to watch as he fast-walked and dodged people to get everywhere as quickly as humanly possible. His drying was also always in a similar state of dodging and accelerating, and when we road with him again, we had the brothers make a special request that he calm down and drive slowly (which he did, though we could tell it almost pained him to do so).
  
  

  

  

  
  

• Cooking: On one of our first days in Bangalore, Meena (the school principle), invited us to come help her cook and attend a small community fair with her.
  
• Atul Choksi: I can’t wrap up our highlights of Bangalore without mentioning our meeting with Atul Choksi. Professor Choksi is a professor of materials engineering at a university in Bangalore, who, 17 years ago, got a spinal cord injury after he was hit by a car while riding his motorcycle into work. He is a friend of Meena’s because their children went to school together, and she was able to set it up for us to go meet him on campus. We see so few people around India in wheelchairs, and hardly any at all in nice, non-hospital style chairs that nearly every para- or quadriplegic, Bob and my younger bro included, would sport in the states. It was nice to be able to meet up with someone in India who was living independently, working, and just generally living a normal life in a chair. The added similarity between Bob and Atul, both being professors with some travel experience, just made it that more fun to be able to meet up and chat about what life in a chair looks like in a fairly inaccessible country like India.

Varanasi

Varanasi is a very religious city beside the Ganges river in northern India. The city is one of, if not the, holiest city for hindu, jain, and buddhist people. The streets of Varanasi are crowed with not only cars, bikes, tuk-tuks, and rickshaws, but also many cows and holy men. This is especially true when you get down near the ghats, large stone structures built along the water, or temples. Several of these ghats along the ganges are sites where hindu people will come to cremate family members after they die. On our first night in Varanasi, we had a chance to take a boat down the ganges and view these cremation ghats. We started our boat ride at around 6pm, down the river a bit from the cremation ghats. There were people all around us swimming and splashing in the water, and in front of one ghat (not one of those used for cremation) there were even parents sitting on the steps, while their children took part in an organized swim lesson. As we rowed less than a quarter of a mile from where these kids splashed and spit the water, we reached the flaming cremation ghats.

In the evening, there are around 7 cremations happening at the same time, and many more families waiting to the side for their turn. There are several layers, with wealthier, important families getting to use the cremation blocks higher up, and the poor using the ones at the bottom. We watched as families, dressed in all white, set up stacks of wood, and then lifted their loved ones on top. Once the body is on top, the family will circle clockwise around the body, and then light it on fire. When the body has finished burning, a male from the family (usually an oldest son), will use two bamboo sticks to pick up whatever is left (a piece of spine or the hip bone usually), and walk it down and throw it into the river. The ashes will then be brushed into the river as well. Once things are cleared, and new family will stack wood, and the process will begin again. Around the cremation sites, there are very few if any women- they women stay up above, while the men take care of the cremation. Part of the reason is that it is believed that women will mourn and cry, which will pollute the process. Very little crying happens at a hindu cremation, because hindu people believe in reincarnation- these people are not really dying but will come back again (if they were good in this life, perhaps they will return as a holy person or sadhu, and if not, then they may return as an animal).

The following morning we took a boat down the ganges again and were able to watch the city of Varanasi wake up. Early in the morning, people come down to the water to bathe and to their laundry. There are also men who do many loads of laundry in the river, like a ganges laundromat, and you can hear across the river as they twist the wet clothes and smack them against their washing rock in the water over and over again.

Later that day, we were exposed to what was really our first major scam in India. We were searching for a restaurant called “Brown Bread Bakery”, that was recommended by lonely planet because the proceeds from the bakery go to a school for poor children. We asked around and were led to a small shop that said “Brown Bread Bakery”- except, it didn’t look very nice, it didn’t have air conditioning as was mentioned in the book, and when we asked for sandwiches, we were informed they did not have any bread… It seemed fishy, but, being naive, we ate there anyway. When we got home we did some googling, and sure enough, plenty of people had been brought in by these fake Brown Bread Bakeries, they make money off of the popularity of the other one, without doing any donations with the proceeds. For all of the warnings we had received about scam artists in India, we weren’t even upset, we just had to laugh. It felt like a right of passage to get tricked at least once during our stay. ((Hannah and I ventured out one evening and found the real Brown Bread Bakery. We were served lots of fresh, brown bread while we waited for our food, and all of the menu options were available [the menu at the previous fake restaurant had literally been photocopied from this one, but they simply did not have most of the menu options]. So, we got our philanthropic baked goods after all).

As with any Indian city, we also made some time during our stay to go see temples. The main ones here were the red temple, monkey temple (it seems many cities have their own “monkey” temple- a temple that is so nicknamed because it is surrounded by monkeys), and Sarang Nath temple. While these temples were very cool, they were a bit anti-climactic as Hannah, Bob, and I have toured so so many temples, and as far as Varanasi goes, the real religious action is down at the ghats.

On our final day before heading out, Hannah and I went down to a little roadside lassi shop (if anyone knows Bob, you know he refuses to eat healthy things like fruit, so he was happy to cit this fruity stop out). While the lassi’s, which are a sort of yogurt like drink with fruit (pomegranates, bananas, blueberries, mmmmm!), tasted amazing, we believe they lead to our demise in Kolkata…

Kolkata

We left on our plane from Varanasi that morning excited to see the home of Mother Theresa, and they city where CSB/SJU students study abroad every year. However, by the time Hannah and I landed in Kolkata, we had some serious food poisoning. Instead of packing our days with our final glimpse of India and stuffing our bellied with our last Indian food, Hannah and I spent more time checking out the scenery in our hotel bathroom, and trying to put back a bit of very bland food (our go-to stop was a nearby air conditioned Au Bon Pain where we could get plain bagels and soup, and we knew the bathroom would have toilet paper, which cannot be said for many bathrooms in India). **On the plus side of our frequent Au Bon Pain visits, on the final day we ran into two Bennie study abroaders who were doing some last minute cramming there for a final.

Still, even through our sick tummies, we were able to make our way out to see the Sisters of Charity mother house, where we were able to see Saint Theresa’s tomb, as well as go see the room were she stayed for the last 50 years of her life. We could’t take pictures of the room, but there wouldn’t have been much to take a picture of. The room was small, with a little bed (it truly was a thin and short bed), a wooden desk, and a small wooden picnic table where she would hold meetings, and have other sisters help her to open all her mail. There was also a picture of her with the pope on the wall, as well as a map that marked all of the places in the world where new Missionaries of Charity homes had opened. On our last day, when Hannah and I were feeling a lot better, we also got the chance to go visit Mother Theresa’s homes in Kolkata for children and for the disabled. After having volunteered at Mother Theresa’s homes for special kids in Kenya and Sri Lanka, it was fun to visit the places where it all began.

We also made visits to St. Paul’s Anglican church, and Victoria Memorial. St. Paul’s Anglican church in Kolkata is the mother church for all anglican churches in India, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, and Pakistan. (I think the significance of this church counts as major bonus points for my Episcopalian grandma Susie, who is always telling me I should visit Anglican churches.) Victoria Memorial serves not only as a monument, but also has a neat museum of Kolkata’s history inside.

For all of the India study abroad-ers, we also made the trip out to see St. Xaviers college, where CSB/SJU students study for a semester each year. And, we made the trip to Kusum Rolls, a tasty Indian food stand that came highly recommended by previous Bennies and Johnnies.

And with that, somewhat fitting, food-sick week, we said goodbye to India one final time. Over about two and a half months, we got to see Kerala, Goa, Dehli, Jaipur, Agra, Mumbai, Bangalore, Varanasi, and Kolkata. We posed in front of the Taj Mahal, played the Holi, and floated down the Ganges. The airports were sometimes a hassle, our stomach’s weren’t always happy, and the streets could be absolutely crazy, but, to he honest, the country was not nearly as overwhelming as I was nervous it would be, and I ended up enjoying India far more than I expected.

Myanmar

Myanmar
(March 22-29)

As more and more of our side excursions from monasteries seem to be, our trip to Myanmar was decided on a whim. Gabe, one of the BVC volunteers we have stayed with in Sri Lanka and India, spoke with Bob about how cool it would be to visit the country, which has only recently opened for tourism. Bob did some research, and, before we knew it, another country was added to our ever-growing list.

Brief history of Myanmar

Myanmar has a complicated, and conflict filled history. In it’s early history, the country was a monarchy (with various kings fighting for grabs at the throne over time). In the 1800s, the British come onto the scene, with the Anglo- Burmese wars in 1824-26,  1852, and 1885. Through these wars, the British effectively gained control of all of Burma (it’s name at the time), and ruled over it as a colony of British controlled India. Later, during WWII, Burma became briefly occupied by Japan. When the Burmese people, fighting with the allies, we able to kick the Japanese out, and in 1947, elections were held, and a year later in 1948, the country gained independence full independence from Britain. Aung San, leader of the anti-fascist’s peoples freedom league in Burma and a war hero, was elected, but was assassinated before he could take office. His party still came to office with his predecessor at the helm, but ethnic conflicts plagued the country. In 1962, a military coup overthrew the government. The new ruling party nationalized everything, working to transform Burma into a socialist nation. The changes ruined the economy, and the dictatorship was harsh. By 1888, the Burmese people were fed up; they took to the streets demanding dictator Ne Win be kicked out, and elections held.

In 1889, Ne Win was in fact kicked out, and elections were held. However, this didn’t change much. Ne Win was replaced by the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC), essentially a strict, military government. When Aung San Suu Kyi (the daughter of Aung San) and her party (the National League for Democracy) won 85% of the parliamentary seats, slorc ignored the results and refused to hand them over. The military government declared a martial law, Aung San Suu Kyi was placed on house arrest, and the government arrested many of the other NLD members. (This is also when the countries name is returned to its original, pre-colonial title- Myanmar).

In 1991, while still on house arrest (she won’t be released until 1995), Aung San Suu Kyi won the Nobel peace prize for her commitment to peace in Myanmar. Over the next 20 years, Aung San Suu Kyu will continue to be sporadically placed on house arrest. Meanwhile, the Myanmar government (operating under a new title of State Peace and Development Council [SPDC]) continues to be wildly oppressive, and manages to maintain power despite numerous clashes with protestors, UN involvement, and condemnation for human rights violations, particularly against certain ethnic minorities in the country.

Under tremendous pressure from both within and outside the country, new elections are finally held in 2010, however, Aung San Suu Kyi is not permitted to take part. The elections were widely believed to be fraudulent, and the main military-backed party won. However, paired with parliamentary elections in 2012, which were considerably more free (though not exactly a “free and fair election”) and brought many NLD candidates, including Aung San Suu Kyi, who was now allowed to run, into parliament, conditions were beginning to improve in Myanmar. Among other things, censorship let up, and a few private newspapers were able to start up, trade relations with china and western countries improved, and the country opened its borders for tourism for the first time in over 50 years. In 2012, Barack Obama even paid a visit, and the president of Myanmar made the trip to D.C. in 2013. Still, the country had ongoing fighting with rebels in the northern state of Kachin, as well as continued violence against Rohingya muslims within the country.

Most recently, elections in 2015 (taking effect as of 2016), brought Aung San Suu Kyi’s NLD party to power in the country (though she is not president, she is still hugely influential within the party and country as a whole). Today, there is still fighting going on in northern Myanmar, high unemployment, and ongoing oppression and human rights atrocities- even murders, of the rohingya muslims. These tremendous pitfalls cannot be ignored, still, the new elections and quickly building infrastructure and economy in the country are cause for hope.

This little overview is extremely simplified. I have left so much out. But, I hope you were still able to learn a little something, and it gave you a touch of context for the country we were jumping in to.

Our Week in Myanmar

Bagan

We flew in to the capital, Yangon, but only stayed for the night before hopping on a bus to Bagan. The bus station in Yangon was fairly nice, and the buses there were all new, greyhound style travel buses. Still, you could tell the area was not an overly-frequented tourist spot. While we waited for our bus, we maybe spotted one or two other tourists, and none were on our bus. No one, including the bus staff spoke english, except for perhaps a couple words. Some men and women showed up for the bus is pants and t-shirts, but many arrived in the traditional long skirts worn by both men and women made of a long piece of fabric wrapped around and tucked in in front. The women, as well as many children, showed up with circles of white paste on their cheeks. Some even ran a comb through it, or otherwise made little designs. With the exception of some younger people, who dressed in a more western style, and some young men who had their hair done in bright colored fohawks in Korean pop stars, this more traditional style of dress seemed to still be the most common around Myanmar throughout our stay.

Our bus trip down was nice and comfortable, and was really more like a flight. We even had blankets, were given a small breakfast (which consisted of a cupcake with some sort of bright pink jelly filling), and had a tv up at the front. The tv at the front rotated though a recording from a live traditional music show, and episodes from a Burmese-language sitcom. We also stopped for lunch on the way down, where through some smiling and pointing we managed to get ourselves some fried rice and noodles. Though being the only tourists around, and figuring things out without English was fun for a day, arriving at our hostel that evening, it was nice to have other travelers around and some english speaking staff.

We only had two full days in Bagan, but we made the most of them! Our first day we spent getting the hang of the local area. We headed to a nearby market, that was filled with clothes, fruits and vegetables, bamboo lacquerware bowls and cups the area is famous for, trinkets, and pretty much everything else. We also wandered through a local village, and saw the bamboo homes that people here live in. That night, Hannah and I took a trip about 1.5 hours out of Bagan to Mt. Popa and climbed the 777 steps up to the temple. Hannah and I were like local celebrities at the top (as we are in many countries we have been to), and many people and families stopped us to take a picture with us. The temple was also had monkeys crawling all over. If there is one myth I have successfully dismissed on this trip, it is that monkeys are cute. They are not. They are dirty and angry. The group from our hostel found ourselves running from our lookout spot when a group of them started crawling by us and baring their teeth, until a local guy came along with a slingshot to scare them away.

Market

Bamboo homes

Mt. Popa

two young monks climbing up the steps to mt. Popa

Top of temple at Mt. Popa

The following day was both an amazing day, and a huge disappointment. It was amazing because Hannah and I were able to go hot air ballooning and on a sunset river boat, but it was a let down because Bob ended up being unable to do either. We showed up to go ballooning, and a woman from the company (she was Australian, and so, able to fully discuss the situation with us in english) came over, and told us that they didn’t know he was in a chair and so didn’t have the staff to get him into and out of the balloon, that he wouldn’t be able to see from inside because the walls were too high, and that even if they did, it was a safety hazard if the balloon tipped. Bob tried to reason with her, but ultimately, she put her foot down and he was not able to ride. Bob was insistent, however, that Han and I still go. Unfortunately, we didn’t get up before the sun, but we got up just after it had risen. We got an amazing view over the temples, and got to meet a family from Myanmar, and two cool older women from Australia. We even got to top off the morning with champagne.

Luckily, Bob was able to take full part of the middle part of the day (albeit with some heavy lifting up temple stairs), as we did a day-long tour of several of the many temples scattered throughout Bagan. Several of the temples had scaffolding still surrounding them, either from regular maintenance, or for many, because they were under repair after damage from the 2016 earthquake. One of cool parts about these temples, compared to ones we have visited elsewhere, is that there were vitally no crowds (or where there was any, it was not foreign tourists), and there was no need for tickets, so you could just drive through and go visit any of temples scattered on the way.

As I mentioned earlier, Hannah and I ended with a sunset boat cruise. The trek down to the boat was long, steep, and sandy, and so, though some nice guys from our hostel probably could have done the heavy lifting, Bob decided it wasn’t really worth it. Though, when Hannah and I came back up, he was no where to be found. We got back to the hostel only to discover that rather than wait around for us and watch the sunset like he had planned, he decided to take the evening as a challenge, and somehow managed to get some people to help him, and took a taxi back. He was waiting in the hostel room with a plate of chicken tenders and fries when we got back. There are times Hannah and I wonder why he needs us at all (we also have a conspiracy theory that Bob is in fact faking his injury; we don’t have a ton of solid evidence to back it up, but  this moment was definitely added to our docket. If anyone has any additional potential evidence from your time with him that could be relevant to our case, please call. Anonymous tips accepted.)

The next day was spent pretty much like the first, as we took a very similar bus back to Yangon, except I felt a bit more invested in the tv series this time (The two teen girls who star in the show spent several episodes in crazy wigs and outfits. I have absolutely no clue why and could not relay anything about the general plot, but I watched about 8 episodes).

Yangon

We spent just a short 3 days in Yangon, but again, we tried to fit in as much as we could! Our first day we snagged lunch at a Yangon bake house, which is a cool lunch spot that employs at risk women, giving them work skills and experience, as well as a livable income. We walked along a nearby boardwalk, and enjoyed the city scenery, and then we ended the day by touring the nearby temples. By far the best one was the shwedagon pagoda, which we got to tour at sunset. The massive gold pagoda is 325 feet tall and it has an large inner stupa which is topped by thousands of diamonds and other precious gems. In Myanmar, kids as young at 5 sometimes join the monastery (it sounds like it is common there for at least one child to at least join the monastery for a short time, even if they drop out shortly after), and to our delight, shwedagon pagoda seemed to be a hot spot for these “baby monks”.

As if to counter-act all the joy of seeing little kiddos dressed in monk robes and enjoying sunset over a giant golden temple, our day two in Yangon seemed to be a total catastrophe. Am I being a bit dramatic? You decide for yourself. (spoiler alert: I am… but, it really did feel like a catastrophe at the time):

Our day started out well enough. We hopped in a taxi, and headed over to see Aung San Suu Kyi’s (mentioned in my short history above) house. It is where she currently lives, and there is a gate and security out front, so you really just get to stare at it from the sidewalk, but still, it’s cool to be there. Afterwards, we hopped in a second taxi, and headed to a nearby Japanese restaurant for lunch. While cheerfully sipping down my shirley temple- disaster struck. A disaster of the most “first world problems” sort of way- I realized I was missing my iphone. Unfortunately, I had left it in the taxi, and we had no way to contact the driver, or get it back. It was sad, but our day still continued. We ate our lunch, and tried to finish the day strong by visiting a scenic park on the water. When we got there, we realized the small gate on the walk way was too small, but determined to enjoy ourselves, we tried to drag Bob’s chair down the hill a bit, and back up, to circumvent the gate. For some context here, Bob’s wheels had been missing the odd spoke or two and were bent out of shape since Tanzania- the problem was significantly worsened when on Holi in Dehli, India, while Hannah and I were pulling his chair out of a taxi and putting it together, another car came and ran over the wheels, leaving one wheel severely bent, and with only about half of it’s spokes. You may already be a bit ahead of me in this story…. that broken wheel did not hold up to the park hill. We managed to flag down a taxi and carry him to the car, then borrow a wheelchair they had at the hotel to head back up to our room.

Aung San Suu Kyi’s Home

That night, Hannah and I went out to watch beauty and the beast at a movie theater to relax after our stressful day, while Bob popped in the movie “Everest”, that we had picked up in Nepal, and had a night in. When we got back, Bob was all energy, and told us he had a plan to ride the circle train (just the regular Yangon commuter train that you can hop on for about 20 cents a person, and if you ride it all the way around and back to the station, offers a few hour scenic view into Yangon life). He felt that riding the train despite not having his wheelchair was his Everest (and I bet you thought after that whole phone debacle I was the dramatic one of the group…). So, the next morning we took the tested the hotel wheelchair out in the great outdoors, had some local men lift Bob up onto the train (most people in Myanmar are very small, so it was pretty impressive that they were able to haul 6ft Bobby Bell up onto the train), and we rode around and saw the sights for a few hours. That night Hannah and I tried out a local restaurant, LinkAge, that supports street kids in Myanmar, and we all packed up. The following morning, we flew back to India to spend one more month.

circle train around Yangon

Man working in rice paddy

Little boy with traditional face paint

**As a final note for anyone who may be interested- visiting people with disabilities in other countries has always been a major goal of ours. While we were in Yangon, we attempted to visit a school there for children with disabilities, but unfortunately, it was closed for summer break. If you want to read up a bit on disability access in the country you can check this article Bob found:

http://reliefweb.int/report/myanmar/burma-children-disabilities-struggle-access-schools

It is a bit dated- a 2013 article, but it still offers a glimpse into some of the challenges people with disabilities in the country face.

A taste of India and Nepal

Over the last month or so since I wrote last, we have been on whirlwind tour of India and Nepal (We have stayed in 9 different cities!). Our only true “down” day was spent in Kochi on a day between our time in Kathmandu, Nepal and Kerala, India and I unfortunately spent most of that day in our hotel bathroom on an AirIndia airline food induced 24 hour body cleanse. The point is, life has been busy! But, I am excited to get all of you caught up, so, without further ado, check out all the cool places we have been and cool things we’ve been doing!

Where?: Kappadu, Kerala, India

Overview: Kappadu is home to a Benedictine monastery with around 20 brothers. The head of the monastery, Abbot John, is old-school and no-nonsense, but he is very well respected and has kept the monastery running smoothly for over 20 years. The monastery in Kappadu serves as a sort of “in-between” house. While there are about 2 postulants (monks who have yet to make final vows), and a couple of priests, the large majority are brothers between 20 and 25 years old, who have made their final vows as monks and are studying to be priests (in fact, all of the brothers here are studying to become priests). Of any of the monasteries we have visited thus far, this one seemed to be the most strict, and the most direct replication, at least in terms of their schedule, in following the Rule of Benedict. The monks followed a strict schedule that included prayer 4 times a day, and 3 meals which are all taken in silence (they were only permitted to talk during their tea-time). Their day is otherwise generally divided into a morning block of classes (the monks are all either studying philosophy or theology, and will continue both studies before becoming priests), and an afternoon block spent doing manual labor, such as herding the goats, tending cows, or helping with other farming tasks [the Abbot requires that all the monks start out doing manual labor jobs, which, one older priest told us, is becoming more of a challenge for the young men as fewer and fewer come from traditional farming backgrounds]. However, the monks also get a short activity time in the afternoon where they all head down to play volleyball. Hannah and I felt we were largely viewed as a bit of a nuisance and distraction by Abbot John (which was perhaps true, as the monastery doesn’t get many young guests, and the monks always seemed eager to be able to come talk to us when they were out of earshot of the abbot), but since meals were silent, we always made an effort to go down and watch the volleyball games, giving us a chance to get to know the brothers, if just a very little bit.

Highlights:
Unlike some of other monasteries we have visited, the monastery in Kerala does not run a school, clinic, or orphanage (they do run a large boys hostel), which means there wasn’t much for us to do during the days. But, luckily, they were nice enough to set up a couple of day trips for us, so we could see the surrounding area.
On valentines day, we spent the day shown around by Father Bibin. One of the coolest parts of the day was going to Kurishumala Ashram, which is a unique benedictine monastery where the monks follow the beliefs of benedictine Catholicism, but have blended them with the traditional dress, decor, and rituals of Hinduism. For example, instead of pews in their chapel, the monks sit on the floor for prayer.
During the same day, our driver, a very smiley middle aged man with broken English, was so excited to be with us that he took us to his own home (a beautiful, large home he has recently built) to show us around, introduce us to his wife, and serve us tea and snacks.
In another outing they planned for us, we got to take a river boat down the Allepey river which allowed us to see the surrounding area including the homes and people, who largely live as fisherman and rice farmers, as well as the gorgeous, green surrounding area in Kerala. For lunch, we got served a traditional meal of rice and curry on giant banana leaves!
Fun Fact:
The boys hostel run by the brothers in Kappadu is home away from home for boys from all religions. So, at evening prayer, at which the boys attendance is required, the church also serves as temple and mosque.

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Where?: Kathmandu, Nepal

Overview:
The e-visas we got to enter India only last for 30 days, and since we planned to stay about 3 months in India, we had leave the country to get new, longer visas. To make it all work, Bob bumped up a short trip he planned to Nepal, with the hope that we could quickly get new visas, and return to Kerala for another week. Unfortunately, when we arrived, we discovered that the visa process at the Indian embassy was not easy and it would take us multiple attempts and just over a week of waiting time. On the plus side, we had a great time in Nepal!

Kathmandu is a lively city filled with dread heads and trekkers stopping through on their way to Everest base camp or another long hike through the Himalayas. The crowded streets are overrun with cars, motorcycles, and bicycle rickshaws, and lined with at least two stories of shops, restaurants, and bars on each side. Nepal is about 80 percent Hindu and 10 percent Buddhist (with smaller Christian, Muslim and other minorities); I loved that nearly everywhere we went, there were multi-colored Hindu prayer flags fluttering overhead. We also had the chance to visit a Buddhist stupa nearby, where we watched a procession of tiny Buddhist monks (some as young at 5!); as well as a Hindu temple that was surrounded by Hindu holy men, or Sadhu, as they prepared for the lord Shiva’s birthday. Still, not to give too romanticized a picture of the city, I also have to admit that the constant traffic has no doubt been a large contributor to the thick smog that covers the city, driving many people in the city to walk around with face masks. And, though tourism to the country seems to be flourishing, the country, especially in the more rural areas, is still recovering very slowly from the massive earthquake that hit in 2015, and thought the temples and stupas are beautiful, many ancient relics are still crumbling and surrounded by scaffolding, while in various states of repair.

• Highlights:
  Our visit to the birthplace of Buddha (a fact that was touted on many a car bumper sticker) inspired Hannah and my inner yogis, and on a few occasions we had the chance to practice yoga at a studio nearby our hotel.
• I have to give a shoutout to our hotel staff, who were absolutely awesome, and helped us plan so much of our impromptu trip. We even got a picture with our favorite guys, two Hindu Brahman, on our last day.

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Where?: Pokhara, Nepal

Overview:
Since we had 5 days of waiting time before finally getting the visas forms correct and submitted, and picking up the actual visas, the hotel helped us plan a trip to Pokhara. Pokhara is a large city in Nepal located next the Phewa Lake, at the base of the Himalayas. Many trekkers come through Pokhara because it is the starting point for the very popular Annapurna circuit (after meeting two women who were there to hike the circuit, Hannah and I decided we’re also going to make the trip when we’re 30 to hike it; we were promised if we get 5 more people we get a discount so, let us know sometime in the next 6-8 years if you’re interested). Aside from hikers though, the area also has plenty of beautiful views, and temples to see, as well as other adventure activities, so many other tourists, including lots of families from China and India come to visit.

Highlights:

• The biggest highlight by far has to be going paragliding! An adventure sports shop nearby was initially extremely hesitant about bringing Bob, but, as usual he was adamant and persistent, until eventually they agreed. Hannah and I were nervous, not knowing exactly what difficulties he might face in taking of and landing since he would not be able to run along with his buddy paraglider in take-off, and would have to land on his butt rather than he feet at the end. But, they staff helped lift him and ran alongside at take-off and the landing was slow and smooth. We also picked a perfect morning! Since we were visiting out of season (the best season being from October to December), the mountains, despite being so close, are not always visible. But, the day we chose was possibly the least foggy of our trip, and as we were paragliding, we had a beautiful view of the snow-capped mountains. The only downside to paragliding was that I got a bit airsick, and lost my breakfast at landing…
• While driving back from Pohkara to Kathmandu, we stopped and climbed through Siddha cave, which is the largest cave in Nepal and the second largest in southeast Asia. The cave is over 1,000 feet long and over 150 feet high! When you get into the back of the cave, and turn off your flashlights, it feels like an empty void, where you cannot see or hear anything.
  One of my favorite temples was Swayambhunath, or monkey temple. Which is a giant white and gold temple, adorned with prayer flags. One of the funniest surprises, was when, at the top (over 300 stairs up), Hannah and I walked out of a shop to see Bob sitting there. Not one to miss out, he paid some local guys to carry him up.

Reality Check:
One morning, since Hannah wasn’t feeling well, and Bob, despite the fact he wears hiking boots every day, isn’t a great hiker, I took a hike to the World Peace Pagoda with our driver. On the way up, he asked me if I hiked often, and I asked him the same in return, to which he told me that he goes hiking every month. There are no buses that go to his home village, so he hikes home 2 hours every month to see his wife and four year old son. He didn’t say it in any sad way; he was truly just answering my question about hiking, but it struck me as one of so many moments on this trip where I come face to face with how unbelievably lucky I am.

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Where?: Kochi, Kerala, India

Highlight: Nice hotel with fluffy robes (I really don’t have much more to say because we basically stayed in Kochi for two nights before taking early flights, but I will not leave any cities visited out!).

Low point: Food poisoning 😦

Story time! (aka a short vent session on the struggle of being a passenger in a wheelchair flying through Indian airports): While this is not about Kochi, in particular, the only reason we stayed in Kochi, was for the airport, so it seems like an appropriate spot to talk generally about airports in India (Dehli, Kochi, Mumbai, etc.)— namely that they are the WORST. I should clarify here, that they are actually very nice airports, especially the Mumbai airport, which is basically a museum. However, every time we pass through an airport, it seems as though no one in a wheelchair has ever traveled through India. At every security check, they demand, often angrily, that Bob stand up. Once they even told him that it was a requirement that he be able to stand for 1-2 minutes for a security check. When he tells them he actually cannot stand, the staff always seem baffled. Though, perhaps not as baffled as the workers in charge of the wheelchairs used to shuttle us to and from planes during layovers. While these workers, and wheelchairs, generally seem plentiful at all the airports, they are typically used to bring elderly people who have a hard time walking to the plane, at which time they will stand up, walk over to a seat, and wait to walk the short distance down the aisle of the plane when it arrives. When faced with someone like Bob who cannot walk at all, they don’t know what to do. Multiple times, while we have had long layovers, they have refused the leave a wheelchair with us, insisting that Bob has to get into a regular chair and wait there until the flight (even if the wait is several hours) meaning he couldn’t go down to the bathroom or run and grab food. We have had to get higher management involved simply to be able to continue to use the wheelchair they brought us to the gate in (while watching other staff use wheelchairs as wheelbarrows to bring heavy poles and things around, showing there was definitely not a shortage). Needles to say, it can be extremely frustrating. OKAY. Now, my vent session is over. Now that I have expressed our airport woes, I can get back to all the fun travel stories.

Where?: Goa, India

Overview: As everyone should know by now, Bobby B. is a big fan of beaches, so, of course, we had to head to Goa, which is essentially one giant beach. We spent a week in there, and visited a different nearby beach every day. We spent the nights at a small hostel on Arjuna beach, and just enjoyed the casual atmosphere, often heading out to different restaurants on the water nearby and enjoying seafood while watching the waves (for most of this time, my stomach was still on the mend from my battle with food poisoning in Kochi, so some of us enjoyed the food a bit more than others… but, that’s not really the point. Still, I will accept e-sympathy cards if you would like to send them my way). Aside from soaking up the sun and waves, Hannah and I also had the chance to embrace the hippie culture in Goa, but attending yoga in an outdoor studio run by a dutch guy with long dreads and small photo shrine to Shiva, and the three of us spent the day at a giant local flea market where I got some shiny, fake gold ankle bracelets, so I could walk around feeling like an Indian princess.

Top Beach: The top beach award goes to Mandren Beach. This beach in the north was calm and peaceful without any vendors. A deep sand area carved out by the water also created a sort of calm ocean water lake beside the crashing waves, which means the three of us could sit in the warm ocean water and tan, without being smashed in the face by waves while trying to keep Bob upright in the water- a big bonus in an area where the waves seem to get pretty hectic.

Smile moment: My last story was about some not-so-understanding people at the airport, so I thought I would counter that with some good people. While on our trip, despite having lots of accessibility issues, and some lots of misunderstanding about disabilities in general, we have also found that people are often very kind and helpful to us. One moment that highlighted that was when we were trying to get over to Mandren beach. To get from the road to the beach, we had to pull the chair through a long path of thick dirt and sand, then carry it down lots of stairs, and drag it across the beach sand to an umbrella by the water. That day, two young guys helped us get there and back, without asking for a tip, and at the end even smiled and waved us off, saying “see you tomorrow”. And I know, they happily would have helped us all over again had we returned the following day. 🙂

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Where?: Dehli, India

Overview: We spent just a few days in Dehli, but it was enough time to see the main tourist sights and most importantly to celebrate Holi! Rather than just list all of the tourist sites we hit, check out the captions on the photo reel below to see them for yourself!

Highlight:The highlight of our time in Dehli was definitely Holi. Holi is a hindu festival that people celebrate by throwing and smearing each other with bright powdery colors. The three of us got inexpensive white shirts for the occasion, so we could show off all the colors (and not worry about ruining our clothes). During the morning, we first grabbed some breakfast at a nearby hotel and cafe where we met a Swedish photographer who had been in the country going traveling to the biggest “Holi” celebration sites and snapping pictures for a week- he told us all kinds of cool stories and showed us some pictures, getting us excited for the day ahead. Afterwards, we grabbed our bags of colors and took a lap around the nearby area, smearing colors on the faces of people nearby and getting color scrubbed onto our foreheads and hair in return. Kids also ran around shooting water guns, and people tossed water balloons from rooftops. However, as it neared midday, the men in the streets became visibly drunker, women were basically nonexistent in the streets, and despite being a busy area in broad daylight with with plenty of police presence, it became clear that wandering around the streets was no longer a safe place to be if we didn’t want to be groped by creepy men. So, we retreated to our hotel and watched from our stairway where we met three people from the UK, who planned to spend the afternoon at the same music festival as us. The music festival had live performances, food stands, and buckets full of colors to throw. It was filled with foreigners, women, and children, and we knew we made the right choice. People all seemed thrilled to see a man in a wheelchair there and would excitedly say hello; at one point, a group of men even hoisted Bob’s chair up in the air and he danced and cheered from above the crowd. The crowd surfing moment served to make Bob, essentially a local celebrity that everyone wanted to meet and say hello to [basically, it was a best case scenario for our narcissistic friend ;)].

**Highlight within a highlight: Many people we met referred to the day of partying and color smearing as “playing the Holi” or “playing Holi,” which we loved. Grown men would excitedly describe their plans to “play the Holi” and in the days after, when Hannah and my hair was still died from the colors, people would say to us, “I see you played the Holi!”

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Where?: Jaipur, India

Overview: On our last night in Dehli, we were met by Bob’s college friend, Jeff, and his girlfriend, Becky. the following morning, all 5 of us took off for a trip to Jaipur, Agra, and back to Dehli (a trip called the Golden triangle). The car rides mostly consisted of us posing our most challenging medical questions to Becky, a doctor specializing in travel medicine and infectious diseases, and putting up with stories of Bob and Jeff’s previous travels. However, our time in the city, filled with cool forts and castles, is again best told with accompanying pictures, so check ‘em out below!

Highlight: We all got to ride elephants!

Call for Help to Any Friends Living Near the University of Cambridge!!!: The current King of Jaipur attends Cambridge. I am in need of assistance in contacting him, as I would like to be a queen. Thank you.

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Where?: Agra, India

Overview: Agra was the second city on our trip with Jeff and Becky. The city is best known for the Taj Mahal, but it is also home to the Agra Fort, where the king who built the Taj Mahal lived, and Fatehpur Sikri, a small, walled-in, ancient city filled with ornate sandstone buildings and a mosque.

Highlight: The obvious highlight of Agra was seeing the Taj Mahal, which is truly spectacular. But, because of our fantastic tour guide, Agra fort came in a close second. Our smiley tour guide not only showed us around the fort, but he told us all about his arranged marriage (people have told us that in India, around 70 percent of people still have an arranged marriage, and 30 percent have “love marriages”’ people claim the arranged marriages actually last better, because they have the full support of both families, who will help, and asking questions to us (such as if it was true that men can marry other men and women can marry women is America, if people can live together unmarried, and if our family and town would be okay with us remaining unmarried, or if there was a lot of social pressure to be married like in India.

**Story time!

Since I found it interesting, I thought I would share a bit of this man’s marriage story with you (note: major paraphrasing is about to happen, but I am trying to stay true to the story as best I can!).

He says that a man, a sort of matchmaker, had somehow met him while he was studying history in Agra, and essentially thought he was a good catch. So, he informed a family that had a daughter that he knew in Dehli, that he knew a young man that could marry their daughter, and they should act quickly, because he is just a study now, but once he gets a job, his dowry price could skyrocket. When both parties seemed like they may be interested in finding partners for their children, the boys family sent about 20 members to the girls home in Dehli (the young man planning to be married, was not allowed. While he said it was not appropriate for him to ask if she was beautiful, especially to his father, uncles, or older brothers, he was able to get some info. from his younger brother-in-law that she was. When his family was happy, her family then sent a larger party, around 50 people, to his house. He said got all dressed up, and his mom told him to be quiet and not answer anything beyond the question that was asked so he didn’t screw it up. Both families decided they were happy with the match, and a wedding was planned. He said there was a bit of time before the actual marriage happened, because, while a man’s family would be fine marrying right away, the woman’s family needs to come up with the dowry. In his case, the dowry not only included money to the man’s family, but also a TV, and other items to furnish the new couples home. I can’t remember the exact details, but i believe in their case, the wedding was the first time they met. He said it was a beautiful wedding with hundreds of guests (he said because extended families are often close in India, weddings are always big), and everyone partied all night. However, he said that his wife cried the entire time, and continued to cry for two more weeks. Not knowing what to do, he called his mother-in-law, and who told him to send her back home for two weeks, giving her more time to adjust. When he called to come get her, she wanted more time; after over a month, the mother finally had to give her daughter some tough love, and tell her she had to start her new life as a wife. He said that some men would become angry at their wives if they cried like she did, but he knew that leaving home was hard for her, so he was understanding. Though, to this day, he says his own mother and family do not know that he allowed to go back to her own home for a month. After she came back home with him, our guide told us, she actually didn’t talk to him for the first 4 months of their marriage! Despite the rough start, he tells us that he and his wife are very much in love now. He spoke adoringly of his wife, now married for 8 years, and two young children, even showing us pictures, and seemed to laugh recalling that early difficult period. This is just one story of many, vastly different stories of arranged marriages in India, but I thought it offered a unique glimpse into the marriage culture in India.
-Taj Mahal, Agra Fort (cool guide who told us all about his arranged marriage and asked us Qs about US); fahtepor sikri (spell?)
Highlight: Taj Mahal

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Where?: Mumbai, India

Overview: Mumbai seemed to be more what I pictured India to be. It is a large, bustling city, filled with a wide variety of people in clothing ranging from typical American styles, down to screen printed “New York” t-shirts, to the lungis, sarees, and salwar camise’s more traditional of India. The traffic is horrible (though, even so, the smog here did not remotely compare to Nairobi, and especially not Kathmandu). Though there seem to be few beggers, as we were told to expect in India, there are homeless people laying in the streets (as you similarly find in major US cities), as well as many people with small food or knick-knack selling stands along the crowded sidewalks. While we were there, we went to see a large memorial, where countless people asked for a picture with us (a common occurrence almost everywhere we go as white Americans traveling through Africa and southern Asia, and a request we find difficult to turn down when girls, older women, or small children are the ones who want to be in the photo). We also stopped by a market and perused the many gold shops, went to a Bollywood movie and even decided to take a tour of one of the slums.

Highlight: While tourism through slums, or other such tours where people and their homes are the “attraction” and western tourists are paraded through to snap pictures, can certainly be a touchy issue, I also think that when it is done right, it can be beneficial for both parties. In our case, we chose a company where the tour guide was a university student who lives in the Dharavi slum. The part time job giving tours helps him to pay for school, where he is studying finance. He, and the company, also viewed to tours as a way to get rid of the misinformation that many people have about many slums- as places that are merely sad, crime ridden, etc. and to expand people’s thinking of what a slum is- namely, that is not just a subject for sympathy, but a place where people live and make a living; there is also happiness and productivity in the slum. Much of the tour focused around bringing us to local business areas- such as an area that does leather work, and has even recently started up their own Dharavi brand, and to an area that recycles plastics. Because of these businesses, they explained that there are even some very rich people (the owners of leather or recycling production)- some even millionaires- that live in the slum. Getting the chance to see, meet, and talk in person with people who live in a slum can be a powerful way to challenge our narrow perception of what slum life is, and I am personally so glad we made the decision to go.
*Special side note: the company was awesome in taking on the challenge of allowing Bob to go on the tour, and finding ways to use a car, and some alternate paths, to make the tour work despite the narrow dirt roads, they initially though may be too difficult for a wheelchair to navigate.
Fun facts:

• Our driver for the tour was the uncle of the young boy in the new Oscar nominated movie “Lion” (the little boy actually lives in a Mumbai slum).
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• Dharavi slum (where we did our tour) was the site of the slum scenes in the movie “Slumdog Millionaire”
  • Our guides, however, said they weren’t fans of either movie, as they paint a very sad, one sided picture or slum life. When asked for a good movie about India, they suggested “My Name is Khan,” which is a 2010 Indian drama that tells the story of an Indian muslim man who travels across the country to meet with president Obama.

Our first Bollywood Experience:
We headed to a large Mumbai theater to see “Badrinath Ki Dulhania,” a Bollywood movie about a strong-headed, educated, modern woman, and a traditional, masculine man, who fall in love. Before the show starts, as a part of a law in India, everyone stands while the national anthem plays and a giant waving flag plays on the screen. Before this particular movie, in place of the “No animals were harmed in the making of this movie” warning, a warning popped up stating that the production company does not support the practice of Dowry and supports section 498 of the Indian Penal Code protecting against dowry harassment- the first time we were made aware that the practice of dowries is actually illegal in India (this was later confirmed by the head of our tour company, who said that people sometimes use other language such as referring to it as a “gift,” and that the police generally don’t enforce it.) The movie was all in Hindi, but we still enjoyed the singing, dancing, and bright colors of the movie. It also didn’t prevent us from following the basic plot- which we later confirmed by a google search and by questioning some other hindi speakers who had seen the movie- which, as far as its statement on women’s right seemed questionable at best. Essentially, the movie opens by describing baby boys as an asset, and baby girls as a liability. Then showing a family cheering the birth of a boy, and crying at the birth of a girl. The first have of the movie, follows a standard jock-boy gets smart, beautiful girl to fall for him plot of just about every teenage rom-com. But, just before intermission (yep! There is an intermission; while in Sri Lanka, Hannah and I also went to a movie, and were totally confused when the screen abruptly went black, so we were more prepared this time), the boy is left at the altar, as the girl decides to leave the country to pursue a job as a flight attendant in Singapore instead. When the movie resumes, the boy tracks her down in Singapore, seems to stalk her, throw her in a trunk, and otherwise harass her. We were assured by others, because we cannot understand what she says, that she was upset with this. But, nonetheless, she clearly bails him out from the police, lets him stay with her, and eventually falls in love and marries him. Asking our guide the following day, he seemed to feel it was justified because he was angry with her for embarrassing him at the wedding, and that, he comes from a traditional family, but he does learn how to treat her well. The point is, I have very mixed emotions about my first Bollywood experience, but, that being said, if any of you are Bollywood fans, and have some suggestions for me that might change my mood, I am down to give it a second shot!
Some final notes and thoughts on this whole arranged marriage thing:

• Though giving dowries is still widely practiced, some men do choose not to accept any money; one of our guides told us that his family is against it, and so neither he or his brother took any major gifts or money when they were married; perhaps, the times are changing, and slowly, women will be less of a burden to families in India.
• Love marriages do happen! In Mumbai, a large, progressive city, some people we met estimated that around 40-50 percent of young people now have so-called “love” marriages. Our 18 year old slum tour guide also said that many young people will go out on dates, and just not tell their parents (if they fall in love, they may then try to convince their parents to allow them to marry).
  In cases where people have trouble finding a match (perhaps because they are a bit older- which may cause speculation that they are a bad match [why haven’t they married yet!], or have a questionable family [what?! their first child ran off in a love marriage!], people can use the power of the internet! Apparently there are sites families can use to help arrange a good marriage.
• The amount that the couple knows each other, gets to spend time together before the wedding, or gets to be a part of choosing their own partner seems to vary widely on the family, religion, and area of India. Sometimes, marriages could be arranged from when the children are very young, and it could even be a person they knew growing up other times, a person may be older and might help the family in looking through potential partners online. Sometimes they do not meet at all before the wedding, sometimes they meet a few times, and get to be an active participant in choosing if they are interested, in other cases, they can go on unlimited dates, unchaperoned, so long as they are already engaged. And there are countless other options in-between.
  Mom, please do not take this as an opportunity to set me up in an arranged marriage. Unless, the man you find is actually a very rich King, then, I’ll think about it.

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Signing off from Myanmar! For those of you who made it all the way to the end of this unbelievably long post- God bless you. May the donuts and flaky croissants in your life be plentiful. ❤

Sri Lanka and The Maldives

Sri Lanka and the Maldives

Sri Lanka

Early (I mean way early because we had an 8am flight and the Colombo airport suggests you arrive 4-5 hours early for your flight) Thursday morning, Bob, Hannah, and I arrived at the Colombo airport to head to India… unfortunately, in the mix of booking all our travel, Bob got a little mixed up and forgot India is one of the countries we have to apply for a Visa in advance. Unable to fly without a visa, we wound up back in Colombo for two days (we have our visas now and fly our tomorrow!). On the plus side, the extra two nights gave me time to post my blog about Sri Lanka and the Maldives before leaving the country. I’m counting it as a victory.

So, Sri Lanka… that’s the little country below India, right?

Yes, Karen, I was just getting around to that. Don’t rush me. Sri Lanka is a largely buddhist country (though with strong hindu and smaller muslim and christian minorities) shaped like a giant teardrop in southern Asia, just below India. From 1983 to 2009 (25 years!) the country was caught up in a civil war between the Sri Lankan government, and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam; or, essentially the Sinhalese majority, and the Tamil speaking, and largely hindu minority, who moved to the country from India in the 2nd century, who felt they were not treated as equals and wanted to create their own separate state within the northern and eastern parts of the country. During the war, the country was riddled with violence. The Tamil Tigers attacked public buses and temples with suicide bombers killing innocent civilians; the Sri Lankan government forces took part in large-scale human rights violations, including murders, kidnappings, and unlawful jailing. An estimated 100,000 people were killed, and another 800,000 displaced.

However, since the end of the conflict in 2009, the country has made a remarkable recovery. It is now safe and open to tourists, so people around the world can marvel at the ornate temples, and ancient ruins that have existed for thousands of years, as well as go on safari to see elephants and leopards, and drink fresh coconuts on the island’s many beaches.

Speaking of beaches…

Christmas in Bentota

Bob, Hannah, and I arrived in Sri Lanka on December 21st, but we hardly settled in at the monastery before we took off again to spend the weekend at the beach for Christmas. Though Bob told Hannah and I we were staying at an inexpensive hotel that had a short drive to the beach, on the morning of Christmas eve, we actually pulled up to a gorgeous resort, where the door to our room opened up directly onto the beach. With Bob’s love for beaches and Hannah’s love of surprises, I almost should have seen this one coming…

We spent the 24-26th hanging on the beach soaking up the sun. Hannah and I became masters of water aerobics and body boarding, and were even visited by santa (aka a thin Sri Lankan man on roller blades in a santa suit with a creepy blushing santa mask).

I promise I saw more of Sri Lanka than a beach resort…

The majority of our stay was spent at St. Sylvester’s monastery in Kandy, with BVC volunteers Gabe and Jon. While Jon and Gabe stayed in the cloistered monastic area with the monks, Hannah, Bob, and I stayed in a guest house just next door, and took our meals in a separate guest dining room. In some ways, this separation did not allow us to get to know the monks as well here as at other monasteries, but it also gave us a lot of freedom, and free time. Bob used this time to actually get to work on his book (most likely just so Hannah and I would stop pestering him). Hannah and I, often accompanied by Jon and Gabe if they weren’t busy with coaching or tutoring, would spend our days heading into Kandy, the city just near by; going for hikes or flying kites; or volunteering at Mother Theresa’s home for “special kids”.

St. Sylvester’s Monastery

To get in to Kandy, you have two options: you can take a tuk tuk (a small three wheeled vehicle that works like a taxi), which costs about 200-400 rupees (with 150 rupees to the dollar thats around $1.30 to $2.60) depending on how good you are at haggling, or you can take the bus, which costs 16 rupees (yep. About 10 cents). The bus is obviously cheaper, but in the mornings and when school gets out it can end up crammed with people all down the center aisle and even hanging out the doors, and since they are unable to maneuver around traffic and have to make stops to let people off are a bit slower; tuk-tuks weave around through crowded two lane roads, making them a bit faster and since they are everywhere, also a bit more convenient. Our usual move was to take a bus into town and tuk-tuk back, but it really depended on the time of day and, during busy times, how much we felt like being crammed up against strangers while awkwardly trying to not to fall into a different strangers lap at every sharp turn (if that amount felt equivalent to $1.50, tuk-tuk it was!). We also always took a tuk-tuk when Bob was coming into town. Getting him into a tuk-tuk was not easy, but we got a system going where the boys would help us life him in, and then his wheel chair would be taken apart and stacked on top of whoever sat next to him.

Tuk-tuk rides with Bob get a little squishy…

Usually when we went into Kandy we had some errands to run, but we always found time to head to the pastry shop to get donuts (which they put frosting on top, and cut open like a bagel to spread more frosting), vegetable roti (a flatbread rolled up around a spicy filling), or vegetable curry filled pastries and to swing into our favorite juice shop, Smiley Fruits, were you could get freshly squeezed juice from almost any local fruit (Mango, papaya, soursop, woodapple…). We would also often go walk around Kandy Lake, where local vendors sold snacks, and offered to let you take pictures with trained monkeys or pythons.

Hannah and I trying our first falooda at Smiley Fruits

However, what Kandy is most known for is the Temple of the Tooth- a large, ornate buddhist temple in the center of Kandy built by the last king of Sri Lanka that houses the only remnant of buddha: his tooth. I visited the temple twice, once with my parents, and once with Bob and Hannah (the temple has a secret back entrance where an elevator has been put in, making it shockingly wheelchair accessible). The temple is over 200 years old and filled with gold leafed flowers, and ornate paintings and carvings. The tooth relic is kept in a special shrine on the second floor, and as the holiest site in Sri Lanka for Buddhists, many will come through every day leaving flowers and flower petals as offerings.

When we weren’t going into Kandy, we would often take a walk up the hill from the monastery. Just above was St. Benedict’s school, where on weekends people from the area would play pickup games of cricket. There would also often be kids up there flying kites, and Hannah and I even purchased our own hand made kite to join in on the fun 🙂 Up the road from the school there was also a buddhist monastery that Father Clement brought us to visit. Father Clement tood us that about 20 years ago the Benedictine and Buddhist monasteries did not get along, but today they are friends and even attend important events at each others monasteries. If we continued a little further up the path, we could hike on the hill behind and look down over Kandy. In the afternoons, we could also join the monks for volleyball at the monastery. Though I am an awful volleyball player, Hannah and I enjoyed playing because it was the main way we got to spend time with and get to know the monks at St. Sylvester’s.

About halfway through our time in Sri Lanka, we started volunteering with the Sisters of Charity just outside of Kandy. Just like the site we volunteered with in Kenya (and many of the Mother Theresa homes), the sisters there cared for children and women with special needs. This site was home to around 50 kids and 30 women. In the mornings, we were able to help out with crafts (painting, coloring, and necklace making), playing with kids in the sensory room, or assisting the physical therapist, followed by helping feed the children lunch. The afternoon was less structured and women and kids seems to wander around without much to do, so if we came then we would just try to play, and talk, and keep the women and children busy (which really mainly consisted of pushing kids around and around on the merry-go-round outside). Not only did Mother Theresa’s offer us a meaningful place to help out, it also was a good way to make some new friends as the site had other volunteers visiting from all over the world.

Exploring Sri Lanka

On a few occasions, we also took trips outside on Kandy. Our first trip was a weekend trip to Sigiriya, Dambulla, and Pollunwara. Since the trip was too far to take a tuk-tuk, this was the one time we actually got Bob on and off public buses (a serious team effort by Hannah, Gabe, Jon, and I, plus some understanding bus drivers). Our first stop, was in Dambulla (about 2 hours away by bus), which is home to a set of buddhist temples made right in the natural rock caves. The temples range from 200 to 1,000 years old that are intricately painting and filled with large statues of buddha. Afterwards, we took about a 30 minute tuk-tuk ride to Sigiriya where all but Bob (he’s not great at walking up stairs it turns out), climbed 1,200 stairs up a steep, rock; at the top you are able to see the remnants of an old palace, and look down on the kingdom below. We took another hour bus ride that night to stay in Pollunwara. In the morning, we hopped in tuk-tuks that brought us through the ancient city. Towards the end, the drivers started making some sneaky phone calls and another driver showed up with already stamped tickets for Bob and I, while Hannah and the boys had to get out of there tuk-tuks and walk through the woods near the exit- turns out our sneaky drivers were making some money on the side by sneaking around the actual entrance and exit and pocketing the ticket money themselves!

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In early January, we had to head to Colombo to extend our visas. While we were there we had to chance to meet up with a group of current and alumni johnnies who live in Colombo! The 11 of us, class of 1994 through class of 2018, met for dinner and had an amazing night laughing, talking, and reminiscing about our school 🙂 The night even included a magic show by a Johnnie named Orlando (who was very popular at SJU for doing magic shows on the 2am link). Since I had heard all about Orlando at CSB/SJU but never actually seen him perform, I could not have been more thrilled. He did not let me down; he put on a show right in the restaurant and even got the waitstaff involved!

Finally, while my parents were in town, we took a trip to the pinnawala elephant orphange. Bob, Hannah, and I had an amazing experience at an orphanage in Kenya where orphaned baby elephants were cared for and then released back into the wild (we even adopted one!), so we had high hopes. However, this orphanage seemed to be far more for tourists benefit than for the elephants- many of the elephants were chained up, they didn’t have much space to roam, and none of them get re-released. Still, it was cool to see elephants up close and we even got a chance to feed one.

The ‘rents

My mom and Todd took their first international flight EVER to come visit me in Sri Lanka [obviously the favorite child ;)]. The two of them stayed in Kandy and I was able to show them around the monastery, sites in Kandy, and Mother Theresa’s. We also took our own day-trip to Sigiriya and Dambulla; for old folks (will I lose favorite child status for that comment??), they not only dominated the 1200 stair climb, but were also troopers about standing on the 2 hour bus ride home when the bus not only had all the seats full, but also had two rows of people squished into the center aisle. We also took a 6 hour train ride over looking the tea plantations to Ella, where we stayed in a guesthouse in the small backpackers town. From Ella, we took a day trip to Udawalawe National Park where we had the chance to see asian elephants, peacocks, crocodiles, and water buffalo. Todd’s only complaint as we drove through elephant filled, protected lands in a safari vehicle was that “it was really bumpy and they should really pave the road”. Aside from taking thousands of pictures at the actual tourist sites, my parents were equally excited to have our tuk-tuk driver stop on the side of the road so they could take pictures of the many monkeys that wander around playing in the trash, and in Todd’s case, taking pictures of the totally unsafe construction going on around town, presumably to take back and show to his other friends working in risk management at Traveler’s Insurance. But, tacky tourists as they were (thank goodness I was able to talk my mom out of her fanny pack!) I was so glad that they were able to visit and experience Sri Lanka with me.

The Maldives

On February 1st, we took off for our Christmas surprise trip to Maafushi island in the Maldives! We flew into the main island, Male, and were met by our “taxi,” a speed boat that would take us to Maafushi. If landing on an island, and boating across an unbelievably blue ocean wasn’t enough, I had the extra satisfaction of discovering that my little sister Sawyer was also at an airport that morning… in North Dakota… wearing 8 layers of clothing with frost on her eyelashes (ahhh… making your siblings jealous will never get old).

This is literally right outside of the Male airport.

We spent our first two days relaxing on the beach and working on our tans, but on our third day all three of us went SCUBA DIVING!! We spent the morning training in the lagoon with the owners of the dive shop, a snarky french man named Marc, and an incredibly kind Maldivian man named Adham, who spent the whole day ensuring Bob had the best possible scuba experience. In the afternoon, we got on a boat and were brought out to dive in the open water. Adham was again paired up with Bob, while Hannah and I were paired up with an 18 year old nicknamed Koko (how crazy is it to be certified as a dive instructor at only 18!). We swam around a reef where we were able to see all kinds of coral and brightly colored fish (I saw Nemo!) and though we weren’t able to dive deep enough to go inside (as newbies we are allowed to go down to 12m), were able to see a shipwreck below us. It was truly incredible!

DCIM100MEDIA

DCIM100MEDIA

The following day, the adventures continued as Hannah and I took a half day snorkeling trip where we were able to see and swim with sea turtles and sting rays! Since Hannah and I were the only ones there not with a significant other or family and made it clear we wanted this to be the fun boat, we definitely got special treatment by the staff- almost all of the go-pro photos they took were of Hannah and I, they took us out separately to show us the best snorkel spots, and invited us to sit up in the front of the boat with them. Everyone else may have a life of love and happiness, but jokes on them because they also have flash drives filled with go-pro photos of Hannah and I having a way better time. (Note the turtle right next to my right arm in the photo :))

Note the turtle next to my right arm 🙂

One of the funniest/ most ridiculous things I think we have done on this trip was when the 3 of us got wind that, though the Maldives is a muslim country where alcohol is illegal, there is a boat just off of Maafushi that has a bar. Not wanting to miss out, the following evening, we transferred Bob into a boat, that taxied us out to another larger boat, and then had Bob carried upstairs on that boat (because the hallways were too small for a wheelchair), all so we could sit for a few hours and laugh about it while drinking exorbitantly priced cocktails with an English guy and a couple from Austria. **Note to future caregivers: NEVER underestimate the lengths that Bob will go to to have a good time and a drink.

On our last full day, Bob decided we were going to make the very most of it. We rented a private boat and two guys took us out for a day of snorkeling in the ocean, watching baby sharks from a sandbar, and hopping to a second sandbar to eat lunch with our toes in the ocean. The two guys who took us out were Maldivians- one didn’t even work for the excursion company, he was a prison guard on the island who just happened to be a good friend. Yet, just like the immense kindness were found scuba diving, the guys took such great care of us, especially Bob. At one point while Hannah and I were out in the water, the prison guard, without being asked, even dug a little hole in the sand for Bob to sit in, buried his feet in the sand, and took photos of him relaxing there. Later, he cleaned up all of our things, taking special care to keep our phones and cameras up high away from the sand and water.

That night, the care and thoughtfulness of the people who live and work there continued when two of the guys we met at the scuba shop invited us to have a Maldivian barbecue. The 22 and 23 year old guys bought all the supplies, then brought us to a little barbecue site where they cooked up the fish and potatoes “Maldivian style”, using coconut shells for charcoal (as a Minnesotan, I struggle to even fathom living in a place where there are so many coconuts, you can jut gets bags filled with the shells for free). Bob, a known seafood snob, had the best fish of the week that night, and we were able to spend the night trading stories about what it is like growing up in snowy Minnesota, and on a small island in the Indian Ocean (their upbringing had a lot more snorkeling, eel bites, and spear fishing than I remember from mine…).

The next day, we woke up early and squeezed in a last swim and paddle board, as well as a final goodbye to the guys at the dive shop, before getting back on our water taxi and flying back to Colombo. Tomorrow (visas in hand this time) we will be flying to India to spend time at the Monastery in Kerala.

Namibia and Cape Town

I think it is best if I start by coming to terms with the fact that my blogs are just not going to be posted in a timely fashion. I feel justified in this late blog posting for two reasons. First, as my last blog post about Africa for a long while (all we have left of the continent is a short stop to see the pyramids in Egypt), it seems fitting that I post it with an extra-helping of “Africa Time”- the laid back, untimeliness I have grown used to the past few months. Second, after 17 years of school, and more on the way when I get back home, this may be the only year I can feel confident that my late posting will not knock me down a letter grade. So, now that I have my conscience cleared, sit back, relax, and enjoy my blog on Namibia and Cape Town. Take all the time you need.

It seems that throughout our travels through Africa, we kept hearing people tell us how beautiful Namibia is- from travelers in Rwanda, to Namibian sisters staying in Tanzania. When we arrived at Inkamana Abbey in South Africa, we met several brothers from Namibia that we really liked, as well as a German couple who, again, told us how beautiful Namibia is. For Bob, it was the final straw. One of the priests helped him make a few calls to the monastery in Namibia, we booked our tickets, and on November 30th, we flew from Durban to Windhoek.

When we arrived in Windhoek, two sisters came to pick us up. One was Namibian, and the other was Filipina, who because the Phillipines was a US territory, spoke American-accented English, and had even traveled to the US and stayed at St. Bens. *cue “It’s a small world after all” theme song* The connection made us instantly feel a bit more at home- a feeling the sisters would make sure we felt our entire stay (even if the searing heat in Namibia felt like anywhere but home sweet MinneSNOWta).

The monastery in Namibia is an international missionary convent, which means the community includes Australian, German, Namibian, Nigerian, Angolan, South African, Tanzanian, Indian, Filipina, and South Korean sisters. On top of the diverse makeup of the sisters, the convent itself was also unique as it was built right into the base of a mountain- rock had actually been blasted away so that the buildings could be situated within the mountain. And this “rock” is not just any average rock, it is actually filled with semi-precious stones, for which Namibia is famous for. As we walked around the monastery, as sister actually showed us how the stones were so prevalent that you could easily crack the sparkling stones out of pieces of crumbling wall that lined their walkways.

Despite studying for a semester in the country just South of Namibia, I really knew very little about the country. Assuming we may be in the same boat, I thought I would share a bit of background. In terms of land mass, Namibia is just larger than Texas, but its population is only about 1/3 that of Minnesota’s, making it one of the lowest population densities in the world. For many years, Namibia was a German territory, and later became a territory of South Africa and the UN. The country didn’t formally gain its independence until 1990. As a result, the country still has a large german population and german architecture, as well as racially segregated locations that still exist as a remnant of South African apartheid rule (and continue to exist as they do in South Africa as a result of poverty). While the country has many tribal languages, as well as german and afrikaans speakers, a provision of Namibia’s freedom was that all of the schools switched to English, to do away with the Afrikaans that was spoken and enforced by the apartheid government, which means we were able to travel and communicate easily during our stay.

In our first few days there, the sisters, who are considered semi-cloistered, made a special exception to let us tour around the convent, including sending Hannah and I with a novice to hike up to the top of their mountain. They also took us into Windhoek to tour the city. The tour was thorough. We got to tour the private hospital run by the sisters, where we even got to sit and speak with a physical therapist, visits a large national monument to their liberation from South Africa, drive out to the surrounding locations and squatter camps, and, as any good christian does during the holiday season, we even made our way to the mall to get a picture with Santa.

 

In our first days, Bob Bell et. al. was also granted our very first, non-tour, hospital visit when Hannah was stung by a scorpion. Unsure if the scorpion was dangerously poisonous, Hannah was rushed off to the hospital we had visited just a day prior (of course, when it first happened I didn’t believe her, and mostly found the whole situation humorous, so had this been serious, theres a chance we wouldn’t have made it in time. But hey, if I was great in life threatening situations, I would have chosen to be an ER doctor, not a physical therapist…) However, I wasn’t entirely useless, because in order to determine if she had in fact been bitten by a deadly scorpion, we had to catch it, and bring it in to the hospital. So, while Hannah was jumping into the car, two nuns and I went back to her room armed with a small jar, a stick, and a can of bug spray. After some hopping around on Hannah’s furniture, batting at the little guy with a stick, and, largely ineffectively, trying to spray the scorp. into submission, we managed to kill it and get it into a jar. At the end of the day, Hannah was just fine, as we left with a great story, and a tiny scorpion keepsake.

While we were certainly all happy that Hannah was fine for her ownsake, we were also pretty jazzed that it meant we wouldn’t have to cancel our trip to Sossusvlei the next day (Sorry Han, it is what it is). From Windhoek, the drive up to the Namib desert region famous for its massive, ancient sand dunes took about six hours. We arrived just in time to settle into our room and head out on a game drive. The owner of the hotel owns and breeds zebra, giraffe, springbok and oryx (apparently this is a normal hobby in Namibia…). I was mainly just surprised at how casually he explained that oryx are actually the money makers, and that giraffe are relatively inexpensive. You can buy your own for about $2,000 (Now we all know where my first real paychecks are going #FiscalResponsibility). Over time, our guide has slowly gotten his animals accustomed to humans, which means we got to sit about 15 feet from a herd of Oryx with massive horns, sipping wine and snacking on cheese and biltong. Just another one of the casual, everyday experiences of this trip.

 

The following day, we headed out early for the sand dunes. Some of the dunes are more than 1,000 feet tall, and are composed of 5 million year old sands. Hannah and I hiked up two of the dunes Yep. 1,000 feet up, with our feet sinking in with every step. It’s about as easy as it sounds. But the trudge up to the top was well worth the amazing view from the top, as golden sand dunes stretch out in every direction. Running, rolling and squishing our way down the dune wasn’t too bad either :). At the bottom of the second dune we climbed was an area known as Deadvlei where the orange sand is replaced by icy looking white clay and salt. and large dead trees with drooping branches. It looks so surreal, you almost expect to step off of the hot sand and onto thick ice. It may sound funny, but it truly is difficult to express how beautiful dead trees standing in a thick crust of salt are, especially when you turn in any direction to see looming orange sand dunes, and blue skies. If you ever looking for a an amazing, unique place to visit, I would consider putting the Namib Desert on your list. You could even do it fairly inexpensively if you choose to rough it at a campsite. The official Piper Stamp of Approval promises you won’t regret it (no money back guarantees; I have yet to hold an actual adult occupation).

After taking in the phenomenal views up north, we rejoined the sisters in Windhoek, where we arrived just in time to help spread some holiday cheer. Along with several of the postulants and novices, we helped pack up bags of donated clothing. The next day, we joined a group of sisters to visit Okajandia Park, a nearby squatter area where we decorated, sang christmas carols, handed out bags of clothing to around 30 families, and distributed small bags of toys and candies to the kids. Afterwards, I sat down with Bob and explained to him that giving to others, and spreading joy was what the Christmas season is truly about, not pictures with the Windhoek mall Santa. [And the grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day <3. ~Dr. Seuss ;)]

With only a short time left, we crammed our last days in Namibia with as much touristy attractions as possible. We started by spending a day with Sister Angeline, where we headed to a museum on Namibian tribes, history, and animals, followed by a trip to a local market. One of the things that never ceases to amaze me is the mix of tribal culture and customs, with modern western lifestyles that you find in African cities. As we walked through the market, there, in the midst of a large city filled with businessmen in suits bustling in and out of office buildings, sat Himba women, in traditional clothing- topless, with small skirts, and red clay caked in their hair. The women had likely come down from their rural homes in the north to make some money selling traditional jewelry. As we drove back home, we also spotted several Herrera women, who still dress in large Victorian style dresses and headscarfs- a remnant of customs brought to them by early settlers in Namibia.

Early the next afternoon, Father Max, a priest we met in South Africa, who had already been on the road for days, followed through on the spur of the moment promise we made us when we met at the Inkamana Abbey that he would show us the Namibian coast. Father Max is has a thick South African accent, is wildly animated, and could probably sit and talk to you about nearly any topic for 48 hours straight. Aside from a short nap he took at the beach, that is exactly what he proceeded to do for the next two days- and we loved it! Our first stop was at his monastery in Waldfrieden, where Fr. Max stays with just a handful of other brothers. We stayed over night there and then continued on to Swakopmund. Swakopmund is like a little Germany on the Namibian coast. We joined three elderly German sisters there for lunch, and then headed to the beach, where Hannah and I fueled a caffeine/ sugar rush with coffees and double scoop ice creams. Our next stop was Walvis Bay, where we not only got to see flamingos, but as Fr. Max repeated relentlessly “is the only place in the world where the desert and the sea are separated by a highway.” We parked our car on the highway in between, climbed up the sand dune overlooking the ocean, and rolled down the other side. From a distance, you would be hard-pressed to guess if we were college graduates or kindergartners- sometimes thats exactly as it should be.

We arrived back to the convent in Windhoek late that night where the sisters had waited up for us with dinner. The following morning, Fr. Max and Sister Remedios not only brought us to the airport, but hugged us and escorted us right up to the ticket counter, where we checked in to our flight to Cape Town. You heard it here first: if you want to leave a trip with a great tan, head to the beach. But, if you want to leave feeling totally loved and cared for, go visit Benedictine sisters.

CAPE TOWN

Since I have been to Cape Town once before, and South Africa made our travel list in large part because of me, I became the de facto travel planner. The resulting false travel agency that Bob joked about all trip, Winnie’s Wishes, received 5 stars on TripAdvisor. Here’s a look at our trip 🙂

Winnie’s Wishes: Travel Agent and Planning Guru

**Making your Cape Town dream vacation a reality.™**

Below you will find an itinerary and promotional pictures of the exclusive Cape Town dream trip.

**Winnie is a trademark nickname of Bob Bell enterprises. All rights reserved.

(Poor writing quality and bad jokes are brought to you by a slow sugar crash following the consumption of my entire Christmas stocking).

Day 1:

-Check into cool backpackers, and then head straight to Table Mountain! The cable car makes mountain climbing wheelchair friendly, and they even have a restaurant at the top 🙂

• Finish the night off with a Wandile Mbambeni concert at Blah Blah Bar.
  • Exclusive perks: also get to meet other cool rappers, DJs, and singers.
  • If you pretend you flew all the way from the US for this (*cough* Bob Bell) you may even be asked to give a video shout out.

Day 2:

-Despite endless warnings not to go to the beach on Reconciliation Day due to crowding, go anyways 🙂 The crowds aren’t so bad and the white sand will impress even the biggest beach snobs (*cough* Bob Bell). Beware though, the water is even colder than people say- be prepared to lose feeling in your toes!

-At night, relive your college glory days by winning the backpacker beer pong competition, and follow it up with a night on the town.

Day 3:

–Hop on a ferry to Robben Island. Learn about South Africans struggle to end Apartheid rule from an actual Robben Island political prisoner and see the cell where Nelson Mandela spent 18 of his 27 years prison sentence, as well as the spot in the courtyard where he hid the manuscript for his famous memoir Long Walk to Freedom.

-Head back to the Waterfront for seafood and wine.

Day 4:

-Scratch plans to head to Boulder’s Beach to see penguins- it’s way too far! Instead, hit up the aquarium for penguin feeding time. It’s not quite the same, but you’ll save yourself a long drive.

-Catch an Uber over to Gugulethu township for an official Braai experience at GQ (I could type out the full name, but lets face it, you can’t do the Xhosa click). My amazing friend Bathini will help you pick just the right meats, and even bring you back to her house and for a tour around the area free of charge 🙂 The night promises amazing food, great friends, and long conversations.

**Added bonus, Bathini’s 3 year old nephew just got a kitten. Toddlers and kittens- it’s adorable. Nothing more needs to be said.

Day 5:

-Wrap up your trip with a trip to Stellenbosch. Waterford Estate offers a full wine and chocolate tasting, with 7 glasses of wine.

*pro tip: if your cab takes too long, they’ll give you an extra glass of win for free while you wait for it to come.

That’s a wrap! Our time in Eastern and Southern Africa has come to a close. On the 21st we landed in Sri Lanka where we are staying at a monastery in Kandy. We are sad to leave Africa, but are looking forward to new adventures and new foods! And, in just a two weeks, my mom and Todd will be flying out for the week. We are all anxiously awaiting their arrival 🙂 Please pray their flight has no turbulence, lest the poor soul who sits next to my mom will likely looks circulation to their arm.

With Love, From South Africa (Inkamana and PE)

After soaking up the sun in Mauritius, Bob and I flew to Durban and met up back up with Hannah. We hoped to have a few more days of nice beach weather in Durban before heading to the monastery, but unfortunately for us (yet, very fortunate for the area that has been in a severe drought), we had mostly cloudy skies and rain during our stay in Durban. Even so, it was fun to explore a new city, and I was happy to have Hannah back, especially since she came with a bag full of goodies from home (Thanks, Mom!).

We didn’t get sun until the morning we were leaving 😦 But, at least we got a picture on the beach!

After a few days along the ocean, Brother Bernard, an 81 year old german missionary who has been a brother in South Africa since 1952, came and picked us up and brought us to Inkamana Abbey. The monastery of missionary Benedictines has about 20 monks living there who come from all over the world (South Africa, Namibia, Malawi, India, Germany…). While we were there we also met a couple from Germany who comes to volunteer twice a year, and got to hangout with the awesome kitchen staff! However, I only had a few days to get settled before I was off again, to spend a week in Port Elizabeth, the South African city I studied abroad in 2 years ago.

I flew into PE on Wednesday morning and stayed until the following Tuesday. It was a short trip (seemingly made shorter by the food poisoning I was hit with my second day in town), but it gave me just enough time to revisit some of my favorite people and places. I had a chance to meet up with some of the players and the coaches from the NMMU Madibaz soccer team, spend an afternoon Braaiing with friends, go back to Missionvale Care Center and Ben Sinuka Primary- two of the sites where I volunteered, and, of course, revisit some favorite bars and dinner spots with friends. When I arrived at Missionvale, one of the staff members, Candice, who is about my age whom our group became friends with on our visit, didn’t know I was coming back. She spotted me walking around the care center and just stared at me from afar. When she realized it was actually me, she came running to say hello. Similarly, when I went back to Ben Sinuka, I wasn’t sure the little girl I had tutored would remember me, but sure enough, she did and she ran and gave me a giant hug, and gave me a picture she drew before I left. I was so glad that I was able to make the trip back and see everyone, if for just a week. [And to the rest of my study abroad group, everywhere I went people would ask when the rest of you are coming back, so it looks like it’s time to start scheduling your trips! ;)]

When, I arrived back in Vryheid after my brief adventure in PE, the days were busy and flew by quickly. On the Thursday after I returned it was Thanksgiving, as well as the Inkamana High School’s matric dinner. Hannah and I spent the day in the kitchen helping the chefs prepare both meals. For lunch, the cooks made chicken, mashed potatoes, carrots, and gravy, which we supplemented with stuffing, potatoes, and gravy from a box that Hannah brought back from home, and a few bottles of wine. We shared the meal with the kitchen staff and a few brothers, who were all excited to celebrate Thanksgiving with us. While it was different being away from home, my Thanksgiving in South Africa will be one I will never forget. After lunch, the cooking continued as staff whipped up a feast for the graduating boarding school students on their final night. The Inkamana school is extremely selective and has a 100 percent passing rate; the entire graduating class (around 30 students) will be headed to university next year. Lucky for us, this tremendous accomplishment was celebrated with kabobs, cheesy pastry puffs, and cheesecakes! So don’t worry, Grandma- I had more than enough good food to eat this Thanksgiving!

We gave ourselves Friday to rest and sleep off our turkey, and on Saturday, Father Boniface and Sister Alberta took Hannah, Bob, and I out to visit the Benedictine sisters in Twasana and to the Ngombe Marion Shrine. One of the sisters in Twasana makes her own wines, so despite the fact that it was only 10am we got to have a wine tasting of her unique creations- including beetroot wine, carrot wine, and callendula herbs and aloe wine. With two bottles of wine, and two jars of homemade jam in hand, we left the sisters and continued on to the Ngombe Marion shrine. The shrine include a very small chapel located where the sister saw Mary with a tabernacle, a larger chapel to accommodate the large number of guests that travel there each year, and a pathway that leads down to a stream. The site is said to be where seven streams meet, and the water is believed to have healing properties. The small chapel is filled with accounts of people who prayed to Mary, and drank water from the shrine and were inexplicable healed of tumors, asthma, and other ailments. Down by the water we placed our hands in the running water while Father Boniface touched our foreheads and gave us a blessing. We also splashed the water onto Bob, and he drank some that was offered to him by Sister Alberta- as of yet he is still bald, but your continued prayers are appreciated. We left with three large bottles of the water, which Hannah and I attempted to balance on our heads, while Fr. Bonfiace and S. Alberta tag-teamed pushing Bob back up to our car.

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The following day, we hit the road with Fr. Godfrey, an elderly German monk and former Abbot of Inkamana to see the town of Vryheid and the surrounding townships. During apartheid in South Africa, everyone was segregated by race, and thus surrounding every city in South Africa are black townships and colored (a term used in South Africa for individuals of mixed race) townships. Though apartheid officially ended over 20 years ago, and legally, people are allowed to move, the townships still remain as poverty prevents most families from moving elsewhere. However, though Godfrey explained that it has been very slow, largely because of government corruption, there are signs of some improvement in housing and mobility for people living around Vryheid. Fr. Godfrey noted that the townships are now filled primarily with “Mandela Houses” or cement government houses, rather than tin shacks, and a good number of families have made additions to the houses- building on extra rooms, or adding a large fence. He showed us some areas of the colored township where many black families have moved in, because the homes are nicer, but still far less expensive than moving into the city. He also brought us by a poor slum area, that he told us used to be crippled by crime and AIDS; it was a place he told us how he often came to do funerals. But now, the area has only two homes left, as a new township full of government houses has been created, and the squatters in that slum area have been moved out into better housing.

It is certainly not just the government that has been helping in that area, though. It seemed that everywhere we went people ran up to the car to excitedly welcome Fr. Godfrey, who had been a parish priest in the area. One of the homes Fr. Godfrey brought us to visit, was one that the monastery donated to a woman and her children who used to live in that slum area. At another home, a grandmother was distraught as she had taken in her young grandson after her daughters death, but the child’s father, nor the government were contributing (her daughter was a police officer, and was supposed to receive benefits for her child in the case of her death). She was unable to pay for the boy’s school fees. A few days later, Godfrey informed us that when he went to the school to pay for the child’s school fees, the principal told him they had already paid. The other parishioners at her small township church had already come together and paid the school fees for the previous year. Since Godfrey had the money, he went ahead and paid for the coming year for the child, so the boys grandmother no longer had to worry that her grandson would be kicked out of school. All together, the two years cost less than $200, but it was a great sum of money to that family, and an amazing gesture that the people from her church came together to pay it for her.

Our finals two days at Inkamana were a bit more relaxed. On our second to last day, Sister Alberta took Hannah and I for a girls day. We got pizza, went to Natal Spa, a natural hot springs just outside of Vryheid, and finished off the day with ice cream cones. In response to the question that everyone seems to wonder, she did ditch the habit and veil in favor of a modest one piece swimsuit with leggings underneath and shorts on top, to hop in the pool. She found the fact that everyone seemed to think she could never take off her habit or veil quite humorous.

The last full day, Hannah and I tagged along with Fr. Boniface to run errands around town. As his last stop, we ended up at “The Zulu Shop” where we met Sister Alberta. They told us to pick out something special to remember our time in South Africa, and despite our insistence that we didn’t need so much, they got Hannah and I both a necklace, headband, and bracelet, and a traditional shirt for Bob. We wore our new gear to dinner that night, and again in the morning as we hopped in the car and waved goodbye.

For the next two weeks, the three of us will be roasting under the Namibian sun, before heading back to South Africa to enjoy a few days in Cape Town.

Zambian Monks and Mauritian Sun

As the trip goes on, it seems harder and harder to take a time out to blog about my experiences. But, if nothing else, this rainy day here in Durban, SA has given me a day to update you all on my experiences over the last month.

Last time I posted, we had just finished an adrenaline packed week in Livingstone.
After our wild week, Hannah, Bob, and I headed down to Katibunga, the Benedictine Monastery in Zambia that is home to 35 monks and, for the next year, BVC volunteers Rob and Michael.

Our experience in Katibunga was a bit different from our previous monastery stays, because instead of staying in a guest house, we lived and ate all our meals with the monks. Since Pat and Phil decided to come down and check out the Zambian monastery as well before heading back to their sites in Tanzania, we had a bit of a Bennie/ Johnnie take-over for the first few days. Rob and Michael helped show all of us around- including a introduction to the local beers and best places for hiking and sunset watching.

After Phil and Pat hopped on a bus back to Imiliwaha and Hanga, Hannah and I tried to get back into the monastery and BVC life. Our first undertaking, with Michael’s help, was to reorganize the medications and supplies at the monastery clinic. Katibunga currently has a small clinic a short walking distance from the monastery, as well as another room attached to the monastery where medications are kept. With no rooms for patients to stay, and only one community healthcare worker and one brother currently in nursing school on staff, the clinic is only able to provide very basic medical care for the time being. However, the monastery is working to raise money to complete a larger clinic, with many patient rooms, that they began construction on several years ago, as well as money for a clinic car that could be used to drive patients to the government clinic about 20 minutes away, or in more serious cases, to the hospital about one hour away. They seem to have donors from Germany helping them to reach their goal, and we are hopeful that the small clinic will have the staff, equipment, and space to be registered by the government and provide essential care to their community in the next several years.

Hannah and I also had to opportunity to witness the awesome work that volunteers Michael and Rob are doing at Katibunga. For both of them, their primary roles are teaching at the local public secondary school, and offering classes to the candidates and novices at the monastery. Large class sizes (sometimes filled with as many as 60 students!), few materials, a very wide range of abilities and english proficiency, and a school system in which the only thing that matters for students is passing large tests at the end of the semester, thus making daily grades irrelevant and giving teachers few options to incentivize learning, make the job they have been given for the year no easy task. Still, we were impressed with the effort and enthusiasm both volunteers brought to the classroom. Michael even brought cookies into class one day for a biology lesson on digestion- who can resist paying attention when the lesson involved snacks!

When we weren’t hiking the nearby hills, or tagging along to Rob or Michel’s classes, Hannah and I spent time cooking or just hanging out with the monks at Katibunga. Many of the brothers in Katibunga are only in their 20s or 30s (one young postulant is only 19). Habit or not, these are young guys who liked to joke around, and have a good time.
One day, Hannah and I spent the afternoon making chapati with Ignatius. Chapati was one of my favorite foods from Kenya and Tanzania, and while not as popular in Zambia, Ignatius had learned how to make it while in Kenya as a part of the Brothers of Mother Theresa. If that rings a bell, its because it is because those are the brothers in Kenya that run the soup kitchen Hannah, Bob, and I volunteered with, and that host Lenore’s art session with the street kids there. Ignatius actually left the Brothers of Mother Theresa in Nairobi to join the Benedictines in Katibunga only a few months before we arrived in Nairobi ourselves (small world!). On request that we make something American for dinner one night, and with few available ingredients, we also whipped up grilled cheese for the whole monastery one evening (per their suggestion, we also made ground pork that night by physically putting the meat through a hand cranked meat grinder). The monks loved them! During the day, many of the brothers would also head out to play pick up games of soccer with other young men in the community. We would head down in the afternoons some days to watch the games, and occasionally even join in. My endurance and ball handling were not quite up to par with the guys who head out and play every day- especially on that hard, dirt field, but even so, we had a blast! In a real testament to both their hospitality and fun loving spirit, on our last night in Katibunga they threw us a going away party complete with giant speakers blaring Justin Beiber songs and dance-offs in the dining room.

Heading into our stay in Zambia, we truly had no idea what to expect, and truth be told, we weren’t certain if the small monastery could stack up against our amazing experiences in Nairobi, Imiliwaha, or Hanga. However, as we drove away, we couldn’t stop talking about the wonderful time we had had there. Though the monastery even initially a stop we planned to make, we are all so glad we paid a visit.
Beachside paradise (Two weeks in Mauritius)

At the end of our stay in Zambia, Hannah headed home for two weeks for her brother’s wedding, so Bob and I decided to take a jealousy inducing trip to Mauritius. We flew into the island of Mauritius and spent our days soaking up the sun, oceanside. Bob and I both spent time floating around in the warm salt water and tried our hand at kayaking. I also went out paddle boarding many days, and got a lesson in kite surfing. While we were there, we also got the chance to check out the light festival, Diwali, during which people elaborately light up their homes in candles and Christmas lights.

One highlight of the trip was meeting another quadriplegic, Tommy, who was staying at our resort. His injury is very similar to Bob’s and he was injured just three years later than Bob. With some encouragement, Bob got Tommy to join him in the ocean (his first time in the ocean since his injury!). The two floated around, and then sat up in the shallow water and shared a few beers. Later in the trip, they also both got down on the dance floor and showed off their moves. It was great to see not only how Bob was able to encourage Tommy to get out of his comfort zone a bit, but also how both of them showed the rest of the resort how their disability does not hold them back. 🙂

The final major highlight of the trip was when Bob and I took a trip… SCUBA DIVING! Bob initially called to sign me up for the trip, but the woman working said they had taken two other people in wheelchairs out before, so Bob signed up too! The man working gave us a little spiel on land, and then with no pool or other training, he took us out in the boat, we popped on our tanks, and in we went! The man who took us down was wonderful and made sure we both had an amazing first diving experience. We spent a half hour under water and were able to see all different kinds of fish and multicolored coral. It was an amazing, breathtaking experience.

On our final day in Mauritius, we woke up and, being 8 hours ahead, watched as election results began to pour in. No American news stations were available in Mauritius, and watching the results on international news just made the results more embarrassing- as the broadcasters would actually announce new states won by Trump as “bad news”. We left our room and carried our bags up to the lobby in a state of shock that Donald Trump would be our next president. Up in the lobby we joined a group of Mauritian hotel staff, as well as a few other guests who had gathered around the TV and Trump gave his victory speech. We were the only Americans at the resort, and it felt like everyones eyes flashed back and forth between us and the screen. One man asked Bob, “are you ready to build a wall?” and another laughed and said, “There is going to be a world war.” This has been a crazy and unheard of election cycle, and in some ways Bob, Hannah, and I have felt like we are misusing out on a very important time in American history as we travel around, but as I am asked by villagers in rural Tanzania what I think of Donald Trump, or watch as Trumps face flashes across local Swahili or Bemba TV stations, I am quickly reminded of what a unique perspective I am gaining by experiencing the US elections from abroad.
Bob, Hannah, and I are now back together again in Durban and take off today for Inkamana, a monastery about 3 hours drive from here. I am so excited to be back to the country I was able to study abroad in a year and a half ago! Here’s to 5 months of travel and our final monastery stay in Africa 🙂

It’s Time for Adventure! (Rwanda & Victoria Falls [Zambia])

RWANDA

We landed in Kigali, Rwanda’s capital city, at around midnight on September 17th. Most of what I knew about the small East African country I had gleaned from the movie Hotel Rwanda (As a side note, the movie actually gives a pretty good overview of Rwanda’s 1994 genocide, and if you have not seen it, I would highly recommend it). Despite what little knowledge I had, I heard the country was beautiful and knew we were headed there to see gorillas, so I was beyond excited. As we left the airport, driving on smoothly paved roads with stop lights and crosswalks more modern than most US cities, overlooking the twinkling lights of Kigali’s city center, I knew I would not be let down.

In the daylight, you see familiar African sights- women in bright colored kangas carrying babies on their back, and street corners with more motorcycles than Sturgis lined up to take people across town, but aside from that, the Kigali seems palpably different from Nairobi or Dar Es Salaam. Though Rwanda is even poorer than Kenya or Tanzania, you wouldn’t notice it driving around Kigali’s main roads. The streets are all smoothly paved and stoplights with countdowns stand at most street corners; the drivers are still a bit unpredictable, but the loud, dense traffic of our previous travels were missing. Likely due in large part of a ban on plastic bags in the country, the streets are not littered with trash, but kept nearly spotless. There also seems to be a larger police presence, which may account for the remarkably fewer number of people begging or hawking goods on street corners. Finally, Rwanda has gained a reputation for being relatively corruption free, making it a hub for business meeting in East Africa. As mzungus (popular African slang term for white people) in Kigali, we hardly stand out; in fact, we were once even asked if we were residents. Yet, on our first day, as we grabbed coffee with a young hotel concierge who happened to mention that he grew up, not here in Kigali, but as a refugee in the Congo, we were reminded of Rwanda’s brutal recent history. A history which makes the current safety and infrastructure of Kigali a remarkable accomplishment.

GENOCIDE

While staying in Rwanda we had a wonderful guide and driver named Enos who was very intelligent and well read, as well as having great English. One night, after we had asked him a few questions, he sat down with us for about an hour and shared the history of Rwanda, and the context surrounding the 1994 genocide. I found his explanation insightful, so I thought I would try share just a bit of it with you.

Prior to colonization by the Germans, Hutu and Tutsi were not so much official tribal or ethnic groups, but were fluid socioeconomic classes. If you were rich enough to own 10 or more cows, you were Tutsi, if you were poorer, you were classified as Hutu, and if you gained or lost cows, your family could move up or down accordingly. However, the German colonizers capitalized on this division, and declared the groups separate races. When the Belgians gained control of Rwanda following Germany’s loss in WWI, the division was made even greater. The Belgians, governing from afar, gave power in the country to the Tutsis. Tutsis were told they were smarter, better looking, etc., while Hutus were unable to hold any government positions. Identity cards were even issued displaying the holders “ethnicity”. Over time, the Hutus grew to resent their Tutsi rulers.

After WWII, as Europe weakened Belgium prepared to cede their colonial hold over Rwanda. As the majority (composing around 85% of the population), the Hutus hoped that general elections would allow them to take control of the country, while some Tutsis were resistant to the change in power. In 1959, violence broke out, and over the next several years, hundreds of Tutsis were killed and thousands were forced to flee to neighboring Congo, Uganda, Burundi and Tanzania. (In fact, it seemed fairly common amongst people we met that, though Rwandan, they had grown up in one of these countries). When Belgium did officially leave in 1962, general elections were held, and a Hutu president was elected. Still, despite these tensions, throughout this time and through 1994, Hutus and Tutsis lived closely as friends and neighbors; intermarriage was even common.

In the late 80s, refugees who had fled to Uganda in the 50s and 60s, created the Rwandan Patriotic Front, with the hope of invading Rwanda and regaining the right to return as citizens of Rwanda. In the 1990s civil war broke out, and Tutsis, regardless of their involvement, were labeled traitors. A Hutu Power radio station (Radio Television Des Milles Collines) spewed rumors and hate rhetoric and even called for Hutus to arm themselves, meanwhile Hutu militias were trained under the complicit eye of the president. In 1993, the Arusha Peace Agreement was signed, but the militia training, and radio messages continued, signaling that the government had no intent to follow through. In April 1994, a plane carrying the president of Rwanda and Burundi was shot down as it entered Kigali. Radio Television Des Milles Collines blamed the murder on the Tutsi “cockroaches” and called for the murder of all Tutsis in the country. Over the next 3 months, Tutsis were brutally raped, tortured, and murdered across Rwanda, often by their own friends and neighbors. People ran to public places, such as churches, that had proved safe during the massacres of 1959, but this time, entire stadiums and congregations of people were wiped out. Even babies were murdered to prevent the next generation of Tutsis. Meanwhile, the world looked on with little to no intervention. In fact, as tensions rose, the UN actually pulled out forces, leaving only a 270 UN soldiers, primarily Ghanians, with orders not to shoot. By July the violence had largely stopped, as the RPF made significant enough advances, and the French, who had previously armed the Hutus, sent in a humanitarian mission. In total, nearly one million people were killed.

The country has made significant efforts to prevent another atrocity, including doing away with ethnic ID cards in favor of cards that read only “Rwandan”, to economic and education initiatives. While in Kigali, we had the chance to visit the Genocide Museum, which is free to the public and shares an in depth story of the genocide, as well as exhibits on other genocides worldwide. A particularly poignant part of the museum for me was watching a video where survivors shared their stories, because in many cases, they were able to name the people- friends or neighbors, who killed their loved ones. A reality that seems to set the Rwandan Genocide apart from other atrocities. The museum also has mass graves, accompanied by a wall of names, that serve as a memorial and final resting place to two hundred and fifty thousand victims. We also visited the presidents palace museum, where the plane shot down in 1994 still rests in the yard (pieces of it have been relocated, but the body of it still remains as it did when it fell), and the Mille Collines. For those who have seen Hotel Rwanda, the Milles Collines is the hotel featured in that movie, which sheltered and saved hundreds of Tutsis during the genocide. The Mille Collines is still a functioning hotel, so we paid to spend the day relaxing at the pool and eating at their restaurant.

Pool at the Mille Collines

Wall of names at the Genocide Memorial

As we drove across the country to visit the gorillas on the border, Enos would point out the mass graves and memorials along the way; a constant reminder of the sheer enormity of the genocide. Still, Enos told us, that while people no longer talk about it, people still know whether they are Hutu or Tutsi, and likely will for a long time to come. Further, in many rural areas, you will find only Hutus, as the Tutsis have either been killed, or have fled not wanting to return home to face those who murdered their families, or simply have no home or family to return to. The country has made tremendous progress, but it has still been just 22 years, and just below the surface, the country is still healing.

BENNIE/ JOHNNIE CONNECTION

Apart from visiting the sights and learning about Rwanda’s history in Kigali, we also had the opportunity to meet up with a Bennie and Johnnie, Emily and Jeff,  who are living and working in Rwanda. While we were there, Emily was able to join us for lunch, and they also invited over to dinner in their home. From visiting the Kamu family in Kenya, to staying with BVC volunteers, to meeting up with alumnus working abroad, the Bennie/ Johnnie connection I have experienced on this trip has truly been amazing.

GORILLAS AND GOLDEN MONKEYS

After leaving Kigali, we drove to Volcanoes National Park on the border between Rwanda, Uganda, and the Congo, home to over half of the remaining mountain gorillas in the world. With Bob on a stretcher, we were able to hike, with a group of five others, partway up the volcano to the Agasha gorilla family. The Agasha group is the largest family of gorillas in the park, so we not only got lucky (by lucky I mean that Bob told the driver to use his wheelchair as an excuse to get us into the best group- sometimes traveling with Bob has its perks) to be put into that hiking group, but also chose a lucky day, where we were able to see all 20 gorillas! The experience was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. We stood within feet of a 500 pound silverback, and had young gorillas run so close by, I could have reached down and touched them. The experience was wildly expensive, but it is absolutely one you should add to your bucket list.

Baby gorilla

Look how close we got!

This guy weighed around 500 pounds!

The following day, we hiked a different, more densely wooded part of the volcano to see golden monkeys; these volcanoes are the only place in the world to find them. Unfortunately, we didn’t get as lucky with the monkeys and none came down on the ground to eat or play. But, we did get to watch them leap over our heads, and see the adorable face of a little baby monkey!!

Baby monkey being carried on its mother.

We wrapped up our trip to Rwanda on Lake Kivu (the lake between Rwanda and the Congo), where we relaxed on the water for a few days before meeting up with 5 of the BVC volunteers staying in Africa to see Victoria Falls.

Hannah, Bob, and I rocking matching gorilla shirts on the lake.

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Victoria Falls

After leaving Rwanda, we decided to extend our vacation a little longer by meeting up with Pat, Phil, Adam, Rob, and Michael, five of the six BVC volunteers staying in Tanzania or Zambia for the year (We missed you, Frantz!) to explore Victoria Falls.

Our first day in Livingstone, Hannah, Bob, and I decided to go check out the falls. While we had heard the view was not as good from the Zambia side, and that the water was low during the dry season- we had no idea how low it would be! While we could see the main falls off in the distance, most of the surrounding rock was visible. Aside from a few spots where water was still rushing over, it looked nothing like the pictures posted all around the park. After being a bit underwhelmed by the views, we headed over to the bridge between Zambia and Zimbabwe, got free stamped passes from immigration, and took pictures next to the Zimbabwe sign so we could tack on another country to our list. While on the bridge, we watched as several other tourists bungee jumped over the side. I had already bungee jumped off a bridge while traveling in South Africa, but we thought Hannah needed to go for it. So, with a little coaxing from Bob, we got Hannah to get strapped in by her ankles and jump off the bridge! The jump marked the beginning of an adrenaline filled weekend.

The following day the BVCers, Hannah, and I headed down to the Zambezi River, just below the falls, to do a full day of white water rafting (Though he is up for most adventures, Bob didn’t think a trip where he would most likely be thrown into fast moving water would be the best thing for him). Rafting down the Zambezi is supposed to be some of the best white water rafting in the world; during the dry season you cannot even do a full day of rafting because the first 10 rapids become too dangerous. In typical 22 and 23 year old fashion, we hopped into the boat feeling invincible. After a few very mild rapids, we hit our first level 5 rapid. The rapids are given levels based on how dangerous and difficult to navigate they are, with level 1 being fairly mild, and level 6 being unnavigable except by experts (there is one level six along our trip that we had to get out and walk around- though we watched two expert kayakers launch into the waves; one had to bail out, but one expert visiting from Costa Rica made it all the way through!). Our guide, Steve, told us we had two options: we could go around the rapid, which would tame it down to about a level 2.5, or we could go down the middle, in which case our raft would most likely flip. I’m sure you can guess what we chose…

As we hit the rapid, Steve yelled, “Get down! Hang on!” Our raft flipped, and everyone but Rob and I who managed who cling to the rope on the side went floating down the river. Two rapids later, about the same thing happened again. And then on the rapid after that… we flipped AGAIN. On the third rapid, I finally lost my grip and went floating down the river like the others had on previous rapids. I finally realized why they all got back into the boat with such wide eyes. When the raft flips, if you are able to hold on to the side, you are constantly hit in the face by waves, but if you let go, the waves pull you under. Eventually your life jacket brings you back up, but each time you get sucked under you feel totally helpless, and you pop up gasping for breath not sure when the next rapid will suck you under. Though its only a matter of 20 or 30 seconds, it feels like forever until the water calms down and one of the other rafts or rescue kayaks waiting at the bottom are able to scoop you up and return you to your raft. By the time we all piled in after our third spill, we all felt exhausted and scared. At lunch, Hannah asked the rescue kayakers if the second half would be calmer; they promised us it would, and that we had had bad luck. Still, more than one of us seriously contemplated not hopping back into the raft.

At our first rapid after lunch, you could feel the tension rise, but, almost miraculously, we made it over without tipping. Our anxiety eased, and we cleared the next few rapids upright, and even hopped in the water to swim BY CHOICE in the smooth waters. Suddenly, we made it to the final level five rapid. You could almost feel everyone tense up. Steve again yelled, “Get down! Hang on!” We all got sprayed with water and the raft went up on edge, but aside from Steve who fell out the back, we made it through! We all cheered, and Michael hilariously played guitar on his paddle (which we were thrilled to see made it into the video and picture slideshow they show at the end). After that, we knew we could make it through anything. We conquered the rest of the rapids, and on the 24th of 25 rapids, we even got out, and rode through the level 2 rapids in just our life jackets. At dinner that night, we were exhausted and sunburned, but in far better spirits than just hours before at lunch. While I am not sure many of us would do it again, we had an amazing time, and felt a surge of accomplishment at having tackled the Zambezi.

As if the adrenaline rush from white water rafting was not enough, the following day, the seven of us went swimming in the Devil’s pool. The pool is just to the left of the falls and can only be reached during the dry season when the rock is dry enough to walk over to the falls. I had seen pictures of the pool, with people leaning over the edge for pictures, and imagined it was a pool right near the falls, but surrounded by rock on all sides, and that you could swim around and had the option to swim over the the far edge that overlooks the cliff face. Instead, the pool was very small and deep. Rather than being able to swim around, you were required to swim right over to the edge that overlooks the falls, because there is nothing on the right side keeping you from getting swept over the falls- the guide just sits furthest to that edge and warns you to stay to the left. I clung to the rock and swam quickly back and forth, making sure I didn’t make the situation any riskier than it already was. Meanwhile, a surefooted guide stood on the wet rocks on the edge and took pictures of us on the ledge and of the falls flowing over the side. At first I was upset that we were only allowed to be in the pool for 15 minutes, but as soon as I got to the edge, I knew that would be more than enough. The view of Victoria Falls from the top was spectacular, and you could even lean forward a bit and catch a glimpse of a rainbow, but it is certainly not a view for the faint of heart.

Later that evening, two brothers from Katibunga monastery arrived in Livingstone, and we all packed in (I mean PACKED) to the safari truck and began our trek to Katibunga. Hannah, Bob, and I have loved our action-packed vacation, but we are excited to get a bit calmer schedule as we stay here for the next 3 weeks with BVCers Rob and Michael.

Updates next time on whether any of the homes here let me trick-or-treat 🙂

Hanga Abbey, Tanzania

Pole sana (I’m very sorry)! My long over due blog post has finally arrived!

The last time I posted I was staying in Imiliwaha with the Benedictine sisters, and as it happens, I am staying with the sisters again now (**Update: didn’t get this posted while staying with the sisters, so after a 19.5 hour trip that included our car breaking down, we are now in Dar Es Salaam), but this time it is just a short stay as we make our way to the airport to fly out to Rwanda. In between our stays here, we spent a full month with the brothers in Hanga, Tanzania, about a 5 hour drive from here. A long time has passed and so much has happened since I last posted, but I will do my best to make up for lost time.

We left the sisters on August 8th with a great deal of fanfare. Brother stani held a goodbye party for us at the health center, and even gave Hannah and I matching kangas, and a matching shirt for Bob (Don’t we look cool?!).

As we made our way out to the car, we were met by a large group of the sisters who sang and played the drums for us. The mother superior even came to say a special goodbye, and invited us to come back anytime, for as long as we wished.

With all of our luggage, a driver, and a sister that was sent along just to make sure we arrived safely, the car was packed full. Still, the 5 hours were made better by the heaping basket of chicken, cake, mandazi (similar to donuts), popcorn, and pop that the sisters sent with us. As we spilled crumbs of cake and chicken on our laps, and giggled at the snoring sister beside us, we knew we would miss the amazing hospitality and loving sisters of Imiliwaha.

We didn’t have long to be nostalgic, though, because we soon realized that Hanga has it’s own unique charm. In fact, despite the close relationship and proximity of the two monasteries, they are extremely different. Most important to Bob, Hanga is much warmer and we no longer needed jackets, boots, or wool socks. Most important to Hannah and I, the Hanga Abbey is not set  off on its own like the Imiliwaha convent, but is surrounded by the small village of Hanga, which means there are shops that sell chocolate!! At around 50 cents or less per bar, Hannah and I bought out the shop during our time there. Hanga is also special because it has a close, and longstanding relationship with St. John’s University. While this is the first year that Imiliwaha has begun taking in BVC volunteers from our school, SJU grads have been heading to Hanga since 2005. Two priests at St. John’s even got their calling to join monastic life while volunteering there. This year, we got to meet up with the super-duper dynamic duo, Pat and Frantz (Are they this wonderful because of the impact I had on them while all of us served as leaders for first-year orientation at CSB/SJU? Its possible…). In addition to sending Johnnies to Hanga, several monks from Hanga have also come to SJU to study at the school of theology. There is something very special about traveling halfway around the world, to a rural village in Africa, and seeing people wearing CSB/SJU sweatshirts. While we were there, there were also volunteers visiting from Italy, Germany, and Austria, so we had to chance to make new friends from around the world.

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When I read a short tutorial on how to write a good travel blog, the author said you should never simply list off all the things you did. But, that is exactly what I am going to do. So, despite what is apparently bad form, I hope you enjoy the following highs, lows, and interesting stories from my month in Hanga.

• At the seminary run by the Hanga Abbey, Bob had the opportunity to speak with the students about his life, the challenges he has overcome, and how they can use his story to help them through their own struggles. He also touched on ways that they could make life better for people living with disabilities in their own communities. For Tanzanians, it is almost unheard of to see someone with a disability as successful and well traveled as Bob. The students all seemed very interested and asked him all kinds of questions (for everyone who knows Bob, you know he loves to talk, so it was a great experience for everyone involved).

• Our first saturday in town we were invited to the St. Benedict’s Primary School graduation. The celebration included a mass, special songs and dances performed by every class to say goodbye to the graduating standard 7 students, speeches, and skits. In total, the graduation lasted a whopping 6 hours! While it was a fun time, I think the kindergartners sat through it with less fidgeting than we did. At the end, all of the standard 7 students marched up in graduation gowns and received their diplomas. In Tanzania, education is only guaranteed through 7th grade. Two days ago, standard 7 students across the country took an exam that will determine if they are able to go on to secondary school. Students only get one chance to take the test, and if they fail, their education ends there.They will go back home and help with housework, or have to go find a job- in fact, several young kids who didn’t pass are employed in Imiliwaha doing tasks such as gardening and watching cattle. Imagine having your future rest on how you perform on a test when you are just 12 years old!

• The following day, a man from town named Michael invited us into his home for dinner. We went there with one of the previous priors of Hanga, Fr. Otto. One of the most interesting take aways from the night came when we asked about the many muslim families we saw at the Catholic primary school graduation. He told us that in Hanga, the christian and muslim families live peacefully together, and all students are welcome at St. Benedicts. In fact, he told us there are two mosques in town, and when each was being built, the abbey donated money and building supplies to the project. As prior, Otto even attended the celebration when the second mosque was completed.

• Hannah and I had the opportunity to go with the Italian volunteers to a Msalaba Mkuu, where we hiked and shopped for little trinkets and souvenirs. Despite my early insistence that I would NEVER EVER ride on the back of a piki piki, I caved and Hannah and I paid around the equivalent of one US dollar for the motorcycle driver to take us on 30 minute trip. The shop there is run by women who have escaped abusive husbands, and all of the proceeds from the bags, jewelry, and other items they make go to support them and their families. After shopping, we made the trek to the top of the hill (mountain? precipice? Really high rocky thing? I haven’t brushed up on my topography lately) where there is a giant metal cross. We watched the sun begin the set, and then hiked back home just in time for dinner.

• Perhaps the biggest event to happen last month was the celebration for the brothers taking their finals vows. Every room in the guest house was filled as buses packed with family, friends, and performers arrived for the celebration. A mass was held, food was served, and there was lots of singing and dancing. At one point, people are able to bring forth gifts for the new brothers, and families in matching party dresses would come forward singing and dancing, carrying money, maize, and even live chickens. Per Benedictine tradition, these gifts are then given to the abbot to be distributed amongst the community. In the end, the monks trade in the short robes they wear during the years between their first and final vows, for the official thick belt and long robes of a Benedictine brother. As a part of the festivities, Pat even sang in the choir at mass, and Frantz performed a dance he choreographed with boys from the seminary!

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• Our time in Hanga was in no shortage of celebrations as we also got to celebrate Pat’s 23rd birthday! In an attempt to give him a special birthday, Hannah and I asked a woman who runs a restaurant in town with her sister if she could help us bake a cake. Elifrida went with us to get the ingredients and helped us mix them up. To her suggestion, we threw in 15 eggs, 1kg of sugar, 2 tubs of butter, and about two or three handfuls of sugar. It seemed a bit odd, but Hannah and I figured she knew what she was doing. As we were about to pour it in the pan, Elifrida asked us if it looked right. Confused, we asked her why she was asking us, since we were following her direction. She then told us that her sister actually owns the restaurant and she has no idea how to make a cake. Hannah and I broke out in laughter. We baked the cake for about 3 hours during which time we listened to music, painted our nails, and cut vegetables with Elifrida. As you may have guessed, the cake didn’t turn out, but we ended up with a great story. Bob told us that the cake wasn’t so bad if we just referred to it as flan. Frantz told us it was the first time he has tasted scrambled eggs in cake. Luckily, the birthday boy, Pat, is a garbage disposal and will eat pretty much anything. Over the next two days he finished off the whole cake.

• In our final weekend we took a trip to Mbomba Bay, a small village on Lake Nyasa (aka Lake Malawi). We stayed at a place called “BioCamp” where Frantz, Pat, Hannah, Br. Vincent and I stayed in tents, and Bob got a small bungalow. Though I am usually not a big fan of fish, even I have to admit the catfish we ate at most meals was delicious. We also swam, canoed, hiked, and relaxed next to a fire under the stars. When it was clear, we could see Malawi off in the distance. It was a wonderful, relaxing end to our stay with the Benedictine brothers of Hanga.

In a few days we will head to Rwanda where we get to meet up with a Bennie/ Johnnie couple who are living there, as well as hiking a volcano to see gorillas and chimpanzees! So long as I am not eaten by a gorilla, I promise to get my blog up in less than a month and a half next time 🙂