Malaysia

I would be willing to bet that when someone says “Asia,” the first thing that comes to your mind is not “Mal-asia” (forgive the spelling, it emphasizes the point.) I know it didn’t for me and to be honest, I knew virtually nothing about the country. But after spending three far too short days there, I would make the case that it should be added to any Asian travel itinerary. I think the best way to describe it is as “Asia Light”…all the culture of Asia, but with mostly English-speaking people. It provided the ideal Asia 101 course for us, for even though we’ve been to the craziest of the crazy, Asia is still an intimidating travel destination, from Veitnam to China to Japan. So it was nice to feel like we were in China even while gazing out to some of the tropical islands that come up when you google “paradise.”

On the first day, I was signed up for an FDP (Faculty-Directed Practica) trip for my architecture class. FDP’s are basically educationally centered field trips (as opposed to trips that are just for fun) and are led by your professor. Since we only have 46 days of class instead of the usual 55, 20% of our grade is participation on 2 FDP’s for each class. All things considered, they’re definitely not a bad way to get a grade. Anyway, this FDP was a walking tour of Georgetown, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the location of our berth. It was fascinating going from a Christian Cathedral to a Buddhist Temple to a Chinese Clan House, passing mosques the whole way. The final place we visited, the Khoo Kongsi Clan House, was an incredibly decorated Chinese house where one of the descendents of the clan was actually having his wedding photos taken with his fiancé. Much to my surprise, our guide walked up to them and nudged them out of the way, motioning for us to follow. Hmm. They didn’t seem to mind too much…I guess that’s what happens when you’re in love. The next part of my day is one of shame, regret and remorse. We rode the free shuttle to the Komtar Shopping Center, at which point we indulged in the finest Malaysian Starbucks and McDonalds. To make matters worse, we even ran into the ship’s head chef, who recognized us and said “What, my food is even worse than McDonalds?” Ouch.

To make up for this indiscretion of mine, on the second day AJ and I hiked Penang Hill. This required us taking a public bus to the Botanic Gardens, then hiking a trail from there. The gardens were a beautiful escape from the city, as they were only 20 minutes away but felt like a world apart. There were towering jungles all around us, monkeys running around, and tons of schoolchildren fascinated by the large, lost-looking gentlemen wandering around the botanic gardens. We had a hell of a time finding the actual trail, and at one point we wandered through the parking lot, where a taxi driver asked if we wanted to go to the train station that goes up the hill. Being manly men, we said of course not, we were going to hike it thankyouverymuch. He looked at us, laughed, and said “alright.” Turns out we should have taken the train.

Eventually we found the trail and began our hike of what we thought would be about 2 hours. The heat was oppressive, the humidity even more so, and within 5 minutes we were both dripping like faucets. My decision not to fill my water bottle all the way to the top that morning was looking like a terrible one, but we pressed on. After about an hour and a half, we reached the top of the mountain…only to find ourselves looking at the mountain we actually wanted to climb about a mile away. Discouraged but not quitters, AJ took the first steps along the trail to the summit. Immediately I heard a hissing sound and saw a flash of black movement right by his foot. Looking closer, I saw a 6-inch, midnight black scorpion with its stinger fully locked and loaded. It took every ounce of strength I possessed not to scream like a little girl. Once my testosterone came out of hiding, though, it took every ounce of strength I possessed not to provoke it. However, being a solid 2 hours away from anything, common sense took over and we left it alone. A little further down the trail, we reached the road to the top. There was a trail next to it, but it didn’t look well-traveled and so we opted for the paved route. Mistake #2. The next hour and a half or so was spent trekking up a 30% graded road. For comparison, Vail pass is about 7% grade. It got so bad that we ended up hiking 100 feet and then stopping for 3 minutes. Hike 100, stop. This was all made worse by the cars blowing past us up to the top, including one driven by my international law professor. Eventually we made it, a solid 3 hours and 2 liters of water later, and despite the view that I knew awaited us, we headed straight for the food court and bought 4 bottles of beverage and 2 plates of food. After half an hour of refreshment, we headed out to admire the view. I got one picture before the monsoon hit.

Monsoons are things that must be seen to be believed, especially for us Colorado folks. It lasted about 90 minutes and unlike many Colorado storms, it didn’t taper off before strengthening again. This was 90 minutes of full-on downpour. I actually left my water bottle out in the rain and ended up collecting about 100 mL of rainwater when all was said and done. It finally ceased and we went out and explored the Hindu temple and Muslim mosque located at the top (after that climb, I can see why prayer is necessary upon summiting). Then it was time for our return trip down in the air-conditioned comfort of the train and bus back to the ship. Side note: I almost gagged myself when I took of my shirt that night.

Our final day in Malaysia was by far the highlight of my trip. Since the activities of the previous day had taken *ahem* longer than expected, our plan of visiting Kek Lok Si temple was postponed until the following day, and it turns out that was the best thing that could have happened. We arrived in the morning and ended up staying the entire day there, something we could not have done had we tried to cram it into the end of the other day. Kek Lok Si is a temple built into the side of a mountain, offering more stunning views of the city. I’m still not quite sure what kind of temple it is…mostly Buddhist, I assume, but the pagoda is Buddhist, Burmese and Thai influenced, so it’s anybody’s guess. It doesn’t really matter though, because it was still the most incredible experience I’ve had in a temple. The complex itself is enormous, and there was almost nobody there, making it feel like it was built just for us. It was sunny and a little bit cooler farther up the hill, giving us a place to escape the heat. There were no rules, no security guards, not even a sign letting us know that this was the destination we were trying to find. It just was. We took an inclined elevator farther up the hill to a 50+ foot golden statue, as well as a shelter built in the middle of a pond with a waterfall behind it. Everything about it was perfect, and it felt like it wasn’t so much a temple for Buddhists or Taoists as it was a temple for people. It was definitely one of my favorite experiences on this trip.

It didn’t hurt that the temple was also free, which fit nicely into my budget of traveling Malaysia on 100 Ringitt (~33 USD). When changing countries every week, you learn about how much money you’ll need and travel so you don’t have to make several different trips to the ATM. I only took out 100, so that was my budget. It is also very difficult not only switching between currencies and exchange rates, but even the NAMES of the currencies can prove difficult. Most often, they are referred to as “(country name) dollars” (Moroccan dollars, Mauritian dollars), “(country name) whatevers” (Ghanaian whatevers, South African whatevers) or, if all else fails, “dirham,” the currency of Morocco, has become the go-to (though word on the street is upon our arrival in Vietnam, ‘dong’ will become the new gold standard.)  It is not uncommon to take out 100 Malaysian dollars, take the bus for the price of 2 Malaysian dirham, and then grab dinner using the remainder of your Malaysian whatevers. But I’ve digressed. Anyway, I spent exactly 100 Ringitt in the following breakdown:

6- Souveneirs

18-Transportation

17- Food

25- Drink

34- Transportation down Penang Hill

We should have just walked down.

India........................

You might be asking yourself why there is a large number of ellipses after India....the answer is because I have no idea where to even start. India is, hands down, the most complicated place we’ve been to thus far, from the stunning and iconic beauty of the Taj Mahal to the thousands of homeless, orphaned and crippled. The majestic landmarks standing in a constant cloud of pollution. Maybe more than any other, India is a country of stark contrasts, one that doesn’t fit into any category and, simultaneously, every category. During the pre-port sessions prior to arrival, we were told by several people that they wouldn’t be able to explain India, it was just something we would need to experience to understand. And after experiencing it, I haven’t even come close to understanding it. I will put forth an almost-surely futile attempt at describing India to you all, but at the end of the day, India really must be seen to be believed.

We were greeted on arrival by a suffocating cloud of smog, the smell of which can hardly be described and was only made worse by the 90 degree heat. Being the cautious travelers that we are on the first day of every port, we followed the usual strategy of picking one singular architectural landmark, hiring a taxi to take us there and seeing what happens after that. Despite my extensive experience in dealing with taxi drivers, India’s slapped me in the face (figuratively, of course, though I was about to return the favor to them, not figuratively.) There’s this fun little game where they will agree on a price and a destination, and then about a minute in they will inform you that they’re taking a little detour to their friend’s shop. But don’t worry, they’ll say, you don’t need to buy anything. You just need to look. So after visiting our destination (the San Thome Basilica, one of only three churches constructed above the burial site of one of Jesus’ apostles) we decided we wanted to go to a Hindu temple in the middle of town, which led to stop number one, but that wasn’t the worst part. We had 9 people, which meant three rickshaws. Two of them were brothers…mine was not. So after seeing the temple, we took off in a completely opposite direction from the others and ended up at (dramatic pause for emphasis) another shop! The flaw in this man’s plan was revealed when we refused to go in without our friends there. He insisted they were on their way and not to worry about it, but when we kept refusing, he began getting very angry (which didn’t really matter…I’m 6’7”.) Anyway, accepting our fate we had him drive us to the local market and bid him farewell, where we caught a different rickshaw back to the ship. This time, another exciting adventure ensued when the driver thought we said “fort” (as in Fort George) instead of “port.” We arrived at the fort and sought the assistance of some locals, my conversation with whom went something like this: “you’re at the fort.” “no we need the port.” “yeah this is the fort.” “no no, the PORT.” “Oh you like sports?” Eventually I grabbed a map and pointed, but conveniently there was a line through the “Port of Chennai” making the P look remarkably like an F. After finding a pen, I wrote down exactly what I wanted and the driver looked at it for a second before saying “…….oh the harbor!”

I departed for my trip to the Taj Mahal at 4 AM on the 12^th accompanied by my friend and trip liason Prof. Jim Huffman, who was also my liason on the safari as well as a valued member of our trivia team. The flight was uneventful except that in the true spirit of India, there were about 5 more rows in the Indian planes than American ones, which means smaller rows. Remember when I was just bragging about my height? On arrival in Delhi our guide Umesh greeted us and we embarked on a driving tour of the city. We stopped for lunch at a nice restaurant where we were welcomed in by the owner, Umesh. After a wonderful lunch, we proceeded to the train station where our train was 2 hours late. But that’s OK, Umesh assured us, I called your guide in Agra and he’ll be waiting for you. What’s our guide’s name? we enquired. He laughed heartily before exclaiming “Umesh!” I’m not making this up. The train arrived and we hurried into our first-class seats…which were little more than broken frames covered in strips of leather and stained with dirt and who knows what else. A lovely little cockroach even stopped by to say hi. The trip was four hours, over which I dared not even enter the bathroom. My already existing crippling fear of public restrooms combined with the state of the train car contributed to me going without a bathroom that day for 22 hours. Yeah, I think that’s a record. India is no match for my bladder of steel. I was rewarded with a 5-star hotel in Agra.

We rose at 5 AM the next day to visit the Taj Mahal at sunrise, and what a spectacular experience that was. It was nearly empty, the weather was cool and the sun cast a soft pink light on the white marble. Folks, there are many buildings in the world that are cool to see but don’t offer anything more than the pictures do…this is decidedly NOT one of those buildings. It might have been the pollution, but it took my breath away. It was interesting because I’m taking an architecture class, and the class on the Taj Mahal was spent discussing how it’s a mausoleum for Shah Jahan’s late wife, but he actually built it as a throne for Al’lah on Judgment Day and disguised it as a mausoleum. The main dome is in the shape of a traditional Islamic crown, the four minarets are alleged to represent four angels, the garden in front symbolizes the paradise garden in heaven, and the script around the entrance (I think I took a picture) is actually a Qur’anic passage about Judgment Day. Of course, when we asked our guide about this, he cheerily said that it was the morning prayer. Of course it is. After our visit we went to Fatepuhr Sikri, a city built of sandstone that served as the capital of India for 5 years before running out of water. It had an eerie ghost town feel to it and the architecture was beautiful. One of the highlights was Indian men who strip off all their clothes and dive about 20 feet into a pool covered in algae to try and get tips. When we asked the guide how deep the water is, he chuckled and responded “not deep enough.” After Fatepuhr, we went to the Agra Fort, the third UNESCO World Heritage Site in Agra. It was nice but far from life-changing…more than anything it offered views of the Taj in the distance. Our guide was pleasant but spoke only broken English and began each “tidbit” in a unique way. For example: “Excuse me my children this is the courtyard…” If someone was apart from the group, he would summon them in with cries of “my son” or “my daughter, come here.” On the way out, some of the group was talking about how India hadn’t been as shocking as we had been warned…which is right about when we ran into a man with no legs, a leper and several starving children. But that’s India…the beauty and the beast coexist side-by-side, and more often where the white people go. I don’t blame them…it’s difficult to hold out. Many people don’t. It’s different for everyone. I eventually just put my sunglasses on and was left mostly out of the pool of easy targets, but that didn’t mean the images of what I saw are not still burned into my mind.

We returned to the Taj Mahal for a sunset viewing, which offered better light in exchange for about 20 times more tourists. The sunrise viewing was definitely the better of the two, but you will never hear me complaining about getting to see the Taj Mahal twice in one day. We traveled to the Agra train station to catch our express train to Delhi, where we found more men without legs, a man with elephantitis in both feet, a man without eyes, and more starving children. Even inside the station there was a little girl and a little boy who pleaded with their eyes…it didn’t help the train was 2 hours late. The girl was especially heartbreaking…she was wearing a dress that I know looked beautiful at one point, but both the physical stains of dirt and oil as well as the emotional stains of a life begging in a train station had long since tarnished the beauty that once was. On a brighter note, this train was leaps and bounds nicer than the one to Agra and took about half the time. They even had ice cream! We came into Delhi close to midnight and checked into the Royal Palace, another 5-star hotel in downtown Delhi. It was interesting how there were many very shady looking hotels, and one or two amazing places in each city. Even in Agra, one of the biggest tourist destinations in India, there was only one super fancy hotel. When we arrived at each of these places, they had to check the undercarriage of the bus for bombs. Not something that comes up every day in the States. Oh, and speaking of bombs, the Delhi police found a car with 5 kilograms of explosives and two detonators parked in a garage underneath a train station through which we passed, another stark reminder of the fact that this isn’t vacation and there are still very scary situations happening every day in the world.

Upon returning to the ship, some friends and I went to Spencer Plaza (basically a Western-style mall) in the search for internet and some much-needed communication. The girls also wanted to do some shopping in a place where they wouldn’t have to haggle (trust me, it gets old fast.) Two of us wanted to go back since we’d be up early the next day, so we began the process of finding a rickshaw driver. They flocked to us like foreign taxi drivers to white tourists, but they wanted 200 rupees at least (about $4) and some wanted 200 rupees a person. We insisted that we were not stupid tourists and knew that was too high, and eventually one guy came down to 100…as long as we went to his shop. About ready to give up and walk, a man pulled up in a brand new rickshaw with new leather seats and everything. He only wanted 120…what was the catch? Well, it turns out there wasn’t one. He was actually just a really nice guy. Turns out there still are honest people in the world. Since the port was so busy, we had to take a shuttle from the entrance to the ship. On said shuttle I sat next to Marty Zafman, an 11-time voyager and 10-time visitor to Chennai. Though a man with a heart of gold, his joints are decidedly less robust and he said he was struggling at the end of a 6-day stay. One thing led to another and I ended up inheriting his day trip to Mamallapuram and Kancheepuram for the final day. Kancheepuram is littered with some of the most ornate temples you’ve ever seen, almost all of which are still very much working temples. We got a tour of one that consisted of a massive column-lined loop with solid gold statues of some of the more famous gods with people praying to them. Quite the experience. Mamallampuram is the site of the “Five Rathas” (google it), which are 5 temples of various sizes and complexities literally carved out of giant rocks. There is also an enormous mural carved into the side of a cliff, complete with massive elephants. In between our two destinations, we had lunch at a traditional Indian restaurant, served on banana leaves and everything. Some of the food was spicy, some of it was very weird, but all of it was delicious. At the end, we just folded up all the scraps back up into the banana leaf…how about that for clean-up? Overall a great day…thanks Marty.

So after all was said and done, India turned out to be my second-favorite destination (because South Africa is going to be really hard to beat and Mauritius doesn’t really count). Days 1 and 2 were incredibly uncomfortable, and I wanted to be anywhere not named “India.” But by day 3 I began to cast aside some of my preconceptions and accept it for what it is: a large, impossibly crowded, impossibly dirty country, but one that has as much culture in its little finger than many do over their entire areas. It was traveling like I’ve never experienced traveling before, but at the end of the day it was an incredible trip.

Mauritius (for like 12 hours...)

We were initially supposed to arrive in Mauritius at 6 o’clock on October 4^th, but our pace was expedited due to a “non-life-threatening medical emergency” (later determined to be a detached retina.) Because of this, customs cleared the ship the night of the 3^rd, allowing us to debark at 6 am on the 4^th. Yay, right? Despite increasing the American population in Mauritius from 9 to 472 in a matter of minutes, the business in Port Louis still did not open any earlier. We were disappointed to find an empty, desolate city until about 9 o’clock. After the island began to wake up, though, we found the vibrant and colorful tropical island that we were all expecting. I needed to hit up the post office to mail some letters as well as buy my friend John a scarf for his girlfriend (he was busy all day and wanted to get her one in every port.) First of all, the post office had a line 11 people long with only one person working. Sounds like the states, am I right?? (I kid.) I ended up buying about 20 stamps for all the SAS people in line behind me, reducing the line from 11 to about 3. We seem to have this effect on places. Afterwards I went to the market to get the scarf. I had been told that Mauritians don’t negotiate…ha! I got a scarf down from 350 to 200 rupees (about 7 bucks.) It was sold to me by a woman working there, and when I went up to her husband who was behind the counter, I handed him a 500. He pocketed it and went back to work. I stood there awkwardly before the lady presumably told him that she did not sell that scarf for 500 rupees. This displeased him greatly, as I pretty much had my change thrown at me while they began to argue. I slipped out of the store to Creole fury behind me.

Only having about 5 hours left, we hired two taxis and drivers for the remaining time and made our way down to Flic en Flac beach (I’m not making that up.) Initially I felt bad about spending my time in Mauritius at the beach…until I saw the beach. The turquoise water was unlike anything I had seen before, and the reef was literally steps from the water. It wasn’t crowded, it was about 80 degrees, and the sun was shining brightly. I was a happy, happy camper. At 3:30 we headed back to the ship. It was about a 30 minute drive, during which our driver talked to us about his life on Mauritius. He was a Muslim and said there is no better place in the world for Muslims to live. He echoed the statements of the Muslim in Cape Town, saying “we get along because there’s no reason not to. We were made to live together. That guy over there is human. We are all human. And here, that’s all that matters.” Another valuable message to take to heart. He also took this opportunity to vent his hatred of George W. Bush but, he was quick to add, he also detested Osama bin Laden. Without any provocation he launched into a diatribe on how terrorism is ruining the view of Islam for the world. Jihad, he said, is when you are praying peacefully in your mosque and somebody tries to come and destroy it. That is when jihad, or fighting to protect your beliefs, is permitted. Jihad is NOT traveling to another country and killing those who are not followers of Islam. This speech lasted the entire drive. When we arrived at the ship, there was a line to board about 200 people long. If you’re late onto the ship, you get dock time in the next port (you have to be 2 hours early for every 15 minutes you were late in the last port.) Luckily we made it on with about 6 minutes to spare, but about 50 people were not so lucky. Everyone was accounted for by the time we left the port, though, and we are now on our way safely to India. I am definitely expecting a large dose of culture shock but there’s no doubt it will be an adventure. The only thing I’m not looking forward to is the syndrome affectionately known as “Delhi Belly.” Stay tuned for updates, but if I come down with something, just be aware I won’t go into too much detail…

South Africa...from Apartheid to Zebras

It has been a tradition aboard the MV in recent years to wake up for the sunrise coming into the port of Cape Town, so I dragged myself out of bed before dawn, fought my way through the wind and braved the freezing temperatures to witness what was, it turned out to be, one of the better sunrises of my life. Maybe it was just because it illuminated the object of our desires (I would say land, but land at this point was a giant cloud). As we neared, as if by magic, the clouds went their separate ways and what I imagine heaven looks like was revealed. Table mountain sat illuminated by the still-rising sun, flanked on the left by skyscrapers with glinting windows and on the right by Lion’s Head and Signal Hill (more about that in a minute). As the air started to warm, we maneuvered closer to the entrance of the port, which was actually only slightly wider than the ship. We noticed something very strange as the ropes tightened and the engines ceased to roar…where were the street vendors? Why were we not afraid to leave the ship? Why hadn’t I prepared my usual story of Canadian, broke, no thank you? It was almost like we had pulled into San Francisco. Everything was so…normal. As we debarked the ship and walked down the street, some people said (not shouted) “helicopter tour? Shark dive?” We responded with a polite “no thank you,” and then…..nothing happened. We kept walking. They didn’t try again, they didn’t follow up with a “only for you, my friend!” What is this strange land upon which we have landed? What was this paradise that some people called “South Africa?”

The first part of the first day was spent getting our land legs and exploring the city. It quickly became clear that even photos of the most boring things (buildings, boats) immediately became the most beautiful pictures ever taken with Table Mountain in the background. Everyone instantly felt like a professional photographer. I had to be back for a presentation at 2:30, so I got back a little early and spent an hour sitting in the sun on the boat, but facing the mountain. Let me tell you, it was way better than sunbathing on any beach. After the speech, I went on a sunset hike up Signal Hill. Actually, let me correct myself. I went on a sunset mountain climb up Signal Hill. It was a magical mountain climb though…the trail wrapped 360 degrees around the hill, giving us views of Table Mountain, then the bay, the open ocean, the city center, and then back to Table Mountain. The “Panoramic Picture” button on my camera was smoking by the time we summated, with about 15 minutes to spare. We watched the sun that I woke up so early to greet disappear over the ocean, leaving a breathtaking display of oranges, reds, yellows and pinks behind it. The city lights began to twinkle in the darkness, outlining the city of Cape Town in the darkness. Truly an experience I will remember for the rest of my life.

On day two, I woke up at 4:45 to leave for my safari to Pilanesberg National Park, outside of Johannesburg. Our flight was uneventful except for the two Spanish ladies I was sitting next to, whose conversation was mostly a mystery save the references to the tall boy next to them (I know SOME Spanish. Come on.) Upon landing we met our guide, Gys Oosthuizen. I’ll let you guess on the pronunciation. A three hour busride took us to the Bakubung Bush Lodge, a mostly open-air lodge quite literally on the edge of the park. There was an electric fence separating us from a watering hole popular with elephants of the park. My room was decorated roof to floor in animal print, like a New York City socialite’s wardrobe gone bad, but in this case it was so, so good. The only critique I have is that the bathroom was more or less entirely open and not soundproof…not bad for a romantic getaway, not so good for two dudes rooming together. We didn’t have time for that, though, as we departed on the first safari of the trip. Our vehicle was a 20-seat open-air bush truck, driven by our guide Marnus (but make sure you roll the R or he gets upset.)  He told us point-blank, Pilanesberg has lions but is not known for its felines. It is the prettiest park, has the most rhinos and elephants and is malaria-free, but DO NOT expect to see lions. So what did we do? We drove out and saw some lions. Suck it, kids who paid more to go to Kruger to see lions and get malaria. We saw three lion cubs (yes, cubs. If you ever go on a safari, go in spring. Baby season!) playing on a cliff. No sign of the mother…nobody seemed too concerned either. We also saw hippos, elephants, zebras, giraffes, and even black rhinos, one of the rarest animals in any park. The day was concluded with a “braai,” or traditional South African barbeque in the wilderness, where we were greeted by an overly curious jackal who begged for bones.

On the second day, I woke up again at 4:45 for our second game drive under the watchful eye of the rising sun. First thing we saw? A lion. Other exciting things of note: hippos and a civet, which our guide has only seen three times. We had pretty much seen it all at this point, but wait folks! There’s more! We began meandering around when suddenly our guide got on the radio, pulled an e-brake turn and floored it in the opposite direction. Word on the street was male lion, but again we were told not to get too hopeful. As we pulled up, there were about 20 cars on a roadway about 500 meters from ours. This would be a good time to tell you why we called our guide the Animal Whisperer. We asked him why he didn’t go over towards the cars where the lion was. He responded bluntly, “he’ll come over here.” Less than a minute later, a gorgeous male lion comes parading through the grass towards us. Seeing our truck, he took a detour, causing our guide to drive to a road about a minute farther away. He parked in the middle of the road and said “he’s going to come right here.” “Whaaaaaa?” was the consensus response. He’s 1000 meters away and he’s going to come right where the people are? I don’t need to tell you what happened next. He walked right past our truck. We could hear his paws hitting the ground. He could hear him panting. And since we were the first ones, we blocked the road for everybody else. Suck it, people who just drove into the park so they didn’t have to pay for a guide. Needless to say, ours got plenty of tips that day.

We saw plenty more animals that morning, but the afternoon drive was the game-changer. We started off by driving right up to a herd of elephants, where we were the only truck. I’m talking 15 or 20 full-grown elephants here. And they had a baby to protect. What could possibly go wrong? As if that wasn’t sketchy enough, our guide warned us to turn off the flashes on our cameras because the momma elephant charged the last truck where a flash went off. We were dead silent and just enjoyed the sights and sounds of an entire herd of elephants walking right by us. Unbelievable. A little farther out, we saw the “herd” of baboons. Apparently to catch a baboon, you cut a hole in a pumpkin and spread some seeds out. The baboon will come stick his hand in the pumpkin, after which we will not unclench his fist for ANYTHING. Baboons are not so bright. They’ll try to run but won’t let go. Once you’ve caught your baboon, if you want to get the herd to go away, you paint your caught baboon white and let him go. The whole herd will be scared of him and run from him, solving your baboon problem! This guy was quite the storyteller. A few hours went by and we enjoyed the setting African sun when suddenly, our guide absolutely stomped on it. 80 km/hr over dirt roads stomped it. I was in the back and was too far to hear the radio, but the rumor of leopard worked its way back. Off in the distance were about 10 pairs of headlights, which our guide flew past and parked in the middle of. I’m really not sure he’s the most-liked by the other guides, but hey, we loved him! Off the road about 100 m was a beautiful leopard, who was promptly joined by another leopard. They hung out for us for a little while before meandering into the brush…the importance of this encounter is that after being told we might not see anything, we saw everything. Lesson #...I forgot what lesson we were on. Anyway, the lesson in life is to have extremely low expectations so that no matter what happens, it will be better than you thought! Take that one to the bank.

The next day we drove back to Johannesburg and checked into one of the nicest hotels I’ve ever seen. Joburg is not the best part of town (read: highest murder rate in the world) so we didn’t venture far until the next morning, when we visited the Apartheid museum as well as Nelson Mandela’s house. The museum was extremely well-done and was very informative to someone knowing very little about it. It was definitely very heavy though and did well to illuminate the atrocities of that regime. After a short flight that afternoon, we landed back in Cape Town. On day six I went on a walking tour that visited the Jewish museum, St. George’s cathedral (the first church to ignore Apartheid rules regarding religious practice) and a mosque in the Bo-Kaap neighborhood. It was nice to see the city since I had been gone for so long and hearing the respective leaders of each spiritual center was enlightening. Each basically had the same message: Cape Town is one of the few places where every religion still gets along. It really was remarkable how little everyone cared about everyone else’s religion. Our guide at the mosque, Mohammad, even mentioned that after Ramadan, all his Christian friends come to the feast and he goes to their dinners on Christmas Eve. That’s a message we can all take to heart.

I definitely was not ready to leave Cape Town. After the Islamic culture of Morocco and the true spirit of Africa we found in Ghana, I think a Western-style city was what a lot of people needed to get excited about traveling again. Nobody was ready to leave, but we are all ready to explore Asia next (after Mauritius, of course.)