Sweet Surprises

When it comes to travel, I love not knowing what to expect. It's true that I like to feel prepared for events and weather. I want to be wearing the right clothing and have enough money with me to cover my needs. I want to make sure my camera batteries are charged before the lions appear, and that I shower right before the 3-day stretch with no running water. But I love the feeling of not knowing what I might see when I'm already on my way.

Years ago, when I finished my Masters program, my friend Larry gave me two gifts that to this day, have always played a significant role in my trip planning; a beautiful beige globe and an image-filled travel book that dedicates two pages to every country in the world. Each entry features beautiful pictures, useful facts about each country's official languages, population, must see/do ideas and fun facts, among other handy information. I like to page through this book with my globe next to me on the couch the way most people like to watch HBO. About four or five years ago, I opened the book to Botswana. About thirty-five seconds after looking at the tall green grass and the razor sharp close-ups of ostriches, hippos and the Okavango Delta, I said to myself, “I want to go to Botswana.”

So here I am, and for the first time in my life, I decided to take a scenic flight. This granted me the opportunity to better understand the delta, where I was about to spend three days. The aerial view not only provided a larger perspective, but also allowed me to process the fact that there really were animals everywhere on the delta. As our single-engine plane got further from Maun, I began to spot them: groups of elephants bathing in the deep blue water, a giraffe couple walking slowly across the maize-colored grass, hundreds of water buffalo enjoying the late afternoon sun and hippos making their way slowly to the water.

Early the next morning, we were taken by speed boat to the mokoro jump-off point. Mokoros are dugout canoes, and there were several polers waiting to take us to the island where we would pitch our tents. One poler in particular caught my attention. I don't know if it was simply his hat or the way the he smiled with his eyes, but I wanted to remember him. When I asked if I could please take his picture, he said, “Yes, and then remember this number,” and pointed to his mokoro license plate. “Come with me. I am Beeeetee. I would like to be your poler! ” and flashed me a smile that shone brighter than the sun's reflection on the Botswana-blue water.

The days that followed were the most relaxing I have experienced since my arrival to Africa. I lazily dozed on and off as we glided in the mokoro through the tall reeds using the paths that hippos had created. The gentle splash of the water as the pole came down was soothing, and I would wake up and watch here and there when I would hear Beeeetee's voice. “Kubu gueeele” (There's a hippo over there.) “Lauren, tho! (elephant) Do you want to take a picture?” Beeeetee quickly picked up on my affinity for language, and began to teach me new words and phrases throughout the day. He would quiz me hours later, enthusiastically appreciative of my desire to learn Tsetswana. Sunrise and late afternoon walks were exciting and educational, and included Beeeetee picking up all types of poop with his calloused, bare hand, saying, “Can you guess what kind this is?”, proceeding to explain all types of details one can learn about the animal from their looking at their feces. And who knew that those beach ball-sized holes in the ground were dug by giant anteaters and inhabited by warthogs? Did you know that a warthog can kill an unsuspecting lion?

This morning I returned from the delta, and looking back on my experience, there are so many things to say that it's difficult to choose what to include and what not to. I reckon most trips to southern and eastern Africa include similar details, and it's true – it is amazing to walk through the plains and see masses of black and white stripes, infinite lines of wildebeest, and sneaky families of baboons bolting from one point to the next.

Thrilling does not do justice to what it feels like to hear elephants come crashing down on the trees and brush right behind your campsite at bedtime, or to watch them shake an entire palm tree and trumpet as you're finishing your egg at 6am. But if Beeeetee hadn't been there to tell me, “It's okay. There is a down wind. The elephants can't smell us so they won't charge”, perhaps thrilling might have turned horrifying. The Okavango Delta would not have been the same had I not had this caring, enthusiastic person to walk and talk with me and answer my questions. So when I remember the delta, what I will think of first is what made it the most memorable, and for me, that was Beeeetee.

Camping in Africa 

(Originally written days ago) 

This morning I experienced two amazing things almost simultaneously upon waking. First, I realized that I had slept through the entire night for the first time since this camping trip has begun.. As an ultra light sleeper, this was huge. Getting enough rest is no easy feat when surrounded by the sounds of tent zippers, rustling backpacks and people talking and getting up at all different times in surrounding tents.

Seconds later, as I began stretching comfortably in the warmth of my sleeping bag, I heard an unfamiliar noise, which I could identify only as non-human. As I lay still, eyes open in the darkness, I smiled to myself, imagining the animals gathering at the nearby watering hole. I am camping in Africa! I thought. I am laying in a sleeping bag, listening to wild animals roam freely nearby. I get to watch the sun rise each morning as I take down my tent, and witness the sky changing its mood, from warm pink to rose to a soft blue. How lucky am I?  

I savored the moment, still cozy and content, knowing I had woken early, and would have a while before needing to step out into the chill of the Namibian dawn. Minutes later, my tentmate woke, and just as we were greeting each other, I heard it again. ...“Did you hear that?” I whispered excitedly. “Yes. What do you suppose it is?”, she wondered.

It was 5:20, and we decided to get a head start. The cold metal of the tent poles on our palms made us move quickly, and I silently wondered as we rolled up our tent if I'll ever stop minding all the dirt, sand and grass that immediately coats my hands when packing it. But as usual, once it was in the bag and we were carrying it back to the truck, I looked back at the ever-changing sky and felt a sense of accomplishment - a strong feeling of satisfaction. As we headed over to the breakfast area and I began to spoon some oatmeal into a dish, our driver greeted us all. “Good morning everyone”, he said, in his charming South African accent. “Did anyone hear the lions this morning?” “WHAT lions?” everyone responded, almost in unison. And I smiled to myself as I sprinkled some sugar on my oatmeal and gave the cinnamon a few more taps. I am camping in Africa. 

To Pee or Not to Pee?

That is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The torture and discomfort of a full bladder,

Or to disregard the group of jackals outside

And by urinating fearlessly in the open air, liberate myself. To lie awake or to sleep?

Last night I realized a few things. First of all, stating that one is “not afraid of the dark” may change quite unexpectedly given a new context. I, for example, have boasted for years of not being afraid of the dark, and it was true. It really was...until last week.

It was my first night in Namibia and I was feeling rather proud of having successfully pitched a tent for the first time. Mid-July means winter here in southern Africa, and temperatures hover right above freezing. But thanks to twenty-seven visits to R.E.I., I was ready to brave camping in this weather. It was not even 9:30pm when I allowed myself to peacefully drift off in my silky cocoon.

But at 3am (thank you, Indigo Timex), I awoke from my slumber, despite my earplugs and 30 degree sleeping bag keeping me toasty. Why was I awake? I had to pee, of course. I lay there silently, wondering if I tried hard enough, might I be able to fall back asleep without taking the 2-minute-awfully-dark walk to the bathroom facility? Yes, I do have a head torch – but wouldn't the light make me an easier target for the animals? I silently willed my tentmate's urge to go to the bathroom to wake her from her sleep so we could go together, laughing on the way about how scared we both were.

Thirty unsuccessful minutes later, I decided I needed to take action. Perhaps I don't need to go all the way to the facilities, I thought. After all, this is all about nature, right? So I attempt and fail to quietly unzip my tent, and search for something behind which to hide. Do I turn my light off in case somebody comes outside? Or do I need to keep it on so I can watch out for scorpions near my feet? Halfway through drainage I hear the zipper open on someone else's tent. Do I stop mid-stream? Do I say hello? I've had no schooling on urinary etiquette.

I pulled my thermals up faster than a teenager and her boyfriend who just got walked in on by a parent and rushed back to my tent feeling relieved and stupidly proud. I did it! I have come a long way from the scared little girl whose father had to set up a light switch right next to her bed within arm's reach. I can handle the Namibian night. Quick note to self: early dinners and no fluids after 5pm for the rest of my trip.  : )  

I Never Thought I Would Do It.

That applies both to blogging and to taking a 13-month trip around the world. Yet here I am, sitting in Windhoek, Namibia, thinking about how to approach something as daunting-yet-exciting as documenting this journey. I'm not a writer. I've forgotten the rules of punctuation and I'm terrified of boring you. Still, I feel compelled to do this for my family, my friends and myself.

I remember back in high school, right around my 15th birthday, my cousin Deb gave me this less-than-aesthetically-pleasing red and black journal. On the very first page she drew me a watering can and wrote me a message. "Write down your hopes, your dreams, something that makes you want to tear down walls, something that makes you want to jump for joy, something you never thought you'd try but you DID, something you WANT to try but don't think you ever will..."

Each time I wrote in it, I included one of each. I loved that fugly journal with all my might, and wrote in it for years. It lead me through some amazing growth. Going back and re-reading what I wrote months and even years later was even more eye-opening for me. So I would like to end this entry and begin this blog by sharing the one piece that stands out most in my memory:

November, 1997 - Something you want to try but don't think you ever will... I want to spend a year traveling all around the world by myself.

Thank you, Deb, for that incredible present, and for telling me, "Do iiiiiit!" when I was daydreaming out loud.