The places beyond

A friend of mine bought me a sign for my last birthday. He said that when he saw the sign, he thought of me. It read "Old enough to know better, young enough to do it anyway." And I guess he is right. It is who I am. I know better, but sometimes, I do it anyway. I have heard that I am crazy. And maybe I am. But I think it is the good kind of crazy. The "dangling out of the plane harnessed to a guy with a parachute and thinking 'I'm gonna DIIIIIIIEeeeee....'"-kind of crazy. Not the bad "Ooooo. That lion looks like he wants to play. Take a picture of me when I tug it's tail!"-kind of crazy. I do stuff that is semi-safe but might seem or feel quite the opposite.
I wanted to go to Afghanistan. Yup. Ever since I saw a sign in a window in Oslo for plane tickets to Kabul. I texted a friend, and he replied "Go for it!". I read up on places and security in Afghanistan, and found that Herat in the west was relatively safe. Before the summer, I booked the flight from Dubai to Herat. Then I went to the Afghan Embassy in Oslo to apply for a visa. The guy behind the counter took my application, browsed through it, and asked : "Why do you want to go to Afghanistan?" "I want to go there as a tourist." I said. He laughed. "No one goes to Afghanistan as a tourist!" he said and handed me back my application forms. He wrote down the phone-number of the head of the consular section. "Talk to her!" he said. I left the embassy and took the tram to work. I called the number, and she told me that the only way I would get a visa approved was if I could get an invitation from either the Norwegian Embassy in Kabul, or from an NGO. I sent an e-mail to the embassy in Kabul. A few hours later I got a reply with a defintive "NO!" spelled out in diplomatese. They also (in diplomatese of course) told me the only ones who wanted to come to Afghanistan as tourists, were either suicidal, certifiably crazy, flipping anti-psychotic drugs as if they where tic-tacs or most likely a combination of the three. So in the end, I felt like I had been bitch-slapped with red-tape. I gave up. If I was meant to go to Afghanistan, it would have happened. But it didn't. So I cancelled the flight and the hotel in Herat.
A few days before I left, I talked to a guy who works at the place I work. He told me that he had recently been in Erbil in northern Iraq. I asked him if that wasn't dangerous. "No! Erbil is fine. Southern Iraq is crazy, but north is fine. If it wasn't for my wife refusing to move, I would have moved back a long time ago. With Norwegian passport, you don't even need a visa. I checked with the department of foreign affairs, and it was correct. I checked flights, and they were available. My heart raced. YES! I didn't have to stay in Dubai, or go to some other place in the region. I could go to Iraq!
So here I am. Erbil. A couple of hundred kilometres north of Baghdad.
A little summary of my getting here from Malawi :
I got up reaconably late. Didn't have to stress since my plane wasnt leaving until after one anyway. I had met Sigrid's usual taxi-driver the night before in the reception and agreed upon him coming to get me at 9 to drive me to the airport. He was at athe hotel all morning waiting on me. I had a big breakfast, which mostly consisted of delicious sausages and bacon. Wanted to fuel up on proteins.
We left at nine and headed for the Lilongwe international airport. It was half an hour drive out of town. The airport was small. And there were only a few flights a day. And it seemed like they all departed almost at the same time. When I arrived I had to go through a security check at the entrance of the building. Three guys stood there with a roller-board and a metal-detector. They ordered me to put my bag and stuff on the board, and walk through the metal-detector. It screamed like a hungry baby. I stopped, expecting them to ask for a more thorough search. Instead they said "OK!", and let me go... At checkin I asked the girl behind the counter if I could get window seat on the right hand side of the plane (opposite the sunny side). She said "of course" and gave me one boarding pass with window seat for the left hand side, and one for an isle seat in the middle section... I had been told I would have to pay departure tax, but that was wrong. They just stamped my passport and let me through. Upstairs, there was the usual "tax-free"-shops. I went into one and bought a coke. I drank some, and wondered why there was such a smell of white-spirit. Then I realized it was from the coke. They had probably "cleaned" it.. I threw it in a waste basket. I probabøy should have complained and gotten a new one, but I didn't bother.
At the airport was also a group of Norwegian scouts that had been at a jamboree in Malawi. I had actually seen them on tv a few days before, but they told me that they had been sitting underneath the Swedish flag I saw (and thus assumed they were Swedes...).
Boarding time! We all got on a bus that drove us the 200 yards to the airplane. We all got onboard and were told we were stopping in Blantyre on the way. I knew that this might happen. 30 minutes in the air. I sat there wondering who would bother. It took 4 hours by bus, and you would save maybe 1/2 hour going by plane. It turned out that about half the plane bothered. They got off at Blantyre...

After a long break in Blantyre, the airplane had been refueled and repackaged with new passangers entering, and we were off to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The inflight-movie was a surfing-movie from the late sixties, it looked like. And it was run in loop mode, so they showed it again and again. Other than that, not much happening. So I thought I'd just try to rest as much as possible. I knew I would land in Dubai very early in the morning, so no chance of sleeping much there.
The trip to Dubai was event-less. There was a better selection of inflight entertainment, but I needed some sleep, so I ignored watching any of them. I actually managed to sleep about an hour.
We arrived in Dubai, and I decided I didn't want to stay in the airport for 18 hours, so I went through passport control. I was tired, and it showed. Two guys were sitting in the booth. One took my passport and checked it. The other asked me "How do you feel, sir?". "Sleepy!" I replied. He smiled and asked me where I had come from. I told him my journey so far. They stamped my passport, and I could go into town. I found the usual million taxis, but I saw something I liked better. "Dubai metro!" Yes! Who wants to settle for a boring taxi-ride when you can explore with the metro! I found that it was closed. But only until sunrise. So I settled in a chair, and fell asleep for about half an hour. Woke up with a sore neck. The metro finally opened, and I bought a return ticket to something that looked interesting "Dubai Internet City". I expected it to be a mecca for technology and with shops brimming with gadgets and such. So it was with great expectations I disembarked the train and went out to be greeted by scorching hot air. My first thought when looking around was "where's the tumble-weed?". The area was dead. And dead quiet. I thought maybe it was because it was 7 in the morning. So I wandered around to see if I could find the interesting shops or something. But much to my disappointment, I found that the only thing this place had in common with internet, was the word "virtual". There was "virtually" nothing there. All I could find, were food shops, hotels and laundry services. I walked around for almost an hour before I gave up trying to find something to do with technology.
I walked back to the metro, and asked the lady behind the counter for a day-pass to the metro, so I could travel around the city for more interesting stuff. I saw that we passed the Burj Khalifa on the way (tallest building in the world). I took the metro there, and found that they had made a half km long, airconditioned walkway to the Dubai Mall, which was right beside the Burj Khalifa. So I stood there on one rolling pathway after the next, until I finally arrived at the mall.

It was still early in the morning, so no shops were open. I decided to go the Burj first. I found the exit at the ground floor. And was once again hugged by the almost 40 degree heat. I could feel some sweat coming. In To the right, The Burj Khalifa tower stretched up. Far up. 828 meters tall. Almost twice the Sears tower in Chicago. I tried to find the entrance to get up to an observation deck, which I assumed it had for tourists. After half an hour, I finally found one entrance, but it was for cars. A security guard came out of his booth and asked me what I wanted. I told him, and he said I could buy tickets at the mall... Thank you!

The giant

Sweaty version of me and the tower

I remembered that when looking for the exit, I had seen signs in the mall that read "To the top, Burj Khalifa", but when I arrived, it looked like a cafe, so I assumed it was. But it turned out to be a ticket booth for going up to the observation deck. And it had an airconditioned underground walkway to the tower... Oh, well. I got some nice pictures. I paid the 125 dirhams and walked to the elevator. It took us 124 stories up. I had to pop my ears a few times on the way up. Then we walked out into a small hallway that led to some doors to the observation deck. Which was basically a terrass 452 meters above the ground. Bith openings so you could look over the edge. I was a bit surprised at this, given that some mischiefous people might throw something over the edge. A coin would probably be lethal if thrown. But I got some nice pictures. I must admit I was disappointed. I had been to the sky-tree in Tokyo, and the observation deck was at 450 meters. I looked up here, and saw that they could have put the observation deck much higher up. Maybe 1-200 metres higher. So it was the highest I have been in a building, but only by 2 metres...

Tower af Babylon?

Tom Cruise was here!

And this is where he was "hanging"

View of Dubai Mall to the left.

In the shadow if a giant

Disappointingly low

After I was satisfied, I want down the elevator again and back to the mall. I had to admit it was wonderful to stay there in the aircon. Lots of gadget shops around. And a beautiful open aquarium in one of the corners. With a gigantic glass wall. They had sharks, rays and lots of small and BIG fish. The biggest about 1 metre long. I loved it. But in the end, I almost fell asleep. I sat texting a friend, and fell asleep between the words. I woke up to find I had scribbled something totaly incomprensible. So it took me the better part of 5 minutes to complete a short text.
At around 4 I walked back to the metro and headed for the airport. I found that I had to go to Terminal 2 to catch my flight. I looked for terminal 2, but no metro, no shuttle buses. Nothing. I asked around and everybody told me I had to take a taxi there. Strange. I took a taxi. Or, a guy with a car. It was far from official. He probably overcharged me. I dunno. Too tired to care. Terminal 2 was noisy and packed with people. I found that I had to wait in the hall for three hours before I could check in. There was an alarm screaming from a door of some kind, and they spent the best part of one hour to stop it. I finally could get into he queue to check in. As I was nearing the checkin counter. I noticed one after the other of the checkin booths closed. One local guy started commenting loudly. When it was my turn, all booths were empty. The local dude started shouting and screaming at a guy, who obviously were trying to explain what was going on. In the end, one girl came and sat in one of the booths. I was allowed to check in. "Mister Ass?" she asked. "Aas, like in Awesome!" I said. "Ah!" she said and laughed. I explained about the special Norwegian character. "I am so sorry. I will sleep tonight being a little less stupid!" she said and smiled. I went through passport control and security and walked to the gate. After a few minutes, and American guy came up to me and started talking. It took me about two seconds to figure out he was drunk as a sailor. He was going to Erbil to "drill some holes in the ground" (looking for oil). And he went on talking about how the "niggers were destroying America", and other "issues". Life has tought me never to argue with drunk people, so I just stood there listening to his rants. The plane ended up being very late. There had been a technical issue with the first, so they swapped planes. It turned out that this was going to be one of the most eventful flights I have experienced.
The flight attendants were trying their best to get people to sit down and to listen to them when they were giving directions and orders. Nobody listened. Nobody seemed to care. Just before takeoff, an old lady got out of her chair to get something from the overhead locker. The flight attendant tried in both English and the local toungue to get her to sit down, but she ignored both. In the end the attendant got up and walked quickly (and obviously angry) back to her and told her to "SIT DOWN!". The old lady argued with her for a few seconds before she settled in her seat. Just as the plane took off, the unmistakable sound of "Nokia" rang through the cabin. A few seconds later, a guy behind me answered his phone... After a while I fell asleep. Woke up just before we arrived. Several people was standing up or walking around when the attendant tried to get them to sit down. "The captain has switched on the seat-belt sign because of heavy turbulence. So please return to your seat. Nobody listened. After several attempts, they finally sat down. But as the plane was about to land, an old lady behind me got up. Obviously to be first at the exit. The flight attendant almost screamed into the PA. "SIT! DOWN! NOW!". The guy next to her pleaded with her, and with loud arguments, she finally sat down and let him fasten her seat belt. Just in time for touch down. And just like at takeoff, the same phone rang again. Some guy said something about "captain". And he was obviously arguing with the guy about his phone being on. But he just waved him off and answered. I looked at the attendant, and it was obvious she was stressed out and MAD! When the captain finally switched off the seat-belt sign, everybody jumped out of their seats. The old lady behind me elbowed her way through, shouting at people. Obviously to get out first. I just had to smile at the whole thing. Poor attendant!
We got into the terminal building and I walked through passport control. Got my 15 day visa and went to look for a taxi. No taxis but a shuttle bus. It took us to another terminal where we had to go through "Arrival". Have no idea what that was all about. But on the other side where taxis. I found an older guy who had a "taxi". More precisely a car parked in the car park. It was a great car. SUV. The guy didn't speak much English. We agreed on 15 000 for the trip. He drove fast. Very fast. Obviously to get there before some accident happened. He even zoomed past a police car on emergency call. With lights flashing and all... The police obviously didn't care. We finally arrived at the street my hotel was. It was pakced with men sitting around drinking chai and smoking water pipes. The hotel was amazing. I just have to say that. It was truly one of the best rooms I have ever stayed in. Gigantic, with 180 degree panorama view. Wall to wall carpeting. 130 channels of crap on the tv to choose from (mostly channels starting with "Al"-something. I didn't find Al-Qaida...) Nice tiled bathroom and a very friendly and helpful staff. It cost the same as my room in Catembe in Mozambique, but is lightyears away in quality. I have absolutely NO problem paying the price for this one. Everything works. The staff is knowledgable and very service minded. The breakfast was on the seventh floor. With amazing views of the whole city.

My hotel room. With conference group and all.

Wonderful clean, and WORKING bathroom

So here I am, in my airconditioned room. I am checking out at noon. But I want to enjoy it as much as possible before I head out to more "down to earth" accomodation on more of a backpacker budget. I have read about what is supposedly the best of the cheapo's. I will check it out after I have checked out from here. I am actually seriously contemplating staying here the last night before I leave. It would be nice to spend the last night in such a place. I have to admit that much.
What am I going to do here in Iraq? I don't know. I decided to go here a few days before my vacation started, so I really haven't had the time to check it out much. But I have found a few spots around Erbil I want to check out. So we will see when the time comes, what happens.

Out of Africa

Suddenly you appeared beside me. Your quiet approach made you almost invisible. In the cold morning in Tete, just after sunrise, you held up sodas. "Frescos? Quince meticais." you said in a quiet, mild voice. 7 maybe 8 years old. With a torn and worn dress as the only protection against the cold. A guy took one of your bottles. Gave you a 20-note. You shook your head. You had no change. He waved his hand. You curled the note in your small hand. Looked at him for a few seconds to make sure he wouldn't change his mind. Then slowly put it in your pocket. Stepped back from the chapa. Was it fear? Was it tiredness? Was it hopelessness? Was it the look of despair I saw in your eyes? What are your dreams, little girl? Do you even dear to dream?
It is easy to travel and not see anything but beautiful beaches, luxurious hotel-rooms, and smiling servants. And I sometimes wish I could always do that. But I know I would feel like a fake. So I travel out of the comfort zone. And I see the ones I wish weren't there. And it makes me angry. Not only at the unfairness in the world, but also at the people at home who whine about how much they have to "suffer" in the "worlds richest country". I have seen the other side.
I'm leaving Africa today. Later today, I will board a plane out of here. I will eat a meal while watching inflight movies. Looking down at the continent I've spent three weeks on. I will remember the beautiful beaches. The friendly people. The stunning landscape. The delicious food. But when I close my eyes, yours is the face I will see. I hope and pray that one day, your dreams will come true. That you no longer have to stand there in the cold, selling sodas to help your family. That one day, your dress will be clean. Your face will shine from a smile. And your future will be something you dare to plan.
It could have been me. Me standing there in the cold morning. Hoping to sell some sodas so my family could afford to eat that day. And I will remember every day to thank God it's not.

Ragnar
Only visiting this planet

Staying put

Yesterday, I decided to stay in Blantyre. I was thinking of going to a place further south to see teh tea plantations. But I decided that I had had enough travelling for a while, and decided just to stay in Blantyre and having a lazy walk around town. The day before, I had found a cinema in a shopping mall 3 km out of town. They were showing "Ironman 3" and "Parker". I had seen the first, so I wanted to see "Parker". But first, I wanted to go back to the Mandala House to actually read something from Stanley. I went there and took out the book and sat down with a couple of girls. They were active in a conversation, but when I sat daown, they started to wisper. Suited me fine. I opened the booke carefully. From the very first page, I knew this was my kind of book. Even though the writing was "ancient" and the language strange, it was a thrill to read. The book had been published not long after Stanley returned. And the publisher also added a special note declaring that this was a hasty project. And thus the book may contain some errors, some spelling mistakes and such. I loved it. I read Stanley's preface and the first chapter. I forgot time and space, and was completely consumed by his descriptions of what he saw, who he met and how he perceived people and areas around him. I loved it. This is the way I WANT to write this blog. But my feeble scriblings in this blog become mere fifth-grader musings in comparison. It was clear to me, THIS was the way to write about your travels. A way that gets the user hooked and sucked into the story. With descriptions so vivid it is almost like I can see it, touch it and smell it. I wish I someday will be able to write half as good.
I was awaken from the journey into Stanley's world by one of the girls saying that they were soon going to lunch. And were closing up. "Just this chapter!" I said, and they agreed. They had the keys and were locking up the library when they left. I endulged myself one last time in the final pages of the chapter, closed the book and left with a smile on my face.

The route Stanley travelled to find Livingstone

 Given that Stanley lived in an era of prejudices and fairytales about other races, it is astounding to see how Stanley is able to shake off what he has heard, observe for himself and conclude on that.

I walked into town and took out my camera. Wanted to take some photos of people, streets and buildings. Blantyre is much larger than I could hope to cover in one lazy afternoon, but I found some interesting (to me) motifs. I shot a few frames before deciding to fill my empty stomach. A meal of chicken shawarma did the job. With a full stomach, I walked back to my hotel and crashed on the bed. Still dreaming of great adventures and adventurers. Those were the days!

Blantyre used to be the capital of Malawi

Once tax office, now tourist information

Street tailors ready for any assignment

The receptionist was unable to get my name correct. So she had new names for me every day when I paid for the next night. First night she wrote "Ragnar Gies". Next night she wrote "Jeremah"!!! The final night I told her that "Jeremah" was NOT correct. I spelled out my name, and the receipt read "Ragnar Jeremah!". Whatever....

Ragnar Gies. No! Jeremah! Definitely NO! Ragnar Jeremah! Ok. Whatever..

After a quick nap, I headed east to the shopping mall and the cinema. They opened at 4.30, and I wanted to be there early to secure my ticket. To my amusement, I found that Hollywood-movies where actually cheaper to watch that Bollywood. I bought one ticket for "Parker" and went up to the shopping mall while waiting for the movie to start. The skies were darkening. The sun was setting. I enjoyed the cool of the evening. Watching people going about their business. Like anywhere else in the world. The shopping centre reminded me a bit of those one find in the US. The design and the surroundings. Probably have got their inspiration from those. At 5.15 I walked down in the basement to the cinema. The entrance was the same for the public toilet and the underground parking. A small door to the left when entering, led you to the cinema centre. I was the only one there. I bought a bucket of popcorn and went into theatre 2. After 5 minutes, a cinema attendant came and apologized, but the machinist had accidentaly swapped the movies, So I had to go to theatre 1. I got up and walked to the theatre next door. Sat there until 10 minutes after the movie was supposed to start. I was still alone in the theatre. The attendant came again and apologized. They would only show the movie if there where at least 3 people in the theatre. There where two for the other movie, so if I went there, they would show "Ironman 3". I told him I had already seen that movie. "Ok. Go to the ticket office to get a refund." I have to admit I was a bit disappointed, but what to do? I left the building. It was now almost dark. I wondered whether I should take a taxi back into town, but decided to walk. As it got darker and darker, in the end I had only the siluettes of the other people on the sidewalk to guide me. It took a bit longer to walk back. Gievn I had to walk slower. But it was a good walk. 45 minutes later, I was back in town and went to buy something to drink before I returned to my hotel.

This morning I woke up early (as usual), and had a shower. I was taking the 7-bus to Lilongwe. I arrived at the bus-station at 06.30. A lady was wating with what appeared to be her whole house. They brought out the big scales. More than 500 kg of luggage. I do believe she had to pay for a slight amount fo excessive luggage... The bus didn't arrive before after 7, but there weren't many people going on my bus, so we were off 10 minutes later. The trip was mostly eventless, save for the bus driver getting caught in a speed trap and having to pay a fine...
I had checked the guide I borrowed from Sigrid and found that the bus-station for Axa wa just beside the hotel I stayed in last time I was in Lilongwe. So when we arrived, I decided to skip Crossroads this time, and ride to their final stop. This proved to be far away from what the guide said. I asked around, and a lady told me that this was area 3, which I hoped it would be. So I tried finding out which road was passing by the stop. But nobody knew. In the end I found a guy who said that area 3 was on the other side of town. ARGH! I found a small fast food shop and got me a burger and some fries. Needed some energy. Then I started looking for a minibus to get me to Crossroads or somewhere close I was asking every driver I saw for Crossroads, but they all waved me off. Then I heard a guy shouting "Shoprite". I assumed it was Crossroads, so I hopped on. After about 15 minutes (of which half was wating for passangers to arrive) we arrived at Shoprite. I looked around and recognized the place. This was 5 minute walk from the Korea Gardens Lodge. The place I stayed from Sunday to Monday! I got off and walked to the hotel. A guy tried to become "my guide and friend" but I waved him off. After a short walk I arrived at the hotel. They had one cheapo-room left. I took it. So here I am. I will meet Sigrid tonight, and tomorrow afternoon, my flight (hopefully) leaves from Lilongwe International Airport. I am on my way to my final leg of this vacation. I am looking forward to that. Have no idea what lies ahead. Love it! :-)

Down and out

Yesterday, my bus was leaving City Mall at Crossroads at 07.00, so I had asked the receptionist to book a taxi for 06.00, so I would have enough time to take into account delays and other unforseen problems. I got up at 05.00 and packed my bag. Sat in the reception and surfed until I saw the time passed 06.00. I asked the receptionist if they had booked my taxi. He looked at me for a few seconds, his eyes ooozing of "No we haven't, but I cannot tell you, so I'll have to figure out some excuse that sounds plausable". "I'll call and check." He called and booked the taxi. I sighed loudly. He understood. He made another call. The landlady came a few minutes later. Wearing her night-gown and her sleepy face. "Madame will drive you!", the receptionist said. Really? Yes, really. She walked out the door and got in her tiny little car. She was an old and tiny Korean lady. She never looked in any direction when driving. Just looked straight ahead and drove onto the main road. When she spoke, she remineded me of the "chinese lady" on Mad TV.
Her : "Vea u gaw?"
I : "Blantyre"
Her : "Aaaaah. Blantai!"
Silence.
Me : "You from South or North Korea?"
Her : (laughing) "Soothe! Soothe! Not is bed! Bed pesiden! Soothe goo!" (laughing)
Me : "I have been in North Korea!"
Her : "Bed! Bed pesiden! Naw goo!" (Something incomprehensible) "Naw goo!"
Me : "Yeah..."
She drove past the City Mall and I tried to make her aware of this.
Me : "You just p..."
Her : "Naw. I ask!"
Me : "But I'm going over there!" I pointed towards the shopping centre, but she insisted on driving into the gas station next to it.
Her : "No pawblem! I ask! Naw see bass!"
Me : "I'll just get off here!"
Her : "U saw?"
Me : "Yes, I'm sure!"
I thanked her and got out. Walked to the shopping centre and to the stand where the bus was to arrive.
The morning was one of the coldest so far. But it wasn't too bad after all. After hanging around for 15 minutes, the bus arrived. I got on and sat down beside a local guy named Mark. As we started driving, we started talking. He turned out to be on the national team for 400m track. His personal best was 45.91. He was hoping to qualify for the Commonwealth games. But since he wasn't in the world elite, it din't pay off much, so when he wasn't training, he worked at the KFC in Blantyre. He would have loved to be a proffessional, but had to cope with lack of infrastructure and financial problems in Malawi. We talked about the current state of Malawi for most of the trip. He was born in Zambia, but since his parents where Malawi, they moved back, and he moved with them. He wasn't as dark as most Malawis and he told me his great grandfather was Indian.
"I am also volunteering for the church. They have a program for helping children on the streets. They are in bad shape. You can buy satchets of vodka on the streets for 100 kwacha. And many of the sellers don't care if the buyers are under 18. SO many kids beg for money, and buy alcohol for the money. They hardly ever eat, and collapse in the end. And some are exploited by criminal gangs to steal and break into cars. It is terrible." It was obvious that his heart was with these kids. He didn't have any of his own. "You know. I am trying to make the poor people understand that they cannot get a lot of kids. They cannot take care of them, and they end up on the street. But they will not listen. It is important to have kids."
We had a long and very interesting conversation during the trip. When I got off, I thanked him for the talk and he wished me a safe journey.
I walked from the bus-stop to the same shawarma-shop where I had eaten on Thursday. Ordered the same meal and sat down. I could feel it now. I started feeling it on Saturday morning. My batteries was nearly depleted. On the road for four days to get to Lilongwe, with precious little sleep had taken its toll. The battery lamp was flashing. I needed some rest. Serious rest. After the meal, I checked the guide I borrowed from Sigrid, and wanted to check out two cheap hotels. They both lay a bit out of the city centre. But I was OK with that. I started walking (I like to walk when I am mentally tired), and walked. And Walked. After 2-3 km it was getting obvious to me that I had taken a wrong turn. I headed back to the starting point and tried again. This time I was more in luck. I found the hotel where I wanted to stay the most, but it was full. So I walked back towards the other. They had vacancies in all categories. The receiptionist asked if I wanted the most expensive room. I said I wanted the cheapest. "But it does not have bathroom!" she said. "I don't care. I don't mind sharing a bathroom." She looked at me as if I was a space oddity or something. But gave me some form to fill in. She walked me to the room. It was big, with ample bed space for three people, if needed. It was clean, and smelled clean. I told her I needed a towel. "I will tell the girl to bring it to you!" she said and left. I dropped the bag on the floor and sat down on the biggest bed. I didn't even close the door. Then I just dropped backwards on my back, with arms out. And closed my eyes. About half an hour later, the maid arrived. I could hear her footsteps. She stopped outside my door. Waited a few seconds, then knocked on the open door and said "Mister? Towel!". I lifted my head slightly and said "Yes, come in!". She came in and laid the towel on the other bed. Then she left. She looked at me, or more precisely : Stared at me the whole time. She closed the door behind her. I lay there for almost an hour. Just resting. I was down and out.
Then I got up and walked to the gas station next door and picked up some water and snacks for the evening. Returning to my bedroom, I watched a movie on my computer, and just more or less sat in my bed the whole evening. It was good. It felt good. My batteries were charging. In the end I fell asleep, and slept like a baby. More than 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was a delight to wake up and see that it was morning. My batteries were still not fully charged, but definitely up and running.
I got up, and had a shower. I needed to wash a t-shirt, so I brought it with me into the shower. Soaped it in and washed it. It became reasonably clean. I wringed the water out of it and hung it over the shower wall until I was finished. I brought it back to my room, and realized they probably hadn't washed the top of the shower walls since the independence days. It was full of brown and black stains. "Ah, whatever!" I thought and hung it up to dry in one of the giant closets in my room.
The receptionist had told me that the price of the room included breakfast, so I headed for the restaurant. I was the only one there. A girl came up to me and said in a voice so weak you'd need the ultrasonic hearing of a mouse to be able to make it out. "What?" I asked. "Do you..........?" she repeated. "What?" I said again and turned my head slightly to indicate I didn't hear what she said. "Do you stay here?" I could barely make out. "Yes!" I said. "Ok s......" she said. "What?!" "Sit down please!" she said a bit louder. I sat down and after a while she came back and asked "Y... w.... o ....?". "What?!" "You want toasted or plain bread?" "Toasted please!". After a while she brought a plate with two pieces of toast, a dubiously fried egg and some chips. I ate the toast and the chips. Not properly cooked or fried eggs are like asking "you want salmonella with your fries?" "No thanks, not today!"
Today, I had two goals. One was to visit the Mandala House. Reputably the oldest standing building in Malawi. Given that most houses here are made of mud and straw (and have a tendency to wash away during the rainy season), it's not so hard to believe. The other was the Malawi Museum. The latter was build the same year as Malawi got it's independence and supposedly contained some artifacts from it's history. I think such things are interesting, so I wanted to check it out.
I walked to where the map said Mandala House should be. I found a business compound of some kind. I asked a few guys standing there where it was. After thinking and dicsussing it a bit, they all said "It's behind this building". I walked into the compound and found the building. I walked between some parked cars to get to a padlocked door. I saw some girl inside, and called out to her. "When do you open?" "It is open. Just wait a minute!" So I waited for a minute until a guy came and opened the door. "We are open, but the entrance is on the other side!" he said and smiled. Ah. Stupid tourist... The ground floor was a gallery packed with artifacts from all over. Paintings, figurines, handmade chests and such. I looked through the gallery and then went upstairs, where the library was. I walked in and found a small library of old and new books. I browsed the shelves and to my astonishment found orginial copies of the books by Stanley and Livingstone. And they were not on display behind a glass. They were books I could pull out and browse through like in any other library. I carefully pulled out the book by Stanley. "How I found Livingstone". Opened it carefully. This was a gem! I looked at the illustrations. Read a bit. I could almost feel a tingling sensation in my body. I just love this! If I could, I would have sat there reading the whole book. But that would have taken weeks, probably. Given the book was 720 pages long. And fragile. I carefully placed it back on the shelf and pulled out one book by Livingstone. "Expedition to the Zambezi". Original from 1865. I opened it carefully and browsed through some pages. Unfolded a map made from the descriptions of Livingstone. I put it back and sat down in a chair. Dreaming away. I am not an explorer. I ride SUVs and airconditioned buses. These dudes walked, rode and climbed thousands of kilometres through unknown territory. Communicating with local tribespeople. Studying alien customs. Traditions. And wrote thick volumes brimming with details about them. I'm writing a superficious blog. They explored, I travel. I think it is best described in the following poem I found in the gallery at Mandala House. (In case you haven't figured out yet, click on the images to enlarge them...)

New and old mixed together

Precious gem

Beautiful illustrations

Final words by Livingstone

Mandala House. A big attracion in its time. And even now.

After spending a few hours at the Mandala House, I continued on to the "Museums of Malawi". It was a 3 km walk from Mandala House. I watched closely some dark clouds ahead. Hoping they would not release their contents until I was safely there. It rained when I was at Mandala House. I got there without getting wet. Inside the compound, I found a traditional hut, and some old machinery. I like this old stuff. It is like true engineering. When the field was young. Steam engines and such. Made from tons of steel. Some local kids were playing with them. These are made so solid that I don't think even kids can break them. Inside the museum, I paid 200 kwacha to go downstairs and look at the artifacts they had on display. It reminded me of too many museums in Africa. Artifacts are put on display and left there to rot forever. Several items had fallen off their designated space and lay in a pile at the bottom of the display. Dusty and dirt everywhere. But despite this, I find them interesting. They show old history. Old traditions and old items. I don't know why, but I love looking at stuff like this. It was "strickly verboten" to take photos inside the museum, so no pictures from the inside, unfortunately. The sign on the outside said "Preserving Malawis cultural and natural history". I think that was stretching it a bit. "Letting the history rust and dust away in a controlled manner" is more precise. I understand that in a poor country, spending money on a museum isn't the best investment. When people are hungry, the priority should be in feeding them. But it is still a shame that all this stuff is just sitting there, rusting away. I wish that somehow, money could be found to preserve it in a better way than this. But then, I come from a rich country. Guess I'm spoiled...

Mud and straw hut.

Inside the hut

Big equipment!

Locomotive 1902

Bus or cattle-transport?

Maybe a little of both?

Very descriptive sign

Malawi used to be called Nyasaland.

In the bathroom inside the toilet, the mirror had been turned into a "ghost" mirror.

Caught by Nkhotakota

I didn't sleep much in the dorm room. The party outside died after they stopped serving at 10pm, and I slept well until I had to go to the bathroom. I got back and tried to get back to sleep. Then I noticed that the girl sleeping in the bed underneath made a lot of strange noises. In addition to talking in her sleep. I lay there listening to the noises for a while until an obvious drunk guy entered the room, sweared a lot before he found his bed. Then sweared a lot more while he obviously struggled with the mosquito net. Then sweared even more when he realized he had to go to the bathroom. I heard him swearing even more in the bathroom before he came back and sweared som more while trying to find his bed. And then some more while trying to get the mosquito-net back in order. It took maybe half an hour. Then he settled into some less swearing while falling asleep. I may have slept some hours more. But anyways. I got up at around 7. Sigrid was going to pick me up at 9.
I wanted to take a shower, but they didn't have any towels to borrow, since "the guests tended to 'forget' to hand them back when finished". So I couldn't shower. And the toilets had no more toilet paper, so I had nothing to dry myself with. I didn't smell, so I guessed I was OK. They had, btw, very interesting doors into the showers and toilets. They were divided in the middle, with a lock. But when locked, there was a 1 cm slit where you could see what-/whoever was inside. No place for the shy.
I ordered an English breakfast and was told to go down to the restaurant. I walked down, and found it almost deserted, save from Zoe. A girl from Australia. She was here to do some volunteer work on a school for a few months. The breakfast was big, and filling. And I was more than satisfied when I went back to the reception to check out. The receptionist gave me the bill. I looked at it with some degree of bewilderedness.
Me : "Excuse me? 11 000 kwacha? How did you arrive at that number?"
Receptionist : "The room is 3500, then you had breakfast today and lunch and dinner yesterday!"
Me : "Eeerrr. I wasn't here yesterday. How could I have had lunch and dinner?"
She brought out a sheet and found my name. I was listed with lunch and dinner.
Me : "I do not know where you got this from, but I had lunch with a friend and didn't come back here until after dinner."
She looked at me, thought for a while, and reduced the bill to 7000. Which was correct. I still have no idea how those numbers came on my tab. Anywho. I walked out into the sun and waited for Sigrid.
She arrived and I hopped into her car. After a few short stops to fuel and get some samosas and water for the trip, we headed for Nkhotakota, on the shores of Lake Malawi. We had looked at the map of Malawi the previous day, and decided to go to the Nkhotakota Pottery Lodge. The road took us through small villages, a number of police checkpoints, and beautiful landscapes. 3 hours later we had arrived at the sign for the lodge. The road down towards the lodge was terrible at best. We were glad Sigrid had an SUV available. I suspect a sedan would either fall apart or be stuck at some point. After about 10 minutes of jumping, buffeting and jolting, we finally arrived at the lodge, where a guard asked Sigrid to sign in before we were allowed into the compound.
The place is built around (surprise, surprise..) a pottery. So the reception is also a shop where you can buy pottery made at the spot. We checked in and now Sigrid was ready for her longed-for cup of coffee. The restaurant was beautifully set on the beach, where we had a great view of Lake Malawi. We decided to take a walk on the beach. The sand was not as fine as that on the beaches in Mozambique, but it was possible to walk barefoot all the same. So we walked up "our beach" to the next and then one more. Watching cows walking past, men tending their boats, women walking with firewood on their head. And just generally enjoyed the view and the walk. On the last beach, Sigrid made some new friends when a lot of children came after her, and took her hands. "Give me bottle!" they all chanted. Sigrid tried to explain she didn't have any bottle, but they persisted. She asked one of the girls her name in the local tongue. But she seemed to shy to want to answer. I took a picture of them. Sigrid said goodbuy to them and we walked back to the lodge.

Coffee! Finally!

Cattle on the beach

The young man and the sea

Sigrid and the beach

Permanently stranded boat

Elaborate sand-fortress

Dug-out canoes

"What's you name?" Sigrid making new friends

Big bugs on the beach

After a short rest, we were ready for dinner. We both opted for chicken curry. "It will be an hour!" the waitress said. "Maybe we should get a starter?" Sigrid suggested. I ordered a toast with humus. After a while, the waitress came back, apologised and said the had no humus. So instead of trying to find out what they did have, I ordered the same mushroom soup as Sigrid. Which was delicious! The chicken curry was also excellent! Well worth the wait. We sat there talking until we were both tired. We walked outside, and I noticed the skies were clear, so I invited Sigrid to come with me down to the beach to see the Milkyway. It was truly a stunning night. Almost no turbulence and no clouds. The Milkyway glowed in the sky. We stood there amazed and talked about the magnificense and the vastness of the universe. I suggested that we shoudl try to take a photo of the MIlkyway using Sigrid's camera. I had done it on the beaches of Mozambique with my own Lumix. The results were impressive given the camera, but I suspected an SLR would be better. It took some time before we figured out the controls, but in the end we managed to take 10 20-second exposures. I processed them the usual way and the result was surprisingly good. And better than what I had accomplished with my camera. After this, we both went to bed.

The centre of the Milkyway. 200 second exposue. 17mm/f.3.2. 

After breakfast the following day, we discussed how to drive back to Lilongwe, and decided on driving through the Nkhotakota Wildlife Reserve. And on the way there, stop at the Livingstone Tree Mission. Dr. Livingstone was there in 1861. So we expected a museum and such. When we arrived at Nkhotakota, we saw no sign. So we drove on for a bit. But saw no sign. We decided to ask someone, and a guy directed us down towards the lake. We asked someone at every junction and in the end, we stopped outside what seemed like a hospital. I pointed to a rusty old sign so deteriorated you could barely make out "Livingstone tree". This was it. We drove inside the compound, and found that the "sight" was a tree. That was supposedly the tree under which Dr. Livingstone sat with the local chiefs when he signed a treaty to stop slave trade. A bit less than we thought. I thought it was a bit funny. There was a church service nearby, so I walked over to film some of the beautiful song. Some very old ladies smiled at me when I entered the church. I smiled back, and filmed a procession towards the altar, and the singers singing. Loved it. Would have loved to stay, but we had to leave if we where to get back to Lilongwe not too late.

The Livingston tree...

We drove towards the wildlife reserve, and stopped at a checkpoint when entering. Sigrid had to sign in, and we were allowed to enter. No fee, but we had to register. We didn't expect to see any excotic wildlife, and we didn't. The roads went from potholed tarmac overgrown with grass, to dirtroads, to bad dirtroads. But the landscape was beautiful. And we did get to see some monkeys and some strange and beautiful birds.

It took an hour to drive through. At the other side, Sigrid had to sign out. Then we found we had two options, driving the dirt road via Ntchisi. That was shorter, and we initially decided to go there. But when we saw the actual road, we had second thoughts. It was narrow and in a bad shape. So we turned around and took the long way home, through Kasungu. I loved the drive. Especially since I wasn't the one driving, so I could enjoy watching the scenery, the people and everything that was going on on the road.

Small village by the road

Mountain rising up from the plains

We arrived back in Lilongwe in due time for some dinner. So we stopped at Sigrid's favourite pizza place. She tried to call a local friend, but he was unavailable.
After a short stop at her place, I took a taxi to my new place in Lilongwe. Korea Gardens Logde. Sligthly more expensive, but I guess I will have a better sleep here...
Tomorrwo, I am going south again. And from there work my way back to Lilongwe to fly out of Africa on Friday.
Thanks, Sigrid, for an enjoyable weekend!

Local resident up to some monkey business at the Nkhotakota Pottery Lodge