Party like it's 2056, the entry otherwise known as Yakkety-Yak (and it's a long one!)

It's become very clear that I'm oblivious when it comes to ungulates. I was just walking down the street to find this internet place when I came across a very lost-looking herd of wandering... uh.... Yaks? Cow-yaks? Ox-yaks?? There were lots of yaks in the mountains and I'm pretty sure these are different, but honestly I can't say. All I know is that they're wandering around town with blank expressions, some of them in the middle of the street turned around looking at other ones, some strayed off on their own nibbling bushes, others blocking traffic and getting honked at. Kind of like tourists.

 

So, where did we leave off? First I should give credit where credit is due: that kid I mentioned last time with the 'fake ID', maybe wasn't a fake. It didn't occur to me until I saw some school uniforms that said 'Est 2047' that in these parts people might use a different calendar! Glad I didn't laugh in his face, though I still feel ok about not buying a pen since it's not a great habit to give money to kids on the street. Anyway I had a couple more days in Kathmandu getting stuff organized, during which I was approached by the countless masses of salespeople as well as 2 different shop owners asking me to sell jewels for them internationally (I'd read about this one too, must get some bites if they keep trying, but honestly?). I ran into the local musician/guide I had met with the Korean group, and ended up having a Nepali drum lesson up on the roof of his office. Talk about atmosphere, rooftop views, evening light and cool beats. His organization promotes livelihood and awareness of/for people of the lowest (or 2nd lowest) caste in Nepal, the musicians. I've been quizzing everybody I meet on politics, economics, the government, the Maoist movement, and the fascinatingly still-active caste system. I also found out that the power is indeed on rotation, everyone goes without for 8 hours a day; it tends to go in 4-hour blocks, and somehow always when you miss it most even though it changes daily. On the bright side (ha, that wasn't even meant to be a bad pun) I've gotten really used to dining, reading, & doing just about everything by candlelight. Now when the power comes back on I just keep the lights off & candle burning because it's so much nicer.

 

Before I knew it it was time to pack up, throw some stuff in the luggage storage room at my hotel and catch the early bus out of town. From the time he met me at the hotel, I could tell that my guide (whom I'll refer to as D) was the right person for the job. I'd been a little worried about spending a week with someone who acted like an employee or worse yet a servant, but he acted more like a friend, while not neglecting to take care of a single detail. If you look at a map of Nepal, the Langtang area is about a finger-width from Kathmandu, and one of the closest spots for mountain access. It took about 7 hours by bus to reach our destination of Syabru Besi. Fortunately with pre-booked tickets we were lucky to have seats in the front (I learned the difference later). The road was bumpy and dusty and extremely windy, following the contours of the terraced hills. There were men hanging out the front door for the whole trip watching the tires to make sure we stayed on the road; sometimes they jumped out and walked alongside the bus, always whistling & tapping so the driver knew where to go. A lot of this road would have been questionable in a small manoeuvrable car; I was thoroughly impressed with the driver's (and spotters') ability to hold it all together.

 

A day in a bus was a journey enough, & we stayed in SB for the night. At dinner I met two guys who were doing volunteer medical work near Kathmandu, one from Australia and one from the USA, who were just on a break to do some trekking. The next morning D and I started off early. Walking down toward the river, we passed through the first I would see of village life: early morning sun streaming down through dusty haze between little houses, chickens wandering around and some cows peeking out from behind dark little enclosures, people sitting in front of their houses or getting about their quiet morning business, prayer flags hanging overhead. It would have been an epic photo, but I thought I wouldn't want somebody coming into my room & taking a photo of me 1st thing in the morning, so I decided to try and capture it with words instead, to little justice no doubt. We crossed the river and followed the trail up next to the water. Unfortunately the map I'd purchased the night before was too broad to give me an idea of the day ahead (1:136,000 with tiny 100-meter contour lines) and I just noticed that it was following the river, not paying attention to the contour lines crossing the river all the way up. Admittedly Day 1 kicked my ass. I guess you can't go from 2 wet, wintry months in a city straight onto a trail and expect to be in condition, but I had a few other things going against me. The coughs and sneezes I thought were the result of a dusty bus ride the day before were evidently turning into a cold. The crackling in my left knee which I've been ignoring for the last year and a half decided to turn into a problem. And my guide, after telling me that he had a wife and 2 kids, kept hitting on me. (Credit for honesty anyway. I thought about sending him home, but aside from this one glaring flaw he really was the perfect guide, so I kept him.) As the trail climbed up-up-up, mostly a series of little steps, I felt the crackling in my knee (normally worst on steps) grow into a tightness and eventually a fairly painful strain. First day out and I was super discouraged. We kept on until our planned stop for the night, but by that time the little voice of reason in the back of my head (is it ever small!) was telling me to take a rest day. The other voice of course arguing, Already?!! After all the time I've dreamed of coming here... But even wanting something for years doesn't change the reality of your current physical state. The walk wasn't without its high points, namely beautiful valley scenery and the sight of a few langur monkeys hanging out on the boulders below, white manes & black faces making them look so expressive even from a distance. This night I had the pleasure of a nice warm solar shower with a view of the forested river valley below, something I'd never experienced in the mountains. When I came out the sunset caught on the opposite mountainside was glowing orange as a tangerine. I came into the kitchen where the wood stove was burning and hung up my towel, then sat down by the fire with D and the family running the lodge. Little did I know this was to be the norm on this trip - beautiful traditionally dressed Tibetan ladies with rugged husbands and kids around, sharing their family home with you till you retire to your guest room out back. All meals freshly cooked from scratch. Warm firelight and conversations to follow even though I had no idea what they were saying most of the time. It was amazing. That night I was provided with the first of many local treats leftover from the Tibetan Losar festival that I'd get to try on this trip, this one chhang, or home-made rice beer.

 

We got up early in the morning in case we decided to walk on, but reason won over this time. I figured I could push on for another day and have the same strain in my knee, or I could totally defy my impatient nature and sit still with the hopes of a better Day 3. I rubbed on some Biofreeze and popped another Ibuprofen, to follow up on the 2 I had the day before, in my case a sign of desperation to get better (probably only the 4th time I've had Ibu in 10 years). The breeze was cold but the sun was warm. I sat for a while under some colorful waving prayer flags, enjoyed some fresh momos and ginger tea (mmmmm) and later found a spot on a big rock by the river to spend a while. When we were kids we used to go to the Sierras every year and camp by the Kern; no matter what we were up to, there was always time to sit by the river, read, think, watch the water flow by, hear worlds of mystery in its sound... I haven't had a day like that in years, and it was much needed; the benefit of sitting still turned out to be far greater than the disappointment of having to. In the evening there were all kinds of little kids running around. Families were making their way down from the mountains to take their kids back to town for school, after the Losar holiday. They were mischievous, red-cheeked, runny-nosed, and everything you'd expect from a kid on holiday; at the same time really sweet and absolutely adorable.

 

Some first observations that would continue through the rest of the trip... Amazingly good kids, helping out around the home, doing chores and not complaining about anything, and very strong too, as their parents are. Poor mountain people wearing all kinds of brand names (TNF, Patagonia, Mtn Hardwear) - there are so many knockoffs made in the country, here you can't tell anything about a person's wallet by the brands they wear. Other gear hanging around, LED headlamps, Nalgene bottles, a Leatherman Squirt... I wonder if they were obtained in gear shops or left by travellers. There's gear everywhere here; after the initial surprise is good to see that the mountain communities have access to some useful stuff too. Up in the mountains, all the traditionally dressed ladies are sporting hiking boots or running shoes under their dresses.

 

I awoke on day 3 with some anticipation; would my fears of having to turn back and scrap the whole trip come to fruit, or would the knee be miraculously better even though it felt the same through all of the previous day? Fortunately there was some sign of relief, and happy to move on I wrapped it tight with that Ace bandage I've been carrying in my pack for years but never once used, and continued on. It was a perfect day walking up the river valley. Pleasant walking in the forest, nice views, a trail not without its ups & downs but plenty of variety and absolutely perfect. We ran into some yaks, one of which looked like it was about to charge till D acted like he was throwing a rock at it, walked past a little shed containing some prayer wheels positioned in the stream so as to be always turning, all in all had a quiet and beautiful day. We came out of the forest to a plateau area on the mountainside with little scattered villages. Past the buildings the landscape grew stark and silent. The sun was hot and dry, as it gets at high altitude when there are patches of ice on the ground yet you need protection from its heat. Suddenly in this desolate stillness we came across a weathered old man sitting on the side of the trail spinning a hand-held prayer wheel, saying in a deep croaky voice, 'Buy - sell - Tibetan calendar'. Out of nowhere, it made me think of a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' book - You're walking across the empty plateau, you see an old man. Buy a calendar? Turn to page 146.

 

Our destination was Langtang, at about 3500 meters. Looking up at the mountains towering overhead we could have easily been on a valley floor, but for the 2 days' walking and the endless valley tumbling down below. A humbling experience being among these geological giants! The area was beautiful and exposed. From evening to morning cold winds would come across the landscape, leaving everything but close fireside absolutely chilled. Fuzzy horses roaming around the yard, chickens wandering into the kitchen (as everywhere), more tasty chhang, another welcoming family... the perfect place to spend 2 nights. I didn't realize quite how cold it was when we arrived in the afternoon. I went to avail myself of the toilet and solar shower facilities, and found that everything was frozen solid! The lady was nice enough to boil up some water and give me a cup & bucket to clean up with, which was warm and refreshing as I poured it on, and then instantly freezing-cold on my skin. I wasn't able to warm up that night until long after I got into my sleeping bag, a setback in the cold recovery. D asked for an extra blanket for me before we all turned in, and the lady asked if we were sleeping together (to which I burst out laughing with an emphatic 'No!!') Lots of host ladies have asked that, apparently it's common here or even moreso I suspect that my trusty guide has quite a reputation in these parts. Aside from the fact that western women seem to be perceived as extremely easy (and probably are) I felt like hanging a sign around my neck that said, 'Not one of them' so all those looks and nods would stop.

 

We reached our farthest destination of Kyangjin as a day-hike, saving a day for the end of the trip. As we headed out in the morning there were drums being played somewhere in Langtang village. Another perfect day's walk, over silent but spectacular high terrain, past little villages and a whole lot of empty space, huge valley below and gigantic mountains above. When you dream of taking a big trip for years of your life, there are pictures that come into your head of what things might be. Big mountains, feeling sun-baked and wind-swept, looking out over an amazing vista that you've never seen anything like except perhaps a small representation in a book or film... This was one of those days where the dream becomes a reality, except that I couldn't have dreamt up anything this good. Click. Another notch on the zip-tie. I looked around and felt for the first time that this round-the-world trip was actually a success. I enjoyed the day watching birds soaring silently overhead, mini-avalanches in nooks on the mountains above, flag-strewn villages so colorful in the intense mountain sun. At Kyangjin we stopped for lunch in a little kitchen where I watched the lady whip up everything from scratch (as they do). If there's one thing I envy in other ladies, it's culinary prowess; watching someone who's an expert in her kitchen makes me wish I'd learned to cook like a real woman. I don't think it matters how much I learn later in life, it will never be so instinctive for me as it is for them. But we can't do everything in life, right? As we started the trip down I snapped a few photos and tried to stop as much as possible to take in the view, 360 degrees of snow-covered peaks like the rim of a bowl around us.

 

Back at the guesthouse a few other trekkers showed up, 2 couples and a guide. As it turns out all of the westerners in Nepal are apparently sick. Some of them had stomach bugs (thank God I've been spared of these so far!), others I met had colds; but it's not just visitors, all the locals are sick too! Even D was coughing and sniffling down the trail the whole time. At least it's not just me. This house had a separate room with wood stove for visitors, and electricity to boot, so they put on a Nepali movie for us. I'm not a Bollywood expert, but I imagine if one was filmed in somebody's backyard it would be a Nepali film. Surprisingly good Shakespearean plot elements though, beside the ever-present song-and-dance and street-fighting bits. After everyone cleared out the other guide started asking about all of my rings; in my own silent way, this was the evening I hit my limit. If one more person examines all the rings on my fingers one by one and then asks me why none of them is from a special someone, I swear I'm going to scream. I know it's shocking in some places to be 31 and single, but fielding questions about it gets really old. One person actually asked why I don't want to be married. As if that has anything to do with it!! I'm sure you can just click your heels 3 times and spin around, and Voila! I'm starting to think there's a magic formula that no one is sharing with me, where the right person just appears and it's just that easy. Other people have said, 'But don't you want to have kids?' Maybe it's just me but I think that's putting the cart before the horse just a little?? On a happier note, I asked D what 'Didi' means because the man running the guesthouse used it with me [his wife is 40] and he said it's a term you use with a woman who's older than you. Nice. At least the people who called me Didi in the coming days, ones with wives and kids and businesses and all kinds of grown-up lives, could actually have been younger than me. Anyway when you find yourself, as I was not too long ago, being admonished by a 23-year old who's way too aware for his age & gender that the Clock is Ticking, I guess there's no point in denying that time is indeed marching on.

 

As for D & me, time had indeed marched on and we were soon headed back down the valley. These routes are regularly used by people carrying loads up to the villages, bundles of wood, various goods, all the stuff in bottles that don't get there by magic. Nepalis are amazingly strong people. Watching these men silently plodding uphill with 60 kilos on their backs, heads down under the weight of the load, one steady foot after another, like weary shadows... the way the women can be brightly clad as flowers and tend farms or carry their own loads on their heads, tiring for sure but never losing their elegance... the way the kids help out with the work and carry small bundles, or run around the mountains... these people are just amazing. I really think such physical endurance has to be accompanied by incredible strength of character and perseverance.

 

As always, downhill is always a relief from uphill until you actually get into the swing of it. When I woke up in the morning I was feeling absolutely lousy from the cold, which got me off to a slow start in the first place, but I thought a day of walking, fresh air and sun was the best way to combat the bug blues. As the knees started wearing on the descent and muscles getting tired I slowed down even more (poor D was so patient to look after me & offer a hand more often than needed); again the last 6 months of non-mountain time coming back to me all too clearly now. Perhaps walking wasn't the best cold remedy after all; after lunch I was so fatigued that when we started walking again I felt like I was half-asleep and dreaming. It was only 1-1/2 or 2 hours to go, and I didn't want to stop so early in the day, so we pressed on. By the time we got down to our guesthouse at Bamboo I had a classic case of jelly legs and could feel the cold creeping in as soon as we stopped. After changing into some dry clothes we met at the wood stove, where D procured some 'local wine' for us, a 'great cold remedy' (indeed) mixed with some coffee and butter. This was no wine, it was made from millet and tasted more like rum or something. And good. After 2-1/2 glasses, some dreamy potatoes and firelit conversation, I realized that there was music, and there were 2 guys sitting across from us, one playing a little stringed instrument and both singing from time to time. After the mildness of the chhang this one kind of hit me, and like nothing I've ever had before. Perhaps the fatigue of the day played a part, but I had no idea when those guys came in. An early night to sleep, hoping the 'cold remedy' would work its magic.

 

Sometimes pushing on is the right thing, sometimes it's not. As I woke in the morning shaky legged and without an ounce of energy, I realized that we'd gone too far the day before. On the bright side we didn't have to cover all of that ground today (something I wanted to avoid) but we would have to decide whether we'd go out the way we came, or make the ascent up to Syabru and take an extra day to finish. Really wanting to take the higher route, spend longer on the trail and see something new, I was battling the feeling that I had used all of my reserves the day before. Once or twice in my life I've had that feeling of total exhaustion, where your body wants to cry and it has nothing to do with your mind or emotions. I remember one year in the Sierras sitting by a river and Scotty saying, 'What's wrong, why are you crying?' and trying to explain as I gnawed on a cold Power Bar that nothing was wrong, my face was just doing that and I didn't know why. This morning I was just on the verge, but managed to hold it together. I couldn't decide what to do, so we plodded along making our way down to the junction. We stopped 10 minutes before, 2 minutes before, but I had to see the actual trail as if that would make the decision for me. Instantly when I got a glimpse of what we could be missing ahead, I smiled, "Let's go up!" Maybe it was a decision whether to be strong or weak, or maybe a decision whether to be foolish or smart. This time I chose strong, and it worked. My spirits lifted as we headed up the switchbacks. Somewhere up the hill we saw a langur, & then turned around to see an entire hillside full of them. We stopped a while to watch, I for one totally lost in wonder. The climb to Syabru wasn't nearly what I was expecting, and in no time we were sitting at the top of the most beautiful little terraced village having lunch and tea. The trail became an ambling forested path as we continued around the mountain down to our next night's stay, I got the view I was hoping for and found a village to remember, and knew that we'd made all of our goals for the trip.

 

That night we stayed at what was probably the poorest house of the trip, which meant a tiny kitchen packed with local people talking and little kids running around (plus the ubiquitous chicken, which the littlest girl, probably 2 or 3 yrs old, picked up and cuddled at one point and it was the dang cutest thing ever). Here D bought some home-made apple brandy, one more treat for the trip. I was pretty convinced he'd been trying to get me drunk the whole time, but I have a little more control than that, and who am I to pass up a chance at some local specialties if someone else is footing the bill? The family sat around talking in a different dialect that D said he couldn't interpret for me and looking straight at me as they spoke. Sometimes it's better not to know; I just smiled and looked back.

 

Last day on the trail, the ground was soft as if covered in a thin layer of flour with some damp pine needles, the air filled with misty fog, everything silent. It's a little early in the year but occasionally we'd pass some vibrant red blossoming rhododendrons. After a while on the sweet ambling path and then down to the road, soon we were walking into Dhunche from where we planned to get the bus the next day. As the sounds of vehicle-accessible town, with its luxuries, more people, radios, all sorts of noises, filtered into my perception, I realized I wasn't prepared to face the 'big town' again. Happens every time.

 

We found out there was a bus strike happening due to petrol shortage, high prices and a few other reasons. Waking early the next morning and packing up in case the bus was running, we were advised that it definitely wasn't. Apparently if a driver decides to make the trip, others on strike may attack the bus, so they advise from Kathmandu if it's ok for him to proceed or not. As it turned out the strike would probably last a few days, so we were to wait around and see if a jeep would come through with enough room for us. The first that came through was full of people, so we continued to wait. I spent the afternoon finishing my book (Reinhold Messner's quest for the Yeti) while D went back and forth getting the latest news & making arrangements. As the afternoon seemed it would slow to a screeching halt with nothing left to do, a group of dusty trail-beaten travellers walked in the door: a Spanish couple with guide & porter that I'd seen on the trail but not actually met, as well as the Aussie & fellow West-coaster from the lodge at Syabru Besi. It was nice to see some familiar faces, and in a couple of hours the 8 of us were cramming into a jeep for the bumpy, long, dusty ride back to the big town. It was dark before we got back but our driver did an admirable job of navigating the roads. Somehow in my half-asleep state and having to run up to D's office to get my tickets for the next day, I managed to lose track of the group including the volunteer duo, who I really wanted to keep in touch with; 2 adventurous souls who seem to have big hearts and big dreams. I was absolutely distraught, & wandered around town in hopes of catching someone again, but to no luck. Maybe those 6 degrees of separation will work for me one day.

 

With just enough time to grab my guidebook, vitamins and camera battery out of the luggage room, grab some sleep and the first shower in too many days, I was off again early in the morning for 3 days & 2 nights in Chitwan National Park. Back on the bumpy road in the tourist bus (they keep their own stock of petrol), my guts just settled from the night before, I was assigned to the very back seat in the bus. But this time instead of a comfortable person squished next to me there was just a hard cold window that kept opening itself. As I was booked on a package, the Chitwan program was quite organized. From the bus I was shuttled to the lodge in the back of a little pickup with benches, along with a middle-aged Italian and a Hungarian who might as well have been middle-aged. (Again, all of us sniffling & coughing.) It was a fairly relaxed weekend despite all the activities, and aside from having to sit through 3 days of western-style meals knowing that there's fantastic Nepali food being made in every house down the street, it was great. A cultural show the first night turned out to be way better than expected, with a couple of old men drumming and singing, and a bunch of younger guys doing all kinds of athletic dance moves simulating battle techniques or other traditional ceremonies. (I was way more impressed than the 2 guys with me, but perhaps that goes without saying...) By the 2nd day I was convinced that I was getting used to seeing elephants wander down the street... but then realized that's silly! My jaw drops every time, they're just amazing! The way the move, the wrinkles on their faces, they're so beautiful!! After taking a wooden canoe down a misty river we walked back through the jungle, spotting monkeys and amazingly cool Hornbills. Back in town we saw the filming of a Nepali movie in progress (apparently they learn all the dance moves on the spot). A few people working at the lodge were sick too, and one of them introduced me to Sancho, a wonderful ayurvedic blend of herbs (euc oil, peppermint etc) which works magic on sore and stuffy heads, of which mine was about the max. I had just enough time to track down some Sancho of my own before it was time for the elephant safari!! My first-ever elephant ride, where we took to little people-sized jungle paths in search of wildlife, getting whacked by tree branches and foliage the whole way. The mahout, who looked from my angle looked like he was walking a normal stride as he sat on the elephant's neck, did a good job of fielding most of the branches with his stick as we approached. It didn't take long to spot a family of rhinos, which were amazing!!!  I think we saw about 8 rhinos that day, all of them as fascinating as the first. Oh my goodness. And from the back of an elephant!! There were lots of beautiful spotted and barking deer, and even a macaque (mmmonkey!) and some wild peacocks. We were supposed to get a jeep back to the hotel, but they ran out of room and let us go on another elephant, this one huuuge!! Two elephant rides in one day, does it get better than that?!!! On the last morning we went to the government elephant breeding center. I was expecting a walk down the road, but we piled into the back of the pickup and drove down the misty dirt road, past a row of elephants getting ready for the day's work, mud & stick huts, people doing their morning business outside, schoolkids on foot or bicyle in their perfectly pressed uniforms, cows-chickens-goats.... till we reached the end where a little rivulet could just be seen through the fog. There was an old man sitting on the bank who got up silently as we approached and piled into his canoe, and paddled us to the other side. At the center was a baby ele with its mum, just born the day before. It was soooo beautiful!! As we walked around to look at a few other ele's, a young one on the loose came up to us looking for treats. I almost got pinned between it & the fence & had to scoot away, but felt its rough side with coarse hair as I passed by. Ooooooh!!!!

 

Alas it was time to get back on the tourist bus, this time headed for Pokhara. This driver was fast and exceedingly brake-happy, and the seat-backs were all floppy, which made for a lot of people being thrown into seats in front of them over the bumpy road. But the river valley views and terraced farms were again spectacular, and what's a day in the life when you end up somewhere like this? When I got to Pokhara it was surprisingly warm, a mellow town comparatively chock-full of tourists, and an easy place to chill out for a while. I took the first 'taxi' offer as I stepped off the bus, actually a moto (finally! i've been feeling cheated riding on 4 wheels all the time), & the guy took me to what turned out to be his own hotel. Good salesmanship with the expected amount of trickery, and when I saw the nice room with two sides full of sunny windows, the price only a little higher than I told him I wanted to pay, I was sold. It's been too foggy to see any mountain views, but it gave me all the more excuse to spend all of yesterday in bed. The head was pounding all day, a little better today but I still didn't get out & about till about 3pm.

 

I've been at this computer for - whoa!!! - over 3 hours writing this... lots of stuff to catch you up on! & Will go to bed early tonight, trying once & for all to kick this nasty cold. I'd love to get out into the hills again, but right now I'm back at square one. I've been asking people all along the way if it's ok to go walking alone (even 1 hour to the pagoda above town), hoping that just one person will give me the answer I want to hear so I can ignore all the others, but nobody will. So again I have to lasso a trekking partner or think about taking another guide. Though my guide experience was great, I think I've had enough organization to last the next few months, & would love to keep things on the informal side. Problem is if I want to meet somebody to walk with I have to be sociable, and right now I really just want to crawl into a hole till my head stops aching and eyes stop squinting. 

 

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I forgot to mention before, when I was leaving Ireland a few weeks ago a friend said to me, 'Good luck, I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for.' It took a second to register that at the start of this whole shebang, I did feel like I was looking for something. Maybe many things. The next step? A new direction? Even just the experiences that can only be gained from discovering the world around you. Whatever it was and however it happened, I realized in that moment that the searching feeling was gone, I'd moved onto new thoughts. So the objective for the rest of the trip, just to enjoy it and learn as much as possible, to take in as many images and impressions as I can, in hopes that my mind will be so stained that 'normal' American life ceases to be such a distraction. I guess you'd call it global awareness or something, but it sounds so dang cliche.

 

Ooh, have I told you the rest of the trip plan yet??? My big brother said he needs me to be back in WA in May, so I've cut down the time and condensed things a bit. I've got a plane ticket for the beginning of March into Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, and then 5 unplanned weeks to figure out how to get from there to Cape Town, South Africa. [Right now at least 2 people are probably thinking, 'But there's trouble in Kenya!' Don't worry, I'm not brave/stupid enough to venture there on my own right now.] I'm hoping to hit a big jazz festival in Cape Town at the end of March. Then I've got a ticket from there to Buenos Aires, and 5 weeks to figure out how to get from there to Quito, Ecuador, for my May flight to Seattle. Hopefully the open sectors will work out overland, and I'll get to see some cool stuff along the way!!

 

In the meantime I've got a little over a week left to find me a Yeti...