Archive for January, 2012

13
Jan

Oct 8, 2011: Naivasha Trespassing

   Posted by: Chip    in Kenya

On my first day in Kenya, I picked up a magazine in the car I was hitchhiking with, and was immediately blown away when I saw a photo of hundreds of thousands of flamingos gracefully crowding a lake pink.

- I want to see that. – I told the driver.

- It’s lake Nakuru, only 3 hours driving from Nairobi. But it costs a fortune to pay for the park fee and for a car to go in the park.

“Nakuru,” I told myself, “I’m coming.”

So, after 3 weeks in Nairobi, I was more excited for my first safari. “I don’t care about the big five, I just want to see the flamingos,” I told Asher. He traveled in this region few years ago.

- Don’t go to Nakuru. It’s expensive. Go to Naivasha. They have plenty of animals there. It’s free and you can do everything on your own. Well, it’s not really free, but I’m sure you will find a way to trespass.

- Are there flamingos?

- Yes. When I was there, lake Naivasha was pink.

Naivasha is half way between Nairobi and Nakuru. It took me roughly 2 hours to hitchhike there. The first person I hitchhiked with was kind enough to stop at the viewpoint halfway up the hill so that I could indulge myself in the extremely gorgeous panorama of endless savannah that runs between guarding mountains to meet the clouds at the horizon. The second person was overwhelmed by the fact that I could communicate in Swahili that he almost forced me to marry him.

Fredrick picked me up from downtown where all the banks are. Fredrick is not a couchsurfer, but brother of a couchsurfer. I sent a couch request to 2 couchsurfers in Naivasha. One girl replied saying that I could stay with her 2 nights for $15 (screw it, it’s not the couchsurfing spirit), the other, Wyclife, was in Nairobi. We met for a chit chat, and he put me in touch with his brother Fredrick. Fredrick works for a flower garden, and his wife is a teacher. They live in a rented room in a desert-like village around 15 minutes walking from town. It’s not too different from a student village in Vietnam where you walk through an imitation of gate and see a bunch of small rooms sharing a bathroom and toilet, with a pumping well in the courtyard decorated with tenants’ laundry. A curtain divided the 6m2 room into 2 parts, the inside has a bed where Fredrick and his wife sleep, the outside part is the living room-cum-dining room-cum-guest bedroom. It was pretty neat and convenient for a room of its size.

Accommodation secured, Operation Flamingo started. I wasn’t so sure of where to go, but I knew that I had to head to the lake, about 20km away from town. Many cars passing by but nobody picked me up, pretty strange for a country like Kenya. After almost an hour, a car, heavily secured with iron bars, pulled over. It was a health workers’ car, I have no idea why they were such security freaks. They interrogated me for like 10 minutes on the side of the road before finally squeezing me in the back.

- The lake is huge. Which camp do you want to go to?

- Any. I just want to see the flamingos.

- I don‘t know about the flamingos. But if you want to see the animals, we will take you to a place where you can see the animals without paying for the park fee. African way.

They turned left on a small bumping track into the jungle. The track was marked by tall flowered cactus with intimidating long thorns on two sides. Local people called that plant Jerusalem, I have no idea why. Once in a while, we saw a skinny African man walking with a bundle of wood on his head.

- It’s dangerous to walk here. Animals can attack you anytime. But we Africans don’t care.

They were right, there were a lot of animals: giraffes, zebras, wildebeests, etc. At first, I was intimidated by those giant giraffes, but those health workers told me to come up close as giraffes are peaceful animals.

On the contrary, the harmless-looking zebra can be quite aggressive. I most got a back-kick trying to pet one of them. My companions were really amused to see somebody so excited to see zebras. “We have seen plenty of them,” said they. “They are just wild donkeys.” The Swahili word for zebra is “punda milia” which literally means “striped donkey”.

Spotting hundreds of wildebeests leisurely grazing in a meadow not too far away, I ran like wild towards them, ignoring those health workers’ warning about the bush on the ground. Only when I stopped that I realized my legs were now dense clusters of sinister-looking thorns, each looked like a spike ball used by villains in Chinese martial art movies. They hold strongly to my flesh, refusing to be removed. It hurt like hell.

As they proceeded to go to work, the health workers left me nearby a small lake. It seemed to be a popular picnic spot for the local. A family was sleeping under a big tree. A couple was riding camel. Some men approached me trying to sell me a boat tour around the lake to see hippos. “Ha, liars. What kind of hippos can be seen in daylight like this?” I thought to myself but didn’t tell them. I politely refused, then found a rock in the shade next to the lake to have my brunch. Bread and peanut butter tastes a lot better in this setting. Full and content, I resumed my mission, still unsure of where to go. I walked back to the main road. As I was passing by all those animals, I visualized in my head what I would do if a lion or a snake jumped in front of me right now. Suddenly I heard some noise in a bush, some big animals were tramping heavily towards me. What could it be? My heart beaten fast, my legs froze, my mouth gasped. A herd of wild hogs appeared. One by one, they crossed the road in front of my nose. I tried my best not to make any noise to provoke them. Wild hogs attacking humans is not unheard of.

Before any disastrous accident could happen to a stupid defenseless lone wanderer in the wood, I was picked up by Solomon and Shobbana. Shobbana is a freelance photographer from India. Last year, she went to Kenya for a photoshoot at Kibera, Africa’s largest slum. There, she met Solomon. One year later, they got married and she moved to Kenya. Now she was 8 months pregnant, and just recently gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Think about it, it’s quite scary. You go to a strange country with the intention to stay for only few weeks, then you meet a complete stranger, somehow fall in love with him, get married and stay there for good. What if it happens to me tomorrow?

When they picked me up, little did they know that they would become my full protectors. Impressed by my story, they bought me tickets to visit Elsamere (named after the famous lioness Elsa), the old house of the late legendary naturalist Joy Adamson and her husband, George Adamson. It’s a beautiful colonial house with an amazing sun-lit courtyard, surrounded by a garden so big that it looks almost like a jungle. A small graveled path leads from the house to the lake. “Visitors are warned not to walk around here at night, as they might be attacked by hippos,” the housekeeper told us. We watched a surprisingly good 40 minute documentary about the life of Joy Adamson, then treated ourselves with a dozen different kinds of cakes served during high tea. I ate so much cake that I felt like I wouldn’t want to eat anything sweet again for the rest of my life.

On our way to the crater lake, I spotted a pink stretch flickering behind tall green trees and big dark animals, probably buffalos.

- FLAMINGOS! – I shouted.

Solomon turned around to find a way to the lake shore. Hundreds of thousands of flamingos, just like what I saw in the photo. But I soon realized that it’s impossible to take a photo that will do the view justice with my camera. Flamingos are very shy birds. As soon as somebody comes close to them, they all fly away. I ended up chasing them from one end to another trying to take a good photo of them, until the guilty feeling took over and I decided to leave these poor animals in peace. The scene was extraordinary. Imagine thousands of pink wings flapping at the same time, and then double the spectacle with the reflection on the lake surface. I was overwhelmed. I could stay there for hours looking at them, but Solomon and Shobbana urged me to leave before it got dark.

Having seen the flamingos, I wished for nothing more. But the kind couple took me to see the crater lake. Later they told me that I broke a number of rules at the crater lake resort, like running so fast down to the lake before the guard could tell me that I wasn’t allowed to. They then treated me to a wonderful dinner at Rayfish Camp, dropped me in town and only left when they saw that I was safe under Fredrick’s protection.

I don’t remember how I managed to pump some water from the well to cleanse myself, as my body refused to work after one long day on the road and in the bush. All I remember was that I went to bed with a smile on my face. Mission completed. I saw the flamingos.

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12
Jan

A Life-changing Decision?

   Posted by: Chip    in Travel Life

***Inspired from a conversation with my good friend Paul about his parents’ unexpected journey.

When I was still unsure about my ability to adapt to Violet’s place in Kawangware, my friend offered me to share with him his 2 bedroom apartment. I agreed, but then changed my mind because I wanted to challenge myself at Violet’s. Few weeks later, he was killed in the same apartment. Somebody broke into his house and strangled him to death. I was extremely upset, and couldn’t help asking myself what would have happened if I had moved there. Would I have been able to save him, or would I have been murdered myself?

Life is a strange combination of possibilities. Every decision you make affects your life in one way or another. Some decisions change your life for few hours, some decisions change your life forever. There are no right or wrong decisions, as nobody can travel back in time to try out the other option to see how it would turn out. But there are interesting and boring ones. There are decisions that will take you into unexpected journeys that you could never imagine even in your wildest dreams.

And, the journey that I’m on today is something that my 5, 10 or even 15 year old self could never imagine. Looking back, I’m grateful for every decision I have made.

It was when I decided to leave my hometown to go to high school in Hanoi, against my family’s wishes. It was a decision that made me struggle with the relationship with my family, but also a decision that changed me from a pampered kid to an independent girl who could support herself at the age of 15.

It was in Hanoi that I decided to organize Free Hugs campaign, the campaign that led to my first arrest, and almost got me expelled from school. Yet, it was also the one that introduced me to many other social activities which finally gave me a job offer in Malaysia.

It was when I quit my job in Malaysia that I started this trip. The job in Malaysia allowed me to travel to different countries. I realized that traveling isn’t that expensive, globe-trotting isn’t that impossible. I decided to give it a shot.

Had I not made any of these decisions, I would still be a shy country girl, computer illiterate, unable to speak English, afraid of the outside world. I would probably be studying at a university in Vietnam to become an accountant. My parents would probably expect me to get married as soon as I graduate to a nice boy from my hometown. I would have never traveled to Middle East. I would have never met all the awesome friends I have made. I would still believe that people in Africa are black because they get sunburn. And I would be reading about somebody else’s traveling and bitterly thinking that they must be awfully lucky to be able to do so.

It surprises me a lot when I ask people what decision has changed their lives, they can’t think of any. They always do the same things they are supposed to do: Go to school –> compete for a seat in universities –> look for a job –> get married –> have children –> grow old –> wish that their lives were different.  They avoid crossroads. They overlook opportunities. They refuse to open locked doors. You could pretty much tell how their lives would be in the next 10 years. Well, there is some comfort in stability and security, but I would hate it when I grow old and tell my grandkids about my life, they just go like: ”Aww, I don’t want to be like you when I grow up.”

So, how about you? Have you ever made a life changing decision, or has your life always been the same as how you and other people expect it to be?

And as Randall Munroe, the founder of xkcd said:

“Take wrong turns. Talk to strangers. Open unmarked doors. And if you see a group of people in a field, go find out what they are doing. Do things without always knowing how they’ll turn out. You’re curious and smart and bored, and all you see is the choice between working hard and slacking off. There are so many adventures that you miss because you’re waiting to think of a plan. To find them, look for tiny interesting choices. And remember that you are always making up the future as you go.”

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10
Jan

Why nobody in Vietnam will love me

   Posted by: Chip    in fun, Vietnam

(Expanded from a debate on Facebook)

As I talked to my parents recently, they are very anxious that I find a boyfriend because they are afraid nobody in Vietnam will marry me. The reasons are simple.

Because in Vietnam, I’m ugly

Admit it, to love somebody, first you have to find that person attractive. However, the definition of beauty is dramatically different from a culture to another. We Vietnamese always think that the Westerners have a weird taste. In Vietnam, we have a fixed guideline to beauty which means you have to look like this, like that to be considered beautiful. For example, a girl has to have fair skin, long black hair, pigeon’s eyes, etc. An English friend of mine who has been to Vietnam once complained that all the girls in Vietnam have exactly one hairstyle. In Western culture, they like those who look a bit different.

When I was in Vietnam, I was very insecure about my look. People constantly made fun of my wavy fluffy hair, my round face. My Mom was so disappointed to find out that I’m so tanned that my skin looks as dark as buffalo skin. A newspaper once wrote about me something like: “She might not have beauty but she has guts” (assholes, yess >”<).

Because in Vietnam, I’m domestically incapable

In Vietnam, girls are supposed to all the housework. When I was in Vietnam, whenever we had a celebration, my female cousins and I would have to wash all the dishes and cook all the food while all the boys just hung around playing cards or doing all kinds of mischief. If I asked my Mom why my brother didn’t have to work, she would scold me: “You are a girl, don’t ask such a silly question. People will laugh at you if you do.” (!!??).

So now, I have a resentment against housework and lazy men. I don’t mind doing things for myself, but I would never do everything while my boyfriend just sat there and played video games. People say that a lot of Vietnamese men nowadays are more open-minded. But who wouldn’t want a girlfriend that his family and friends think of as “đảm đang”, or I call it “domestically capable”? Try to take home a girl that his family can’t use as a domestic slave you will know.

Because in Vietnam, I’m corrupt

In Vietnam, girls are supposed to keep a low profile, to always be soft and meek. I’m outspoken, I don’t give a damn to mannerism. My family thinks that my body-painting photo is a shame. A Vietnamese guy few year older than me called me “ill-bred” just because I dared to argue with him.

Every time I call home, my Mom always asks: “Are you still a good girl. Everybody (in our hometown) is saying that only bad girls can travel that much.” Ha, I have no idea how they define “bad”, or I can’t see any correlation between “traveling” and “being a bad girl”, but apparently, a lot of rednecks believe that I’m a waste. In Vietnam, if a girl drinks alcohol, she’s spoilt. If she smokes, she has no hope. If she goes clubbing, she’s a whore. If she travels like me, she is a combination of all 3 things mentioned above.

So yeah, I’m doomed.

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Just as I thought, the road from Isiolo to Nairobi was smooth. I hitchhiked with a bus from Isiolo to Meru, with a car from Meru to Kobo, and then with a pickup from Kobo to Nairobi. Meme, the driver, is a university professor in Nairobi. He came back to Kobo to visit his family. He usually picks up passengers to share the gas, but he picked me up for free, bought me lunch and even paid for my transport from his home in Nairobi to where I was supposed to meet Mwega, founder of Karika, the organization I was going to volunteer with.

How I got to know Karika was an interesting story. Free Hugs Vietnam works with an American NGO called HOW. HOW’s director, Ms. Amazing Hillary, has a partner in Ireland called Niamh. When I started my trip, Hillary asked many of her friends to help me, and Niamh introduced me to Karika. Karika basically saved my life when I first arrived in Nairobi.

Mwega and Karika’s secretary, Violet, picked me up from Hilton hotel. I made it to Nairobi just few hours before my birthday with almost nothing in my pocket. I was over the moon. All I wanted now was a good shower, a good dinner and nothing else would matter.

They took me back to Violet’s place. She lives in a slum area called Kawangware with her two sons: 15 y/o Kale and 11 y/o Hamfari (whose name I thought at first was ‘I’m free’). The 9m2 room was divided into two parts by a wattle wall, the outside part serves as the living room, while the inside serves as the bedroom-cum-kitchen. The living room has a small set of sofa, and a tiny TV. The bedroom has 2 small bunk beds for the kids and one slightly bigger one for Violet. When I was there, Kale slept on the couch to give me his bed. I was deeply touched. I couldn’t thank them enough.

After 5 days 4 nights on the road, I was coated in dust and smelt like sour dough. I desperately needed a shower. I looked around for the sign of a bathroom but couldn’t find any. One hour later, still nobody mentioned anything about it. Unable to wait any longer, I asked for permission to use the toilet.

Violet’s face suddenly became pale. She gave Kale the flashlight to show me the toilet outside. It was a traditional Africa toilet, shared by a dozen of family. Next to it was a small empty room which I assumed to be used as the bathroom. Now I understood why nobody ever suggested me to take a bath. It was just impossible to take a bath at that time. No water no light.

Nothing else to do, I went to bed early after carefully cleansing my skin with some tissue so that the dust wouldn’t fall on my bed. I was waken up next morning by the suffocating smell of the oil cooking stove. Violet was making tea. She warmly welcomed me:

- Do you want to take a shower now?

- A million times YES.

And she gave me a bucket of 5 liters of water. There is no water to waste. Water only comes once a week. Violet stores it in two jerricans. I asked for a little more so that I could wash my hair as well, promising her that I wouldn’t take a shower the next day.

After a breakfast of milk tea and mandazi (sweet fried bread), Mwega and Violet took me to work. Karika stands for Kenyan Aged people Require Information, Knowledge and Advancement. They work with old people, providing them with information, consultancy and support. I was supposed to teach the management board how to use computer but they didn’t have electricity at the “office” (which is actually a hut sparsely put together), so most of the time, I just hang around the class. At that time, Karika was teaching handicraft to two dozens of youths who can’t afford to go to university. They asked me how old I was.

- 21. Actually I’m turning 21 today.

- Really? Today is your birthday? Are you going to buy us cakes?

Geez, I couldn’t even buy a cake for myself T_T I changed the topic. They asked what I was doing and I told them that I was doing a long trip.

- Wow, you are rich.

- No, not all travelers are rich. Actually I’m traveling with very little money.

- How can you buy flight tickets?

- I’m don’t fly. I travel by road, mostly hitchhiking.

- How about accommodation?

- I couchsurf. I mean, I stay at strangers’ houses for free.

- Are you kidding us? Chip, it’s ok if you don’t want to buy us cakes, but stop telling lies.

Offended, I tried my best to let out a faint smile and walked away. I couldn’t blame those kids. Years of colonial White-settlement created a racial chasm that still affects Africans nowadays: many of them believe all white people are walking money bags (I’m called “white” here). Those tourists who pour money carelessly on luxurious tours and local kids don’t make it any better. I went out to find an Internet cafe. To my utmost delight, a friend invited me for dinner to celebrate my birthday. I told Mwega that but he didn’t want me to go. He was worried about my safety. Nairobi, especially Kawangware, is not the best place to go around at night. He told me that Violet already cooked me dinner.

- Come on, she will be very upset if you don’t eat with her.

And we went home for my birthday dinner. Violet made ugali and cabbage, the same as what we had last night. Suddenly my heart broke into thousands of pieces. I knew it wasn’t easy for them to keep food on the table everyday, and I felt really bad that I couldn’t help them with anything.  But I couldn’t hold myself up any longer. I finished the dinner and went to bed. Tears dwelt in my eyes. I cried and cried. I didn’t blame anybody, but I wished Mwega had let me go out for dinner instead of forcing me to eat at home. Self-pity? Yes. Bitterness? Yes. Oh Chip, you get what you deserve. It’s YOUR birthday, not MY birthday. Who gives a shit about you huh? Millions of people out there don’t even know who their parents are, let alone what day they were born. If you think you deserve something, go get it yourself. Nobody is obligated to make you happy. I felt more lonely than ever. I missed my family, I missed my friends. I almost convinced myself that the next day, I would rent an apartment and get out of here. Life here is just too hard.

My friend Pawel with the kids at the place where I was staying

 

But the next day as I woke up in the suffocating smell as usual, the broad smile on Violet and the kids’ faces struck me made me feel like a pussy. I had stayed there for only one night and already cried my heart out. They had been living there for ages and still think that there is no better place than home. A situation doesn’t define who you are, but the way you deal with it does. And apparently, they were dealing with it better than I was. I felt ashamed of myself. If they can live with this, so can I. I’m going to make myself get used to the “no water no light” life in this slum, I’m going to make the kids at the orphanage understand that you don’t have to be a money bag to travel, I’m going to teach Violet to use computer, and I’m going to learn Swahili to talk to the old people.

Challenge accepted!

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5
Jan

My 2011 in Pictures

   Posted by: Chip    in Travel Life

It was a crazy year.

And my resolution for 2012:

- Survive the apocalypse.

- Find a boyfriend.

- Be home for the next New Year’s.

- Continue to be crazy and awesome.

This is how my 2011 started: Waking up in a beautiful house with a handsome guy preparing breakfast for you and 2 other handsome guys polishing your nails <3

 

Went into the jungle to meet the Buddha Boy of Nepal. He's surprisingly muscular for somebody who meditates 24/7 without food or drink. He said that he'd achieve enlightenment after few more years. He has been meditating since 2005. Februrary 2011

 

Holy festival in Nepal. March 2011

 

Motorbike trip around Nepal with Dictator, Frenchie, Small boobs, Chinaman and me (Ling ling)

 

Learning to do some coconut handicraft in Pokhara, Nepal

 

Morning tea on Himalaya.

 

 

The Great Pyramid of Giza, Egypt

 

Makhtesh Ramon, the largest makhtesh in the world.

 

Lag BaOmer, the largest Jewish festival. Israel

 

Running on a Palestinian hill

 

Suffering from tear gas at a demonstration in Palestine.

 

Sinai

 

With a Hamer baby girl. I do look like a Mom :-)

 

Bull Jumping festival in Ethiopia

 

With the uglist birds on earth, Marabou stork

 

With the orphans at an Negat's Children House, Ethiopia

 

Hangover after Ethiopia's New Year. Sep 11, 2011

 

Hitchhiking from Moyale to Isiolo, through one of the most dangerous roads in Africa.

 

The only card I received for my 21st birthday. I had a quiet birthday in a slum where I volunteered in Kenya

 

Sneaked into a national park in Kenya

 

Fishing in Lamu, the lost paradise that lies between Kenya and Somalia

 

With 2 Masai men, the iconic tribe of East Africa

 

And now, amidst parties of Dar, I'm getting damn bored :(

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