Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Tanzania, Day 16

re: August 1, 2010

Finally, internet access again! I am writing this after the fact; from my mother-in-law's apartment in Barrie Ontario & very far removed (in so many ways) from the streets of Dar es Salaam.

We spent our last day in Tanzania just killing time. The four members of our 'Team Tanzania' met for breakfast & since on Sundays the hotel's complimentary breakfast/brunch lasts until 1 pm we all decided it made sense to just sit & basically eat our way right through from breakfast to lunch. Greg & Brian were heading off for Mikumi & I suspect that our stories about the truck stop food -- really the only food available en route -- had made them nervous about having to stop & eat along the way. Eventually, however, we couldn't eat any more so decided to stretch our legs before the Mikumi ride appeared at 12:30. We did a large walk around the block, shortcutting through the cancer clinic & then past the President's property (which is massive) before Greg & Brian had to turn around to catch their ride. Doug & I, since we are both compulsive walkers, decided to continue.

It seemed a sensible thing at the time. The sun was pleasant, the street scenery was interesting, & we knew we would be confined to sitting for the next day or more. But after a half hour in the noonday tropical sunlight in a busy third world megacity (what were we thinking??) we were ready to return. Somehow we missed a turn on the way back & ended up walking a circuitous route along Ocean Road. At any rate, by the time we found our way back to the hotel we were both overheated & feeling a bit lousy. Such a state did make it easier to just sit still & wait out the afternoon, however. At 6 pm we checked out, had a quick supper, & caught a taxi to the airport.

Dar es Salaam's airport is not so bad as these things go but it is not like anything in Europe. When we arrived, it seemed that the airport was not open yet (how can a city airport be 'not open'?) so along with everyone else, we waited outside for an hour or so. Once the airport opened we went through a security check (just to get in the door), then got our boarding passes, & headed for the gate. It seems that there are only 6 gates for Dar es Salaam's airport; this for a city with a population of 5 million. Compare this with Amsterdam's Schiphol airport: 165 gates for a population of less than 1 million. Of course, Schiphol is a transportation hub while Dar es Salaam is not but still, the contrast is quite striking.

That's about it, really. We left the ground just before midnight & headed home. After 9 hours in the air to Amsterdam, a 7.5 hour wait at Schiphol, & another 8+ hours to Toronto... here I am. It is a good thing that long-distance travel is like childbirth in terms of forgetting the pain. In such travel you wait, you wait some more, you climb into a gigantic airplane & squeeze yourself into a seat between strangers, you identify with (but not necessarily enjoy) the travel misery of countless young children, you eat lousy food, etc. etc. & arrive at your destination jet-lagged & sleep deprived, your mouth feeling like caulking compound & you wonder: why? Why on earth did I volunteer for this??! But after a night's sleep (it really *is* easier travelling east to west) you feel ecstatic about the experience, keen to drive your relatives crazy with travel stories, & already nostalgic to do it again.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Tanzania, Day 15

July 31, 2010

Today was an out-&-out holiday. We got up late, lingered through breakfast, & then got a taxi out to the Slipway market. The Slipway was the touristy spot that Doug & I visited in Dar es Salaam 2 weeks ago when we first arrived in the country. This time, however, the 4 of us took advantage of the market only long enough to use the washrooms, & then headed out to the end of the breakwater where we purchased tickets for a boat trip out to Bongoyo Island.

Most people have heard about Zanzibar, that exotic island off the coast of Tanzania. When Tanganika sought independence from Great Britain in 1961, it joined together with Zanibar & the 2 names combined to create 'Tanzania.' Doug & I had hoped to take a ferry over to Zanzibar this weekend but there was a pre-election referendum vote today & political unrest was expected so all foreigners were advised to stay away.

But many people are not aware that there are many other islands off the coast of Tanzania & Bongoyo is one of the smaller (& closer) of these. For 25,000 Tanzanian shillings (about $20 in Canadian funds) you can purchase a ticket which includes the boat fare there & back plus the admission to the marine wildlife reserve which encompasses the whole island.

The boat ride involves a 30-40 ride in a small passengers-only ferry over a little patch of the Indian Ocean. You get a marvellous ocean-side view of Dar es Salaam as well as a look at the extravagant homes all along the waterfront. This is the part of town where the diplomats live & their homes are about as far removed from the typical Tanzanian mud hut as can be imagined. On our way out to the island we passed by yachts anchored out from the diplomat homes, Arabic sailing dhows, & dugout canoes like elongated wooden clogs from which people were fishing.

Eventually we pulled up on the island, a genuine tropical paradise. Bongoyo appears to be about a kilometer long & half a kilometer wide, covered in trees & criss-crossed by a couple of walking trails. Only one end of the island is 'developed' (if you can call it that), with a few grass beach-huts for shade, a thatched dining shelter, & some outhouses. The beach is like something out of an in-flight magazine: white sand, blue blue water, just a bit of surf. No jellyfish, no sharks. When you walk up on the beach the caretakers come out to greet you, confirm that you have an admission ticket, & then take your orders for food. The menu is pretty simple: fish, prawns, chips, beer.

And so that's how we spent the day. We swam, we dried off, we ate, we drank, we swam some more. We talked about the tourist industry in Tanzania, the bad reputation of Dar es Salaam (somewhat deserved) & how day-trips like Bongoyo Island could be better marketed. We walked around a bit & looked in the small tide pool just beyond the dining shelter in which 50+ eels (might have been morays) swirled around like something conjured up by a snake-charmer.

At most I suppose there were 30 of us on the island when the last boat of the day arrived at 4:30 to take us back. It was a long ride back because we were fighting wind & whitecap waves all the way; skin tingled with so much exposure to salt & sun.

And now we're back, showered, supper over, in for the night. Tomorrow Greg & Brian will head to Mikumi park for the night & Doug & I will start the long trip home.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Tanzania, Day 14

July 30, 2010

Today I woke up promptly at 7 am, long enough to remember that this was a day off but that I might as well get up anyway since I was wide awake. The next thing I knew it was 9:30. So I ended up getting a wonderful sleep & I sure feel better for it.

We took our time over breakfast & then decided to explore a bit. The Botanical Gardens border on our hotel; the staff only have to unlock a gate behind the swimming pool & you are in the gardens. We were on the other side of the gate for barely a minute when we were intercepted by a young man. He introduced himself, explained that he was a student from the horticultural college in Morogoro, & proceeded to show us around. He showed us the huge cashew tree, over 150 years old & planted by the Germans when they were running the country. He pointed out the peacocks & the spider monkeys. And he showed us the mahogany tree & the cement enclosure where in previous days people were kept just before getting shipped to the Middle East to be sold as slaves. He explained that he was a Burundian, a refugee, who had witnessed the massacre of his father during the terrible genocide there. His mother, he said, hadn't been the same since & one of his brothers disappeared at that time & hasn't been seen to this day. He explained how he had malaria & had to rush to the hospital only 2 nights ago for emergency IV treatment but that he lacked the money to pay for essential follow-up medication. Could we help him with a donation?... Ah yes, the ask. At this point, I confess, the impact of his entire story vanished like a puff of smoke; I wasn't even sure if the cashew & mahogany trees were real (probably they were). We told him that we weren't carrying any money & in fact had to return to the hotel to meet some friends.

Poverty & desperation change peoples' behaviour; there's no doubt about that. As mzugus (white foreigners) we stand out vividly & are immediately subjected to racial profiling, as being immeasurably rich & either stingy or gullible. It is disappointing to feel used but it's just the way things are & the way things are likely to be for the immediate future, anyway.

The peacocks & the monkeys are real, however. The peacocks fly over the fence from the botanical gardens onto the patio of the hotel where people are drinking beer. The waiters serve nice little bowls of curry-roasted cashews with the drinks & no doubt the peacocks have figured this out. They strut around very boldly & I don't doubt they'd eat cashews right from your hand but I never saw anybody try it. Their beaks are intimidating. And the monkeys are also quite aggressive. We were warned to keep our windows closed at the hotel because if you leave them open the monkeys may come in & apparently they can make quite a mess.

Later, we took a taxi to the Misutu market to buy some spices. We had been told that that's where the spice market was (Zanzibar -- spice capital of the world -- is so close) but it seems we were misinformed or at least misunderstood. The Misutu market did have quite a variety of food items, especially vegetables, fruits, rice, beans, & chickens. We looked & looked, up & down every little nook & cranny & we did see plenty of stuff, including a woman who was busy at the back beheading the chickens. But we only saw a few people selling spices in pre-packaged plastic bags at set prices. Not quite what we were hoping for but we bought some anyway.

Visiting the market is a high-adrenaline experience. Misutu market is so noisy & crowded that it makes the market at Dodoma look like a Japanese garden in comparison. Everybody is hungry for business & as a mzugu you are a prey species. Your only option is to walk around presenting a composure of confidence & serenity (the last 2 things you feel). Otherwise, you WILL be vulnerable.

The rest of the day was pretty laid back. We ate, we drank, we walked along the beach beside Ocean Street, we waited for Greg & Brian to finish work & then we ate & drank some more. Tomorrow we are heading for the little island & (maybe!) a chance to swim in the Indian Ocean.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Tanzania, Day 13

July 29, 2010

It was a long & listless day. I had another full blown attack on my digestive system last night & it lasted pretty much all day today. Lousy sleep. This morning I took a bunch of pills to quiet things down & headed off to the National College of Tourism (NCT) with Brian & Greg.

The NCT is in another part of town so it took us at least half an hour of navigating through gridlocked traffic to get there. I don't know how the drivers maintain their sanity. They must be the most patient people in the world. Dar es Salaam is a huge city: the population is anywhere between 3 & 6 million, depending on whom you ask. Really, when you drive through it for a while & see how many people there are, & the variety of permanent, semi-permanent & questionable sorts of dwellings, you start to appreciate just how difficult it would be to get an accurate census here.

NCT is somewhat more upscale than the MRI setup in Dodoma. The offices are better furnished, there are computers in the computer lab, & the grounds are somewhat landscaped. The college has been involved in 2 main streams of instruction: 1) tourism & guiding, & 2) hospitality, food & beverage. The French government, as part of its foreign aid program, is building a fantastic new campus to house the hospitality programs & when the new building is complete, these older buildings can be used to expand the tourism & guiding programs. But for now the 2 programs are housed together.

We spent the morning listening to Brian & Greg's presentation about advisory committees (which was really very good & elicited some great discussion). For lunch, the hospitality students served us a great meal & in the afternoon we got a tour of the under-construction hospitality campus. The generosity of the French government is quite amazing: the building is 3 stories high & when it is finished it should be a training facility whose quality will match anything we've got in Canada. I could go on at length about it but that would make me sound far more energetic than I was. In fact, I felt like a limp dishrag all day, partly because of the intestines, partly because I was reluctant to eat much of anything, partly because Dar es Salaam is just so darn hot & humid. And this, they say, is their cool season!

In the evening, though, I felt a little better & we all went out for supper. This is one of the perks of travelling with tourism professionals: they know how to track down the best hotel deals & they are not afraid to seek out good cuisine or interesting sidelines. Our supper tonight was in a wonderful Thai restaurant on the top floor of the New Africa hotel where we got a great view of the Dar es Salaam waterfront, watching the lights of the harbour ferry come & go.

So it looks like we will be in for a fun & restful couple of days before we leave & we are more than ready for that.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Tanzania, Day12

July 28, 2010

I am flying without a net tonight; i.e. typing this up 'live' on the internet without first doing it offline in Notepad. This is because (yes!!) we survived the drive from Dodoma to Dar es Salaam & are situated in a fancy hotel with wireless internet access. Actually the wireless internet signal registers as 'excellent' so I know I have a wonderful connection but still there is a very significant lag in my browsing so I just KNOW I am being hit with a serious computer virus. Oh well. As with the intestinal infection, I'll deal with it later.

We left Dodoma right on schedule at 10 am with no significant hitches. We were up at the usual time (relatively early) because we had to find a bank machine somewhere in Dodoma that worked. Tanzanian money is seriously devalued, the largest bill denomination is 10,000 Tanzanian shillings which is about $7.50 in Canadian funds. So when you withdraw a couple of hundred dollars worth of funds you end up with a huge wad of bills. What this means is that the ATM's are constantly running out of bills & everybody who has been waiting in line for the past half hour has to scatter to some other ATM & start the wait all over again. But we were lucky this time & on our first try were able to withdraw enough funds to pay our hotel bill. Everything is paid in cash in Dodoma.

And the long drive to Dar es Salaam was relatively uneventful. Maybe it's because the traffic seemed a little lighter; maybe it's just because our nerves have been conditioned to the high-adrenaline high-risk reality of Tanzanian driving but it just didn't seem so bad as our trip to Mikumi on Saturday. We stopped for lunch at the same place as on our way up & it was great.

Dar es Salaam has a very serious traffic congestion problem so we spent the last hour just trying to get into the city. It's amazing that there's not road rage here even though the traffic gets absolutely gridlocked. At any rate, we arrived at the Southern Sun hotel just after 5 pm & bid our fond farewells to our hosts.

We were supposed to be booked into the Holiday Inn in Dar es Salaam but Greg & Brian, our COTR colleagues who are working at the Tourism College project here, had other ideas. It is a fantastic bonus when you are travelling to have friends in the tourism business. They either know -- or have friends who know -- all the right places to stay & to eat. So our reservations were switched to the Southern Sun which is a cut above the Holiday Inn, run by Africans, & a quantum improvement over the New Dodoma hotel: definitely not down to our usual standards. It was also wonderful just to connect with Greg & Brian & compare notes about how the project is going so far.

So now we have been wined & dined & dispersed to our various rooms because we have to be up early (again) in order to be ready to leave here by 8 am. We will go with Brian & Greg to the National Tourism College & get a tour of the new training hotel being built by the French & attend a presentation by Brian about Advisory Committees & generally be supportive. With that in mind, I really should get to bed because it's almost midnight.

Tanzania, Day 11

July 27, 2010

It was our last day at MRI today so we had a lot of wrapping-up to do. I started off with a presentation about assessment, using Bloom's Taxonomy to expand your assessment strategies etc. After tea, Selemani requested more information about how we manage our Advisory Committees so Doug gave a presentation about that. We both did an overall review & reflection on the days of training. And we followed that with the usual anonymous evaluation form, then presented the Certificates of Training for everybody, the photographs (individual & group), hand-shaking etc. Then we got into perhaps the most important part of it: where to go for lunch. Doug & I had invited everybody, "our treat this time" & asked them to suggest a place. The group settled on a traditional eating establishment we hadn't yet visited (New Green cafe? something like that) & away we went.

The New Green cafe is situated in the downtown area of Dodoma. It seems to be owned by a couple who employ several kids (perhaps their own?) to wait on tables. The tables are outside, under trees, along the side of the street, & the cooking facilities for the cafe are in a location diagonally across the street. So you order your lunch from among the half-dozen or so possibilities & after a little while the kids carry your food across the street, dodging traffic. Good thing the street is not so busy.

The food was pretty good this time. Tanzania does not have what I would call a 'cuisine' but there are some tasty items. It seems that the most national dish is called 'Nyama choma'which translates as 'burnt meat'. Oh, surely they must mean 'barbecued meat' I thought when I first heard that but no: 'burnt meat' is more accurate. You are brought a dish piled high with almost-burnt bits of meat & you just eat away at the pile. You also get some condiments: limes, salt, some tomato or chili sauce, & a bit of fresh relish of some sort.

However the New Green Cafe was not a nyama choma sort of place so I was able to get some fish with ugali. Not bad, really. The fish looks totally gross when you first get it -- it seems to be just the huge burned head of a tilapia -- but in fact if you dig around a little you discover that there's lots of meat on the piece & it's tasty.

But you do not even start to eat before you wash your hands. Tanzanians wait until the food has just arrived & then they get up & wash hands. Every place -- even the lowliest & grimiest -- has handwashing facilities. Sometimes, as in the New Green Cafe, it is just a bucket with water & a little dish of soap powder. Because both Doug & I have been dealing with intestinal upset ever since we got here, regardless of whether we eat carefully or not, we have decided that the Tanzanians may have a point & we have started to follow the handwashing custom as well. Really, in this environment you just have no idea where you are picking up the germs. Washing your hands AFTER you handle the menu starts to make sense.

A lot of the food is eaten with your hands. The ugali (a sort of stiff porridge made from various kinds of flour; I think I mentioned it before) is pulled off into walnut-sized pieces & rolled in your fingers until it forms a ball & then it's dipped in whatever sauce came with your food. Pleasantly bland & filling. And then you just rip the fish apart with your hands & eat it bit by bit. French fries, however, are usually eaten with a fork. Go figure.

After eating, you get up & wash your hands again, which makes good sense after you have grubbed around digging out fish bones from greasy flesh for half an hour. Then you sit back & order another beer & wait for the bill.

We waited & waited for the bill. It turned out that the kids waiting on us were not that proficient with math & because we had a large group in our party, with plenty of engineers who had ordered quite a bit of beer, it was very difficult to calculate exactly how much had been ordered. Overall, it took us about 1 hour to eat & 1.5 hours to total the bill & get a receipt.

while they were struggling with the receipt, we had time to relax under the trees & drink & talk & watch the street life. I lost track of how many street vendors visited us, selling CDs, clothes, shoes, toothpaste, jewellry. A young woman wearing a t-shirt saying 'Jesus will do it AGAIN' stayed for a while & chanted prayers in Swahili. "She has a mental condition", one of our group told us, "and she can get aggressive at times." Hm, interesting; but she did not get aggressive this time & eventually moved on.

In the crowds of people coming & going, it took me a while to notice the street children. First there was a girl of maybe 12 or 13, leaning against a tree just at the edge of our group, watching us remotely. She was not begging; I'm not sure what she wanted. And I didn't notice until Selemani pointed it out to me that she was 5 or 6 months pregnant. "This is a common problem in Dodoma," he commented.

She drifted off into the crowd but suddenly there were 2 young boys sitting at the vacated table next to us. They would have been 10 or 12 or so & they stood out because they were dirty (most children in Tanzania seem to be very well looked after). They eyed our food & put out their hands to beg once or twice but members of our group spoke something & they retreated back to the table. Evenutally the New Green kids came to clear our table & they moved our plates over to the neighbouring table while they discussed the bill with us (at great length). Immediately the boys started going through our leftovers, looking for chicken bones with meat left on them & other bits. The one fellow had a bag & was trying to drain the baked beans into it but a woman in our crowd got up & took a spoon to help him collect the food more efficiently.

It was interesting to see how the street children were treated. Their begging behaviour was not encouraged or even tolerated but they were not yelled at or talked about at our table. Members of our group were willing to help them get some food & even the cafe owners turned a blind eye to their scavenging. On the whole I would have to say that they were treated more compassionately than I have seen street people treated in Canada.

The bill, when it came, had to be added up by half a dozen people & the total came out differently each time, partly because the engineers at some of the tables kept on ordering more beer (!). Finally Doug got so frustrated waiting for the total that he rounded it up (generously) just to cover the sum whatever it might be. The New Green staff was so grateful for the tip that they had to thank him at length & then they coaxed him to have his picture taken with their kids.

Things do take time.

But now the day is done & tomorrow we head for Dar es Salaam. Another 7 hours of death-defying travel on the highways of Tanzania. Wish me luck...

Tanzania, Day 10

July 26, 2010

Tonight is a busy night. Tomorrow is our last day at MRI & we have a lot to prepare: 2 presentations plus certificates + evaluation forms. It is 10 pm already & I'm only about halfway through my share of the responsibilities so I'll cut this short. Try to, anyway.

Mr. Ndabazi had said that lesson planning was a problem for the tutors so we gave a presentation this morning on that topic. I gave a (rather dull) presentation about long-term (semester-wide) lesson planning & Doug presented an interesting exercise involving the planning & delivery of a short-term lesson. It is hard to explain but it involves separating the class into groups, supplying them with an elastic band, pieces of string, & some household objects (a water bottle, soap box, piece of chalk etc.) which they have to build into a tower using only the elastic band manoevered by pieces of string. All without talking. The lesson objective is to learn about the importance of communication when working as a team. It was a lot of fun (we couldn't forbid them to laugh!) & I think at least some of them got the objective, too.

After tea, we all went for a tour of the GST. We are so accustomed in Canada to kind of snarl whenever we hear that acronym but in Tanzania it means something quite different: Geological Survey of Tanzania. The GST is quite a big outfit by Tanzanian standards, with 65 employees. Many of the employees are former MRI students so it is like Old Home Week when MRI staff visit. We met the heads of the various departments, saw where they developed the geological maps of Tanzania, & toured the various labs in which rock samples are analyzed in a number of ways. Some of the equipment was very old & not working any more but some appeared to be relatively up-to-date & well-used. The GST was established in 1925 by the colonial government & some of the old maps are still labelled 'Tanganika'. I can remember learning that exotic name in my earliest school years & it still seems so amazing that here I am, staring that name back on a wall in a geological survey room in post-colonial Tanzania.

As an aside -- it is hard to believe just how POLITE Tanzanians are. For example, when we were introduced to the CEO of the GST, he spent about 15 minutes greeting us before escorting us out of his office. At this point I thought the tour was beginning, but no; we were led to a side room with couches & a TV & an administrative assistant brought in pop & water, followed by little saucers of locally roasted cashews. So we sat some more & introduced ourselves, one by one, & talked pleasantries for another 20 minutes at least. Relationship-building is very important & it takes time. And every time you meet someone new, there are the long, warm 3-step handshakes, the greetings etc. And when you leave there's the exchange of 'asante' (thank you), 'karibu' (you're welcome), sometimes followed by 'asante sana' (thanks a lot) & 'karibu sana' (you're MOST welcome) etc. And when you see someone you know, like at work the next morning, there are many different greetings possible & each one has a different proper response. Our Tanzanian colleagues have been trying to teach us the correct forms but so far we have only mastered the really easy ones & we need steady coaching on the others.

The train was in town today! I didn't see it but we certainly heard the whistle all through town today. Next time I am here I am certainly going to see what's involved in getting a train ride

-- Wait a minute; did I say this was going to be a short post? Ah, wishful thinking, I guess. But enough is enough for now.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Tanzania, Day 9

July25, 2010

It is a 'memorial' day for Tanzanians today. They remember countrypeople who fought in WW2 (I guess they were Tanganikans then, or maybe British citizens). And they also remember the Tanzanians who fought against Idi Amin's Ugandan army in 1971. But for us, it was just Sunday & a very, very welcome day off.

We got up late, lingered over breakfast, spent some time reviewing the work completed & the work left to do, came up with a rough game plan for the days ahead, & then headed out to the market. Dodoma has a great market -- large, sprawling & busy. We had a couple of shopping goals in mind. Doug was looking for some material for Anne, who wants to make some cushion covers. I was looking for dental floss, & we were both looking for packages of Kilamanjaro tea (which comes in a beautiful little box & makes a very nice cup of tea besides). We wandered up & down the little alleyways, dodging motorcycles & negotiating with the entrepreneurs. During the couple of hours in which we browsed, I saw only two other Caucasians the whole time. You get accustomed to being stared at but for the most part the market people were polite & not overly aggressive with marketing. We did find some great fabric (too much choice, really) & we found the tea but nobody seemed to carry anything that looked like dental floss.

It actually felt hot during midday so we wandered back to the hotel to rest & enjoy a cold beer. Thinking about it... we really haven't been outside during the middle part of the day; we have been inside, working, with some degree of airconditioning in our classroom. On the whole, the weather in Dodoma region -- during this 'winter' dry season anyway -- is just lovely. It hasn't rained since we've been here & they tell us it won't rain, period, until November. The evenings are cool & we sleep with blankets pulled up. Mornings & evenings are very pleasant, with temperatures in the low 20's. It is sunny for the most part, & often breezy.

By 7 pm we were both pooped. I decided to get some photocopies for our workshop tomorrow & then spend some quality time on the internet. I went into the internet cafe & the young woman there assured me that she could photocopy my handout. 15 copies, 16 pages each... She had to print each page & then print the reverse side manually, so it took a while. By the time she was ready to log me into the internet terminal, only 15 minutes remained for the internet cafe to be open. Why couldn't she have logged me in at the beginning? And why does the internet cafe close an hour early tonight?? Do I sound just a touch frustrated & whiny...???

It's probably just as well; I still have my presentation to plan for tomorrow & given the fatigue, really should get an early night.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Tanzania, Day 8

July 24, 2010

Well, dear reader, if you have been following this blog so far you will know that we were scheduled to go to Mikumi today. And if you just want the we-did-this & we-saw-that account, I'll give it to you straight: yes, we did indeed get to Mikumi National Park & it was very good. Highly recommended & you really should see it if ever you are in the neighbourhood. It's easy to find: all you do is start at Dar es Salaam (perhaps the hardest part if you are starting from Canada), head north to Morogoro, then turn west & follow the Iringi road until you enter the park. And we did see lots of animals! There were elephants, zebras, giraffes, buffalo, wildebeest, jackals, & countless beautiful gazelles. We even saw a hippopotamus in the watering hole. We didn't see the lion but someone else did just the day before.

No, the real safari on this trip was the drive. It was a unique experience. No; 'unique' doesn't capture it at all -- it was TERRIFYING. We got back to the hotel 45 minutes ago & even though it's after midnight I know I might as well forget about sleeping until the adrenalin is out of my system.

It's not that our driver was reckless or incapable: I think he is really very, very good. And it's not that the roads are so bad: both the highways from Dodoma to Morogoro and from Morogoro to Mikumi are well-paved, with centre-lines & even a bit of a shoulder all the way along. It's just the nature of driving in Tanzania. There is no speed limit on the open road. You can go as fast as your car can handle & your nerves can sustain. We travelled for much of the distance between 120 & 140 km but for a couple of white knuckling sections it was more like 160 km/hr. And it's not like we Canadians don't speed along too when we've got the highway to ourselves... but in Tanzania they drive like that, tailgating about 2 m behind the vehicle ahead. It is so bad at night that when the truck ahead of you (most of the vehicles on the road are trucks) slows down suddenly, the light from his brake-lights almost blinds you.

The tailgating is pretty amazing. It is sort of institutionalized. The drivers communicate to each other in some rather complex ways using turn indicators & high-beam headlights. I'm not sure I've completely figured it out but it seems that if the vehicle ahead of you (usually it's a truck & you're following it so closely you can't see anything beyond the back of the truck) can see that it would be unsafe for you to pass, he flashes his right-side turn indicator. When the coast is clear ahead, he flashes his left (keep in mind that traffic drives on the left side in Tanzania). This system is, howevever, not 100% reliable. They also flash their high-beams at each other -- just for a second or 2 each time -- in some meaningful way but whether it's to communicate some clear message or just to keep each other awake on the road, I'm not sure.

Driving in Tanzania is 'close' in many ways, not just tailgating. You dash along at these crazy speeds with people right next to you on all sides. We sped past schoolchildren on bicycles, entrepreneurs hawking bananas & cashew nuts, herds of cattle, truck drivers changing tires, little kids playing at the side of the road, & old ladies hobbling across the street -- all within centimeters. Several times we passed one vehicle with another coming in the opposite direction & pulled back into our lane between them with the most marginal clearances.

The only real & effective speed control are the 'bumps'. These are great lumps of ashphalt forming a sort of raised sidewalk across the highway in the downtown core (if you can call it that) of every little village. The bump is flanked in each direction with a series of 3 narrower bumps which remind you -- both by noise & by violent vibration inside the vehicle -- that the bump is imminent. And so, thank God, we did slow down enough for a short distance in each village to see details of village life. There are endless stalls selling mobile phone cards, plastic pails & basins in every colour, mattresses. There are the less-formal merchants selling from their baskets of tomatoes, bags of rice & beans, second-hand clothes on hangers, huge bags of charcoal for cooking fires, loosely-contained chickens.

So it's an adventure. But now I'm falling asleep (1:30 am) so I'll sign this off...

Tanzania, Day 7

July 23, 2010

I have been sitting here for 10 minutes, staring at the computer screen, examining my fingernails, contemplating the pattern on the carpet (is it a fleur de lis?). Not hard to guess that it is the end of a busy day at the end of a very full week.

For those of you who are educators & interested in this sort of thing: our workshop lessons went more or less as planned. We started with a discussion of gap analysis, of using the occupational profile to identify gaps in program curriculum. We did a rough gap analysis comparing the DACUM charts they made yesterday with the modules (courses) they deliver at level 6. After tea-break, we looked at assessing prior learning (PLAR) & how that might work for MRI. Actually, the larger question is IF that might work for them since the government regulation of curriculum is, in some ways, much more restrictive than it is for us. You'd think PLAR would be a great idea: after all, Tanzania is desperate for skilled labour & a prior learning recognition program enables already-competent people to be fast-tracked for credentialling. But things will have to change at the national level before MRI can implement such a program of their own.

And we talked a bit about rubrics & about teaching strategies & that ran us into (again) what teaching strategy do you use to teach about complicated equipment when there is no equipment to teach with? And I talked a bit about using a good rubric to enable assessment by a non-educator on the worksite & I talked a bit about the Jamaican bobsled team who learned how to do Olympic bobsledding without snow. But it all sounds a bit lame, I admit.

And then we ALL went for lunch, our treat this time. We were taken to Jicama, which is sort of along the same lines as Chako ni Chako but this time with pork. The menu at Jicama is very simple: dishes of barbecued or roasted pork pieces, a few semi-dried, roasted plaintains, & dishes of raw vegetable relish. Hm. For a vegetarian such as myself with a fragile North American digestive system it is not a lot of choice. But I was able to nibble on the plantains (which were good) & even gnaw away at a couple of pork pieces. And they bring you beer. You sit outside at tables covered with plastic tablecloths, under giant spreading locust trees, listen to African music (Congo music but sung in Swahili for some reason) & you shout to each other above the sound of the music & have a wonderful time.

Now we are done the post-workday debriefing session, a little walk around the block during the 5 minutes between dusk & full night, a little supper, a half-hour of internet time just before closing.

Tomorrow we head for Mikumi National Park! Should be good.

Tanzania, Day 6

July 22 2010

Another busy day, made doubly so because of the energetic activity of my intestines. Really, I thought the Dukoral medication was supposed to take care of this sort of thing. Maybe it mostly is.

Today in the workshops we worked in earnest on the occupational analyses, using DACUM. At first we tried an informal example (coming up with an occupational profile for a football/soccer player), thinking this would be a fun sort of warm-up. But our students didn't seem at all familiar with the working life of a professional athlete. After the tea-break we moved into the main event, designing a detailed occupational analysis for the positions they are preparing their students for (yes; bad sentence construction there, I know). With this activity, our group moved forward quickly & worked hard & long. They were so reluctant to leave it before finishing that we took an extra 15 minutes into the lunch break to work.

We went back to the St. Gaspar Convention Centre for lunch, a place we have frequented several times this week. I believe that our host, who is extremely hospitable, is thinking that because this location is a 'western' sort of establishment it will be more familiar for us. It's the facility that the Tanzanian NGO's use for conferences etc. But the service is amazingly slow. There were 6 staff waiting on our little group of 7; nobody else in the entire huge restaurant & yet it took an hour to get the food & they mixed up one of the orders.

Oh well; never mind: we weren't that hungry anyway (thanks to intestines) & besides the late start & long wait made for a very short afternoon session by the time we arrived back at the Institute.

Afterwards, we went back to the market to pick up my Tanzanian outfit. Amazing! The blouse was completed (even lined) & it fits like a second skin. In fact it is maybe a bit too tight but the centre back seam is generous enough to give me room to let it out. Doug had Anne's measurements so they will have hers ready tomorrow. The fabrics in the tailoring area of the market are beautiful; there is quite a bit more variety than we saw in Nyeri, in Kenya.

So it was very much a sort of we-went-here & we-did-this sort of day. Not much else to tell. We did our post-workshop de-brief, had a bite of supper (intestines quiet by this time) & even managed to get on the internet for an hour.

And now I have one more workshop session to prepare before bed.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Tanzania, Day 5

July 21, 2010

A busy day & I am tired already. Let's see if I can make this short.

The big news is that we shifted our address today to the New Dodoma Hotel. We did it before even starting for work, just took all our bags from the Twiga & drove straight to the New Dodoma & booked rooms. This feels like a very positive move.

It was a full day at MRI. We made presentations about Labour Market Information & Occupational Profiles, showing how things are done in Canada. It is still hard to get feedback from the group & when they do provide an answer to a question (usually after MUCH prompting) the voice is so quiet & the accent so intense that it is hard to understand the contribution. It is obviously a cultural response to the classroom environment because during tea-times & at lunch etc. the group is EXTREMELY friendly, open, talkative, & volume is not a problem. Even the accent seems easier to understand!

We also talked about DACUM processes, using expert workers to come up with accurate occupational processes; and then spent some time working with Bloom's Taxonomy. (Based on their evaluation notes from yesterday, this was a topic that they clearly wanted to know more about).

One topic that keeps coming up is the need for up-to-date mining equipment that their students can use for training. You can't miss the frustration in their voices. I feel frustrated along with them. So we talked about getting donations of equipment (remote but possible, I suppose), using simulations, & focussing on the most difficult micro-task of using the tool. Stuff like that.

One happy little development is that I am going to have a lovely Tanzanian dress!! Doug happened to complement one of the women today on her beautiful traditional dress & I agreed with him. Before I knew it, she had offered to arrange a visit to a tailor so I could get one made. So right after work we went to the market, shopped for material, & then arranged with a tailor to sew the dress. It is not really a dress: it is a well-tailored blouse ('blusi') with a piece of cloth wrapped around the waist for the skirt & another piece of fabric wrapped into a turban on the head. It really does look terrific. I went crazy looking at the fabric which is heavier than kanga fabric (this stuff is called kangeri I think) & of higher quality. Doug liked the idea so much he is ordering a similar garment for his wife. Mine will be ready tomorrow!

We were dropped off at the New Dodoma hotel to settle in. This place is just great. There are THREE restaurants, a bar, and an internet cafe (the internet actually works) with printing & photocopy facilities. Tonight I had enough time only to locate a resource for our presentation tomorrow but soon I should be able to get online, send a quick email to let friends know I am alive, & upload this blog.

Still later (I did say it was a busy day!) we were picked up for supper. Supper was at the Chako ni Chako, a locally famous spot where even the President visits when he is in town. It is nothing much to look at: a long & modest sidewalk cafe, but it is one of those perfected combinations of food & social life that just works. You sit at plastic tables on a dusty sidewalk & the waiters bring you plates heaped with roast chicken (kuku choma). The chickens have obviously been free-range because the meat is very very chewy. It is a very simple menu: roast chicken pieces with salt & chili sauce for dipping, & limes to squeeze on if you like. They bring you pop or beer & occasionally roasted plantains too. Delicious. Another waiter comes around with a pitcher of warm water & a plastic basin & pours water over your hands so you can clean before eating. Starving cats weave under the tables looking for scraps. People drift in & out off the sidewalk & there is such an atmosphere of colleagiality and good humour. It seemed almost our entire MRI crowd was there. Chako ni Chako apparently translates as 'yours is yours' & it means something like 'you only have what you have.'

Of course, I am paying for it now; my intestines are a mess. I do hope I am not kept awake all night but even if I am, it will have been worth it.

Tanzania, Day 4

July 20 2010

This was our first 'in earnest' day at MRI so I'm sure glad that I got an ok sort of sleep last night. Yesterday was the day for MRI to introduce themselves to us and today was our day to start formally presenting our expertise (such as it is). We began with an introduction to College of the Rockies,showed a little promotional video & powerpoint presentation. Actually people were quite interested to learn about their new Canadian partner.

We then gave a presentation about competency-based education and training (how we see it) and struggled to find out how the concept is understood and applied in Tanzania. Later we facilitated a small-group workshop activity to practice creating competencies.

I can't say it was easy, really. There are strong cultural differences in workshop behaviour between Canada and Tanzania. For example, it is very hard to pull feedback from this group! You ask a question & there is virtually no response. You have to beg, pull teeth to get someone to answer a posed question, even an easy one. We saw the same behaviour when working in Kenya: it is just one of those realities.

We went for lunch at the New Dodoma hotel. Mr. Ndabizi suggested this because Doug & I wanted to see if the New Dodoma was a viable alternative to the Twiga, here we are now staying. Clearly, it is!! There is an internet cafe with wired computers & people actually using the connection (for proof) & an attendant on duty. The hotel is in the middle of town & it looks as if it would be quite reasonable to go for a walk in the area (not so possible where we are now, 8 km from town). One of our MRI colleagues confirmed that walking around that area was safe enough. The hotel is big, attractive, bright. There are choices for meals & the lunch we had today was really very good. And (this is amazing) the price is even cheaper than the Twiga! How can this be...? Never mind; we are switching our accommodations to the New Dodoma tomorrow morning. Internet, walking, good food -- it will be paradise.

We returned late from lunch to MRI but continued the session as planned about advisory committees. We heard about MRI's Industrial Relations unit, the unit that links the institute with mines, explorations, & lab companies, and coordinates students' field attachments. You can't help but be impressed by MRI's enthusiasm, vision, hard work, resourcefulness, and sheer intelligence.

Of course, there are some challenges. Most of the mining companies do not participate as much as MRI wants or needs. MRI finds it almost impossible to procure real live mining equipment so that the students can effectively practice on the equipment they will see on the job site. It is so frustrating just to listen: the foreign mining companies prefer to hire their own foreign nationals for technical positions because they can get the employment quality they expect but they won't contribute to the skill development of their host country. One of our tutor-participants, when asked to respond anonymously on a sticky-note about what he wanted most to learn about in the coming days, wrote 'I would like to know how to apply competency-based assessment when you have no tools or equipment to practice with.' Yes indeed; I am wondering about that too. And so you have little but enthusiastic and hard-working institutes like MRI trying desperately to get a share of the good life for Tanzanian students, trying to compete educationally against (seemingly) impossible odds. It opens your eyes and makes you mad.

Tanzania, Day 3

July 19

I did not sleep well last night. I woke up for good around 3 am & by 6 am I admitted defeat & just got up. By 6:30 it was starting to get light & by 7 am it was full-blown beautiful daylight. I suppose when you live here you get used to the highly-compressed dawns & dusks but at this point I am still mightily impressed.

We were picked up right on schedule at 8:30 and shortly after 9 we began our day of meetings to find out more about MRI. It was a most productive day from that perspective. We listened first to Dr. Nruma, the Chair of the Advisory Committee and a very big player in mining education in Tanzania (internationally too, I believe). We learned that foreign mining companies operating in Tanzania will often import their skilled labour rather than hire Tanzanian technicians, because a) there are simply not enough trained Tanzanian mining technicians & b) the Tanzanian technicians may not be trained to the same standard as the foreigners. This fact certainly sheds some light on the strong desire to modernize technical training & evolve it to a more competency-based system.

We also heard about the various programs offered at MRI, the variety of students who participate in them, the challenges faced in evolving the system. Listening, you quickly become impressed with the intelligence, resourcefulness & passion of the educators here. Good educators do not choose a substandard system, they wrestle with it.

We arrived back at the hotel by about 5 pm, to find out that the internet is still not working. The computer technician has (perhaps) been called but no-one knows when he will be out to look at the system. Really: the food is lousy, the rooms are dark, there is no place at all to walk, & it's kind of buggy. We did get the hot water issue figured out... However, tomorrow we will see if there are any reasonable alternatives for accommodations.

And tomorrow we start in earnest our own presentations. We spent a few hours debriefing the day & fine-tuning the first couple of sessions but now it's time to call it a night.

Tanzania, Day 2

July 18 2010

Ah, Africa! Here we sit at the Twiga Hotel in Dodoma. The Twiga ('giraffe') Hotel was chosen as the best accommodation for the Canadian participants on this assignment because a) it's a cozy & attractive place; b) it's close to the Mineral Resources Institute, and c) it has internet connectivity. Well... it is pretty & it *is* close to MRI, truly within walking distance. But the internet connectivity is a bit more hypothetical. Be assured, the lack of success is not due to a lack of trying. I tried it first from inside my room & although it showed 4 out of a maximum of 5 bars of signal strength, the message I got was 'limited or no connectivity' and indeed, I could not get anything. I went outside, I tried closer to the main building, I tried further away, I faced the east, I faced the west, I did everything short of stand on my head, but --- no. Advera (the manager?) promised she will look into it in the morning. And there is no hot water. It's true: I ran the tap for a full 5 minutes while I did other things but the water never got warmer than ambient. That's ok; today the temperature never got hot at all so I don't feel the need of a full-blown shower but eventually I might. And then there are the (hypothetical) swarms of malarial mosquitoes & no secure screens for the windows. And the matter of the rather large insects & potential snakes in the rooms that we were indirectly warned about.

Hm.

Otherwise, it was a lovely day. Mr. Mdabazi & his driver picked us up just before 10 and we left the hotel, heading for Dodoma. We spent the first hour just getting out of Dar es Salaam, which is a huge city. The traffic jams slowed us down but just think: this is just on a Sunday morning. Imagine what it is like during a working day! We stopped for lunch at a semi-outdoor truck stop place on the way, with a buffet sort of spread of traditional Tanzanian food. Then back on the road... all in all, we were on the go for more than 7 hours. The road was good. We travelled at speeds between 10 and 140 km/hr, with plenty of time spent at both extremes (!) The scenery varies a fair bit. Throughout the region of Dar es Salaam it is obviously an urban sort of environment but when you cross over into the coastal region it is more lush and green, where wild monkeys run across the road. But even before you cross over into Dodoma region it becomes dryer, hillier, stonier, and more open. The land feels clean and spacious. The baobab trees add a surreal, middle-earth like quality to the landscape. And everywhere -- all along the entire journey, for 7 hours straight, there are people: walking alongside the road, riding bicycles, tending roadside shops, hauling water in pails balanced on the head, nursing babies, playing in the dirt, herding goats. How do SO MANY people make a go of it in such marginal conditions? It boggles the mind.

Dodoma is the official capital city of Tanzania, although parliament meets here only for a few weeks twice a year. The city, nevertheless, has more than its share of infrastructure and fine buildings. We are somewhat at altitude here which makes the overall temperature more comfortable & the air not so moist.

Tomorrow we will head to the Institute and start our assignment. We are also hoping to sort out the internet issue and perhaps address some of the other issues that make this accommodation location problematic. But for now... bedtime.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Tanzania, Day 1

July 17 2010 (& a little bit of July 16)

We landed suddenly and dramatically in Tanzania at around 8:30 last night, when our plane dropped out of the sky onto one wheel (I swear!) at Kilamanjaro. It was one of those brief but scary landings after which everybody on the flight cheers in relief and then immediately starts to make nervous jokes about it to diffuse the adrenaline. Kilamanjaro! I sure wish it had been light enough to see something out of the window but it was much too late and dark for that.

Instead, we spent the hour watching the cleaning crew ready the airplane inside, and after another 40 minutes flying the last leg to Dar es Salaam, we landed again -- much more smoothly this time. And after another long, slow hour of filling out visa forms and entry permits etc. we were able to formally enter the country. It was almost midnight before we arrived at the hotel and to tell the truth the whole thing is a bit of a blur because we were so jet-lagged and tired.

Today I was awakened at 5:30 am by the loudspeaker down the street, with a strong musical voice announcing the first call to prayer for the Muslim community. It is the kind of awakening that lets you know with clarity that you are not in Kansas anymore. Nevertheless, I was able to drift into sleep again for a couple of hours and finally got up for good after being frozen out of bed by the overactive air conditioning. I opened the window of my hotel room and let the warm soggy air of Dar es Salaam wake me up the rest of the way. Even on the 7th floor you can't miss that third-world city street smell, sort of a cross between wet pavement and overripe fruit.

It is good to be here! We spent an easy-going but productive enough day: exchanging currency, getting a mobile phone, eating, visiting the market, sampling the local beer. We were entertained by two consecutive (possibly even overlapping) wedding ceremonies conducted at the church across the street, replete with very live bands. We were even able to finalize arrangements with our Tanzanian colleagues who will be driving us to Dodoma tomorrow. And so (with luck) I am headed for a solid sleep and a busy day of travelling tomorrow.

[Note: photos for this blog are here]

Monday, June 28, 2010

Spain, Days 12+

June 3 and 4: Santiago to Madrid, and home again

We spent the next day in Santiago, recuperating and exploring. We wandered around the outdoor market, guessing at unfamiliar spices, fishes, produce. We saw whole skinned little animals (guinea pigs? rabbits?) and pigs' feet, legs, even snouts. We soaked in the luxury of having no distance to cover, lingering over coffee, exploring the shops. Occasionally we bumped into other peregrinos we had seen along the way, including the Spaniard with the snore and (miraculously) the young couple with the baby we had seen on our first day out.

The next day we took the train from Santiago to Madrid and the next day I flew home. I'm at a loss for what else to write about it; the rest seems so anticlimax. There is, of course, the spiritual journey too... but that is a whole different blog.

Santiago, being there

I won't bore you with too many details about the cathedral. The cathedral at Santiago de Compostela is world-famous and if you google you will find a tonne of information about it. But I can affirm that it is everything it is cracked up to be. It is old: started in 1123, finished in 1211. It is huge: you feel awestruck by it and have to stand far back in the square to take it all in. People have obviously desired and known how to build impressive structures for a very long time.

We headed off to find the Pilgrims' Office to get our Compostela. It must seem a bit crazy, at this point in the journey when you are tired and sore, to stand in a long lineup just for the sake of paperwork. The Pilgrims' Office is upstairs in a building almost adjoining the cathedral and there seems to be a permanent lineup of peregrinos seeking the Compostela certificate. About a half-dozen staff waited on us in turn. When it was finally my turn, the young woman asked first "Que habla/what do you speak?" She handed me a short form to fill out while she examined my credencial. I filled in information with the usual name, nationality etc. but also "At what point did you start the pilgrimage?" "Did you undertake the pilgrimage on foot, by bicycle, or on horseback?" (I never saw anybody on horseback; really, is that possible?) and finally "For what reason did you complete this pilgrimage: for religious reasons, religious + other, or just 'other reasons'?" Once the information had been supplied to her satisfaction, the woman printed off my Compostela. It was filled out completely in Latin (even my name had been latinized!) and an attractive little document. We left the Pilgrims' Office feeling like new graduates; so ecstatic it makes me smile even to write about it. We rushed into the first shop we saw to purchase a mailing tube to keep the Compostela in a condition suitable for framing.

The final part of our journey was to attend the Pilgrims' Mass at 7:30 that evening. One more time we followed the bronze scallop shells through the tangle of streets in the Old City. We followed the other peregrinos into the cathedral, already filling up fast for the Mass. This was by far the most ornate church we'd seen: most of the others along the way had been very simple and some were downright humble. But the inside front of the cathedral in Santiago is dripping with gold: statues and figurines and general religious filigree. Behind the altar there is a structure of some sort: it looks like a cage or old-fashioned wagon but it is so encrusted with goldwork that it took me quite some time to figure out that it is the structure in which the (apparent) remains of St. James are kept. The steady stream of people shuffling single-file across the back of the church, through the cage, was a clue I suppose.

The Mass itself was the usual Spanish Mass, as far as I could tell. But at the end, when things should have been wrapping up, there was a sudden BLAST from the organ and suddenly everybody rushed up to the front. There was a commotion, some smoke... and suddenly the incense burner was aloft.

Like the cathedral itself, the incense burner in Santiago is very famous and any quick google will show you that. Most church incense burners are about the size of a sugar bowl and the priest holds it by a little handle and swings it as he walks around the church to spread the perfume around. But this incense burner is enormous -- as big and no doubt as heavy as me -- and it is suspended from the cathedral ceiling (a long way up) by ropes that are bigger around than my wrist. It takes 4 or 5 young priests to raise it up with pulleys etc. They start it swinging and then they haul HARD on the ropes to increase the swing and it pendulums wildly, enthusiastically across the massive front of the cathedral. You can understand why people talk about it; it's spellbinding. And it fills the church with the sweet smell and at that point your senses are just about drowning.

We went back to our hotel. We had a bottle of wine, some bread, cheese and olives and we sat on our little patio amid our hung laundry to eat. We drank to each other, to our sisterhood, our Camino adventure, family and friends, to the future and to God.

And then to bed in clean sheets.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Spain, Day 11

June 2: Pedrouzo/ Arca do Pino to Santiago

With only 18 km left, we thought today's walk would be a piece of cake and we had fanciful thoughts of arriving in Santiago before noon. But after Lois had taken only a few steps it was obvious that that wasn't going to happen. The harmless little blister that had appeared yesterday had mushroomed into something huge and angry: a genuine impediment to walking. She limped painfully for a kilometer or so and then, with great reluctance, decided that she had better get a cab for the last leg.

She was, however, game to try one last Plan B; after all, it would be such a disappointment to break up our wonderful threesome ON THE LAST DAY. We rebandaged the foot with as much padding as we could stick to it and she swallowed a heavy-duty painkiller as well. We reminded ourselves that with less than 17 km remaining, we could mince along as slowly as necessary and take breaks every hour. If it was still too painful, we would revert to Plan A.

And after the painkiller took effect it really wasn't so bad. We stopped often, and even limping along we were at the outskirts of Santiago well before noon. Although a lot of our walking was still along forest paths and through tiny villages, the highway noise was becoming louder and harder to ignore. It was surreal to walk right under the gigantic approach matrix for metropolitan Santiago's airport. And then a final bit of climb up to Monte o Gozo where the pilgrims' monument announces victory.

Not so long ago, pilgrims stopped here because the elevation offered a first glimpse of the destination cathedral. There's been so much construction in Santiago that you can't see the cathedral from here any more so they have constructed the monument and the little park to compensate. The pilgrims' park is one endless celebration. All around perigrinos were hugging, high-5-ing, taking pictures with the monument as backdrop. A little group of Germans was singing a round in 2-part harmony. People crowded around the sello desk to get a special red stamp in the credencial. We dipped into the little chapel to enjoy the silence and light a candle.

We headed downhill for the last time. At some point, our environs stopped being rural and became urban: we entered the metropolis of Santiago. City streets and stop lights seemed a bit foreign. Lois was in pain so we found her a shady place to wait while Lj and I scouted out a hotel for the night. It took us a few false starts but eventually we found (relatively) luxurious accommodations just outside the walls of the old city.

After settling in, the usual shower + beer + laundry routine, we decided to finish the last leg of the pilgrimage. It is not hard to find the cathedral: all you need to do is follow the beautiful bronze scallop shells embedded in the streets. We followed the shells for maybe a kilometer through the old city, along laneways, past tiny shops, then down a long staircase. Suddenly the scallop shells stopped and I had a momentary sense of panic: how would I know which way to go from here...?

We found ourselves in front of the cathedral. End of pilgrimage.

Spain, Day 10

June 1: Arzua to Pedrouzo/Arca do Pino

As of tonight we are now barely 18 km from Santiago with mixed feelings about being so close to our destination. Not quite sure of the name: is Pedrouzo the town and Arca do Pino the region? or the other way around...? The day was easy: overcast, breezy, a little cooler than the unexpected heat spike of yesterday. There were no agonizingly long hills and the distance seemed short. We arrived at our destination just before noon (our earliest yet!) and were practically the first ones in the aubergue.

This aubergue is quite new, with lovely pine bunkbeds, brand-new laundry facilities, a spotless kitchen and FANTASTIC showers. All the aubergues we have visited have been clean and adequate but this one seems luxurious. We dumped our stuff, rinsed our socks, and headed out for refreshment. We have discovered that tuna empanadas can be very tasty and go well with beer.

I wish I could write about the scenery along the route in such a way that it would sound as fresh and as beautiful as it feels. Forest paths, farmyards, tiny villages... we walked through some middle-earth green forest tunnels, past hectares of cultivated forests (in which fairly large pine trees grow in grid-like regularity like apple orchards), and amazing stands of eucalyptus. The eucalyptus trees look dead from a distance because their leaves are so grey and dry but that's just the way they live I guess. The trunks are mottled and the bark hangs down in strips and the mature trees exude an aroma that is hard to describe. The music of the birds as you walk along is storybook. Sometimes you can hear cuckoo birds, the song as close as the tree next to you but the birds remain invisible. We walked past many ponds, too; pools full of frog-song.

There are so many treats for the senses! You could walk the Camino blind or deaf and still be overwhelmed with beauty. A man leading cows, cow bells and hooves on stone pathways, dogs scurrying behind, herding. Another man scolding his goats, shooing them away from where he is trying to mend a rend in the fence. An old woman in a long black skirt, red-check apron, little jacket and wide-brimmed hat, guiding a mother sheep with 2 tiny lambs. The smell of manure and cow pee, everywhere. But also the scent of roses pouring over the sides of ancient stone walls. Broom flowers like waterfalls on cliff-sides. The ubiquitous red plastic chairs labelled 'Estrella Galicia' advertising the house beer for the region. The wonderful, welcome yellow arrows pointing out The Way on walls, sides of buildings, pathways, concrete, spray-painted over other signs, EVERYWHERE.

Now we are showered, with our hand-washing on the clothesline. I am sitting outside in the breeze, keeping one eye on the clouds. If it starts to rain, I must hustle our still-damp clothes inside to keep them from getting wetter. Later we will explore the town, go to the pilgrims' Mass at 7:30, and head for bed.

Tomorrow... Santiago!

Spain, Day 9

May 31: Palas de Rei to Arzua

This was a long day, longer than promised. Even though we were in relatively luxurious accommodations we were up by 6:45 and on the trail by 7:15. According to the guidebook, we were in for a walk of 26.5 km but that must have been calculated from the most westerly aubergue in Palas to the most easterly aubergue in Ricibiro. We, however, started east and ended up west and walked almost 29 km. The extra bit makes a huge difference at the end of the day with sore feet.

In between, it was a day of forest paths, country roads, and -- most of all -- HILLS. We have become attentive to the little diagrams, found in all the guidebooks and often posted on the aubergue bulletin boards, showing the changes in elevation along the sections of the Camino. Today's diagram showed a net drop of 300 m over this section but you couldn't prove it by me: my strongest recollection is of the endless hills UP.

My bladder is a nuisance. I think my pack hip-strap is situated right over the top of my bladder so no sooner do a take a drink but I want to pee. No sooner do I pee but I'm thirsty again. People are stopped everywhere, drinking. There are fountains all along the way, so many that you hardly need a water bottle. Some of them are very old. The occasional one warns 'water not safe for drinking' but I have heard pilgrims say that that advice is over-cautious and the water is ok at all the fountains. But I have not put that advice to the test.

There was an aubergue at the 26.5 km mark, an ancient but attractive one in a quiet location right on the river. People sat on rocks at the riverbank, cooling their feet in the water. Very attractive indeed. But we have become fond of staying right in town, when we can, where there's more choice in restaurants, pubs, supermercados, and things to see. So we continued, expecting (as usual) that the next aubergue would appear in a 100 m or so. Not true this time! We were faced with yet another long, hot hill, another 2 km of agony.

We pulled into the first aubergue we came to, not fussy at all at this point. So now it is the usual routine: sign in to the aubergue, go out for a beer (maybe 2), shower, do laundry, attend to our feet. Everybody fusses with their feet. You look around; people are scrunched on their bunks or closer to the window where the light is good or poised over sinks in the washrooms. We are still fairly lucky but some people's feet look terrible: blisters, open blisters, large patches of raw flesh. It gets serious. They sell not only pop and chocolate bars but also bandages and antibiotic cream in the vending machines.

I have developed a little routine before bedding down for the night in an aubergue. I wander around, up and down the rows of bunks, being careful not to look like I'm out to steal anything. I am not looking for seiko wristwatches but for the beefy Spaniard with whom we spent that long night a week ago. He was the absolute loudest snorer I have ever heard and he didn't just snore: he snorted, he farted, and he let his cell phone ring. A real piece of work, aubergue-wise. If I see him I will move my sleeping bag to an empty bunk (if there is one) as far away from him as possible. It's not just the noise: I don't want to be in the line of fire if people start throwing things at him in the dark.

There are about 60 beds in the aubergue at Arzua and by 8:30 they are all taken. The sign on the outside door says 'Completo' - a sad message to late pilgrims that they must keep on looking. More than half of the occupants are already in bed; the other half are fussing with feet or laundry. Damp towels, underwear, socks hang from bunk bed springs and railings. I am looking for a bright orange or a bright green t-shirt, the only 2 shirts that the Spaniard possesses. I know he's in town because we saw him in the sidewalk cafe drinking beer.

I return to my bunk because it's almost time for lights out. The man in the next bed -- he looks to be about 60 -- is singing to himself in French and checking his cell phone for messages. The woman on the bed to my left is coughing heavily and I'm sorry she's sick but I hope she takes something for her cough. No noisy Spaniard tonight. Perhaps he is making friends in another aubergue.

Spain, Day 8

May 30: Portomarin to Palas de Rei

Our night at Portomarin was uneven. When the lights went out, the snoring started and although I was mostly able to sleep through it (this time) Lois and Lj were not so lucky. So that is why we elected once again to find a habitacione for the night. It took us 5 tries in Palas de Rei to find a vacancy but for only 48 euros we secured a lovely room with 3 beds, our own bathroom, and a tiny but private balcony. It is hot on the balcony and we expect our laundry will dry in no time. We are terribly happy.

The day's walk was fine but we didn't feel like rushing it today. We travelled along farmyards, shady lanes, little villages. Frogs made a surreal, un-amphibian sound in the ponds along the way. In a little church, a choir was practising with the door open. A farmer herded his cows yelling a stream of encouragement or insults (hard to tell) and whacking the heels of the last cow with a stick to hurry her along. We stopped for ice cream in the heat of early afternoon.

And now we have gorged on bread, cheese, wine, and olives out on our tiny patio. And the laundry is dry already. Time for bed.

Spain, Day 7

May 29: Sarria to Portomarin

It should have been an easy day: there are only 23 km between Sarria and Portomarin and that is starting to feel like an unremarkable distance to walk. But I was stiff and sore for no good reason and so the distance seemed plenty long enough. The scenery was gorgeous: fields of flowers, country roads, shady paths through the forests, picturesque pueblos. The use of stone is amazing: they use stone (especially slate) like we use cheap wood. It's used for houses, churches, roads, bridges, fences, monuments, fountains. We even saw a picnic table and bench put together with slabs of slate. But we are coming to expect beautiful scenery and antiquities around every corner.

What was most notable about the day was the increase in perigrinos on the trail. In order to be counted as a pilgrim, you must complete at least the last 100 km of the Camino on foot (the last 200 km if you are biking). And Sarria, as it turns out, is the last big town just outside the 100 km mark so many people take the bus this far so they can do the minimum. Some people cut the distance even shorter: not far out of Sarria we came to a little hole-in-the-wall coffee stop; nothing much there except for a credencial stamp but waiting in the parking lot was a big tour bus full of people from the Czech Republic who were doing only the last 100 km. Precisely. And perhaps some of the increase in traffic was due to 'weekend pilgrims': people who were able to purchase a credencial in Sarria and enjoy a couple of days as a peregrino.

It is understandable. Taking on the role of a pilgrim adds a whole new dimension, a deeper layer to the experience and in my opinion it is the most unique aspect of the trip. A pilgrim is not a tourist. The sign over the doorway of the aubergue in Ponferrada reads “The tourist demands. The pilgrim thanks,” but there is more to the distinction than the level of service expected. I might write another sign, with something like “The tourist is a spectator; the pilgrim is a participant in the journey.” This slice of Spain has been living with perigrinos for 1000 years and they have carved out a cultural niche for them. How often do you get to travel to a foreign country and experience it from within the culture?

We arrived at Portomarin early and had our choice of places to stay. Portomarin is quite tiny but it is FULL of aubergues! We booked ourselves into a new aubergue with at least 100 beds, a kitchen, cafe, nice laundry area, and internet: all the essentials! Portomarin is a town built for perigrinos all right. Besides the aubergues, the church dominates the skyline (can small communities have a skyline?) The church is quite remarkable. You can see it from a long way off and although it is apparently quite a famous Romanesque church it looks more like a big box store; rectangular, grey, and unremarkable except for its size. Of course looks don't matter and we went to the Mass anyway. The church was more crowded than usual, I suppose because it was the Saturday night version of the Sunday Mass. Before long it was standing room only, stuffed with about half perigrinos (you can tell from the way we don't dress) and half locals. The inside of the church was no more remarkable and except for a large 'rose' stained-glass window, I don't think you could accuse it of being pretty.

It wasn't until the congregation started to sing that we realized this church was not designed for architectural beauty. The acoustics were astounding; the sound was beautiful, strong, and deeply moving.

Back at the aubergue, we are cold. Someone said this is the coldest it's been in this area for 150 years. I am wrapped in my fleece jacket but wishing I had something more. No doubt it's better this way because it would be much harder to be walking so much in the heat.

Spain, Day 6

May 28: Triacastela to Sarria

And we did sleep well! We didn't have the company of perigrinos or the accuracy of an alarm clock to wake us but we were all up by 7 am anyway. Obviously we have adapted to the time zone. We were on the Camino by 7:40 and joined the flow of perigrinos exiting Triacastela.

It was a peaceful and beautiful walk all day. The Camino followed a little river for much of the day so we saw a lot of river-things: old bridges, waterfalls, millponds, old men fishing. And we walked between countless farmyards. The Camino is used as a transportation route for locals, too, and in this area the path is deeply scented with cow urine. At one point we encountered a man leading a herd of dairy cattle wall-to-wall filling the path and coming right towards us. They were languid and dopey until the farmer yelled out something complex and suddenly the cows picked up their feet, doubled their speed, forcing us to press back out of the way against the fence. I was impressed – I didn't know cows could be so responsive to directions! It wasn't until they were almost past that we noticed the two German Shepherds moving nimbly at the back of the herd, nipping heels and keeping things going.

The dogs of the Camino are generally pretty laid-back creatures. I suppose that a thousand years of pilgrimage has shaped the temperments of the breeds here. At some point, the dogs must realize that there is simply no point getting all worked up about strangers walking past. Most times you will walk right by a dog asleep in the middle of the Camino path and unless you see the ears twitch you have no reassurance that the dog is even alive.

We had lunch in Samos, a tiny town grown up around a huge monestary. The monestary hosts an aubergue but we were feeling too good to stop so we carried on until Sarria. Now we are in a nice aubergue, with supper over and food stashed away for breakfast tomorrow.

Spain, Day 5

May 27: Laguna de Castilla to Triacastela

We got off to a bad start. Last night, it turned out that one of the perigrinos in our dormitory was a fierce snorer and his antisocial sleeping habits severely disrupted the sleep of the other 8 in the room. Snoring and blisters are the blackflies of Camino life, it seems.

Regardless, we got up and headed out and in no time we were at the summit, viewing the monument to perigrinos, at 1300 m. This height of land marks the border into Galicia which is a damp, lush, and Celtic-flavoured province in northwest Spain. We had hoped, given the long climb of yesterday, that it would all be an easy downhill from here but that wasn't quite true. Our descent was really steep in places, hard on the knees and shoulders with the pack-weight pushing forward I suppose. And of course we were all tired to begin with.

Probably because we were so tired and because the day was cool and damp we took time out, perhaps more than usual, for refreshment breaks. It gave us a good opportunity to start soaking up the culture of Galicia. Did I mention that Galician culture is rooted in a Celtic past? The language is a bit different, still recognizably latin-derived, but Galician is a distinct dialect within Spain. The cuisine is different too; for example, every little hamlet has a 'pulperia' (a cafe selling octupus). There are Galician flags and cultural slogans and you get the feeling that people here are Galician first, Spanish second.

Did I mention how tired we were? So by the time we arrived in Triacastela we decided to ensure a snore-free night and we booked a habitacione. We have 4 beds in a room to ourselves and a shared bathroom down the hall. We rigged a clothesline by stringing a bit of rope from the chandelier to the drape pull and we did our laundry and enjoyed long leisurely showers. We went out for supper and tried the local octupus.

Before completely collapsing for the night, we went to Mass. It seems that every town along the Camino hosts a special Mass for pilgrims every night and we have been getting into the habit of attending these when possible. A woman welcomed us at the door on our way in and asked about our language; she had handouts available in 5 or 6 different languages. The priest tonight was a lovely man who obviously enjoyed his audience (all ~20 of us) and liked what he was doing. Before the Mass started, he commissioned members of the audience with different language abilities to act as translators for him. He told us all (through translation) to just relax and sit through the celebration; after all, he knew we were tired and had sore feet and he knew it was confusing for those who were neither Catholic nor Spanish to figure out what was going on with all the sitting and standing and kneeling etc.. He smiled and he laughed and he waited with patient good humour for the translations and he stripped the formal part of the Mass to its absolute leanness. We left feeling blessed and absolutely ready for a good night's sleep.

Spain, Day 4

May 26: Villafranca to Laguna de Castilla

This was a truly tough day but our experience is softened by the understanding that this will probably be the toughest stretch in the entire 202 km of our journey. We walked at least 26 km today, almost all of that uphill, and the last 6 or 7 km were quite steep. And after all, it's only our second day out and our muscles are still tender. We are really, really TIRED. Weather-wise, though, we can't complain: it never rained hard but it spat and sprinkled all day to keep us cool.

This, apparently, is our last day in the province of Castile-Leon. Except for the constant elevation, the Way was like yesterday: varied and beautiful. We walked past many vineyards and fields, through tiny pueblos (communities) with the most fascinating combination of buildings in all stages of antiquity, disrepair, renewal, and modernity. We walked over a roman bridge! It was wonderfully overgrown and unpretentious: obviously strong enough to fend for itself over many hundreds of years.

In spite of all the trails and village streets and country backroads, we didn't get lost once. We are getting the hang of looking for Way-signs. The Camino is signed in at least a dozen different formats: layers and layers of signage added over the years. There are government signs, municipal signs, brass shells embedded in the pavement, EU/UNESCO official signs, tidy directional arrows and much cruder yellow arrows spray-painted on pavement, tree trunks, and the sides of buildings. Once you have the eyes to see them, they are everywhere you need them to be.

We stopped at Laguna de Castilla only because we had to: most perigrinos continue on to O'Cebreiro which is a major pilgrims' hangout only 2 km further along. But we were exhausted, hungry, damp and cold so we pulled out at the first opportunity to this little aubergue-plus-cafe, situated sort of in the middle of a cow pasture. Once we recovered a bit, we did walk on to have a look at O'Cebreiro, a collection of very old stone and even older stone+thatch buildings immersed in mist at the top of the summit. I believe the sign said that this is the oldest continually-in-use aubergue on the entire Camino and it is an entire village of dormitories, cafes, and support shops. We were able to buy postcards and stamps and scallop shells to hang on our packs like so many other pilgrims.

But if I had to pick a highlight of the day it wouldn't be the roman bridge or the stone village at O'Cebreiro: it would be a green plastic laundry basket. After arriving at the aubergue, painfully extracting our muddy boots, and seeing how nice and clean and inviting the little dormitory looked, the aubergue owner appeared in the doorway with a laundry basket. “If you need any laundry done,” he explained in Spanish, “we'll do it for you for 4 euros.” Incredible, welcome, marvellous luxury!

Spain, Day 3

May 25: Ponferrada to Villafranca de Bierzo

We had been just a bit alarmed by the signs in the dormitory advising that not only only did quiet time start at 9:30 but that check-out time was 7:30 am. 7:30 for heaven's sake!!! But as it turned out, that was an easy deadline to meet. We woke up when everybody else did, at around 6 am, when the keeners began packing up. The room was pitch black so their flashlight beams crisscrossed the room; it is like trying to sleep while your partner watches a TV action movie. Anyway, it was no problem to convince ourselves that we might as well get up too. We packed up and headed out.

Our first real day of Camino! We struggled a bit to find our way out of town. Ponferrada is large enough to have MANY streets and they are not laid out on a grid. We looked for the yellow arrows or scallop shells pointing the way but they didn't seem obvious. We headed off over a bridge and had gone almost a kilometer before it occurred to us that there were no other pilgrims ahead or behind so we turned around and found where we'd missed our turn.

Once on the right path out of town, we started to appreciate the richness of Camino life. There are so many different kinds of people travelling! I could identify conversations in Spanish, French, German, and English but there were other languages I couldn't recognize. Most people are between the ages of 25 and 75 (a wide enough range) but there are a few outside both ends of that spectrum. We saw a young couple pushing a baby in a dinky stroller and we met a woman carrying a little dog in a shoulder bag. Some people were limping even at the start of the day.

The Camino passes through all kinds of environs. We walked along small country roads, gravelly shortcuts, muddy forest paths, and even along the highway for a while. The Way threaded us through forests and little villages, past bakeries, coffee shops, through fields of wild red poppies and indigenous yellow broom, between vineyards and pastures. It was about as lovely as a walk could be, in spite of the rain that irritated us (raincoat on, raincoat off).

After 25 km (the last 5 were HARD) we arrived at Villafranca, a small town with a river running through it and hills all around. The aubergue is old and rough but interesting: it is right next to the ancient hospital in which sick pilgrims were treated. If they were deemed too unwell to continue, they could receive the redemption of pilgrimage at this point and bow out (one way or another) gracefully.

But after refreshing with a shower and enjoying some cold beer, we did not feel unwell at all. We found the supermercado and bought bread and cheese and wine and some fruit for the next day.

Spain, Day 2

May 24: Madrid to Ponferrada

There's not a lot to say about the bus trip. The bus leaves from the airport which is very handy if you are staying at a hotel with an airport shuttle (which we were). We had to be up early to get the bus and given my jet lag and overall excitement, I didn't sleep much at all last night. But it was an easy trip anyway. I sat next to a woman named Lucha whose father had just died; she was on her way to Ponferrada to connect with the rest of her family. She had worked as a travel agent and spoke some English so we were able to struggle together with Spanglish for much of the 6 hour trip. A gentle way to start using Spanish again.

We arrived in Ponferrada just before 4 pm and started asking directions for the aubergue. With each request, we were given a very fast stream of orders to go “a la derecha, a la izquierda, derecho” etc. Eventually, in spite of it, we wandered into the aubergue. It was a wonderful welcome: we opened the gate into a little courtyard where people of all ages sat at little tables, resting, enjoying cold drinks, eating bread and cheese. Laundry hung on lines all around the edges of the yard. Someone greeted us in Spanish and handed us each a little glass; someone else came around to fill it with sweet, orange-flavoured water. We signed the registration form and got our very first sello (pilgrims' stamp) in our credencials. We were shown to our bunks in a large room full of bunk beds (20? more?). We dumped our packs and went out to explore the city.

There is a lot to see in Ponferrada even if you are in near-zombie condition. The most outstanding landmark is the castle, built by the Templars in the 15th century. It is like a castle in a children's book, on the high point of town beside the river. Getting to it is half the fun: the town is full of narrow winding streets, old bridges, churches, and endless sidewalk cafes. It's just all so different from urban environments in North America.

Back at the aubergue, we cleaned up and got ready for bed. I have been in lots of hostels before, even co-ed hostels in Quebec, but this was my first time in a hostel with co-ed washrooms. It is not something we are accustomed to, to be brushing our teeth in a sink, facing a man using the urinal. We were warned us that Quiet Time would begin at 9:30 and they were right: the lights simply went out and we were all in the dark. The room was instantly quiet.

But not for long. Soon the snoring began. And then people got up to use the toilets and stumbled back to bed with flashlights making random lasers around the room. I don't remember sleeping (AGAIN) but I must have dozed off for a few hours at least.

Spain, Day 1+

May 22 - 23: Canada to Madrid

What constitutes a day when you are travelling across multiple time zones? I left home at 10:30 am local time and I arrived in Madrid at 4:15 pm the next day and I had barely an hour's sleep in between. That's not nearly enough to effect punctuation between 2 days. My flights were uneventful, with minor delays and resultant stresses that no longer blip the radar, not really. Lois and Lj were at the hotel when I arrived and we all went for a glass of beer to celebrate. How remarkable, really, to be together so easily when you consider how far apart were our starting points! Lois and I live 600+ km apart in BC and Lj lives several thousand km away, just outside of Washington DC. The camarero brought a dish of olives and a bowl of potato chips and we sat in the warm and dry of Madrid toasting each other, toasting the beginning. Later, we went for a walk and still later we returned to the sidewalk cafe for something to eat. Somehow we got talking to the couple at the next table who understood enough English to help us place an order. We were able to get some pizza (the only thing available for some reason) and a bottle of wine. As it turns out, our table neighbour has walked the Camino more than ten times! He wished us all a 'buen camino' and surely with such a blessing there is no better way to start.

Spain, Getting there

I made an almost instantaneous decision to go to Spain on a dismal day in March when things were not going well at work. Work is normally good and often even very good so a bad week or two is an unusual event and I suppose I can thank that irregularity for the motivation to go. I certainly hadn't been planning on going to Spain on holidays. I had heard about the Camino less than a year before and found the idea attractive: you walk. You travel to Spain, you carry only the necessities, you walk, you eat and find accommodation along the way, you meet people, see the scenery... but most of all you walk.

So I was sitting at my desk, feeling miserable, when an Air Canada advertisement pinged my email and I thought, “What am I waiting for?” Really, it was that simple. Beyond the impulse, I had enough presence of mind to consider that I could afford 2 weeks off in late spring, that would give me about 10 days outside of travel-time, and I could easily walk 20 km a day. So a total of 200 km... I googled a map of the Camino and measured, roughly, 200 km east of Santiago de Compostela which suggested a starting point at Ponferrada. Done! Within 15 minutes I had booked my flights.

I returned to my day-job buoyant and got more done in the next hour or two than I had accomplished all day. That night I made one more strategic move: I emailed my sister and sister-in-law to inform them of what I had done. The three of us have done some hiking in the past and I had mentioned the attraction of the Camino and they had loosely agreed that it sounded nice. But all of that talk had been almost a year before. Nevertheless, within 48 hours they had both also booked flights to Madrid.

(I had almost no access to the internet while I was away so these posts are added after the fact. I'm writing from my paper-based notes & adding a bit from memory. This explains -- I hope! -- why the verb tenses seem to jump around a little in this account. Photos for this blog are here.)