random videos

So here are some random videos that I finally got to upload. Some are from my volcano/mountain climb and one was taken on my birthday at a lake. Enjoy







Cheers,
Scott

Songs

Songs that will ever haunght me since being in East Africa

A) Ridin' Dirty...thank you chamillionaire for that tasty lick.
B) Hips Don't Lie...dear lord. I have never heard that song untill I laied foot in East Africa. Since then, I'd say a good 30 times. shakira is a hit here--in a huge way! Never once have I heard a song be played twice in a row on a radio station, well not untill a week ago, and that was good 'ol hips don't lie.
C) Africa by Toto. When I hear this while in a pub I order another drink. Beers out here a quite large, sooooo...it takes about 1 hour to get to the state of bliss.
D) Title: unknown so that would obviously make the artist unknown to me which again obviously doesn't help you out at all. Just know if i heard the song back in the states that I am going to freak.

So there you go. I ride up to the pub blasting Ridin' Dirty on my motorcycle taxi, chill listing to the unknown title in the pub while ordering a beer everytime I heard "Africa" and then having sweet dreams of "Hips Don't Lie" when falling asleep...What have you done to me Africa!

BBQ

We have been invited to quite a few parties since being here and that night (Masisi night) we were invited to a BBQ. No problem sounds like a fun time…I mean who doesn’t like a BBQ. Inquiring on what we should bring, I thought that beer would be a good present for those at the party, but the host asked if we could bring the meat. Ok, so that won’t be a problem either, “where can I pick up some certified angus beef?” (yes, the wood ranch in me made me do it.)
Nope, no beef, “you pick up some goat from the market.”
Hmm, no problem I’m thinking, “what kind of goat?”
“you try and get some fresh goat.”
Not quite the response I was expecting, but nevertheless I was giving fairly clear instructions that I planned to follow through with to the best of my ability...and I came up with this.

Getting to know the DRC better part 2

So here is both Adam and myself totally out of our element in a village that is out in the boonies, communicating with them in very broken French (Adam verbally thanks his high school French teacher, who will remain nameless, for teaching him 3-5 different phrases in French in the three years that he took the language). After getting was needed to be gotten from that village in terms of data gathering for HEAL Africa we were off. We took off to what I thought would be back to home, but we made a detour on the way back. We stopped at a village that had a Catholic church in it that was located on top of a hill over looking the village. Going to this barn on top of the hill provided a nice view of the surrounding area. Much of the area was grassland, comparable to Switzerland, which provided an excellent area for cows to graze. There were many cows that the church owned and after a few minutes later we saw what the cows were used for by the place. We were let into this barn which housed hundreds of wheels of fresh cheese. The smell of the cheese was a bit overwhelming, but the sight was really cool. Naturally we bought a couple wheels of cheese and were on our way.



Making back from Masisi proved to be no trouble, just the amount of wear and tear that our bodies received from the transport was quite considerable. Being that our residence was on Lake Kivu, we decided to jump in to wash off from the dirty trip. A day well spent.

Cheers,
Scott


Lake Kivu

funny

Ordering some food that had either basil or parsley—didn’t know. Question was asked to the waiter that was helping us with the order what the mystery ingredient was.

"Excuse me, is this basil, parsley, or something else?"
"Ah, yes, that is plant."
"Ah, is that what that is? Thanks!"

T.I.A.

Cheers,
Scott

random party in the Congo

Here is a little something that you can view while I formulate the second half of the post that I last put up. A wee background on the video: Sometimes going to a party/gathering is a bit intimidating because the guests of the group are always expected to either give a speech, doing a special talent (e.g. sing, dance, or in my case---you'll see), or just anything to get a laugh. I still remember the first time that I showed up to one of these things and then people started looking at me as if it was my turn to do something. Me not knowing that I had to be a preforming monkey for the onlookers, gave a blank stare back at them until I was informed that I MUST do something, anything. This particular time, power was out (big surprise) but the party was being ran on a generator. They had a PA system and I know that the Congolese love to rap...what best thing to do to get the group amp'd than throw down a fatty beat and have some Congolese rap--in french. Yes yes, it was a hit...here is a bit of it




Cheers,
Scott

Getting to know the DRC better (Part 1)

Some background info on Masisi, much of the same problems as northern Uganda. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/5213996.stm

Everyone that I’ve been introduced to has been out-of-the-way friendly. I’ve seen lots of NGO operations and have been impressed with many. The opportunity was presented to travel with one NGO, HEAL Africa, out to a place called Masisi. Masisi is a good ways outside of Goma which makes the roads not the safest in the world, but one can’t spend all their time in one place, so the decision to go was not a hard one.


Both Adam and I woke at six in the morning to meet our driver and the people heading out there for research. After blasting down the sorry excuse for a highway, which was more over ran by people walking and riding bikes than cars, we come to the end of it. Blocking us from entering the dirt road that the highway turned into was a few Congolese military. Trouble was not given because we were traveling with HEAL Africa which has a good reputation in the surrounding area. At least we had the Congolese military on our side—the well disciplined ones that is. Our traveling continued for a good three hours up the dirt roads filled with pot holes that could eat a car. A traffic jam was encountered every so often and we would have to wait for it to pass—yes cows and goats acted as if they owned the road.


The view of the countryside is something that cannot be put into words. The whole dichotomy of the place, if nothing more, wet my appetite to what the Congo truly is; that of a beautiful flower that draws its unsuspecting victim in unknowingly to the poison that waits. I knew rebel groups were out in the same forest my eyes were indulging on. But that at the same time shouldn’t be the complete view of the place, because there are so many good things happening here that are not given the attention they deserve. I’ve never been to a place, including America, which has shown more hope in the face of where there is perceived to be none than here in the Congo. After being rattled around in a range rover for about three hours we reached what the people from Goma call the, “Switzerland of the Congo.”



We were there to gather information at the local clinic for HEAL Africa. After getting a tour of the clinic by one of three doctors on staff (taking care more than 350+ patients), we talked with the doctors about what was desired for the clinic in ways of supplies marriage along with some research on a relativity new drug on the market that helps prevent mother to child AIDS transmitting. Here are a few pictures of the hospital including one of a mother that just gave birth to triplets days before. The other is of the only medicine cabinet for the women’s side of the hospital.

Will continue the rest tomorrow.

Cheers,
Scott

Climbing a volcano

Seems easy enough right? I mean I’m no UFC fighter or World Strong Man, but I fancy myself as in semi-decent shape. Well, all self-esteem that was had prior to this climb was shot to the ground about a fourth into it

Goma, which is where I am staying, is famous for being a modern day Pompeii. There is a volcano about 5 km outside of the town and in early ’02 it gave the city of Goma a rude awaking. Walking around the city you can see all of the harden lava that flowed through the city. There are parts of the city that turned the lava flow into their current roads. Many of the building in the city are a wee bit shorter than other buildings in town--why might you ask? Well, the first story of many building are filled in with lava; you can actually see just the tops of the first stories, so people just moved up to the second story and made that their new first story. There are still places in the city where cars are half buried by lava. It is pretty neat to see a city rebuild much of itself on top of the former. So here is the kicker, the volcano is still very much active. Why would you rebuild a city that is surely to be buried again? Question that I cannot answer…I guess home is home, right? (Hasn’t Southern California been predicted to fall into the Pacific for the longest time now? Yet, it is still one of the most sought after places to live.)

Still in the lava!

About half way through the week last week we decided to climb that beast. The hike looks intimidating but I’ve hiked a lot in Bishop, which is Mammoth basically, and not really gotten tired. Plus, like I mentioned before, I fancied myself as a fit human being. So, we pack up: a few sleeping bags, socks, sweater, tent, and anything else that is necessary for an overnight stay outdoors.

We get to the base of the beast and I find out that the hike has absolutely no switch backs (meaning there is no zig-zap climbing to the top that would make the hike much easier); instead it is one straight hike up the volcano. I’m thinking, “cool, I’m starting to get a little tired, I want to get up there quick-style so I can get in my sleeping bag and call it a night.” At the base we a warmly welcomed by volcano sign and try not to let it phase us. We ask someone hanging out the base what happened to the sign.

His response, “ahh, someone was trying to nail the sign to the post.” Riiiiiight, really bad aim with that hammer and nail of his. We also find out that we are not allowed up the volcano without a guard. Interesting, why would we ever need a guard, and why would there be unfriendly at the top of the volcano? Ok, so we have some guy with an AK-47 leading us up this gnarly hike…I guess that is kind of cool; problem though, he didn’t speak English--well, not enough to communicate effectively.

The only thing that I could really understand well was how long he told us the hike was going to be (probably trained to say that one sentence in English) which was going to be four hours. I look around at Adam and give the guard a, “pssssh, we’ll be up there in three.” Well, the hike took roughly 5 and a half to 6 hours and near the top my legs felt like a 90 year old lady’s.

We started off with a brisk pace without much an incline in the hike. About one hour into the hike I was sweating like Niagara Falls. This was when we took our first break, I plopped myself down looking for the near water bottle to suck down. It felt like we’d be hiking for a few hours, so thinking, “man, we’ve been hiking for awhile, we have to be pretty far into it.” Then looking ahead and seeing the top of the mountain peering out of the top of the jungle trees…a good three miles from us horizontally, and vertically, we didn’t make as much as a dent. What the heck had we been doing for the last hour? Walking in circles? Each hour got progressively worse because each hour I’d reckon the angle of the hike increased by 10 degrees until the last hour where you easily could have climbed on all fours without bending down. It was right about hour five when I realized just how weak I was. At this time I was taking ten steps and resting for two minutes. I could see the guard looking down at us and I could only assume he was thinking, “if this is how all Americans are, we should invade…we’d have the country under our thumb in a matter of days.” I said to Adam, “Holy cow, this guy (guard) is straight hardcore, he is just marching up this mountain without so much as raising his heart beat by 5 per minute.” With Adam bending over catching his breath (he was hurting just as much as I was) said, “Scott, this guy climbs mountains for a living.” Point well made.

The top at last! I swear, another 30 feet and I wouldn’t have been able to make it. So the question comes, was it worth it? Well the view was pretty badass I must admit, but what about the view in the volcano? Nope, didn’t see anything because there was too much smoke. When you look over the edge of the volcano you get blasted with a sulfur smell. The sound coming from the volcano sounded like the crashing of waves when you’re lying down on the beach.

Thirty minutes later when we were setting up our tent at the top when all the smoke inside the volcano blew out and left us with a view of the lava lake that was mind blowing. I was mesmerized. This was by far the coolest thing I’ve ever seen that was straight Mother Nature. I was watching the lava lake for hours, watching it bubble, crack, cool and reform, the melt away the top layer again. Now this site was totally worth the hike.

So here are a few pictures of the millions that I took at the volcano. Quite cool

Cheers,

Scott

View from the top

Straight awesomeness with this picture

Some more

Continuing from where I last left off upon reaching the border of the Congo…

Getting in and out of Uganda and Rwanda proved to be an easy task; there were no real problems crossing the border as “tourist.” I’d say the average time to fill out the necessary paperwork, waiting in line, and getting the passport stamped took all-in-all about ten minutes. Just getting into the DRC was a bit harder. After crossing the Rwandan border into “no-man’s land” (usually a stretch of land about 100 yards that separates the two countries from one another…so I pose the question, who owns “no-man’s land”?) and walking over to the DRC’s side of the land, there was a long line outside the immigration office. I could already tell by looking at the office that the DRC was a good fifteen years behind every other country that I crossed in to in east Africa. We started to wait in line, and though not really necessary to say, we stuck out like sore thumbs. After waiting in the mess of a line for about ten minutes, which when one thinks of a line they think something straight from the start to the end…this was no first-in first-out queue, this was a fight for your position and hold it as if your life depended on it, we were directed into the small office by some immigration official. Being a bit nervous about the whole situation of being wisped off into the office and not really speaking any French, or at least any that would get me anywhere soon, we began to get interrogated on our whereabouts, intentions, among other things. At first I don’t think they bought the idea of us explaining that we were there for holiday (honestly, I probably wouldn’t either). Filling out paper work was a lot more drawn out too; once that was done and 30 bucks paid for our visa, stamp in the book, we were on our way.

We didn’t know anything about our Congolese contact except his name and number. We gave our contact a heads up when we where at the Rwandan border and he met up with us as we were exiting the DRC immigration border. He was a cool guy, local musician and an actor.

Upon getting settled in at a place he suggested, Adam and I looked at each other….finally in the Congo.

Thats it for right now

Cheers,
Scott

Some pics

Rwanda


At the Congo/Rwandan border...gnarly LIVE volcano in the background

First couple of days

Blogs

I want to start this off with an apology for not updating sooner, but access to a computer in the Congo, like I said, is very limited…and also like I’ve said, having that computer have access to the internet is just as rare. With that out of the way, let me so kindly fill you in (if you’re interested, but of course you are that’s why you’re on this site) with some of my travels.

I flew in Entebbe, Uganda fairly early and I was worried that my contact, Adam, wouldn’t be there to pick me up. I didn’t want to start off my trip in Uganda fending for myself. Upon exiting the airport I saw a large group of people, but no Adam. When I got closer to the crowd I saw many holding signs such as “Mr. Smith” or something like that to pick up their parties that they were expecting. In the very back of the crowd I saw one white arm holding up a sign that I know was only for me “JACKASS”. It was perfect because I didn’t see Adam at all, only the sign…oh man, this trip is starting off good.

Settling in is always difficult in a place that is so different and I wasn’t given much time because the next night we caught a 2AM bus from Kampala to Kigali (Rwandan capital), Rwanda. Me thinking that this would be a good idea because I’d be able to catch some sleep on the bus ride was in for a rude awakening. All started out fairly well except for the amount which was packed on the bus. The driver managed to fit in some 50+ people in the bus, so much that people were standing in the aisles which first caught my attention because this was suppose to be an eight hour ride, were they going to be standing the whole time? The bus takes off and in the first 20 minutes I knew this ride would be a miracle to survive. The bus was going 150 km/hr, swerving like a mad man, the woman behind me was throwing up on the bus floor (to which to received some on my foot…thanks ma’am), and the temperature was insanely cold. Looking out the front windshield gave me the chills. For the longest time I thought the bus was going to crash, only when I finally figured out that the bus’ alignment was way off—let me try to paint a picture of the alignment...Think of a car traveling down a road as 0 degrees...now our bus traveling straight down the same road at a 45 degree angle (confusing?), because that was how off our alignment was!

Upon exiting the bus, I felt it necessary to kneel down and kiss the3 solid ground. I vowed that I’d never go on something like that nine hour trip from hell again! I was in Rwanda and feeling pretty good about myself on cheating death an uncountable number of times on that bus only to see Adam in line at the Rwandan bus park.

“Adam, just what are you doing in that line?” I inquired.

“We need to buy our bus tickets to Goma, Congo” was the answer that I received.

So, I leave the “one-way-ticket to death” bus just to get on another…hey, if anything I know that death by bus crash is kind of cool. This would be safer in the fact that it is shorter, only five hours this time. I figure that it was safer because I’d be cutting down my bus riding time by four hours—less time on the road = less chances to die, right?

Goma, Congo at last! Thank thee Lord for all the narrow misses of death and delivering me to a country that --- I cannot at all communicate with. French would be the language of the Congolese. All I know in French is “bonjor”, “oui”, “moi”, and “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir”, which I wasn’t going to dare say to someone on the street just to impress them with my French knowledge. Primitive sign language on my part was used to get where I needed to go which was to meet up with our contact in the Congo.

Thus ending this chapter of the blog…I know that I’m just keeping you guys on pins and needles, but I have to give up the computer now, so I should be back with some more good stuff on me being in the Congo!

Cheers,

Scott

ps...ill try to get some videos and more pictures up and going soon...again sorry for the delay