A Travellerspoint blog

A stroll in the Langtang National Park

Trekking in the Himalayas proves to be tough!

all seasons in one day 10 °C

Following flight after flight, I eventually arrived at Kathmandu airport to be greeted by massive hugs from Alice and Molly, along with a sign saying "HELLOOOO KJ!" We went immediately to pay for our mammoth 11 day trek, which came to just 330 pounds - a bargain. Foolishly I thought it would be, so to speak, a stroll in the park. Oh, how wrong I was...

The mad rush which I thought would welcome me never came to fruition, as a transport strike meant we had an extra day in Kathmandu to spare before our trek. It was blissful to eat meat, albeit a yak burger, on my first night in Kathmandu. We were joined by a couple of German girls and Esteban, an Argentine (Molly, Alice, Alice and Saul all thought he always paused before saying his name, "Errr, Stefan," until an email received yesterday confirmed his actual name!).

The bus ride to Syabrubeshi was eventful to say the least. Much like the matatus in Tanzania, the Nepalese buses don't seem to have a limit to the number of people hopping on board. In fact, many sat on the roof for the nine hour ride, during which we passed an overturned bus half way down a cliff. Good omen. Needless to say, my 6'3" frame didn't quite fit in the small seats either.

The walking began on 29th April up the Langtang Valley, which took us past rushing rivers and across jangly metal bridges. The first day of walking was certainly testing - 1000m climbed in nine hours of trekking. Ouch. Nevertheless, it was to be our longest day. On the way up the Langtang Valley, an obscenely tall Nepalese lady compared certain parts of my anatomy to apples and proclaimed how she "wanted me first" (VERY roughly translated). I scarpered faster than the speed of light, thinking that would be the end of the day's events, but no. We were shown round a Tibetan temple by a very drunk, old man and to round things off nicely, passed a man squatting next to the path. Lovely. These sort of obstacles should be introduced to Sonic the Hedgehog or Mario. They would certainly pose a different type of challenge than the usual fire-breathing dragon.

The first half of our trek was complete with arrival at Kyanjen Gompa, a wonderful (one of Molly's many phrases) little village at 3900m. The views up the valley were spectacular, but here, even with the dense cloud shrouding the many snow capped mountains around, the vista was truly stunning. Having arrived early, we had time to 'amble' up to Lirung Glacier, at 4150m, and pop back down before yet another meal of daal bhat, the staple diet in Nepal, which is far better than posho and beans - sorry Uganda! Not content with trekking up to 3900m, I participated in an exhausting 15 minute game of football with our Nepali guides and some Israeli trekkers. Certainly the highest altitude I've ever played football at! Just thought I'd add that Bharat and I won 2-0, too...

Throughout the trek, we stopped for lunch and slept in many tea houses, which are lovely, quaint buildings with wooden floorboards and walls. Despite the cold, they are, on the whole, fantastic little places to rest and huddle round the log fire. As we descended nearly 2000m before yet another uphill climb to Gosainkund, we stopped for lunch on 2nd May to discover Osama bin Laden had been killed. It's always said that you remember where you are for major events, and it'll never be more true than in this case. We all crammed around the tiny portable TV at a teahouse, 3000m up in the Himalayas, watching Americans parading in the streets with placards shouting "Obama 1-0 Osama." I don't know which was more shocking - the news that Osama bin Laden is dead or the overtly patriotic reaction by many Americans.

Once again, we began to climb, this time to Gosainkund. Our evenings on the second half of the journey were very musical. At Thulo Syebru, we all jumped up dancing to 'Tere Mast Mast Do Nain' from Dabangg, with Salman Khan's 'cock flop' move being a particular favourite. Hotel Sherpa in Shin Gompa had a guitar, which Alice strummed away brilliantly on with a spoon, especially considering it only had 5 strings! She played popular classics such as 'Motherfuckin' Cookie.' Seriously though, it was on the highlights of the trip so far. We sat around the fire and sang all manner of songs, as well as the improvised warbles we came up with.

The incline became far steeper on the way to Gosainkund and the effects of a week of walking began to take their toll. A snow storm battered us on the last day to the sacred lakes, but we eventually made it. Enclosed by snow scattered mountains, the lakes at Gosainkund provided an amazing backdrop the to the hugs which welcomed everyone to the teahouse. Not even the devilish carvings of '666' and a drawing of Satan in our room perturbed us. Well, not too much anyway.

Early the next morning, we rose to climb the short 200m up the the top of the ridge, where I thought we'd be getting great views of the bowl-like Gosainkund. In fact, as I made the last few steps up the ridge, an incredible, vast panorama opened up ahead of me, showing 8000m Himalayan mountains. Wow! I had not expected this at all, and we spent a long time at the top taking in the truly breathtaking view and posing for copious amounts of photos.

Reluctantly, we descended back down to Dunche, which signalled the end of our trekking. The two days down were agony on the knees, but that didn't prevent us from dancing away in a dragon themed guesthouse with a few beers to celebrate. Our guides got involved too and they fully deserved to let their hair down. A massive thanks to Bharat, Lucky, Prakesh, Nir and Vinod for both the amazing work you did and the hilarious, if slightly disturbing, dancing.

Despite the bus being just as crowded on our way back to Kathmandu, the music selection was far better. Of course, 'Sheila' and 'Tere Mast Mast Do Nain' were played, but so were The Venga Boys and 'Who Let The Dogs Out.' I failed to realise that I had built up a sizeable audience as I partied away to The Venga Boys. I opened my eyes to many a staring face and colossal embarrassment.

Our last evening in Thamel inevitably meant a few drinks and a nice meal out. We started at Fhat Khat, a marvellous first floor bar with such a chilled atmosphere. After 11 days with no meat, I wolfed down a delicious steak before ending the night in Reggae Reggae bar. It was great to relax and have a good time, but an Oompa-Loompa-esque Nepalese lady tried her best to disturb us by screaming at us all and yanking our clothes in her obvious state of intoxication.

The group split up on the Monday. After spending the day slurping coffee and exchanging photos, the first of many goodbyes was said. Marianna, who is such a bubbly personality, is hoping to do Everest Base Camp, and was the first to say goodbye. Then the effervescent Saul went off to visit his Nepalese rock star friend. Not everyday you can say that, is it?! Finally, the girls (Molly, Alice and Alice) left for China. It's been such an incredible two weeks, and I can't say enough thanks to all seven members of the group! I'm gonna miss you guys!

I had mixed emotions when booking my flight home for the 10th June, too. It'll be great to come home, but now my journey is finite! Best not to think about that, though. I still have a week left in Nepal, starting with a bus ride to Pokhara with Ranu tomorrow!

Thanks for reading, and in the words of Truman Burbank, "in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening and good night!"

P.S. Along with spreading the word of trueLAD, I have also got many people across the world hooked on Gunther. Bharat, our trekking guide, was a particular fan of 'Ding Dong Song.' In five years time, Gunther will be huge in Nepal! Watch this space!

Posted by kristian23 05:57 Archived in Nepal Comments (0)

Bye bye BULA

The two weeks at BULA finish too quickly!

sunny 27 °C

The kids had been telling us all weekend that they had no lessons at school in the last week of term. We took this with a pinch of salt, as they've told a fair few lies before! However, as David and I sauntered into school at 11, we saw the classrooms padlocked, and the number of pupils roaming the school grounds had dwindled dramatically from the week before. The teachers sat in the staffroom all day marking the exam papers, leaving the children incredibly bored! None of the guys at BULA wanted to go to school, but we insisted, as did the Uncles, that they turn up. Slightly hypocritically, David and I left the school and didn't teach any more, but we could hardly teach when the classes were padlocked!

As we now had the days to ourselves, David and I went to Gadaffi Mosque. Ít must be said, it's an impressive building, but quite clearly an attempt to gain allies by the lunatic Libyan leader. From here we took a boda boda to Kasubi Tombs. It was the first time I'd ridden a motorbike, but with three of us on a 125cc bike, we were hardly going to be breaking the speed limit! Kasubi Tombs were an absolute joke - it would have been polite for them to tell us, before we paid our entry fee, that the tombs burned down a year ago!

On the Wednesday, we collected the senior pupils from their boarding schools. I thought the dorms at the orphanage were full, but at Bethany High School, 30 boys sleep in one dorm. With a further 14 children back at BULA, the number totalled 27, which is a colossal amount of children in one house. The children from Mengo Primary School finished on Thursday, which means that they are all there 24/7 - the noise is relentless!


When the Unlces called us for a meeting, we thought we'd be discussing plans for the week, any concerns etc... But in fact, they asked if we'd be willing to contribute to the food over Easter. Such are their budget restraints, they couldn't afford the cost of the special Easter meal, especially as prices rise over the period. David and I, who were stuck on an idea for a treat as it was, were more than willing to help. It just goes to show, though, how difficult things are. In the end, we spent about £25 between us for a meal of 34 people. In the grand scheme of things, it's a pittance to us, yet a huge outlay for them.

Contrary to original thoughts, I got a lay in most days of the holiday. This rule was broken on Easter Sunday. I was woken at six o'clock and went to find out what the racket was. I bumped into Doug walking through the kitchen with a chicken under each arm ready to slaughter. The squawking of the chickens as their necks were wrung ensured I struggled to sleep much more that morning...

The rest of Easter Sunday was brilliant. Instead of the usual posho and beans, we were given a feast of matoke, curried rice, potatoes, chicken and cabbage! The range of flavours were a complete shock to my taste buds, which had only discerned posho and beans for the two previous weeks!

Godfrey and I with the matoke

Godfrey and I with the matoke

With my stomach still at bursting point, Uncle Dan asked if I'd like to go to the park and play football. It certainly made a change from the small paved area at the front of BULA. Here, the pitch was a vast expanse of dust, yet they stuck steadfastly to the 'bricks for goals' format. My lack of fitness was evident, especially when playing against big, strong, quick Africans, of which there must have been at least 15 on each side, as people from all over the village flocked to play. I was, unsurprisingly, the sole mzungu representative.

Game on!

Game on!

Exhausted, we arrived home just in time for John's Easter service. Despite the fact he's only 17 years of age, John has a great desire to become a priest, and his service at the home certainly proved that he can do it. My last evening in Uganda was spent, rather bizarrely, watching 'Titanic' in Ugandan. Considering I've never even watched it in English, it was certainly difficult to follow.

As I packed my bags on the Monday morning, it was hard to believe that my two weeks at BULA were over. The children performed a fantastic send-off song and dance for me and I must admit that I was choking back a few tears as I hugged the kids goodbye. They really are such resolute and positive children. I cannot begin to describe the amazing work carried out everyday by the Uncles, either. Thank you to everybody who made my two weeks there such an amazing experience! Of course, I cannot forget Brother David either, who eased me into the process, whereas he was thrown in at the deep end!

The amazing BULA family

The amazing BULA family

I'm writing this now from Delhi airport, my final layover before I arrive in Kathmandu. The ten day trek will be a blast and I cannot wait to experience yet another culture!

Please write comments at the bottom of the page and feel free to subscribe to the blog. You'll receive a notification every time I write an update on my adventures!

Once again, thanks for reading!

Posted by kristian23 21:46 Archived in Uganda Comments (0)

Brilliant BULA abode

The travelling teachers, Jesus and Peter Crouch

sunny 25 °C

Leaving Stringer for his last week in Zanzibar, I jetted off to BULA Children's Home, Kampala. Unlike our mess of a flight to Zanzibar, I made it seamlessly to Entebbe airport, even arriving 15 minutes ahead of schedule! Despite getting a little lost on the way, I was given a warm welcome by the kids upon arrival. Unknown to me, there is another volunteer here too. David, a Kiwi, has shown me the ropes and explained the day-to-day running of the home. It's great to have a bit of company too!

For those who don't know, BULA is an orphanage for children coming from an incredibly tough background. They were taken by Stephen Luutu, the Project Director, from their previous orphanage, where the children were badly mistreated and often beaten. Since being moved to the safer and more caring environment of BULA, the lives of these amazing children are slowly being turned around. Stephen, and the two other Uncles, Dan and John, are remarkable individuals, who have dedicated their lives to being the caring figures the children need. The kids' enthusiasm and boundless energy is unbelievable - I simply cannot keep up with them! There are currently 13 children here and another 14 due to come home from boarding school next weekend. And I thought that 13 of them in a house was crowded!



Our daily routine as a volunteer involves helping the children get ready for school, assisting the completion of homework and playing games. We also help out at the local Primary School in Mengo on a daily basis. Now, I envisaged teaching would be difficult. But imagine my trepidation when I was told that I would be teaching English to 11 and 12 year olds, with just half an hour to prepare for a whole topic. Oh, and did I mention there are over 100 kids in a class?

It really is a challenge. When introduced to the class, I was met with rapturous applause. It was a surreal yet heartwarming experience. However, it was then time to teach. Armed with a text book and a piece of chalk, I stumbled through the explanation of how to debate. Thinking on my feet, I asked to children to have a mini debate with the person sitting next to them about whether school uniform is bad or good. I was met by a wall of blank faces staring back at me. Due to the size of the class, they are taught in a command-response fashion, so my idea to get kids talking and thinking was an entirely new prospect for them. Group work is a no go, as students sit four to a bench, and the racket of 100 people talking in a hot, cramped classroom would be unbearable.

I have become accustomed to this over the week and have found some strategies to combat it. When there are children falling asleep in my class, though, I do become ever so slightly disheartened! The teachers themselves aren't much help in all honesty, sauntering off to drink their sweet tea while we sweat away for two hours. They seem to think both David and I are both teachers and know how to teach Maths and English alike - little do they know that he's an accountant and I've only just left school myself! Even helping with the homework is tough. For example, can anyone else tell me the life cycle of a mosquito?!

With it being the exam period, it's even tougher to engage the kids in class, which is fair enough. But when the children actually write on each others exam papers, you do wonder just how valid the exams are!

At home and school, the diet consists mainly of posho and beans. For those who don't know what posho is, imagine a stodgy ball of white rice-like food, but without the flavour. The kids, though, have this everyday for breakfast, lunch and dinner! In all honesty, it isn't too bad, and we are occasionally treated to rice, vegetables and ciapatti. And the upside of going to school is the sweet tea. I'm not entirely sure what goes in it, but it tastes as though honey is somehow infused with the tealeaves to give it a remarkably sweet taste.

Part of our daily routine also involves a game of football in the evening, on the tiny, paved area at the front of the house. And there's none of the old 'jumpers for goalposts' rubbish. At BULA, we use a solitary brick as a goal - I've had to improve my shooting! One night, we played on the grassy area just outside the gates. There were a couple of goats spectating, the kids played either barefoot or in flip-flops on an uneven surface of bricks, rocks & mud, and a fire smouldered away on the pitch. At least it's better than the pitch at Wembley...

On Friday, David and I decided to venture into Kampala. Now, Nairobi was manic, but nothing compared to this. Boba bodas and matatus come storming past on the tight streets, which pedestrians are forced to walk on due to the lack of any pavements. From here, we took a matatu to nearby Entebbe, a quiet town that sits on the shore of Lake Victoria. Before heading to the lake, though, we needed food. We ate gigantic dishes of goat with noodles and rice. I have nothing against posho and beans, but it was nice to have a change!

With our stomachs full, we waddled down to the shore of Lake Victoria. We saw a sign for the beach, and continued down the hill. Despite being the largest tropical lake in the world, it is rather uninspiring. 'Beach' is a loosely used term for the thin strip of muddy sand that runs into the lake, which cannot be swum in due to microscopic snails which cause illness.

On our return to Kampala, David and I stumbled across Owino market, which we just happened to be looking for! It's at least five times the size of Arusha market and is a marvellous, messy maze of food, stacks of material and dozing shopkeepers. Sticking out like a sore thumb as we ducked and weaved our way through the narrow crevasses, we were affectionately referred to as "Jesus" and "Peter Crouch".

Owino Market

Owino Market

Having spent the majority of the day on our feet, we felt we deserved a couple of beers. The first bar we saw was, coincidentally, a Liverpool supporters bar, with posters adorning the walls. I felt right at home! Then the news came on the TV and everybody fell quiet, transfixed by the events unfolding.

Over the past week, the opposition have begun a 'Walk to Work' campaign, as they are unhappy at rising prices. President Musevini has ruled this to be supposed violent protesting, so he has ordered his troops to bundle protestors into the back of police vans. Not only this, but the police launch tear gas at civilians who attempt to protect Dr Besigye, the leader of the opposition. Add to this the doubling of student tuition fees, and there are plenty of unhappy people in Uganda at the moment. When a student escaped the grasp of a police officer by running away, the noise in the bar was deafening, as everybody cheered the pictures on the TV. As has been the case most nights though, a scheduled powercut by the government brought the news to an abrupt end.

With our day out completed, the weekend consisted of many games of football, reading and fetching water from the well. The water supply had run out at the orphanage, so off we went to the well in Mengo to fetch water. Once again, shouts of "mzungu" could be heard everywhere. On the Saturday evening, the kids launched into an impromptu drumming session. The unbridled joy on their faces as they sang and played the drums was a really special moment.


The last action of a fun-packed first week took place at a first floor bar, up an almost vertical set of stairs. David and I went with Uncles John and Dan to watch Liverpool vs Arsenal. With 97 minutes on the clock, all the Arsenal fans erupted as Van Perie's penalty seemed to have won them the game, until Dirk Kuyt scored a 101st minute equaliser! Certainly one of the most bizarre places I've ever watched football, and one of the craziest finishes to a match!

I cannot believe that my first week here has gone so quickly. It's already been a brilliant, if rather challenging experience, but I still have another week left. Let's see what surprises the next seven days have in store for me!

For those who wish to visit BULA's site, click on this link

Posted by kristian23 01:57 Archived in Uganda Comments (0)

Stone Town

The last few days with Stringer!

sunny 30 °C

Having spent over a week on the idyllic beaches of Nungwi, the hustle and bustle on Stone Town was a change. We decided to stay in a slightly better hotel than the one in Nungwi - we even had a hot and (relatively) powerful shower!

Since we're in Stone Town, we decided that we'd better go to Prison Island. Many people offered the tour, but we went with the cheapest available. Somebody took us down to the waterfront and introuduced us to Mr Bean. An eclectic name for an African, I'm sure you'll agree. We boarded the boat on the Saturday morning and set off on a rickety old boat, but eventually got there! Upon arrival, we were greeted by giant tortoises. Stringer and I had no idea they were there, but we couldn't miss them. Some grow up to 250kg and the oldest one we saw was 185 years old! Not too shabby! It was then time to go snorkelling. Consider I've never been before, and Stringer is a sailing and watersports fanatic. While he was peacefully swimming around, looking at the fish amongst the corals, I was flapping around like a stranded whale. Even so, it was great fun!

With the embarrassment well and truly over, our afternoon was spent exploring Stone Town's narrow, cobbled streets. Just like one of the guys at Union Beach Bungalows, we met another Zanzibari, Jimmy, with a cockney accent. Evidently, he wanted to take us to his Aunt's shop, but nonetheless he was very friendly and helpful. On the other hand, we met a Nigerian guy, who told us a sorrow story about his family. When we refused to buy something from him, his response was "I'm fed up with your bullshit and now I just want to fight." Yikes! Needless to say, we gave him a quid or two and scarpered.

Market stall at Forodhani Gardens

Market stall at Forodhani Gardens

Every evening, we ate at Forodhani Gardens (thanks for the tip, Vitor!) where market stalls are set up and piles of fish, meat, samosas, chips and Zanzibar pizzas are cooked on open barbeques in the plaza. Yet another recommendation of Vitor's was the sugar cane juice, which is made by pushing the cane through rotating wheels, which squeeze out the sweet juice. A meal costs roughly £3, even with the plate piled high.

On our first evening, we were offered the chance to watch a traditional Zanzibar dance, so we thought we'd pop along. To put it bluntly, a bloke and two women shake their hips in a Skakira-esque fashion, all the while yodelling and screeching, against the background of a fancy vuvuzela and a couple of drums. Then came the 'audience participation'. I've said before that us mzungu cannot dance. It's a known fact. Add to this the fact that I have wooden hips, and I was never going to be bringing the house down with a Zanzibar version of 'Hips Don't Lie'. Alex, a medical student from England was great, but Verity seemed more concerened with staring at the guy's crotch!


We thought we'd left the drinking behind in Nugwi. How wrong we were. Along with Verity and Alex, we met Joe and Bob, another two English guys who are on a mammoth East Africa trip which puts ours to shame! We ended up in a bar named Livingstone on the Friday night, dancing away to the African version of the macarena. When I put a foot wrong, a little old lady helped me out. See, even old ladies are better at dancing than I am! The live band were awesome, playing a great mix of western and African music. They even managed to get a dancing circle going, and Alex yet again ruled the roost with some crazy moves!

So there you have it, the end of the road with Stringer! By the time I leave for Uganda, it will have been exactly 31 days since we left England. It's going to be strange not having Stringer around, coming out with such phrases as "Germany's land locked, right?" and the description of everything as either "mental" or "wicked". But he's spot on! It has been both mental and wicked! Thanks for such an awesome month, dude!

P.S. I booked a flight to Thailand for May 16th! Cannot wait!

Posted by kristian23 00:49 Archived in Tanzania Comments (0)

Location, location, location

Beach paradise in Nungwi

sunny 32 °C

Ok, I'm going to make a few people jealous right now. Stringer and I have just spent eight nights in Nungwi, northern Zanzibar. We stayed in Nungwi Beach Bungalows for £7 a night and our room opened, quite literally, onto the beach. And not just any old beach. Pure white sand ran into the clearest water I've ever known. Despite swimming 30 metres out, the sea floor could be seen as clearly as if we were standing on the beach.


Our days there were spent sunbathing in the consistent 30 degrees heat, occasionally popping to the bar for a beer, which cost a measly one pound. The hour or so of rain, which usually fell between 10am and 11am, gave us respite to either have a nap or go on the internet. Lunch, which particularly for Stringer consisted of a massive burger most days, cost a mere £4 and we went back to sunbathe soon after. Our evening meal, when we could choose from a wide variety of freshly caught fish (or in Henriette's case, pizza) also cost less than a fiver including drinks!


I must explain, though, that our room was nothing special. Run by a motley crew, who looked like Zanzibar's very own version of the mafia, our room at Nungwi Beach Bungalows consisted of two beds, a fan and a light. Not that I'm complaining, as it was all we needed. After eight days, though, our room contained a colossal amount of sand and our bedsheets, which weren't changed for six days, became caked in sand! Our bathroom, too, was basic. The toilet was on a slope and the 'shower' feebly dribbled one jet of water. Sometimes we were lucky and two jets of water came out, so our left shoulder and right thigh was clean - lucky us!

Getting there was also a slight issue. Having arrived at Kilimanjaro airport with our flight due to leave at 09:40, we chilled out and waited. But suddenly, our flight disappeared from the departures screen. Evidently, we were a little worried and tried to resolve the problem.

"Why has our flight disappeared from the board?" we asked. The response was a shrug of the shoulders.

"Will we still be flying today?". Yet again, a nonchalant shrug.

"Where is the airline representative?"

"He is not here now," came the response.

Eventually, we were told that we'd been moved to the afternoon flight - good job we didn't have a connecting flight to catch! This journey was seamless and after seven hours at Kilimanjaro airport, we were glad to be in the taxi on the way to Nungwi. Winding down a decrepit road bordered by what looked like a landfill site, we were incredibly sceptical that we were on our way to paradise. But we had no reason to be worried.


The first person we met in Nungwi was Stacey, who we'd climbed Kili with and agreed to meet there for the last night of her holiday! What are the odds?! The next day we bumped in Henriette and Malinn. They've been travelling for three months in Austrailia and Thailand - they're so tanned that they're often called 'cappuccino'! Vitor was also there and the five of us spent all week doing, well, pretty much nothing aside from sunbathe, eat and drink!

Making us feel even more lazy were the local children, who came every evening at about 5 o'clock to the beach to play football and do somersaults. Instead of a trampoline, they have cleverly recycled an old tyre to jump off. One offered to teach me, but I said I only had eight days in Nungwi - even if I was practising for eight years, I'd never be able to do it!

The global appeal of football

The global appeal of football

The only time we did anything resembling exercise was dancing a the local nightclub. Now, when I say nightclub, a more accurate description would be "somebody's back garden with a small, caged hut selling drinks". Roughly one in five songs were recognisable, yet it was so much fun! The local guys don't just do front flips superbly, they can also dance amazingly! We, the mzungu ("white people"), don't quite match their dancing talents...

On the Saturday night, 'Kendwa Rocks' offered a more western nightclubbing experience where there were plenty of mzungu. Getting there was fine - a nice stroll along the beach - but coming back was certainly not. After a meandering walk around many, many roads, we stumbled across a taxi to take us back. However, there were too many of us. Still, nine people got in the car. Two even hopped in the boot. In hindsight, it was ludicrous that we even contemplated hopping in the crammed car!

The people in Nungwi were constantly trying to sell us stuff, even when we were sunbathing, but they were incredibly friendly. Sometimes too friendly. For Henriette and Malinn especially, the guys flocked like a moth to a flame. Obviously, they needed to make a living and sell us things, but sometimes they just sat next to us while we sunbathed for at least half an hour!

I did, however, get a bit of solitude when walking along the deserted beach in the morning to the fish market. Fishermen bring their fish onto the beach, where a Del Boy character orchestrates the auction process. The huge fish are then gutted on the beach. I've now learned to not stand three feet away when this happens...



Quite clearly, we didn't want to leave Nungwi, but we had to! For Malinn and Henriette, it was the end of their three month holiday, so for them it was devastating! It was strange, and quite sad, saying goodbye to Vitor and them!

Stringer and I are now off to Stone Town, where I will leave him to dive for his final week whilst I fly off to BULA Children's Home in Uganda. It'll be a shock to the system when I realise I can't just sunbathe all day, but I'm looking forward to it immensely!

Posted by kristian23 03:35 Archived in Tanzania Comments (0)

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