tippytravels

Fat Bastard Feast on Arrival

2009-06-29T10:30:00.000-07:00

Traveling is exhausting.

Traveling for two days is doubly exhausting.

As the professor, I feel as though I have to be on top of things at all times. Thank God, I have the best students. If I falter, they are professional and will take up the slack.

I am older than the students and I get tired. I am a morning person and don't like to be up late. I need my eight hours of sleep. I also need food or I am a cranky son of a gun.

Three of us went on the trip last year, Zach, Lindsay and me. We had two new SBU students - Andrew and Lauren - and one student tagging along through Both Your Hands - Katie. We all knew each other quite well, but didn't know Katie. We hoped she was cool and mature and we were right. She turned out to be an excellent addition to our team. In fact, I would like her to be one of my students. Very bright and passionate.

Those of us who went on the trip were trying to describe the reception we would receive when we landed. It turns out that is an impossible task. Talk as we could, paint whatever picture we could, nothing really prepares one for the greeting at every turn.

Hugs and shouts and noises of all kinds greeted us. I found myself doing things I never do at home. I am not a hugger, generally, and I certainly don't make squealing noises when I see people I haven't seen in a year. But in Uganda, that changes. I find myself squealing and hugging and jumping up and down. Thank God I am wearing a sturdy bra!

Mr. Fred and his wife, Anne, and son, Joelle, along with Young Fred, his cousin, and some other folks greet us at the airport. Our reliable taxi driver from last year - Alex - is our official transportation assistant. I marvel at how the men are able to jam all of our luggage into the back of the taxi van and then fit all of us in the taxi. I do find myself saying that if fewer people greeted us at the airport, it wouldn't be such a tight squeeze, but that would dampen the enthusiasm of our greeters and hosts. It is not he first time I feel as though we are on display.

Mr. Fred has arranged for a fabulous meal at our hotel. We arrive in time to settle into our rooms for the evening and partake in this grand feast. He makes sure all of the Ugandan staples are there - matoke (steamed bananas), chicken, potatoes, cabbage, and ground nuts. I also seem to remember fresh fruit. Yummy! I devoured it as if I hadn't eaten in weeks.

Truth be told, we were fed quite well on the planes, but I don't generally turn down food. In fact, I didn't remember that food in Uganda was this good.

Turns out, this may as well have been my last supper.

About Africa 2009 - FINALLY

2009-06-29T10:16:00.000-07:00

I have been home nearly a month from Uganda and have yet to write about my trip. This post should come after all the others. Writing and blogging while in Uganda is almost a fruitless effort. Getting online is painful. Trying to post to the blog, wrenching.

That said, I did take notes and did write posts by hand. Imagine the horror of writing with a pen on paper! What would my students say?

I find myself sitting in my zen room in my home with my calendar and my notes ready to write in this blog. I will alter the posts to reflect the date/time of the notes even though they are all written today (in theory).

To get in the mood, I am wearing my African-inspired caftan I picked up while in Uganda. It is long, billowy and comfortable. It is not sexy. But it does have my favorite colors - orange and black - and does have cool patterns on it.

And it was hand made.....

...Indonesia.

By Lady Farah Cactus.

That's what is written on the tag!

I don't know what lady Farah Cactus is. I am guessing the textile house. We'll see if we find it on the NY or Milan runways next season.

So let's head to Uganda.

Stuffing myself like a bear getting ready for winter hibernation

2009-05-19T10:24:00.000-07:00

The days leading up to our departure are filled with making sure I have what I need. Sunscreen, bug spray, shampoo, tissues, pills, books, paper, you name it.

I also found myself eating everything in sight.

Last year I didn't know what to expect in terms of food. Having gone to China the year before that (two years ago), I thought the food would blow me away much as it did then. The food in China is amazing!

The food in Uganda sucks.

Toward the end of the trip last year, I remember the students and I were talking about all the foods we missed from home. And when I got home, I remember eating all the foods I missed. I also remembered that I lost five pounds last year on the trip. That was good news considering that I was trying to lose weight. I thought I would lose weight again this year and welcome it. But I wanted to make sure I fattened up before I left.

Sure enough, I gained about 5 pounds before I left. That should pad me well enough.

I also wanted to remember to bring things I knew I would need like pepper. Pepper is a spice I use at nearly every meal and on nearly all my food. They don't have pepper in Uganda. I went through withdrawal last year and I had no intention of doing the same this year. Pepper was packed.

And I was ready to board the plane!

Time Flies

2009-03-30T14:03:00.000-07:00

How i wish i could pull days closer so that the months run very fast so you come soon ha ha

That was a statement in an email I received from our contact in Uganda - Mr. Fred. I had told him that we would be returing in May/June and that May/June wasn't that far away. Time flies and we would be there sooner than later.

I just love that statement. It's poetic.

I posted this comment on TippyKayak also. I thought it should go here considering we are traveling to Uganda again. Not too far away!

The students also want to take a trip after the work in Uganda is complete. They want to go to Cairo. Since I have never been, and they asked, I agreed to join them. Several students want to continue after that also, but I do have to get home at some point. But, if I am in Africa, I may as well travel in Africa. It makes sense to me.

We are dumb

2008-07-20T19:26:00.000-07:00

We had the incredible opportunity of speaking with students in their classrooms. The classrooms are much as you would imagine if you ever watched Little House on the Prairie as a child or caught it on cable now.

Except they are just seats. There are no desks. Students have little pencil cases to carry their pencils, pens, erasers, whatever else would need to be carried. And, if they were orphans, had a key around their neck to lock the cases away in their trunks. The trunks also contained their clothes. Some of the students had a pair of shoes. Some had uniforms. Some had more than one shirt or more than one pair of shorts/pants or a skirt. Some had one and some didn't have shoes.

And I complain when I can't find the right shirt to wear with one of my numerous pairs of pants. And then I struggle with the appropriate or inappropriate shoes to wear, depending on the look I am going for.

The students write in blue book-like booklets with their pencils. And they write on their laps. And they are intrigued and ready to learn.

They have so many questions for us. It blew my mind to think about the things our students might ask. I can't imagine that any of them would have nearly the insight or the inquisitive nature of these students. I may be selling them short, but you tell me. A sampling of some of the questions (My abilities were challenged by trying to explain the answers to people for whom English is a second language. I was quite proud of myself.):
-Why are we black and you are white (try explaining this one)?
-Do you have AIDS in America?
-Do people steal your children? (I thought they meant kidnapping, but apparently, some tribes in Uganda still practicing the ancient religions will steal orphans and sacrifice them in an effort to improve something like their business or their lives in some way.)
-What do you eat (well we don't eat banana mash)?
-Have you been to the moon?
-If black albinos are white, are white albinos black?
-Do we have jiggers? (They are awful bugs that burrow into your feet and lay eggs that later hatch.)
-What is the difference between a lunar and solar eclipse?
-What is the largest river in America?
-Who is running for president and who do we support?
-Who is your president?
-What is your clan? (Each person in Uganda is a member of a clan. Clans have different names, usually of animals. I will have a separate post dealing with clans because they are cool.)
-What is the largest animal in America? They were shocked that we did not have elephants running around as they do in Uganga.
-What is the capital of the U.S.? They were shocked to learn it was not NYC. Ah, geography.

One rather astute boy earned the nickname "radio boy." He listened to BBC radio and had many questions:
-Are we creating people in America? (Explain cloning to someone who understands English. Explain it to someone just learning. Yeah, I should have gotten an award.)
-What is America going to do to prevent the meteor from hitting Earth in 2012? (Another student wanted to know if we would all be alive after 2012 and if should continue in school if we were all going to die in 2012.)

His questions were challenging and comical, in a sense. When we were asked about jiggers he raised his hand. I thought to myself, Jesus, do you want me to dry a diagram of the life cycle of a jigger on the board for you?

But as a professor, I should love the inquisitiveness. And I do. It just took me by surprise because I wasn't expecting it.

But I liked it.

And I said to the students afterward, Natty World seems to have some importance now, doesn't it? They asked quite a few science questions. What would you have done if we weren't all there with various degrees of experience?

I didn't think I would need to study to go to Uganda. But I better read my old texts and check out my old notes.

Of course I have them. What else would I do with them? Throw them out?

Perish the thought.

Hit a cyclist, score a point

2008-07-20T19:19:00.000-07:00

We hit three cyclists while we were in Uganda.

Don't panic. No one was hurt.

Apparently that's as normal as buying milk and eggs for us.

Driving is menacing in Uganda. I don't know how more people are not killed.

We clipped three cyclists - just their handlebars. The fact that I am able to justify that makes me wonder just how acclimated I got.

The cyclists weren't the least bit phased.

And we grew less concerned.

The first man we hit, we pulled over for. Our driver made sure he was okay. I guess yelling at him for riding his bicycle into the taxi was his way of insuring he was okay. One of our guests in the taxi-van that day lamented about the irresponsibility of some cyclists. I laughed in that uncomfortable way you do when you are caught off guard. You aren't expecting someone to say something so crude, yet you wonder since you are in a different country with its own set of rules and norms if somehow I am overthinking the fact that we ran down an old man on a bicycle.

I say nothing to her and inquire as to the health of the cyclist. Turns out he is okay.

The second and third men were riding their bikes close to the van. There is no way to describe how close they were to the van. If I had the window open, I could have kissed them on the mouth without lifting my bum off of my seat. We clipped them likely trying to avoid a collision with a taxi-van coming in the other direction.

By the third, it was like hitting a pothole.

Frightening.

Bring a good sports bra....

2008-07-20T19:13:00.000-07:00

Driving in Uganda...

I don't even know where to begin.

Yes I do.

Have you see photos in National Geographic Magazine (NatGeo to those of us cool enough to collect the magazines and that's me - super cool) of women in Africa? Of course, the photos are of naked women and are probably the first nude ladies young American boys see.

The boobs hang to the waist.

Some people have said it's because they don't have the support of a good underwire or don't know Victoria's Secret (her secret, by the way, is that women need to pay a bazillion dollars for silk panties).

I know the real reason.

Women drive around on the roads in Uganda without benefit of a really good sports bra.

I thought I was going to whack myself in the face with my breasts everytime we got in our car or taxi. My breasts are not huge, but they have some bounce and they certainly have more now.

People may think I am jesting. Indeed, I am not. I found myself holding my chest (not in a lewd way) to keep the sisters in place. And I wear good underthings! I have no trouble in the U.S. keeping the sisters strapped in with my boob seatbelt, but Africa was a different matter altogether.

I might make the cover of the next NatGeo issue in which they highlight tourists in Africa. My boobs will be hanging to my belly button.

And then I would have to run around topless, I guess.

Missing Generation

2008-07-20T19:06:00.000-07:00

There is a generation of Ugandans missing.

Where have they gone?

They've died.

We were told that if you find a family without an orphan, you have won the lottery (they didn't use the lottery analogy, I did). We met families with grandparents and grandchildren.

The parents?

Dead.

How/why?

HIV/AIDS or malaria.

Imagine that for a moment. Imagine your own families. My mother is alive, my father is not. I have a brother with two children, and two sisters with two children each. I have no children (big surprise). If we lived in Uganda it is likely that my mother would be alive (or my father, but probably not both) and that my nieces and nephews would be alive but not me or my siblings.

What does that do to a family?

We met one man who was inspirational in so many ways. He was raising his grandchildren because his children are dead. His wife was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS and killed herself the year before. Turns out it is easier to commit suicide than it is to die of HIV/AIDS. It is less painful for all parties involved, because death never involves just the dying.

Sure, drugs are available, but who can afford them?

In the U.S. HIV/AIDS is a taboo disease. In Uganda, everyone talks about it. It is almost as prevalent as our flu or cold. And it can be prevented.

It can be prevented.

Equator

2008-07-20T19:04:00.001-07:00

I stood on the Equator. The official Equator. I have a picture of me standing on the Uganda sanctioned Equator monument. It reads "Equator" and there I am standing beneath it. I kicked the students off of it and forced one to take my picture.

And then they did the same thing.

And then we shopped in the tourist traps and loved every minute of it! Our hosts were mortified that we would pay what we paid for some of our wares, but we had to explain that in the U.S. these objects would sell for much more money. We were getting off cheap.

But that didn't seem to work for them.

Birth control?

2008-07-20T18:56:00.000-07:00

I will be fired for writing a post titled "birth control" on a Catholic University's website, but I can't help it. I need to find out how the church feels about encouraging condom use in Africa.

Catholicism is alive and well in Africa.

So is polygamy.

I guess I missed the memo issued by Pope B sanctioning the taking of more than one wife. I will have to ask my colleagues.

But I have to wonder that since HIV/AIDS is such a problem in Africa (more on that later), how could anyone preach the use of nothing?

I remember when I worked at the Catholic Health System in Buffalo, we couldn't advocate the use of condoms to any of our patients. I thought that horribly irresponsible. It was one of the situations I discuss in PR class. What do you do when your own moral compass differs from the compass used by the organization you are paid to represent? It's tough. I have to investigate.

I generally say to people that if I can sleep at night, I am good.

And I didn't sleep much in Uganda. I don't know how anyone does. The noise is insane. Kyotera is awake until all hours.

And then the rooster wakes you up.

At any rate, I started thinking more about condoms when I found some in my hotel room! I was trying to unpack and put my socks in a drawer. The drawer I chose had condoms. I suppose it's fitting that I was putting socks in the condom drawer, but I chuckle at nearly anything Beavis and Butthead would have laughed at.

And I had to tell my students that no one better have a need for them! Good God!

Internet Cafe

2008-07-20T18:48:00.000-07:00

I am so spoiled when it comes to technology. I am typing this blog post while at home. I made a point of capturing everything I wanted to write in this blog in a journal so that I could type it when I got home.

Why?

Internet cafes.

And dial-up.

And electricity.

I haven't had dial-up in years - and I'm generally a luddite.

I have regular electricity at my home.

I take high-speed internet connections and electricity for granted. I also take a toilet separate from my shower for granted, but I digress.

Where we were, people didn't have their own computers with their own internet access. In fact, many of the homes didn't have electricity, nor did they indoor plumbing. It is the U.S. 150 or 200 years ago (minus the internet cafe).

I was able to bring my own laptop over (thank you SBU!) so that I could work with my own files and email from my computer. It was nice. But it was slow. Painfully slow.

And I had to pay by the minute for service. Pay by the minute for service that would take less than half the time at home. Granted, it's not as though it cost so much money I was unable to eat (God forbid I go hungry), but it was inconvenient.

But interestingly, by the end of the trip I didn't miss my internet. I didn't miss the use of my cell phone. I rather enjoyed that I was completely out of touch with the world. That I was stuck in a remote village in Uganda enjoying myself to death and not worrying or wondering about what was going on at home or anywhere else for that matter.

And that's unlike me. I try to stay informed. I try to pay attention to what's going on in the news, but I didn't care. I found myself wondering what was happening in Kyotera, Uganda and other parts of Africa. I found myself making notes about what I need to research or read when I get home. I found myself thinking about ways to turn this trip into academic research (And have several ideas that will include students, too. I am big on including students in research projects.).

I found myself thinking and breathing and seeing and listening and relaxing.

I know that I was on this trip with students, but I think we were all doing the same things. I think we enjoyed being here enough to forget about everything else but what we had to do. The task at hand.

Perhaps that's Africa time.

Africa Time?

2008-07-20T18:42:00.001-07:00

Everyone refers to Africa time. I spent the entire trip trying to figure out how the hands on Africa's clock work.

I abhor lateness. Add that to the list of things I have to get over (heat and children being the other two).

I also like some structure. Not too much, but time is one of the things I like structured. If you tell me to be somewhere at 1, I will be there at 12:50. It's what I do.

Africa doesn't work like this.

But it isn't predictable.

If someone says they will be somewhere at 1 they could be there at 1 (not likely) or they could be there at 1:30, 2, 2:30, 3, 3:30, 4, 4:30. I think that was as late as things got.

At first, we joked about it. Then it became less a joke as I realized that we were stranded (for the most part) without our ride. We had to sit at the hotel and wait because we had no idea when our hosts would show up. God forbid we should take a walk. They might show up and wonder where we were.

You see our problem?

Our last day, we had to stress the importance of operating on U.S. time. We had a meeting at the US Embassy (more on that later) and a plane to catch. We couldn't rely on Africa time. I don't know how many times we double-checked the time with our hosts so that we would be sure to make it places on time that last day. I even called before they were set to arrive to make sure they were on their way. I don't like to do things like that, but alas, Africa time dictates it.

Being responsible for myself and five students doesn't help the matter, either. Time is important. God forbid I have one of the students in a class and he or she is late for class or an appointment and says, 'well, I'm time - Africa time.'

It would be an accurate statement. And I wouldn't let it pass!

Music....How I miss my IPOD

2008-07-20T18:39:00.001-07:00

I didn't bring my IPOD. Didn't think I needed it.

I think I need my music more than I need pepper or other spices.

I do not like hip/hop or rap. I am not the biggest fan of pop music. I don't like remixes that suck.

The first evening as we arrived at the hotel, there was a strange Eye of the Tiger remix. That's right, the Rocky theme song (I don't which Rocky, pick one of the 40 sequels and you are probably right). Eye of the Tiger. I recognized it immediately because I am a goober like that and enjoy bad 80s music from time to time. I also had to listen closely because it was a cute little girl kind of voice that I didn't recognize and had to figure out. When I realized what the song was, I chuckled.

When I am hungry....

2008-07-20T18:31:00.000-07:00

When I am hungry, I am a bitch. When I am hungry and tired - get the hell away from me!

Horrible.

And speaking of horrible, I would kill for a spice right now (I know I've mentioned this already, but it needs to be repeated.). Any spice other than salt. My right arm for pepper (I know, I've said that also). But I have salt and ketchup. Whoo hoo!

We are going to be teaching business in a culture we barely understand to people who, likely, will barely understand us.

Mr. Fred, one of our hosts, showed us his home. His mother was there with her minister, his new wife (they were married the week before), and some friends. They washed our hands with a pitcher and bowl. Then fed us hardboiled eggs, crackers and pop. Please - no more pop! I don't think I can drink any more soda (for those not from WNY).

We prayed before eating. We prayed after eating. Thank God they didn't ask me to pray (was that a prayer?). I think everyone thinks I am Christian. In fact, that was confirmed when we were questioned by students a day or two later. More on that in a different post. They are so fervent, I was almost afraid of correcting them. But I did it anyway. Must be true to myself.

We did discover that men are served meals first. In fact, Mr. Fred chose Zach, one of the students, to accompany him to find a suitable place to eat. He and I laughed about that a bit.

I am sitting waiting for breakfast near an open window. What a wonderful breeze. Then we sweat at mid-day, then cool again. Quite nice, actually. I guess this is the cold season. Fine by me. I hate heat. I'm not particularly fond of children. Where should I go? To an orphanage/school on the Equator. Can't think of a better place.

What am I eating?

2008-07-20T17:30:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned some of the exotic foods we have been eating and enjoying. Part way through the trip I realized that I am enjoying the goat stew. If I had some spices for the banana mash, I would be in heaven. I liked the eggs for the first time. I must have been acclimating.

Eating any kind of meat with a fork and knife is like trying to tie your shoes with your teeth. You must gnaw on it and then floss like hell. Gnaw it after it cools a bit. Gnaw the meat.

I found myself only missing a couple of things:
-shower/tub
-larger bathroom - or a toilet for use during the day (peeing on a concrete slab is getting to me a bit)
-salad

The last is okay since I am eating plenty of fresh fruit. I am not the least bit tired of it yet. But I could go for an amazing salad with all kinds of greens and a wonderful vinaigrette.

But the fruit....

Mazungo

2008-07-20T17:24:00.000-07:00

It became a bit unnerving for me to be stared at everywhere we went. Truth be told, we didn't blend in Uganda. It wasn't that we did things that were "American" or "foreign" it's that we are white and they are black. And I am tall and they are not.

And we cannot blend in.

I didn't like that we would be stared at everywhere. I didn't like that I made small children cry.

Wait, that was kind of cool.

It was not.

I was trying to bond with the children and if I got too close, they would run screaming or cling to the adult or older child with them. It scared me. I don't usually make kids run screaming.

And I didn't like being stared at! Did I say that already? Twice?

Mazungo, we were told, means "white people." And the kids would wave to you and run after you as you walked through the market. They would shout "Mazungo." I didn't like being singled out like this. I try to be anonymous (as anonymous as a white girl can be in Uganda). Being singled out took some getting used to. And I didn't quite do that.

Later on we learned that "Mazungo" actually means "foreigner" but I didn't buy that. I didn't anyone called that but us. Of course, I wouldn't know if there were other foreigners or not, so I should give them the benefit of the doubt.

No Smoking Jose Cameleon

2008-07-20T17:18:00.000-07:00

It took me a few days before I realized that not one person we had seen had a cigarette. No one smokes. At first we thought it was because smoking might be reserved for the wealthy since cigarettes are costly, but it turns out the government is quite strict about non-smoking.

And people cannot afford cigarettes.

I loved it because I didn't have to suffer in public places or on the street with people smoking. It was a breath of fresh air - literally and figuratively.

Of course, we did see people smoking when one of Uganda's biggest hip-hop/rap artists pulled up in his pimpmobile, aka, Hummer. It was a bit unnerving. Here we are in rural Uganda in the midst of poverty and up pulls a Hummer. Out of the Hummer comes the posse and they were smoking.

And they looked like idiots.

But I had a good laugh.

My size, My size

2008-05-27T05:35:00.001-07:00

We visited a widow's and orphan's community on Sunday. HIV/AIDS is so prevalent that many women are without husbands and many children are without parents. We have no idea the toll this disease has taken on this wonderful society.

As we were leaving, one of the widows (a rather overweigh woman, to put it politely) came up to me and said "ah, my size, my size."

I wanted to cry. I have been trying to lose weight for months and have successfully taken off 25 pounds (25 more to go!). I am feeling pretty good about myself. Then I hear this. The students try to reassure me that she probably doesn't know much English and was trying to say goodbye (I need to teach them how to lie a bit more believably and creatively, I think).

Yesterday at lunch, we were discussing how much a person who worked out would need to eat in kilos of food. Then our hosts started picking on us for not eating enough food. Some of the students aren't so fond of the meals. Admittedly, some of the meals are a bit odd.

One student in particular, a quite slender girl, mentioned that she doesn't eat as much food at home and the large lunches they serve are too much. Then Ron, the headmaster of the school, said, "oh, if you went home and ate a lot of food, you would come back next year like Pauline."

The students got a huge kick out of it given the "my size" comment of the previous day. I did not. I laughed it off.

I had to go back to the room to try on my pants to make sure they fit as loosely as they did when I left. I haven't gained any weight, and may have lost a few pounds, but I feel pretty good.

Even though I apparently tip the African scales.

Who has it better?

2008-05-27T05:28:00.000-07:00

When I first arrived at the Bethlehem Parents School, I wanted to take all of the orphans home with me to show them a "better life."

Then I realized that it was I who needed a better life.

Affection is shown to all. Men regularly hold hands or walk with arms around one another as a sign of brotherhood, in a sense. It doesn't mean anyone is gay. Women do the same thing. Often, people would approach us and hug us or walk with us holding our hands. At first, the stoic German in me resisted. I have my personal space and don't generally invite others in. But it is refreshing and feels quite good to share affection in this way.

And one of our male students is appreciating it also. I find that nice.

We discussed what would happen if one of the males students were to come to the US - or to SBU. He would be ridiculed for showing such affection.

And that is a shame.

The orphans, teachers and locals live in such poverty, but you wouldn't know it to see them or to talk to them. They have such rich lives. It makes me feel as though I live a life of poverty. I want much more than I need and I get much more than I need. They satisfy their needs and even if they don't, their relationships are so alive they needn't suffer.

Laughing and smiling and playing and joking are everywhere. And thank God.

I couldn't bring children home with me. They would be ruined. Their spirit would be drained. America seems to be a land of endless opportunities for them - and it certainly is - but I can't help but think it would also be the end of this wonderful culture. What would become of them with too much of our influence.

I have already picked out the plot of land I would like to build a small home on. And I would have fruit trees and a wonderful relationship with my community.

I could try these things at home, and I think that I will. But it seems pure here.

GREEN!

2008-05-27T05:23:00.000-07:00

I had a horrible impression of what Uganda would look like. Apparently, I think the entire continent of Africa is the Sahara.

I could not be more wrong. In fact, I don't think I have ever been someplace so green. Everywhere we go, green.

And the views are awesome. There is so much to say about the area, but pictures alone will do it justice (once I upload to Kodak gallery, I will provide the link). The soil is so rich and the road and homesteads are the color of Bryce Canyon, Utah. These colors with the vivid greens make for one amazing landscape.

And at night - breathtaking.

We arrived with the full moon. It lit up the sky. It also changed colors throughout the night. I know this because the first two nights I got a collective 2 hours of sleep, I would guess. Turns out roosters aren't the only noisemakers.

Once the moon starts to set, it takes on the colors of the earth. Wonderful.

And stars - when the moon is gone, stars are everywhere. I want to just lie down and stare up at the sky. But the only place to do that where I am is the parking lot and I might get run over.

It is unsafe to drive at night. There are no street lights. The only lights at night are in the hotel and the grasshopper farm. They have these huge stadium lights illuminating a wide area to catch the grasshoppers that we eat. What a life.

Wake-Up Call

2008-05-27T05:21:00.000-07:00

When you go to a hotel, you probably set your alarm clock or your cell phone or you call the front desk to arrange for a wake-up call.

No need.

We have roosters.

Everywhere.

City, country, rural area - doesn't matter.

At about 5:30 or 6 each morning, nature's alarm clock wakes your happy ass up.

It's quite comical.

My Right Arm for Some Pepper

2008-05-27T05:12:00.000-07:00

I do not eat salt - or I eat salt sparingly. Salt, I think, is a sign of wealth. One of our hosts commented that some people are so poor, they don't even have salt.

Could we eat at one of those houses?

Some meals I have had have been so salty, I may never pee again.

And the two spices we have are salt and sugar. That is it in the spice rack! And no herbs that I have seen. Our hotel kitchen certainly doesn't use them.

One of the students on the trip started his college career at a culinary school. The two of us have been discussing things we would do with different spices. The main dish - and the dish that people eat everyday with every meal - is matoki. It is steamed banana. The banana is steamed in banana leaves over a fire - this method is called lowumbo. The idea sounds fabulous, the dish is not. But give me some nutmeg and cinnamon, and this staple is now yummy!

We visited a farmer's home and he showed us banana trees, avocado trees, juk trees (big yellow fruit), pawpaw trees (orange fruit), and guava trees. We also saw coffee plants and vanilla. They have scads of vanilla. And no one takes it to market. I tell them that vanilla is quite expensive in the US. They also don't market the avocado. I am told later that avocado is free. FREE! We pay lots of money for them in the US and they are free!

We have had the most wonderful fruit each day - fresh bananas, pineapples, guava, passion fruit, watermelon, avocados, juk, and pawpaw. One student commented that she has trouble eating bananas at home because her throat gets scratchy, but she is fine here. We suspect it is the pesticides at home or the pesticides used in transit. They don't use pesticides here. It is organic farming because there is no other way.

And the local food movement is called life here. Our food comes from the neighborhood and it comes that day. Even out chicken, goat and beef is local.

And I have eaten some things. Goat meat is like a cross between lamb and beef. Grasshoppers are a delicacy and are an expensive appetizer. They taste like something I have had before but I am having trouble identifying. But it is awful.

I did eat a grasshopper, though. And some goat. And I eat fresh fruit everyday.

Now I can die a happy person!

Hold the salt.

We aren't in Kansas anymore

2008-05-27T05:04:00.001-07:00

I can rough it. I enjoy camping. But roughing it for me also includes a shower. I don't need a toilet, necessarily, because I can pee in the woods, but I do like to have one.

If you have a "bathroom" it is a hole in the ground that you must squat over. Sometimes that ground doesn't look quite so stable. More than once I've thought that if this clay-looking stuff gives beneath me, I am in deep shit - and that is literal.

The hotel in Kyotero in which we will spend most of our time is quite nice, but...... we don't have showers, per se. We have a bathroom with a toilet, a sink and a shower head/faucet. And a bucket. The entire bathroom is the shower - we think. We hope since that is how we have been using it. And we don't have hot water. At least I didn't think we did until a student tried the cold faucet and got hot out of it. So blue = hot and red = cold. I suspect that is a trick to try to conserve water and hot water. Guests won't linger long if they think they are getting just cold water.

Although, truthfully, after sweating all day, a cold shower is quite nice. I just wish there was a bit more room.

Lights are not on all day. The hotel doesn't turn the electricity on until it starts to get a little dark. There is a master switch and then we get our room lights and our in-room fan.

Dinner is served in the dining room. The dining room is lit by black light. I have not been in black light since my days at the Continental in Buffalo. I forgot how horrible everything looks in black light. There are two televisions in the dining room. Both are on - usually different channels - and both are loud. There is also a stereo that is on. It is too much visual and audio stimulation for my liking, but then I don't eat in a disco by black light.

After eating a couple of meals in the hotel, I think the black light is there on purpose. It makes it difficult to see our dinners. I suspect there is a reason for that that I do not want to discuss, but that you may likely discern.

Amusement Park Ride

2008-05-27T04:52:00.001-07:00

Last year at this time, I was in China. I thought driving was bad in China - and it was - but China looks like a parking lot compared with driving in Uganda.

Let me set the scene.....

We are in a taxi van. The driver is a friend of Mr. Fred. He has been driving a taxi for 20 years, we are told. I do feel safe, because I find that people driving in situations like this, while we might have heart attacks, fare quite well and keep their charges safe.

At least I told myself that over and over and over again until I actually started to believe it.

There is no room whatsoever between vehicles in the city. I don't think pedestrians or people on bikes have the right of way. I also think that if you are run down, it's every man for himself. Kampala is a city. It is huge and it is crowded. It is also quite dirty. The traffic is bumper to bumper - and that is literal. Actually, literal would be bumper to bumper to door to window. The only part free is the roof.

Once we are out of the city, we are on roads (and I use that term loosely) that resemble a roller coaster ride. We are barreling down these roads swerving to miss pedestrians, swerving to avoid motorbikes and pedal bikes and swerving to avoid potholes and crevices and chasms. I think that I should never complain about a road in the US again.

I also find it interesting that there are several police road checks. The drivers also have signals as to these road checks. Whenever we would pass another car in the know or another taxi, drivers would use a series of hand and finger gestures to signal what was ahead for the other driver. At home, if someone flashes his or her headlights, it means a cop is ahead. Here, these elaborate finger and hand gestures are almost another language.

To take my mind off of the seemingly erratic driving, I looked at advertisements. Billboards exist and are quite humorous. I saw a billboard for child and family planning. Be sure you space your children properly, was the message.

Another message dealt with old men and young women. It said (and I paraphrase), would you let him (picture of old man) near your teenage daughter? Then why don't you stay away from his. Say no to cross-generational dating.

Cell phones are also prevalent. Uganda, like China and like many developing and emerging nations, bypassed land-line technology in favor of cellular. It seems as though the cell phone companies have taken advantage of this. As we rode along the main roads, we were able to see houses (that terms is used loosely) painted with the colors and the logo of a sponsoring cell phone company. I feel as though the people are prostituted in a sense. But then I have to think that they don't have money to feed their families and to go about daily living. You do what you have to and if a big company is willing to pay you to paint your house red and paint a yellow CellTell sign on it, why not? I don't like the cell companies. It seems exploitative.

Plastic Flower Bouquet

2008-05-27T04:44:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Entebbe at about 8:30 p.m. local time. It was already dark because it is Uganda's winter.

The airport is rather small - a bit smaller than Buffalo airport, I would guess. Very organized.

After getting our Visas and luggage, we went to meet our hosts. None of us had ever met them before. We had exchanged emails and seen pictures, but that was it. We were also exhausted, so who knows if we would recognize them.

That was not a worry. I have never been greeted so warmly. In fact, I almost cried, I was so happy, because they were so happy.

Our hosts - Mr. Fred, his wife Ann, their son Joel, and Young Fred (Mr. Fred's student) - were jumping up and down and screaming. They hugged each of us as if we were long lost relatives. I had never been embraced in such a way. Bear hug describes it only slightly.

Then Joel, in his slightly over-sized little boy suit (he is 18-months old), handed me a bouquet of fake flowers. I wasn't quite sure what to do. They are still in my hotel room.

It is too bad that it is dark. I would love to have seen the surrounding areas. It turns out they drive on the wrong side of the road (or the correct side if you live in England) and the steering wheels are on the right side of the vehicles.

Getting all of our luggage and all of us into the taxi van was a treat. I have no idea how we made it to the hotel alive. It was an experience. Of course, being tired, your frame of reference is a bit askew.

Jesus is my home boy

2008-05-27T04:41:00.001-07:00

Many people traveling to Uganda are there as missionaries. I have a great deal of respect for all religions and consider myself tolerant. But I have a strict policy - don't shove the dove.

Well, I sat next to a Christian missionary on my flight from Amsterdam to Uganda. That was a treat. When he found out I was not Christian, he decided I should be converted. But he prefaced it with, I'm not trying to convert you, but let me tell you about Jesus.

I told him that I knew plenty about Jesus because I teach at a Catholic University (a Catholic University that embraces all religions and all people whether they are Catholic or not, and I am thankful for that).

But he talked anyway. And I listened, to a point. Then I wished I didn't have a "one glass of wine with dinner" policy because it sure could have helped me cope.

Airports

2008-05-27T04:34:00.000-07:00

If your only experience in the US is JFK Airport, you will likely book a flight back to your original destination and never return. It is an armpit. The people are not friendly, the directions are obtuse and the airport is a filthy mess.

That said, we could not have had a more pleasing opposite than the Amsterdam Airport. What a breath of fresh air! The people are friendly, the airport is user-friendly, and the Dutch are just cool.

We were in the Amsterdam Airport for quite a number of hours waiting for our flight to Uganda. In that time each of us got a kick out of the announcements:

"Passenger Hoffmann traveling to Entebbe. You are delaying the flight. Please reboard at Gate A immediately. We will proceed to offload your luggage."

Of course, this did not happen to me, but this is what would have been said had it happened to me. Not sure why that was funny. Lack of sleep?

I felt like a college student on the flight from JFK to Amsterdam. We flew on KLM - a Northwest partner. In Europe, you don't pay for alcohol on the flight. DON'T PAY FOR ALCOHOL! I have never heard of such a thing. But I enjoyed such a thing (just one glass of wine with dinner, honestly).

The flight from JFK also arranged for some in-flight entertainment. A passenger passed out. A call went out for a medical doctor (many were flying). If they hadn't requested medical doctor, I could have jumped up and talked to them about the situation.

Then several students witnessed an altercation that forced the police to arrest one or two people when we landed in Amsterdam. We think someone (or some few) took advantage of the free booze and raised hell. Again, what a shame because they were Americans and quite ugly at that.

Three Days......

2008-05-14T07:32:00.000-07:00

I am getting nervous.

I am the only professor going on this trip and it is my first trip with students - by myself!

And we are going to Uganda, Africa.

I have had more people ask me if it's safe. Our understanding is that it is quite safe. I have also read recently that where we are headed in Uganda (Jinja and Kampala) are little-known African gems.

The head of the Nile is here - right at Lake Victoria.

Animals of all sorts are here - our very own Wild Kingdom.

But our goal isn't merely sightseeing, although we will do some of that. We are here to help the Bethlehem School with education. We have all of these quite lofty plans that may have to change once we are there. We can certainly plan, but must also remember to be flexible once we arrive. The last thing we want to do is act as the ugly Americans.

I am nervous because I hate flying. I also hate heat. So the best thing to do is get me on a plane for a day and send me to the equator.

I am nervous because we are building relationships. I hope the building we do is stable and earthquake resistant and not a glass house in the desert.

I think about what happens should I get sick. I generally have an iron stomach, but my luck would have me in pain and pooping and puking while everyone else tries to go about their business.

What if something happens to a student? What if we have to airlift someone home because of God only knows what?

What if they ask me to speak about Christianity? I heard this might happen. I know little about it other than my own bias.

Oh the other hand.....

What if we fall in love with Uganda and have to come back every year?

What if we make such a difference that we are asked back and asked to bring others?

What if we have a great time and no one is sick?

I don't generally live by "what ifs" but I can't help it this time. I am quite sure things will go well. I am quite sure we will have an experience unlike any other we may have had prior.

I am sure that should I get sick, I have ample drugs to take care of the problem.

Welcome to TippyTravels

2008-05-14T07:07:00.000-07:00

I had trouble with the name. I am the only person I know who would struggle with whether to call the blog "tippytravel" or "tippytravels." I finally decided on "tippytravels" because I figured that I would blog about more than one of my travels.

I am leaving Saturday for Uganda. I plan to document my trip via this blog.

I also plan to document future trips. As well, I hope to transfer blog posts from my other blogs to this one. I want to keep all of my travel-related blog posts in one place.

Stay tuned! I hope to update this blog as often as possible while on our trip.