SANDRA TURAY
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​The Whales are Leaving… and So Must I

10/17/2016

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I was helped to realize the other day that I’ve spent one third of my year in Mozambique. It’s funny how rephrasing the same length of time can make it feel either more or less significant.  One hundred and twenty days, 4 months, one third of a year–however it is put–it hasn’t been quite enough.
 
I’m currently working on updating the Mozambique Bradt Travel Guide for its upcoming 7th edition (Aug 2017).  Three of my 4 months in Mozambique were spent wandering about the country, gathering information for the update. (And by wandering, I mean strategically sprinting!) The final month of my time here has been spent recuperating from the cozy chapas, soaking in the Mozambican sun, and watching the whales as I wrote.
 
The country is massive–2,500km of coastline with an inland to match–and has been quite the challenge to cover, especially when tasked to do it all by local transport and with the limited time posed by visa restrictions. The author I work under said that it is the hardest book he has to update mostly because of the size, language, and heat. Of course I had to accept the challenge of hours upon hours of sweaty chapa rides and comical mimed conversations with minimal Portuguese tossed in! Not to mention the flittering birds, marine and terrestrial wildlife, bustling markets, crashing ocean waves upon miles of coast, inselbergs piercing a stretching sky, and all the palms, prawns and papaya a gal could ask for.  
 
I won’t lie; the trip was difficult at times.  Everyday my planned route or timing changed due to some unforeseen hitch.  Mozambique is a country where you not only need a plan B… you need a C, D, E, F… and sometimes have to resort to the counting the leaves on a palm tree after you’ve run out of alphabet letters.  There, admittedly so, were a few times I was close to tears, having been pushed when dehydration and fatigue were getting the best of me.  I was tested and I loved it.  Each time I was forced to dig a little deeper, I was always pleasantly reminded that there is always a coconut under those palms to quench your thirst, make you pause and remember that this is what living is all about. Paradise, and all things worth pursuing,  always has a price.
 
I’m now in the possession of innumerable memories of moments composed of pure grace.  The simple acts of kindness, connecting conversations, and the natural splendor of Mother Nature have all reminded me of why I travel and why I write. Each adventure I'm reminded of the beauty and wonder the world is capable of and how I might contribute.  It stretches my soul and grounds me. At the end of it all, I’m reminded to live—live simply and fully.
 
I arrived as the whales were migrating to the coast of Mozambique. And now, just as they are leaving, so must I.  Until next time, Mozambique, thank you for welcoming me, challenging me, and showing me your magic.  
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The 3am, Pre-Departure Feeling of Travel

6/20/2016

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​Last night I was wide awake at 3am, gently brought back from the land of boundless being to a quiet, cool morning still heavy with stars.  I felt rested, though I’d only slept for a mere three hours.   I remained silent as I inventoried the feelings that woke me. 
 
Tomorrow I’ll be on a plane for South Africa, end destination—Mozambique.  I’ve accepted another contract with Bradt Travel Guides to update the 7th edition of the Mozambique book. 
 
When I first started traveling, I’d have called these feelings fear and excitement wrapped into one giddy lust for adventure and newness.  I had a similar feeling when I first left home to go to college.
 
As my travel experiences continued, jobs and exploration brought me across the United States and to various bits of the world.  Each time, a similar feeling would come over me just before departure.  It is similar to the feeling I get right before I run big rapids on the river or when I’m skiing in the mountains. 
 
My early morning wake made me realize that the feeling hasn’t changed, but I have, and how I interpret the warm, butterfly belly that sends flutters of openness through my soul.
 
What was once fear and excitement with a twinge of doubt has become thriving empowerment, inspiration, and gratitude with an overarching yearning for growth.
 
This feeling lets me know I’m alive.  It lets me know I’m doing something right.

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No time to write home...

8/1/2015

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I’ve finally sat down to write and realized that it is August 1st and my time in Malawi nearing the end (well sort of, I have 20 days left…which feels short!). The 7 weeks I’ve been here have blended together. I no longer pay attention the date or what day of the week it is.  I only know where I am supposed to be and how many restaurants, hotels, or attractions I need to cover before can shut my brain off and
actually enjoy a few hours of this beautiful country known as “the warm heart of Africa” before the sun burns red and slips below the
horizon.  The setting sun seems to tease me with its dramatic hues cast across a wide sky, silhouetting the landscape, saying, “Wasn’t
that good? I’ll bring another round of wonderful tomorrow!”

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Going with the flow!

With all this wonderful, I am also growing a bit tired.  I want to slow down and wander freely.  I want to sip Malawi like a hot, sweet, milky tea. The places I’ve seen, the people I’ve met, and the images that float through my mind each night before I sleep are many begging to be revisited. There is something about this country that is truly unique, engaging, and inspiring.  I feel fortunate to have been to almost every inch of it, and with the next few weeks, will be able to say that I’ve been EVERYWHERE in Malawi! (What a wonderful and crazy job I have!)

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Lake Malawi, Cape Maclear

Cheers to the next 20 days, I am certain they will be as glorious as the sunsets!

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Malawi Welcome

6/30/2015

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PictureMalawi Bradt update adventure begins!
Tuesday, June 16: Dar to Kyela (Border)

My bags arrived at 3am, however, my taxi did not arrive at 5am.  Having slept only about an hour, I didn’t waste any time nor energy fretting over the absent taxi as there were 3 waiting outside.  I was eager to get to the bus station as well as anxious as such locations can often be quite chaotic with shady characters (especially in such a large city). It seems that often my emotions float freely between anxiety and elation as I travel.  One second my mind runs wild with all of the “what ifs” and the next my being tells me to trust my instincts, leaving the rest to fate. (This is what adventure is all about!)

Arriving at the bus station in darkness, my taxi driver stopped outside the gates.  I asked my taxi driver to enter the station and drive me directly to the bus.  He would not, saying that it was impossible, taxis were not allowed (my taxi had done so the day before). I was leery to step out into the bus station madness: porters grabbing bags from passengers, bus staff shouting and pulling people this way and that, kids selling things, headlights beaming, engines revving needlessly.  I fought him on it and so he drove me inside the gates. 

I made it to my “luxury” bus without any issues.  The buses were situated in rows and easy to navigate as once one person found out where I was going and with what company, I had 12 escorts. I boarded the bus and found my seat, with someone in it, so I chose another one behind the assigned one. I was relieved to remember that such tasks are often are completed without any major complications. I’ve never personally had a real problem, aside annoyance, but the anecdotes of thefts and such tend to be plenty, so it can get in my head.

From my window seat, I groggily watched the bus station show and silently hoped that the advertised 12 hour ride was indeed 12 and not 20.  Mid thought, all of the buses lurched forward at once! My bus was perpendicular to another row of buses so high beams were screaming through the windows as all of the 50-passenger buses vied for position to leave the station! Buses came within inches of each other as they aggressively jockeyed for departure.

Once into position, we inched toward the gate to begin our 15-hour sweaty bus ride.  I slept most of it, but made sure I was awake as we drove through Mikumi National Park.  Glad I did!  I saw a giraffe, zebras, impalas, and monkeys. (Complementary mini safari with my sweaty bus ride!)

At the border town of Kyela, a nice older woman let me share a two-minute taxi ride with her to a hotel.  I had looked up a few places to stay but in the dark (again bus station madness, taxis and porters trying to steal your business), I thought it best to take her advice and go to the Sitima Inn.  The room was 20,000 TS (about $10) for fairly clean accommodation, en suite bathroom, and breakfast.  Done! Home for the night!

PictureLady trying to sell me fish through the minibus window!
Wednesday, June 17: Kyela to Lilongwe

I woke pretty early, ready to cross the border and get to Malawi.  I waited for the kitchen to open at 6:30am, hoping to scarf down some food and get on my way.  Of course, as I should know by now, Africa doesn’t work with time the same way as the rest of the world.  (One of the women I met in Lilongwe said, “The Dutch have the watches and the Malawians have the time!” – so true for all of the countries I’ve visited in Africa!)  By 8am I ate and was out the door to get a mini bus to the border.  It took me another hour to get to the border… less than 15 kilometers away!  At 9 I made the multistep process to cross the border. 

My taxi driver insisted that I exchange money on the Tanzanian side, when I specifically said I wanted to exchange on the Malawian side.  Either way, I exchanged $50 because the exchange rate they offered was better than the one posted online when I left Dar (black market?). I handed over my passport to a woman at the Tanzania border, got an exit stamp, and went on my way to cross the river to Malawi. 

At the Malawi immigration office I handed over my WHO card and passport.  The woman at the desk who did not look at me… she was watching cartoons the entire time she processed my paperwork!  She’d read a line or two, look at the TV, read a line, TV, put the stamp on the ink pad, TV, look at my passport for stamp placement, TV, stamp my passport, TV, look at my passport, TV, hand me my passport, TV, “Thank you,” TV.  

Outside the door of the immigration office an Izuzu truck offered to take me to Lilongwe direct for 10,000 kwacha ($23).  I politely declined, was pressured into the ride again, and politely declined again.  “Direct! Direct! Only 10,000 kwacha!”  I then was pretty honest and told them that it wasn’t safe for me to travel by Izuzu with one other person, a male driver, whom I did not know. 

As they (they being the people who always want to “help”- some genuine, others most likely not) were escorting me to where the buses lined up, they kept saying “Izuzu 5,000, Izuzu, 5,000!” and I kept saying, “I don’t want an Izuzu!” When we reached the buses the sign in the window said Mzuzu – a city in Malawi! Aha! That is what they were saying!  I had conditioned myself to ask for Karonga, not expecting a bus to go all the way to Mzuzu.  

I am not proud to say I got a little snippy with the people at the border bus station.  They were pushier than the bus station folks in Dar, it seemed!  I had a little flash back to “Ethiopia Sandy”, a Sandy that could get aggressive with the slightest provocation. (I was in Ethiopia for about two years and had developed a severe case of cultural fatigue.)  I chose a bus based on the driver who seemed most gentle in his interactions in order to avoid more time spent pulled by my arms and people grabbing at my things (all ten of them).  I thrust out my hand toward the man and said, “My name is Sandra, what is your name?.... Moses, let’s go.”  I realized I was over reacting and mostly just wanted to get out of the limelight… the only foreigner at the border. 

We departed around 10am and arrived at Mzuzu at 2:30pm.  The lakeside towns made me smile.  I could smell the fish as we drove through and I had many opportunities to buy fish from the bus window.  I relaxed and reminded myself to be open to Malawi for all it is and is not.  

For me, it is important to remind myself to allow Malawi to be its own, instead of trying to box it in with the “Africa” I’ve come to know.  As much as I try to differentiate in conversation with friends and family, it always seems to end up, “Sandy was in Africa” instead of “Sandy was in Ethiopia” or “Sandy is going to Malawi” and thus I find myself resorting to the same phrasing, and in doing so, it curbs my thinking as well.  But I guess that is how we learn the world, by comparison, and so if it weren’t Ethiopia, I’d be saying… “in Thailand.”

Anyway, I made it to Mzuzu, waited four hours for a bus to depart to Lilongwe.  Leaving in the darkness, something I was trying to avoid, I hoped the ride would be without incident (as I hope they all are, of course), as I had never travelled by bus at night in Africa. 

I arrived in Lilongwe at 3 am, was very kindly picked up by the driver of the Kumbali Country Lodge, my hosts for the next two days. 

Thursday, June 18:  Bus lag and Kumbali Country Lodge

I began my Bradt research from here, spending a half a morning to getting organized and putting my brain back on.  Midday, with the help of a Kumbali driver, I began to pop in to places to update the book.  I felt overwhelmed!  I couldn’t have done it without a driver!  So many places and not fast enough legs! Anyway, the main highlights of my stay at Kumbali were the people! My hosts were very kind to me and helped me get situated to really dig into updating.  They “made” me play volleyball and even transferred me to my next location.  Malawi was living up to its reputation: very helpful and friendly people!

PictureBakkie = pickup... trusty wheels for the first bit of my research!
Friday, June 19: Bakkie 



Feeling as though I had wasted a few days getting my head on, asked to pickup the truck I’d be using for the next few weeks a bit early.  I was nervous to learn to drive on the other side of the road, on the other side of the car, and in a new country!  (If you can’t tell already, this week was full of a lot of firsts for me and I had this tingle in my gut saying… hmm this is new… see what happens!)

Well, as I pulled out of the car park in the Nissan diesel pickup (the cage on the back was used to game reserve transport animals at one point), I think the manager of Barefoot Safaris Lilongwe had doubts about my ability to drive… to be fair, as did I!  My left had seemed disconnected from my brain as I tried to shift. I was overthinking it all, staying very far to the left of the road, one tire basically off the tarmac.  I white-knuckled the steering wheel  every time I made a turn, went through a round about, and every time another vehicle would pass me. 


PictureBertrand!




Saturday, June 20: Bertrand, my tour guide! 

While wandering around Lilongwe, I met Bertrand.  He was very familiar with the Bradt guide and with Lilongwe so he offered to wander around with me.  He saved me hours of looking for places that were closed and showed me some new, popular spots.  Big thanks go out to Bertrand for the help!  


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Sunset fishermen at Chia Lagoon
Sunday, June 21: Driving the Lake

Getting to the lakeside to start my northern loop as the sun was setting…

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Bua River at Tongole
Tuesday, June 23: Tongole Wilderness Lodge and the 4 Star Illness

I had a proper welcome from a case of “poo finger” that I picked up from, I believe, a little girl who wandered around Nkhotakota with me.  I had a wonderful first afternoon at Tongole, canoeing the Bua River, watching crocodiles, and enjoying an “MG&T” – Malawi gin and tonic sundowner on the riverbank.  That evening I had a delicious four course meal that I got to taste twice…

No sooner had I gone to bed than I sprang out through the bed net, ran to the toilet and violently tossed my cookies.  I did this every 10-20 minutes until 4am… and my other end decided to join in as well… making it quite the double dragon experience.  I will say, throwing up in a 4star toilet feels the same as it did in Ethiopia… but the other end was comforted with softer tissue! 

Wednesday, June 24: Tongole Recovered

I slept all day… ate a piece of toast for dinner… and then slept all night.


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Bua River
Thursday, June 25: Bua River

Finally well enough to actually enjoy Nkhotakota Wildlife Reserve, I went on a sundowner walk up river to some calm pools.  I woke early the next morning to walk to some waterfalls and watched the crocs some out to bask in the sun.  

Friday, June 26: Ngala Martinis

I left the reserve and made it back to the lakeshore where I promptly dipped in before doing more work.  The owners, Barbs and Alan, and their neighbor, a writer/teacher/ex-banker being properly distracted from his book by Malawi, joined me for dinner and drinks that evening. Our laughter serenaded the setting sun over the playful lake.  What fun folks I’ve been able to meet in my travels!  I’ve had so many engaging conversations, met many light-hearted people, eaten wonderful food, and had many playful moments in my travels so far. I think I like this job…

In the effort to aid Simon, the writer, in his research for his book we made a few martinis with different gins, comparing the local to the import.  Lets just say it was hard to get on my way the next morning!

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Dar es Salaam: A familiar, unfamiliar place.

6/15/2015

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I arrived last night at about 11pm.  My flight was an hour late.  I was tired and anxious to get to the hotel and book a room.  After watching the luggage carousel go round and round for twenty minutes, never producing my bag, I made a claim for lost luggage.  I exchanged some money and prepared myself for airport taxi mayhem.  I had a price in mind but was sure my exhaustion would weaken my resolve to get a price somewhat resembling the local fare.  

Twenty thousand shillings (the posted price was $50 USD or 100,000 TS) and a 15 minute taxi ride later, I was at the front desk of Econo Lodge on Libya Street.  I had stayed there once before when in route to Zanzibar.  I recognized the owner as he was leaving for the night (it was now past midnight).  He was an olive-skinned man with dark circles under his eyes and a thinning dark hair.  When he saw my taxi pull up he turned back toward the hotel. He walked with a purposeful yet relaxed pace, in a commanding, no bull-shit manner. He told the night clerk that it was all right to give me a room and warned that had I been a minute later, I would have had to look elsewhere.

Once in my room, I stripped my traveling clothes and washed my underwear for the next day (I stupidly had not put an extra pair in my carry-on).  I went straight to sleep, the ceiling fan above me whirling the warm seaside air and singing a creaky lullaby as I closed my eyes to Dar es Salaam.   

Today I had one task to accomplish: buy a bus ticket for one of the border towns between Tanzania and Malawi.  I was prepared for it to take the better part of the day and was pleased when I was back in my hotel room around 1pm.  I first walked to Msimbazi Street in search of a bus company I had found online. I was trying to avoid going to the Ubungo bus station.  Of course, the company had closed and I was sent to a hole-in-the-wall ticket office.

After chatting and waiting for the clerk to make some phone calls, I was quoted a price and given a departure time for a town I had not heard of (the buses to Mbeya and to Lilongwe were full).  He assured me it was a border town but something didn’t feel right. I didn’t have a map to reference so I told him I had to go to the bank for money.  I found a hotel with internet and proceeded to research the location of the town.  It was a border town, usually used in transit to Zambia!  I asked the staff in the lobby a few questions, which convinced me to give in to a trip to Ubungo.  I hired a taxi to take me there, wait for me to purchase a ticket, and to return me to Econo Lodge. (I paid 30,000 TS, but this time my tiredness was happy to pay the fare.)

I returned to my hotel with my 40,000 TS ticket for the 12ish hour bus ride. I tried to take a nap but my mind was awake with things to add to my “Malawi Bradt guide-update to-do” list and a bit worried my luggage wouldn’t make it in time for me to catch my 6am bus.  I decided to go out again and exchange more money (to save me from having to do so at the border on my return trip) and buy food for the bus.

On my way back, I bought fresh pressed sugar cane juice at a little stand across from my hotel, just as I had done a few months earlier.  After speed sipping down the sweet juice, I took a two hour nap to kill time.  I was waiting for the street vendors to start up their barbecues! 

As the sky was starting to soften, the streets and I were waking up.  I ventured out again to take in the bustle of the people and get some dinner.  I sat at Lazeez Fast Food, as I had done twice before, and ordered some chicken and chips.  The half chicken, curled neck, wing, breast and drum stick leg, was stained red from the marinade and lightly charred.  I pulled the meat from the bones with my fingers and watched people make their way through the barbecue smoke that floated through the street. 

Their languages filled my ears like dessert.  I sat there long after my meal was finished to have seconds and thirds of unfamiliar.  I watched the fruit vendors wheel their carts of sliced pineapple and watermelon and shout their sales pitch as motorcycles zipped this way and that, overtaking anything and everything in the street.  People tried to sell me socks and books as I watched the taxis negotiate the construction and pedestrians in a forceful, yet delicate, manner.  What lovely chaos!  

In no way can I say that I am familiar with Dar es Salaam.  My knowledge of the town is Libya Street and the ferry.  But, starting this trip off by revisiting a place I had barely known once before made me feel adaptable, resilient, and confident.  Traveling is when I feel most hopeful, inspired, and engaged.  I embrace how open and resourceful I feel when trying to accomplish something in an unfamiliar place.

When the call to prayer echoed through the streets, I thought, “not a bad first day!”

(Please follow my blog for more travel stories as I update the 7th edition of the Malawi Bradt guidebook!)


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