I know I'm far behind on my blogging - I'm not even sure if anyone still checks this! I've had a bit of trouble sleeping the past few nights and have a bit of free time tonight, so I'm hoping that a bit of writing before bed will have the same therapeutic effect it did in Namibia.
I'm back in California and in the midst of Stanford's on-campus interview process. For me, this means 19 law firm interviews in 12 days. Fortunately, all the interviews are held on campus and only 20 minutes apiece. I enjoy meeting people from different firms and it's great to be back on this sunny, beautiful campus with my classmates and friends - and it's surprisingly (scarily) easy to talk about myself day after day.
Unfortunately, I'm growing frustrated with the process and letting it get under my skin more than it should. At this point offers for callback interviews are few and far between, for me and from the sounds of it, for many of my classmates. I try to remind myself I'm surrounded by brilliant, ambitious, kind, and generous people - I'm proud to call myself a Stanford student. But (repeated) rejection is hard no matter how talented the competition. Maybe I should rethink my interest in IP litigation - that seems to be the only practice area that's hiring out here.
Namibia, of course, is a topic of interest. Unlike my blog postings, my interview answers focus mostly on work inside the LAC and less on my extra-cirricular activities. As exotic a place as it may sound to those who aren't familiar with Southern Africa, the more I think about it, what surprised me the most about my experience isn't how different things were in Namibia - it's how similar people are no matter where you go. It's cheesy, and I haven't had to use this response in interviews yet thank goodness, but no matter where I go and how many language / cultural barriers I stumble through, a smile and honest eyes go along way. Even I'm surprised how quickly I felt "normal" in Namibia - even with the safety concerns, I still chatted it up and became friends with cab drivers, made silly faces at babies I passed on the street, flirted in minimal /broken English with the security guard and the LAC, and joked with the housekeeping staff at Puccini about traveling Italians and their fondness for sweet bread and Nutella at breakfast. We're not as different as we think.
Thursday, September 3
Wednesday, August 19
Day 3: Okavango Delta
After two long days of driving, this morning we left our camoflague van behind and traveled in more appropriate modes of transport for the region – first by motor-boat and then by traditional mokoro (dugout canoe). The Okavango Delta is the only inland lagoon in the world – an amazing marshy expanse filled with beautiful birds, hippos, elephants, and crocodiles.
We enjoyed breakfast in the lodge while watching the sun rise over the delta – what a way to start the morning! We climbed in a motorboat for a 40-minute ride to an island in the delta where our mokoros and rowers were waiting. Mokoros carry three people, two seated passengers and one “driver.” The driver stands in the rear of the canoe and uses a long wooden pole to propel and steer the mokoro through the reeds and twisting channels through the delta. Traditional mokoros are hand-carved from wood – I was surprised to see ours looked a bit shiny. One of the guides explained they now use fiberglass, because the wood in the traditional canoes rots very quickly and it’s hard to find trees large enough to carve the canoe.
This was one of my favorite parts of the trip – the water was amazingly clear, the day was gorgeous, and I felt like we had the entire delta to ourselves. I shared a mokoro with Greg, the Australian teaching math in Azerbaijan, and our driver happened to be the leader of the group, so our mokoro got to go in front.
We didn’t see any hippos but we did see a number of elephants, which is unusual – our guide said we were a very lucky group. The coolest moment of the day was when a male elephant emerged from the grasses on an island fairly close to our mokoro – he looked straight at us and flapped his ears (a sign he’s angry) before retreating back in to the grass. So cool.
The boat land / launch area was on a little island with all these gorgeous hanging trees - for some reason, it reminded me of the little secluded island area where the "Kiss the Girl" song from the Little Mermaid takes place.
We enjoyed breakfast in the lodge while watching the sun rise over the delta – what a way to start the morning! We climbed in a motorboat for a 40-minute ride to an island in the delta where our mokoros and rowers were waiting. Mokoros carry three people, two seated passengers and one “driver.” The driver stands in the rear of the canoe and uses a long wooden pole to propel and steer the mokoro through the reeds and twisting channels through the delta. Traditional mokoros are hand-carved from wood – I was surprised to see ours looked a bit shiny. One of the guides explained they now use fiberglass, because the wood in the traditional canoes rots very quickly and it’s hard to find trees large enough to carve the canoe.
This was one of my favorite parts of the trip – the water was amazingly clear, the day was gorgeous, and I felt like we had the entire delta to ourselves. I shared a mokoro with Greg, the Australian teaching math in Azerbaijan, and our driver happened to be the leader of the group, so our mokoro got to go in front. We didn’t see any hippos but we did see a number of elephants, which is unusual – our guide said we were a very lucky group. The coolest moment of the day was when a male elephant emerged from the grasses on an island fairly close to our mokoro – he looked straight at us and flapped his ears (a sign he’s angry) before retreating back in to the grass. So cool. The boat land / launch area was on a little island with all these gorgeous hanging trees - for some reason, it reminded me of the little secluded island area where the "Kiss the Girl" song from the Little Mermaid takes place. 
Out of Africa
One full week I’ve been back from Namibia and in some ways the entire experience is starting to feel like a distant but extremely detailed dream.
I’m far behind on my blog updates – and apologies for the delay. Amid the excitement of coming home, I managed to come down with a horrid bug of some unidentified variety, but it’s kept me under the weather and in the bathroom for the past four days. Go figure. I drink tap water and eat everything from zebra to crocodile the three months in Africa and get violently sick a few days after coming home. I’ve been on Cippro for two days and am starting to feel human and energetic again.
I have much more to write, including overall thoughts and reflections on the experience, but I’ll finish writing about my safari first, since I started typing out those entries before I left. More to come…
I’m far behind on my blog updates – and apologies for the delay. Amid the excitement of coming home, I managed to come down with a horrid bug of some unidentified variety, but it’s kept me under the weather and in the bathroom for the past four days. Go figure. I drink tap water and eat everything from zebra to crocodile the three months in Africa and get violently sick a few days after coming home. I’ve been on Cippro for two days and am starting to feel human and energetic again.
I have much more to write, including overall thoughts and reflections on the experience, but I’ll finish writing about my safari first, since I started typing out those entries before I left. More to come…
Friday, August 7
Day 2: Ghanzi --> Camp Guma, Okavango Delta (450 km) “Nice beef steak for lunch?”
I didn’t sleep well that first night. I slept in socks, which I hate to do, but my feet were so cold they hurt, and it kept me up most of the night. We had a 5am wake-up call to pack up camp and hit the road, so we also took down our tents in the dark. While waiting to heat up the tea kettle for breakfast, our group bonded while engaging in some spastic aerobics to try to warm up, including the jumping jacks and the “penguin” (shoulder shrugging with straight arms and hands pointed out while doing small knee-bends).
Driving through western Botswana gives one a new sense of what it means to be rural. We spent several hours driving through communal farm land which, unlike commercial farm land, does not have fencing to keep the animals inside. Periodically, Manni (our nickname for our guide Immanuel) would honk and slow down to wait for a group of cattle or goats to cross the road or move away from the shoulder of the road. After one particularly close encounter with a large bull, we swerved off the road and I’m pretty sure the tires on the left side of the van left the pavement. It was pretty scary – even in our big van, those horns could do some damage. After pulling the car back on the road, Manni got on the intercom and said, in his heavily accented voice, “We have a nice beef steak for lunch.”
We eventually reached some sort of cattle boundary perimeter – you aren’t allowed to bring any meat across the lines because of foot and mouth disease. To protect against transmission of the disease, I guess, we all got out of the car and wiped our feet on a wet mat. Hmm.
We were delighted to arrive at a small town near our camp just after lunch, where we met the owner who came to pick us up in a massive truck with four-wheel drive. Because of the flooding and the sandy terrain, our truck wouldn’t be able to make it from the town to the camp site.
The lodge / reception area was stunning – a large wooden deck overlooked the peaceful, crystal waters of the Okavango Delta. After some coffee and tea on the deck, Manni led us on a “bush walk”. We followed a pair of fresh elephant tracks for a while, to no avail, but did see a lot of beautiful birds. I had no idea elephants could be so destructive! It looked like we were following a tornado trail – entire trees snapped in half, even a small abandoned settlement where two of the houses were partially smashed by an elephant. Some of the group saw some type of rare snake, but I hid at the back of the group behind Matthew, our camping assistant… no thanks. 
This next picture is of me and Vipka, the Namibian-German girl studying to be a vet, and my tent-buddy for the trip.
Sunset, drinks by the water front and a dinner of spaghetti Bolognese in our bellies, we all dressed a bit warmer that night and slept quite peacefully our first evening in Botswana.
Driving through western Botswana gives one a new sense of what it means to be rural. We spent several hours driving through communal farm land which, unlike commercial farm land, does not have fencing to keep the animals inside. Periodically, Manni (our nickname for our guide Immanuel) would honk and slow down to wait for a group of cattle or goats to cross the road or move away from the shoulder of the road. After one particularly close encounter with a large bull, we swerved off the road and I’m pretty sure the tires on the left side of the van left the pavement. It was pretty scary – even in our big van, those horns could do some damage. After pulling the car back on the road, Manni got on the intercom and said, in his heavily accented voice, “We have a nice beef steak for lunch.”
We eventually reached some sort of cattle boundary perimeter – you aren’t allowed to bring any meat across the lines because of foot and mouth disease. To protect against transmission of the disease, I guess, we all got out of the car and wiped our feet on a wet mat. Hmm.
We were delighted to arrive at a small town near our camp just after lunch, where we met the owner who came to pick us up in a massive truck with four-wheel drive. Because of the flooding and the sandy terrain, our truck wouldn’t be able to make it from the town to the camp site.
The lodge / reception area was stunning – a large wooden deck overlooked the peaceful, crystal waters of the Okavango Delta. After some coffee and tea on the deck, Manni led us on a “bush walk”. We followed a pair of fresh elephant tracks for a while, to no avail, but did see a lot of beautiful birds. I had no idea elephants could be so destructive! It looked like we were following a tornado trail – entire trees snapped in half, even a small abandoned settlement where two of the houses were partially smashed by an elephant. Some of the group saw some type of rare snake, but I hid at the back of the group behind Matthew, our camping assistant… no thanks. 
This next picture is of me and Vipka, the Namibian-German girl studying to be a vet, and my tent-buddy for the trip. 
Sunset, drinks by the water front and a dinner of spaghetti Bolognese in our bellies, we all dressed a bit warmer that night and slept quite peacefully our first evening in Botswana.
Day 1: Windhoek --> Ghanzi, Botswana (600 km) – “Trekking the Trans Kalahari”
Over a quick Puccini House breakfast of yogurt and toast, Brooke and I said our goodbyes and spent the last few minutes stuffing supplies / goodies in one another’s bags. Her boyfriend Chad flew in from Minnesota the previous evening and they were heading off the same morning for a 14-day do-it-yourself tour de force of Namibia. It was a happy coincidence we left the same morning – we’ve grown pretty close the past few weeks and I would have been a little lonely here without her. Knowing I didn’t pack many winter / camping clothes, Brooke gave me a knit hat to wear – which ended up coming in really handy. I didn’t have any “practical” items for her, but I wanted her to enjoy some good music during the drive, and gave her my new collection of Namibian CDs (Gazza, Winnie Khumalo, and The Dogg).
The Wild Dog van was larger than I expected – the 14 people fit comfortably on the bus, and the large windows let us enjoy the beautiful views and some warm sunlight. The itinerary for today was a long drive east on the Trans Kalahari Highway – one of the major highways in Namibia, but you won’t see a car more than once every ten minutes, if that. We stopped for groceries and gas in Gobabis, the same town we visited on our weekend trip to Harnas, and one of the main livestock farming centers of Namibia.
Equipped with some plum ice tea and a Cadbury rum raisin chocolate bar, I was ready to hit the road after our allotted 20 minutes in town. Still sitting on the bus nearly 90 minutes later, our group was starting to feel hot and bothered. We were missing one of the Dutch couples, Bjorn and **, but I will refer to them as the money couple from now on. They did not have US dollars, which we needed for the border crossing in to Zambia, and for some reason, decided to search for a bank in town known for livestock farming without telling our guides. They showed up to the bus apologetic, but blamed the bank’s inefficiency and lack foreign currency for the delay – I think they forgot we were in rural Namibia? All that waiting and still no US dollars.
Back on the road, we quickly resumed our good spirits and soon reached the border with Botswana. We became quite familiar with the “border song and dance” over the next few days. First, you park the van, enter a small building, fill out a form to leave Namibia, wait in line, get a stamp. You drive maybe 400 meters to the next parking lot, fill out a different form to enter Botswana, wait in line while two employees at the station mill about while only one looks at passports (regardless of the line size), and you eventually get your passport stamped.
I was a little nervous about my visa and my stomach dropped a little bit when the large Botswana border guard placed my passport face down on his table and looked up at me with a stern face. Oh no, I thought, I’m going to get deported. Everyone in front of me in line had their forms stamped with no conversation or eye contact… All of a sudden he broke in to a toothy grin (half filled with gold teeth) and said, “OBAMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAA!” Oh thank goodness. I smiled back and said “Oh yes, OBAMA!!” He asked, “When do you go back to US?” stamped my passport and smiled again. Everyone here loves Obama!
After our grocery delay, we arrived at camp after dark. Not only was it dark, but it gets darn cold in the desert at night. Wearing two pairs of sweatpants, a tank top under two long sleeve shirts, a sweater, and Brooke’s hat, I still felt cold. Our guides made a delicious dinner over the campfire – a creamy chicken curry stew, mixed vegetables, and rice. While dinner was cooking, we heard some clapping and singing near the reception hut. Another tour group had apparently arranged for some tribal dancing as evening entertainment – no one seemed to mine Ellen, Mi-Mi, and I also watching the show. Ellen is an American who has been working in Congo for the past three years with wildlife conservation and Mi-Mi is a Danish student who has been working in Cape Town for the past six months.
The campground had “open air” bathrooms, basically a three-sided structure made of reeds without a roof, but with flush toilets and running water inside AND a towel to wipe your hands. Normally two out of four and you feel pretty lucky (toilet paper, functioning flush, hand soap, and something to wash your hands). To avoid an awkward encounter, you usually needed to sing, hum, or clap while on the toilet, which is a little awkward. What song would you sing on the toilet?
The Wild Dog van was larger than I expected – the 14 people fit comfortably on the bus, and the large windows let us enjoy the beautiful views and some warm sunlight. The itinerary for today was a long drive east on the Trans Kalahari Highway – one of the major highways in Namibia, but you won’t see a car more than once every ten minutes, if that. We stopped for groceries and gas in Gobabis, the same town we visited on our weekend trip to Harnas, and one of the main livestock farming centers of Namibia.
Equipped with some plum ice tea and a Cadbury rum raisin chocolate bar, I was ready to hit the road after our allotted 20 minutes in town. Still sitting on the bus nearly 90 minutes later, our group was starting to feel hot and bothered. We were missing one of the Dutch couples, Bjorn and **, but I will refer to them as the money couple from now on. They did not have US dollars, which we needed for the border crossing in to Zambia, and for some reason, decided to search for a bank in town known for livestock farming without telling our guides. They showed up to the bus apologetic, but blamed the bank’s inefficiency and lack foreign currency for the delay – I think they forgot we were in rural Namibia? All that waiting and still no US dollars.
Back on the road, we quickly resumed our good spirits and soon reached the border with Botswana. We became quite familiar with the “border song and dance” over the next few days. First, you park the van, enter a small building, fill out a form to leave Namibia, wait in line, get a stamp. You drive maybe 400 meters to the next parking lot, fill out a different form to enter Botswana, wait in line while two employees at the station mill about while only one looks at passports (regardless of the line size), and you eventually get your passport stamped.
I was a little nervous about my visa and my stomach dropped a little bit when the large Botswana border guard placed my passport face down on his table and looked up at me with a stern face. Oh no, I thought, I’m going to get deported. Everyone in front of me in line had their forms stamped with no conversation or eye contact… All of a sudden he broke in to a toothy grin (half filled with gold teeth) and said, “OBAMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAA!” Oh thank goodness. I smiled back and said “Oh yes, OBAMA!!” He asked, “When do you go back to US?” stamped my passport and smiled again. Everyone here loves Obama!
After our grocery delay, we arrived at camp after dark. Not only was it dark, but it gets darn cold in the desert at night. Wearing two pairs of sweatpants, a tank top under two long sleeve shirts, a sweater, and Brooke’s hat, I still felt cold. Our guides made a delicious dinner over the campfire – a creamy chicken curry stew, mixed vegetables, and rice. While dinner was cooking, we heard some clapping and singing near the reception hut. Another tour group had apparently arranged for some tribal dancing as evening entertainment – no one seemed to mine Ellen, Mi-Mi, and I also watching the show. Ellen is an American who has been working in Congo for the past three years with wildlife conservation and Mi-Mi is a Danish student who has been working in Cape Town for the past six months.
The campground had “open air” bathrooms, basically a three-sided structure made of reeds without a roof, but with flush toilets and running water inside AND a towel to wipe your hands. Normally two out of four and you feel pretty lucky (toilet paper, functioning flush, hand soap, and something to wash your hands). To avoid an awkward encounter, you usually needed to sing, hum, or clap while on the toilet, which is a little awkward. What song would you sing on the toilet?
Wednesday, August 5
There's No Place Like Home
(The pictures are taken from the bridge next to Wernhil Park Mall - where I buy my groceries - just around the corner from Puccini House)One week from today I'll be home. Before I do the recap of my 10-day adventure, I thought I'd mention how excited I am to get back to the US. Part of me wishes I had more time - I know I could spend another 12 weeks here and still enjoy it, but a big part of me is itching to go home!
A few things in particular really stand out - my housing situation being at the top of the list. I am excited to go back to my parents' "real" house and set myself up in a "real" apartment on campus, and know that any mess in the kitchen is my own! I go back and forth between feeling like a traveling teenager (I carry my shower equipment in a caddy - I'm staying in a hostel after all) and a quasi-legal professional.
I'm excited to see my family and friends. Three months apart isn't all that unusual, but it feels longer here.
I'm excited to feel safe again. I feel a lot more comfortable in the city than I did when I first moved here, but I still get dressed most mornings thinking "How can I minimize my chances of getting mugged?" and putting anything I need to carry to work in a clear plastic shopping bag.
I'm excited to run outside!
I'm excited for extended hours of daylight and summer nights. I'm excited for our garden vegetables and fresh corn on the cob every day. I'm excited to eat my mom's cooking and drink good beer with my brother and sister. I'm excited to tell stories and share pictures of my Namibian escapades.
I'm excited to come home.
Sunday, August 2
Back Safe and Sound
What an amazing ten days. I won’t be able to do justice to the adventures and amazement of my Delta / Falls trip, but I’ll do my best in the next week to provide a rough overview. For now, I’m happy to be back at Puccini with a hot shower, no mosquitoes, and a bed I don’t have to roll up in the morning.
I’ll begin with a picture from the ending – here’s a picture of my traveling companions on our last night together in Livingstone, Zambia. Our group almost looked like a family – 11 out of the 14 travelers had blond hair and blue eyes. We had two couples and a mother-daughter from Holland, two friends and a couple from Denmark, an Australian teaching in Azerbaijan, an American working in Congo, a German girl studying to be a vet, and me. Great group led by two great guides – Manni (short for Emmanuel) and Matthew, both Namibian (and Ovambo – I was proud of myself for recognizing they were speaking Oshivambo to each other).
Each day was an adventure, but here are a few of my favorite moments of the entire trip:
- spotting a grouchy male elephant while riding in a mokoro (dug-out canoe) - - terrifying but awesome
- waking up in the middle of the night to hear a hippo munching the grass in our campsite
- getting stopped on the road by a Zambian policeman with an AK-47 to ‘request’ donations for local church
- being serenaded by a Botswana immigration / border agent for being an ‘American Girl’
- enjoying a creatively prepared “Bush Apple Pie” for desert over the campfire – our guides were wonderful cooks
- sipping an amarula martini while watching the sunset over the mist from Victoria Falls with a Dutch television star
- breaking in to a spontaneous rap about fifty dollar bills with Ellen after a failed attempt to exchange our Zambian kwacha
- ignoring my fear of heights and braving a micro-flight over Victoria Falls
I’ll begin with a picture from the ending – here’s a picture of my traveling companions on our last night together in Livingstone, Zambia. Our group almost looked like a family – 11 out of the 14 travelers had blond hair and blue eyes. We had two couples and a mother-daughter from Holland, two friends and a couple from Denmark, an Australian teaching in Azerbaijan, an American working in Congo, a German girl studying to be a vet, and me. Great group led by two great guides – Manni (short for Emmanuel) and Matthew, both Namibian (and Ovambo – I was proud of myself for recognizing they were speaking Oshivambo to each other).
Each day was an adventure, but here are a few of my favorite moments of the entire trip:
- spotting a grouchy male elephant while riding in a mokoro (dug-out canoe) - - terrifying but awesome
- waking up in the middle of the night to hear a hippo munching the grass in our campsite
- getting stopped on the road by a Zambian policeman with an AK-47 to ‘request’ donations for local church
- being serenaded by a Botswana immigration / border agent for being an ‘American Girl’
- enjoying a creatively prepared “Bush Apple Pie” for desert over the campfire – our guides were wonderful cooks
- sipping an amarula martini while watching the sunset over the mist from Victoria Falls with a Dutch television star
- breaking in to a spontaneous rap about fifty dollar bills with Ellen after a failed attempt to exchange our Zambian kwacha
- ignoring my fear of heights and braving a micro-flight over Victoria Falls
Thursday, July 23
Gearing Up and Winding Down
Three weeks from today (and barring any flight delays) I'll be home in Bergen. In the words of another Stanford-ite spending the summer in Africa, "I'm both dreading and dying to come home." I miss my family and friends, balmy summer nights (and sunlight past 5pm!), running with my iPod, a bathroom with a door that fully closes where I can keep my shampoo every night, to name a few. I knew time would fly here, but this is such an amazing experience I'm trying to savor every morsel of it - who knows when I'll be able to come back?
After a busy few weeks, work is winding down. Today Willem and I submitted our draft legal report to the rest of the environmental assessment team for review and comments. It's a beast of a thing - nearly 70 pages, single spaced, 1 inch margins, Times New Roman 11 font.
Meanwhile, I'm busy preparing for some personal travel. Tomorrow morning I'm leaving for my mini-holiday / present-to-myself : an 10-Day safari through the Okavango Delta to Victoria Falls! I'm going with a local tour company - Wild Dog and Crazy Kudu Safaris - I've heard wonderful things about them from other guests. You can read more about our trip itinerary here. I'm ridiculously excited, especially about riding in a Mokoro (traditional dug-out canoe), I really hope there aren't any snakes in the water - eek!
I'll have lots of updates and stories when I get back... wish me safe travels!
After a busy few weeks, work is winding down. Today Willem and I submitted our draft legal report to the rest of the environmental assessment team for review and comments. It's a beast of a thing - nearly 70 pages, single spaced, 1 inch margins, Times New Roman 11 font.
Meanwhile, I'm busy preparing for some personal travel. Tomorrow morning I'm leaving for my mini-holiday / present-to-myself : an 10-Day safari through the Okavango Delta to Victoria Falls! I'm going with a local tour company - Wild Dog and Crazy Kudu Safaris - I've heard wonderful things about them from other guests. You can read more about our trip itinerary here. I'm ridiculously excited, especially about riding in a Mokoro (traditional dug-out canoe), I really hope there aren't any snakes in the water - eek!
I'll have lots of updates and stories when I get back... wish me safe travels!
Inquiring Minds Want to Know
Will increased uranium mining destroy the Namib Desert? Will the construction of four new mines negatively affect the tourism industry?
For some background reading, here's a news article about our project I came across in the news.
For some background reading, here's a news article about our project I came across in the news.
Monday, July 20
Windhoek Wins for Worst Drivers
NYC, DC, and
NYC usually has enough traffic or enough other drivers to cross the road without fearing for your life. Similarly in
Unlike these cities,
Regardless of what the lights say, pedestrians never have the right of way here. If you dare to cross the road at all, you are in the way, so do not expect anyone to stop or slow down for you. Believe me, this isn't the
I still walk to and from work every day - I need (and enjoy) that mental space between home and the office. At every intersection though, I sprint when it's time to cross the street. I probably look crazy, but I'm determined to make it home in one piece!
Friday, July 17
The Dunes at Sossusvlei
Unless I'm catching an early morning flight, there's not much that can get me out of bed at 4 in the morning. But after Chad's wake-up call at 4:30 Saturday morning, I found myself singing Billy Joel's "In the Middle of the Night" in my sleeping bag. After a quick cup of coffee and a biscuit (cookie), we were headed off see the sunrise over the famous sand dunes in Namib Naukluft National Park, home to Sossusvlei, Deadvlei and the apricot-colored sand dunes. First declared as a game reserve in 1907, the Park now covers 50,000 square km of one of the oldest deserts on earth, and is one of the largest national parks in Africa.
Driving from Camp Agama to the gates of the Park, we were surprised to see so many dark and ominous clouds but not a hint of sunlight at 6 in the morning. Unbelievably, it started to rain. In Chad's twenty years of experience taking groups to Sossusvlei, this was one of the only times he'd ever seen rain inside the dunes in the middle of winter (the dry season). At the first stop inside the park, where Chad normally stops for the group to take photos of the sun rising above the dunes and admire the contrasts and colors of the morning, we stood in the cold, misty morning and glared at the grayish sky, less than thrilled about our "unique" experience.
Moods quickly changed once we got to Dune 45, one of the more famous dunes and a popular one to climb (and a decent workout at 80 meters through sand). The sun started to come out and we really started to appreciate the clouds once we got climbing.
Though Dune 45 was only our first stop inside the park, my pictures stop here. Though I'd been warned to be extremely careful on the dunes with my camera, a bit of sand got caught inside the lens gears while I ran down the side of the dune (even though it was closed and sealed inside my pocked). I was crushed - I don't have photos of the most scenic parks of the trip - our climb of the Crazy Dune (the highest in the world at 388 meters high) and Deadvlei, the surrealistic-looking pan with camel thorn trees over 1000 years old.
Driving from Camp Agama to the gates of the Park, we were surprised to see so many dark and ominous clouds but not a hint of sunlight at 6 in the morning. Unbelievably, it started to rain. In Chad's twenty years of experience taking groups to Sossusvlei, this was one of the only times he'd ever seen rain inside the dunes in the middle of winter (the dry season). At the first stop inside the park, where Chad normally stops for the group to take photos of the sun rising above the dunes and admire the contrasts and colors of the morning, we stood in the cold, misty morning and glared at the grayish sky, less than thrilled about our "unique" experience.
Moods quickly changed once we got to Dune 45, one of the more famous dunes and a popular one to climb (and a decent workout at 80 meters through sand). The sun started to come out and we really started to appreciate the clouds once we got climbing.
Though Dune 45 was only our first stop inside the park, my pictures stop here. Though I'd been warned to be extremely careful on the dunes with my camera, a bit of sand got caught inside the lens gears while I ran down the side of the dune (even though it was closed and sealed inside my pocked). I was crushed - I don't have photos of the most scenic parks of the trip - our climb of the Crazy Dune (the highest in the world at 388 meters high) and Deadvlei, the surrealistic-looking pan with camel thorn trees over 1000 years old. 
Thursday, July 16
En Route to Soussvlei
Last weekend I enjoyed the best scenery I've seen yet: the Dunes at Sossusvlei. Unfortunately, I came back from the trip with a broken camera (stupid sand!) and it might be a while before I have new photos to share, so I'm going to do a full post with photos of the trip there before posting photos of the actual dunes.
The owner of Travel Bug Safaris, Chad, was our guide for the trip, his humor and love for his job made things extra special. We had quite the international crew as travel companions - besides Kaylan, me, and Kaylan's two friends from Stanford, we had an Australian globe-trotter (taking a year off to travel, he'd just spend 6 weeks in India), a South Korean chemistry student on holiday, a Franco-German working in Windhoek temporarily. Since Chad is South African, we did quite well with the Continental representation (except for South America).
Leaving Windhoek Friday morning, we headed south-west through the Khomas Hochland highlands to the edge of the Great Escarpment, the dividing range which also crosses Angola, South Africa, Lesotho, Swaziland, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe. This major geographic feature separates the high plateaus of the southern African interior from the coastal lowlands. While munching on sandwiches for lunch, we enjoyed the dramatic view from the top of the Spreetshoogte Pass. Ham and salami are very popular sandwich meats here, good luck finding turkey. Also, I was a little bummed we didn't have any mustard or mayo for our sandwiches... until I discovered dijon mustard cream cheese. The texture was what we'd call "whipped" in the states so it was easy to spread and had little hunks of mustard seed in it. It felt weird to put cream cheese on a sandwich, but then again, most sandwiches are buttered here, and it ended up being really tasty.
The owner of Travel Bug Safaris, Chad, was our guide for the trip, his humor and love for his job made things extra special. We had quite the international crew as travel companions - besides Kaylan, me, and Kaylan's two friends from Stanford, we had an Australian globe-trotter (taking a year off to travel, he'd just spend 6 weeks in India), a South Korean chemistry student on holiday, a Franco-German working in Windhoek temporarily. Since Chad is South African, we did quite well with the Continental representation (except for South America).
Leaving Windhoek Friday morning, we headed south-west through the Khomas Hochland highlands to the edge of the Great Escarpment, the dividing range which also crosses Angola, South Africa, Lesotho, Swaziland, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe. This major geographic feature separates the high plateaus of the southern African interior from the coastal lowlands. While munching on sandwiches for lunch, we enjoyed the dramatic view from the top of the Spreetshoogte Pass. Ham and salami are very popular sandwich meats here, good luck finding turkey. Also, I was a little bummed we didn't have any mustard or mayo for our sandwiches... until I discovered dijon mustard cream cheese. The texture was what we'd call "whipped" in the states so it was easy to spread and had little hunks of mustard seed in it. It felt weird to put cream cheese on a sandwich, but then again, most sandwiches are buttered here, and it ended up being really tasty.
After descending the steep and scary roads through the Spreetshoogte Pass, I was happy to be on the flat land and enjoyed the view of the Namib Desert. After about an hour's drive, we stopped at tiny oasis town aptly called Solitaire – well known for its bakery and homemade apple pie. Good thing Kaylan and I split a piece... this was more like an apple experience than a traditional pie, per se. There was a crusty, buttery layer at the bottom, topped with some sort of rich, carmel-y, buttery custard, then cinnamon and sugar apples, more of the creamy custard, brown-sugar & butter crumb topping, and garnished with some homeade whipped cream. Wow.
After apple pie and coffee in Solitaire, it was only a forty-minute drive to Camp Agama. The Camp is situated at the base of the Naukluft Mountains and is just plain gorgeous. Since Chad brings a group every week, there were huge dome tents already set up for us - it felt like a palace after Brooke, Kaylan, and I shared the teeny 2-person tent in Harnas last weekend, we could stand up in this one! Since setting up camp was a breeze, we had the rest of the afternoon to take a walk and enjoy the scenery (and sunshine).
I'm not sure if Kaylan and I were still giddy / delirious from the apple pie or just feeling patriotic, here's us giving a little tribute the States in front of the Naukluft Mountains.
Nothing like a sundowner and an African sunset... breathtaking.
Everybody Needs a Little
After two months in Windhoek I finally did it. Today marks my first trip to Kentucky Fried Chicken.
I'm not normally a KFC-fanatic, truth be told I can't remember the last time I went to a KFC in the U.S. But it's been a hard week. Work has been crazy, the weather is still pretty darn cold, and some very messy guests have left the Puccini House kitchen in a state of disarray the past few nights, so I've been too grossed out with the mess or too annoyed to try to cook dinner the past few nights (Ryan, the beef jerky you sent came in handy). I'm in good spirits, but have also felt a little bit homesick this week. I'll be home in less than one month (!), and to steal a line from a fellow Stanford-ite in Africa, "I'm both dreading and dying to come home." I am having an incredible experience here, and the longer I'm here the longer I wish I could stay, but I miss friends and family from home - there's definitely a part of me itching to get back to the US of A.
KFC is the only major US fast-food chain in Namibia. No Starbucks, no McDonald's, no Burger King, definitely no Taco Bell (or any Mexican food that I can find, for that matter). There are several local food chains, Nandoo's (peri-peri chicken), King Pie (flaky-pastry sandwiches filled with various types of meat), and Hungry Lion (haven't tried, mostly fried chicken). People rave about Nandoo's and I think I need to give it another shot - when Kaylan and I went last month, the chicken and fries were slightly below expectations, though the sauces they use are quite tasty. At one point, I made a promise to myself I wouldn't go to KFC until I tried all the local fast food chains and some type of street meat from the sidewalk vendors, but Brooke with her public health expertise gave me a mini-lecture on the sanitation practices of street meat vendors, and I decided to hold off on that idea. Maybe once before I leave.
I've thought about going to KFC before - there's one I pass everyday on my way to the gym, and there's something about the smell of the Colonel's secret recipe at 5 in the afternoon that really makes my mouth water. The line usually scares me away though, no matter what time of the day it is, the line is usually out the door. Today seemed like a good for a treat.
I think violated some Namibian lunch-time norm by ordering chicken strips instead of the regular chicken pieces, because I had to wait at the counter for nearly ten minutes after placing my order, mouth watering while fried chicken and chips (the local word for fries) went flying off the counter. The twenty-minute walk (one way) and twenty minute wait in line were worth it... 3 crispy chicken strips, BBQ sauce, and a large salad (cole slaw) = lunchtime bliss. The only thing that could have possibly made it better was a massive fountain Diet Coke, but only Fanta and regular Coke cans in this KFC.
(Happy Birthday Dad!)
I'm not normally a KFC-fanatic, truth be told I can't remember the last time I went to a KFC in the U.S. But it's been a hard week. Work has been crazy, the weather is still pretty darn cold, and some very messy guests have left the Puccini House kitchen in a state of disarray the past few nights, so I've been too grossed out with the mess or too annoyed to try to cook dinner the past few nights (Ryan, the beef jerky you sent came in handy). I'm in good spirits, but have also felt a little bit homesick this week. I'll be home in less than one month (!), and to steal a line from a fellow Stanford-ite in Africa, "I'm both dreading and dying to come home." I am having an incredible experience here, and the longer I'm here the longer I wish I could stay, but I miss friends and family from home - there's definitely a part of me itching to get back to the US of A.
KFC is the only major US fast-food chain in Namibia. No Starbucks, no McDonald's, no Burger King, definitely no Taco Bell (or any Mexican food that I can find, for that matter). There are several local food chains, Nandoo's (peri-peri chicken), King Pie (flaky-pastry sandwiches filled with various types of meat), and Hungry Lion (haven't tried, mostly fried chicken). People rave about Nandoo's and I think I need to give it another shot - when Kaylan and I went last month, the chicken and fries were slightly below expectations, though the sauces they use are quite tasty. At one point, I made a promise to myself I wouldn't go to KFC until I tried all the local fast food chains and some type of street meat from the sidewalk vendors, but Brooke with her public health expertise gave me a mini-lecture on the sanitation practices of street meat vendors, and I decided to hold off on that idea. Maybe once before I leave.
I've thought about going to KFC before - there's one I pass everyday on my way to the gym, and there's something about the smell of the Colonel's secret recipe at 5 in the afternoon that really makes my mouth water. The line usually scares me away though, no matter what time of the day it is, the line is usually out the door. Today seemed like a good for a treat.
I think violated some Namibian lunch-time norm by ordering chicken strips instead of the regular chicken pieces, because I had to wait at the counter for nearly ten minutes after placing my order, mouth watering while fried chicken and chips (the local word for fries) went flying off the counter. The twenty-minute walk (one way) and twenty minute wait in line were worth it... 3 crispy chicken strips, BBQ sauce, and a large salad (cole slaw) = lunchtime bliss. The only thing that could have possibly made it better was a massive fountain Diet Coke, but only Fanta and regular Coke cans in this KFC.
(Happy Birthday Dad!)
Wednesday, July 15
Tea Time is My Favorite Time
Willem just asked me to attend a conference with him next Monday and I'm already excited about Tea Time.Tea Time in Namibia is more than just tea - it's a regular meal, and conferences usually have TWO (in addition to lunch), one around 10am and the other around 3pm. When I attended a 3-day workshop my second week here, I was blown away (delightfully so) at the amount of food served with our tea and coffee. In the morning, they would usually set out several platters of open-faced sandwiches - crusty halves of mini-loaves spread with butter (all sandwiches here begin with butter) and topped with ham and cheese, salami with olives, egg salad, or a raw meat mixture I wasn't brave enough to try. After a full lunch at 1, the second round of tea is usually includes some sort of sweet cookie treat, and of course, coffee, Rooibos tea, and cream. This is par for the course for any conference or meeting in Namibia. Makes you wonder a bit, though, about the money spent on all this food, especially when it's a group of non-profits or government agencies getting together... it seems like an excessive misallocation of funds and food considering the poverty here. I have more thoughts on this, perhaps I should save it for a separate entry.
At any rate, I do love my tea time and recently institutied a modified version of the practice with Victor and Lucia. Every day around 10, I have a cup of Rooibos tea and some rusks, a South African food that is basically a rectangular, hard, dry biscuit (or twice-baked bread) and dipped in tea. According to Wikipedia, rusks were used extensively during times of war and long-distance travel as a way to preserve bread in the dry climate. So far, I've tried the Muesli, Lemon-Poppyseed (my favorite), and Wheat flavors... next on the list is the Sweetened Condensed Milk flavor. Yum.
I felt proud yesterday morning when another lawyer in the office said she was "happy to see me drinking Rooibos tea - most of the other visitors don't like it." I do love the tea, but I think I like the idea of rusks more than the actual taste. Oh well, I think it makes my co-workers happy when I bring in treats, and it's a good morning snack. After all, when in Rome...
Tuesday, July 14
It is a Constitution We Are Expounding
(I'm a nerd. For the non-legal readers of this post, the title of this blog is a line from Justice Marshall in the Marbury v. Madison opinion. The picture is the Namibian Coat of Arms.)I've been doing a lot of research on the Namibian Constitution. Willem gave me several books and pamphlets on the Constitution to read "for background and perspective"; like most Namibians, he is very proud of the Constitution. The best book out of the bunch is a book entitled "The Namibian Constitution in Perspective" by Joseph Diescho. It's worth quoting a few lines in full to give you a sense of the reverence for the Constitution here:
The entire process that led to the adoption of what Namibians have come to call the "Mother of All Laws" has been hailed throughout the world as the most democratic exercise in the history of Africa ...
The adoption of the Constitution of the Republic of Namibia on 9 February 1990 ushered in a new understanding and appreciation of governance with responsibility in the entire region of South Africa, it not all of Africa. The collapse of dictatorial rule in Eastern Europe towards the end of 1989 signaled to African rulers that their heavy reliance on foreign governments to control their people was coming to an end. It was against the background of the three-decade-long struggle for independence and great events the world over in 1989 that the people of Namibia wrote their own constitution as the fundamental legal framework upon which their future was to be built.
A few interesting tidbits about the Constitution:
- Non-Sexist Language: The final version of the Constitution uses "he or she" throughout, the result of lobbying by women activists through their policitical structures. Kathleen Sullivan would be proud.
- Apartheid and Affirmative Action: Article 23 explicitly outlaws apartheid and racial discrimination, but states it will not be considered discrimination for Parliament to pass laws to help people who suffered from race or sex discrimination in the past. No arguments here about the Constitutionality of affirmative action...
- Environmental Emphasis: Article 95 commits the government to the "maintenance of ecosystems, essential ecological processes and biological diversity of Namibia and utilization of natural resources on a sustainable basis for all Namibians, both present and future." This section also forbids the dumping or recycling foreign nuclear and toxic waste on Namibian territory.
- International Law is Binding: Article 144 makes the general rules of international law enforceable in Namibia, including customary international law (the norms and general practices of states, not codified but generally followed). This is different (and much simpler) than the treatment of international law in the U.S., where there is a great deal of debate over the extent to which international law is binding and enforceable.
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