Stunning limestone islands and islets rising up like green towers from the deep emerald waters… An Avatar like natural wonder of 1500 sq km in the Gulf of Tonkin, “Halong” means “descending dragon” in Vietnamese. The kind of place I would cross the world to see. And so I did, but…
171 km from Hanoi only. Done. The plan was perfect: a day tour by boat. But I wanted more: the view from Bai Tho Mountain (Poem Mountain). Thanks to that view I heard about Halong Bay in the first place, on Instagram, where else?! So my improved plan was to pay for the tour from Hanoi, but arrive in Halong Bay earlier, by a local transport, so I can do the hike and join the tour after.
I still have in my phone the photo I took at 5am, on the empty and wet streets of Hanoi. The meeting point was close to St. Joseph’s Cathedral. I waited and waited and nothing for more than 40min. I was already thinking about going back to bed but I just stayed longer to contemplate about not seeing Halong Bay that day. I couldn’t believe my eyes when a van stopped on the dark alley. So I was finally off to Halong Bay, where I arrived around 8:30.
It was a cloudy day. I still had time, since I planned an hour for the hike to the viewpoint on top of Bai Tho Mountain and about 30 min to get back to the port for the tour. A lady was selling flowers on an improvised stall on her bike. I had a delicious bun cha at a small local restaurant on the back alley where the entrance to the starting point of the hike was. I had all the necessary information: about how the access was forbidden since it was considered unsafe, about the iron gate that was built to prevent the entrance and how that looked, about the lady living there that could help in exchange of a fee, I even knew the most recent price. So let’s say I did my homework well. But the Vietnamese rain started.
I ordered a tea and waited a bit more, hoping for better weather. Usually rain was in short episodes. This time it looked bad…
I got my so wished break and went to look for the entrance door towards my so wanted viewpoint. A local helped me find it. I entered, went up some dark stairs and knocked on a door. A dog was barking. A lady opened the door looking as if she was just out of bed. She saw me and knew why I was there. She asked twice the money I knew others before me had paid. I said no. We had the deal.
From all the information I gathered online, I missed the details of the access spot. When she showed me a huge rock that I needed to climb to get to a whole under the iron fence where the iron bars had been bended…
Ohh no, I can’t do this…
Noo, easy, easy, come.
With her pushing my but up and me grabbing and climbing the wet sharp edges of that cliff, getting to the fence and sneaking through the small whole. I was up, muddy but up.
The hike started. I prayed for the mist to disappear and allow me to, at least, get a glimpse of that gorgeous view towards the bay that I was so long dreaming about.
Suddenly I heard something. I wasn’t alone anymore! Someone was approaching…. Huh, I was relived to see a small dog running to catch me. I was happy to see him since I was starting to feel a bit weird there by myself, hiking in a place I didn’t know. Unfortunately someone else had joined us soon: the rain, again! I continued on the trail, still hoping for a weather miracle. But was actually getting worse, it even started pouring and I was getting drenched. Luckily, I found a shelter under a deserted construction.
My best friend in Ha Long Bay
Minutes later the rain stopped again but all around became even more misty like I was in a cloud. I got close to the top but only to realize that all this was in vain. The view was completely covered in a white thick mist. I was all wet and disappointed in spite of all efforts. It was getting late, so I really couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to start my way back.
As I and my dog buddy were approaching the roofs, signaling the end of the trail was close, I saw in a yard three pit bulls sleeping. Between me and them was no fence, just a few meters distance. I swallowed my fear and hurried back to the green fence entrance. Once there I realized going up was piece of cake compared to going down. The dog started crying, looking at me, adding more panic. It was late, three pit bulls were free somewhere behind me, it was raining again so fear was no option. I dragged myself down the muddy cliff, back into the lady’s yard. I wished I could kiss in the end that amazing dog, my only huge support there.
The gate to the no viewpoint on Poem Mountain, Halong Bay
I ran back to the main street, in the rain. I was so muddy and embarrassed to be so dirty. I found a store and bought a pair of pants. For the tshirt I could only hope it was going to get dry, at some point, that day.
If before, while I drank the tea looking at that street, it was filled with taxis, now there was none. I was in the rain, waiting, hoping to get one.
Finally a taxi stopped and a very cheerful guy said hello. Every minute was like an hour, it was getting very late for my tour. We arrived in the port. I was relieved for a second only to panic again when I realized he had no idea where to go and kept stopping to ask for directions. I wanted to kill him as if all that was his fault. Even if it wasn’t.
My phone rang in my hand. The guy from the tour announced me that the boat had to leave, they can’t wait for me any longer. Great!
So I finally arrived in the port, where the boats for the bay were starting the tours, 10 minutes after my boat has left. At the end of all that had happened by then, a wide smile from the taxi driver was all I didn’t want to see. I was rude to him, handed the money and left closing the door. This was a moment I still regret very much, after I digested all that has happened that day out of my bad planning only.
I went inside the waiting room. I felt cold, the God damn rain was continuing outside, my t-shirt was wet and my mood was on the brink of starting crying out loud. I just stayed there thinking how bad it all turned out. I didn’t want to see any Halong Bay and I hated that rain, blaming it for ruining my day.
I made peace with all that happened and went outside. The sky was clearing up and I was able to see the green cliffs rising up the calm waters. How I wanted to see this place and how I screwed it up!
I rushed back to the ticket offices area to ask for a boat, maybe there was still something, maybe a shorter tour. The one I had paid for was going to an island on top of which there was a great view to the bay. But since I was running for two rabbits, I ended up catch no view.
I found something, a short tour and I bought a ticket. Soon the boat left the port but my mood was terrible. I was so upset that I didn’t event want to leave the boat to visit a cave, a first stop. The guys in the crew looked at me as if I was nuts. I stayed on the boat, watching the horizon, all that way through Halong Bay that I didn’t saw that day.
Sailing in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam
We sailed deeper into the bay, passing by Hon Ga Choi Island – Fighting Cocks Island and a few more islands covered in green vegetation. What a beautiful place this Halong Bay can be! In the end, surrounded by all that pure beauty, I refund peace. I was glad I took a glimpse of it, at least, instead of nothing, after that long serie of mistakes I did that day.
Late in the afternoon, back in the port, I finally joined the tour I was supposed to be in and went back together to Hanoi.
That day of May 2019 in Vietnam was a good lesson.
Looking back, after many more other lessons that followed that moment and, for sure, before many other lessons that are waiting, I am smiling. I was taught with time that not all wishes are meant to happen as we plan. Some not at all, some in a different way. We can’t control the day, nor the weather or the luck, good or bad. We never know what will happen once we go out of the door in our home. So how can we know what will happen when we find ourselves on the other side of the world.
PS: During the trip to Vietnam I met many others that went, like me, to see Ha Long Bay. Some for one day, some for more days. I had one question for all: how was the weather. I always got one answer: bad.
Siem Reap: 900 years old temples, a very authentic local market and the best Khmer food.
Whenever the alarm rings at hours like 4am, my first thought is: I don’t want this! Why do I do it? I don’t even like that… And “that” can be anything. Nothing is wow enough to leave the bed so early. Not even a huge bucket list wish like sunrise at Angkor Wat… Then I remembered the tuk-tuk driver. I met the day before, when we planned that 2 days tour through Angkor Wat, he was coming to pick me up from a village 1.5h away. He’ll wait for me a long time only to end up going back home to his 5 small kids, sad and with no money for that day … Ok… up!
Day 1:
One day before
6am : I opened my eyes. It was day outside. The bus has stopped. My whole body was in pain after a night spent on the road. The large leather reclining armchairs in the bus from Bangkok to Siem Reap were great, but still far from a bed. Night buses are a popular and cheap option in SE Asia.
– Border crossing!
We left the bus and walked the few meters from Thailand to Cambodia. Outside the Immigration office where I got the visa, in a dusty crossroads, tens of tuk-tuks were waiting. We were immediately outnumbered by the tuk-tuks drivers offering rides and tours. I left with the first who came towards me. He wore a blue short sleeved shirt and a sincere smile. He grabbed my trolley before I said ok. I was too tired to protest and they all had the same price anyway. He proposed a three days tour to Angkor Wat and around Siem Reap and we had a deal.
11:30: I was in my room already. Huge place with a large bed and a big terrace with two white columns and a ratan round table and chairs, facing the dusty busy street in front. This was my home in Siem Reap for the next days.
Across the street, Khmer Cuisine Watbo restaurant. I heard the local food was so praised and I was curious to try it. And hungry as hell.
A lady was selling green coconut in front. I took one from a bucket of ice, cold and huge, and I sat at a table outside, in the shade. It was a hot noon. I ordered a soup served in a coconut. It was dense, full of flavors, similar to Tom-Yam but much thicker and full of fish and shrimp. I paid almost nothing. I was starting to really like the country.
Tour to Angkor Wat
14:00: I met my driver and his improvised tuk-tuk. These vehicles look better in Thailand, while in Cambodia anyone with a motorbike and two handy hands can built one. The result looks like a functional improvisation. And that’s exactly how mine looked, but it did the job!
We left behind the streets of Siem Reap and I was enjoying the ride, absorbing everything with curiosity. Cambodia seemed less developed than its neighbor Thailand, but somehow this made it even more fascinating in its authenticity.
After only 30 min ride we were in the middle of a pouring rain. It took a few attempts to convince my driver to stop and a few more to get him inside the tuk-tuk with me before getting all wet. Sometimes the respect this people have for guests is too much!
We were covered by a curtain of water that turned the red soil of the road into orange rivers and orange water ponds. Buddhist monks at the back on motor bikes, under black umbrellas, people in tuk-tuks. Life has stopped like a moment frozen in time by the heavy shower dropping down from the sky.
– What season is now? I asked, already knowing the answer.
– Dry season.
We both started laughing.
Dry season in Siem Reap, Cambodia
My first photo in Cambodia is with me sitting on a wooden gate, on the side of the red soil road, with my feet ankle deep in the orange water of a long water pond as the last drops of rain were still falling. The sky cleared up and life restarted and so did our tour.
I wanna mention something first: when someone says they saw Angkor Wat, well, that’ll be pretty much farfetched in most cases. The complex of temples reunited under one name, the name of the main temple, Angkor Wat, spreads on 162 hectares and is the largest religious structure in the world, included in Guiness Book for that. Add to this image 72 major temples and over 1000 buildings. So what I can say is that in 2 days I saw just a part of this massive and mind-blowing site.
First temple: Preah Khan
The entrance was epic: a wide bridge of stone, with the sides showing the remains of what used to be, hundreds of years ago, two parallel rows of stone statues, now all beheaded by the harsh history. Three towers at the other end, we passed through the middle one. My head was spinning around. Surrounded by lush jungle, it looked like a passage to another time and so it was. The heavy rain before and the steam still raising up from the ground made all look so mysterious and I was thinking: Am I really here?
West gate and Naga bridge at Prasat Preah Khan temple, Angkor Wat
We stopped and continued on foot. A few small kids were playing in a water pond. The air was fresh and very humid, it smelled like wet soil and plants. In the front I saw it rising, the silhouette of the temple rising from the mist, surrounded by high trees with their tops still hidden in white clouds. I stood still, I was mind blown… I looked around as if I tried to see more, all those details. Another visitor was standing in front of the steps, as if he was under a spell. Just the three of us and the temple.
Cambodia, Preah Khan temple, Angkor Wat
I realize now, writing this and looking at the photos, that describing Ankgor Wat is a mission impossible. All those carvings, the ornaments in stone, the columns, the imposing structures now taken over by nature with massive trees growing through stone, conquering what man once built in this land of jungle. What a thrill to see it! I was like the man before, under a spell.
Majestic tree at Preah Khan temple, Angkor Wat
My now friend guide brought be back to reality with a green coconut and something I never had before or since then: Asian Palmyra palm tree fruit – a few pieces of white gelatin sold in a small plastic bag.Very good and juicy. He went to buy it so I can have the price for locals.
After a tuk-tuk ride through a jungle road, we walked again, crossing the long wooden path over Jayatataka Baray pond, now dry, to Neak Pean temple.
We reached a large square pond, bordered by steps and surrounded by four smaller ponds. In the middle, a small circular island with a stepped base. Elephants sculptures were placed on the four corners in its glorious times, one was still standing.
As we crossed the bridge back, a local man was hand catching fish in the small water pond, the last trace of the now dried pond. “Diner”, my guide smiled. The sky was getting pink shades. It was coming: the sunset.
Pre Ruptemple
From the base, those steep long steps of stone looked intimidating. Two lions carved in stone were facing the horizon at the top.
Built to honor God Shiva, the temple consists of a three-tiered pyramid-shaped structure.
From the top, views to Phnom Bok in the east and the towers of Angkor Wat in the far west. No sunset that evening, for me and the rest of visitors ending a wonderful day there.
Later that evening, when I went to sleep and I closed my eyes, the memories of the day developed fast like in a resume. What a rich day it was! And what a wealthy day was coming…
I got so much to say about these last 2 years that I kept postponing the moment when I let all the words that are now wrapping memories to finally lay down on white.
Trips during the pandemic, trips after the pandemic and the multiple levels of chaos that followed. The bonanza of traveling in 2016-2019, those golden years, are sweet memories. Many things have changed. We all have changed. But even if The World is going nuts with every day, the pleasure of seeing new and beautiful places remains.
I should just restart from where I stopped: Kenya, Diani Beach, September 2019…
Ocean safari on Diani Beach, Kenya
The sea spider flipped over in his palm. Was huge, covering his whole palm.
– See, this means the water will come back soon, the fishermen know this sign…My father taught me…
I was so distracted by all the creatures that can be seen while walking on the bottom of the ocean during the low tide, 50-60 meters far from the shore. All sizes of octopus, one stone fish, a few star fish, sea cucumbers, plenty of crabs, huge sea urchins, all got trapped in small water wholes, now hiding between rocks, prisoners of the low tide, all waiting for the rescue brought by the high tide waters.
Diani Beach, Kenya, during low tide
I heard like in a dream my occasional guide, a guy I just met earlier on the beach and who suggested to have an “ocean safari”- a walk on the bottom of the Indian Ocean that was only possible in the mornings there, during low tide. He proposed to help me discover a lot of marine creatures that “you never saw in your life” and were now so easy to spot… And indeed, the one hour walk was fantastic…
His voice vanished in the sound of the waves hitting the reef, a new shore created by the low tide, about 20m in the front. The beach was far, a white line on the opposite side.
– I won’t… I reply automatically and I continued my exploration of small water wholes hiding living wonders of the ocean. I was fascinated.
I was walking on the bottom of the ocean, on white sand covered by sea grass, with stripes drawn by the waves. It felt unreal.
Diani Beach, Kenya. The 1st and last time I will ever touch a start fish
I wanted to take a video. I started from the horizon line of the waves and all the way around the reef, my new playground and finally pointed the camera towards the shore. I stopped suddenly. I thought I’m not seeing well. Water was coming. Was filling rapidly like a violent river the space between the area where I was and the beach, leaving me stranded on a small island that was disappearing with every second. First thought was of total panic. I had my phone, so swimming was not an option. My photos…Even if I had to swim, ocean currents away from the shore, at high tide, are strong.
I started running towards the shore that seemed so far now. In a few meters my feet were in the water, and the level was growing with every step. I was surrounded instantly, a river of currents reached me and I hold my phone in one hand up in the air. I was afraid and crazy scenarios got to my mind…
All my photos, the safari, the night safari, the flamingoes, the lions…all Kenya. My precious memories! I looked around and I was all alone. Then it hit me: what if I’m drowning!
I thought that if I’ll soon be forced to swim, as water will be way to deep to continue to walk, I’ll carry the phone in my mouth. Or fix it in my hair bun. Desperate people have desperate ideas… Water was getting deeper and deeper and stronger, I used one hand to keep balance. I was wearing flip flops and ran on rocks filled with sea urchins as water now reached my chest…
The day before, Amboseli Park
Kilimanjaro white peak rising high above the golden savannah that morning was an unforgettable sight. After 9am it was already gone behind the clouds. I washed my hair after that crazy safari the night before. I understood how dusty that ride was when I saw our van, in the morning. It was completely covered in a thick layer of beige powder, outside and inside. Richard our driver was struggling to clean it.
The car was repaired, cleaned to a decent level and off we were to a new safari day. Amboseli looked different from Mara, greener. Even the wildebeests look different, with darker shades of brown and quite fat.
The playground for all breathing wildlife in Amboseli was a widespread swamp. All creatures gathered there. Us included.
At noon we had our box lunch on a high point offering fantastic top views on the park.
When we left, we drove by a woman riding a jeep. She stopped and talked to Richard, our driver.
– I know everybody. He turned to us, smiling, as this was my line every time we met someone and he always proved to know each person. She was a conservationist involved in projects protecting elephants and rhinos. The news were good: they are now thriving in Amboseli, protected by poachers while photographed by thousands of tourists.
We saw a cheetah enjoying his meal, an unfortunate impala. Richard was intrigued how come we’ve missed it when we first passed by that bush he was hiding in and how come my eyesight that proved to be great for the last 7 days of safari have failed us this time.
– You didn’t see it! How come! It was there…
We then watched it getting up from the “crime scene” with a round belly and slow moves, passing by a heard of impalas that were all watching it carefully. They all saw he had a meal so no chase for the next 4-5 days.
A male elephant with huge tusks was enjoying an afternoon spa time, throwing dust on its back, creating a fantastic sight. He came very close to us, moving its huge ears. Richard wanted to start the engine but in the end there were no signs of aggression and we remained. It’s amazing how Richard knows their body language. After a few minutes, the elephant left, heading towards a young male in the horizon.
We left and after a few minutes drive in the hot dusty afternoon, Richard stopped the van. I knew why, I saw them too. One of the Chinese women in the van asked why we stopped. Richard just raised his hand, pointing his finger to the horizon.
In a cloud of dust and hot air from the midday heat, grey silhouettes were moving towards us. The long line was crossing the savannah. We waited. They approached keeping the rhythm. 24 elephants, mothers and babies lead by the matriarch, the oldest and most experienced one. Absolute silence… What a bliss to see that! Slowly they crossed the road a few meters from us and headed towards… of course, that swamp. Bath time. This was one of the most impressive scene I’ve witnessed in Africa.
Back to Diani Beach
With my heart beating and my mind filled with dramatic scenarios, running towards the shore in chest deep water, stepping on rocks, on sand, trying to avoid the black areas – sea urchins. I saw on my right a fisherman with a few octopus in his hand. Earlier it was another trying to get one from behind a rock. He was using a long needle, keep pushing is under the rock as the poor octopus covered his hand with its tentacles and finally vanished under the rock. I was happy. I love them too much to see them as food.
I saw people on the beach. I don’t think they saw how desperate I was. A few more steps and the water started to decrease. I was reaching the shore, the currents were still strong but as they now reached my knees, I jumped on the sand. I was ok. My phone was ok, even if all my clothes were drenched and water was flowing from me.
I got back to the resort where I had breakfast that morning. I was so relieved I was ok, back on land. The ocean was now conquering the last surface of the island formed during the tide. So, all the creatures were safe now.
I felt an itch as I was checking the level of damage on my wet wallet. I was all red. I left the restaurant without having any sunscreen on. Almost two hours in the open sun got me badly sun burnt.
The next day I took a tour to Wasini island. We visited a local village, we got on bord of an Arabic dhow and cruise to Kisite Marine Park. We met dolphins on the way. I did some snorkeling. I never saw corals that big, 1-2m wide. I was looking for a clown fish: Nemo. That was my quest but I didn’t manage to see one though I did saw anemonas, the algae where they live.
On the way back the people in the boat sang and danced African music. Our guide was great and funny, trying to make me and a guy from South Africa realize we were in love.
We had a delicious lunch on the island: fresh fish, coconut rice (best rice in my life up till now) and casava. I had an obsession to this new dish for me, casava and the guide brought me a whole plate.
– Should I pick you up later? Let’s go out!
Jaffa, my driver to the tour came with this proposal. I gave him my number.
7:30PM
Going out with a guy I barely knew, in Diani Beach, a place known for being unsafe, where tourists kidnappings happened and small crime was the norm… I didn’t know what to do, to go or stay inside, safe, but miss a night out… when I got the text message: I’m outside.
A few minutes later the gates opened. The resort was surrounded by a 3m tall wall and the entrance had 24h armed guardians that were checking every entrance and exit.
I left the resort for a night out in Diani beach with my new friend Jaffa. I was stressed.
We first went to a beach bar, I got a dinner there. Fish, of course. Around a pool table, a blonde girl was playing with a few locals. Slow music, waves, lights on the beach. It was beautiful.
When we left to the car we crossed a dark parking. I was looking around very strain. I heard steps behind me and I jumped. That’s it! I’m being kidnapped! It was all planned! My crazy paranoid mind. It was just someone passing, Jaffa smiled and opened the door. I don’t think he had any idea about what was going on in my mind at the beginning at that evening.
Next we stopped at Tandoori Bar, the hot spot of nightlife in Diani. I ordered Stoney, ginger beer, for me and beer for Jaffa and I insisted to pay, as he was driving. All my crazy thoughts vanished. Though I think he liked me, it was nothing but a night out between friends. We talked about dolphins, his boat, his family, my family, about Diani and Mombasa, about how unsafe these places are but mostly about how amazing Kenya is. The very few tourists around were either older man with too young Kenyan girls and a few older ladies with, also young, Kenyan guys.
– I don’t want my sister to be like this, with one of these guys, he told me at one point. I work hard so she can stay in school and have a good life.
I got back to the hotel safe and sound and beyond all, very happy and grateful for such a great night.
It was so beautiful, the white villas with large terraces build by the pools in the middle. The apartment was huge and the bed in the middle with a mosquito nest. For about 30 euro per night this was heaven.
A light breeze from the beach blew the curtains in the air. I went out to the beach, it was too beautiful to sleep.
– Hello my friend!
As in every night, he was there. William was guarding the beach from 7pm till 7am. Tall, well built, with grey hair and a contagious healthy laugh. I bought two Stoney. I had an obsession for this drink.
– Cheers! What a lovely night, my friend!
We talked for a long time, in the moon light, watching the waves leaving the beach as a new low tide was coming and a cat struggling to catch one of the crabs that were vanishing in the sand every single time she got closer.
The next evening I came to the beach to say good bye to my friend. Jaffa drove me to the airport. We board the ferry singing Shape of you and eating baobab seeds candies, a local delicious treat.
Till next time, Nairobi!
Rachel, whom I met online and organized all my safari trip saved the last day to spend it together in Nirobi. Three guys, friends of hers, joined us. We had a wonderful time feeding the giraffes at Langata Giraffe Centre, hearing the stories of orphan baby elephants at the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, having lunch and long walks around the city. In one souvenir shop I found a similar bracelet to the one I bought from the son of the tribe’s chief in Masai Mara. Identical, made of copper, only 20 times cheaper.
My last photo in Kenya is on top of Nairobi Tower, sitting down in a circle with Rachel and the guys.
What a story Kenya was! What a dream! What a beautiful place!
On the darkest of nights, little before midnight, a rusty white old van in a cloud of dust stopped in front of a camp, somewhere in Amboseli National Park. A light was lit, a door opened and three Maasai young men came out with sleepy faces. One man and 5 women stepped off the white van, dusting off their clothes with slow tired gestures. Richard, our driver, three Chinese young women, a Spanish woman and myself. Our unplanned night safari was over and so was our last drop of energy. We made it to the camp and we were all safe. We briefly saluted our new hosts and then let silence fill back the space. Miriam, the Spanish woman and I followed one of the men and his light on a small alley drawn on the ground by of stones painted in white, among lines of dark large tents. It was a deep dark.
Since all around I couldn’t see anything, I looked up, with no expectation. I stopped. From one side to the other of the sky, a thick white line was cutting the dark in two like a rainbow of stars. The Milky Way itself in its complete beauty, the way I could never even imagine it.
The Maasai Village
5am, Maasai Mara.
Kenya was turning even myself into a morning person. For the best of reasons: that morning we went to visit our neighbours in the Maasai village nearby the camp. As I walked the dusty road in that chilly morning (yes, mornings in Africa are damn cold), I saw through the rays of the early sun three young women, covered in red shuka cloth, the “African blanket”, carrying on their heads large plastic barrels.
– They are lucky in this village, the river is just 2km away, don’t have to carry water for long distance, the guy leading us said. I continued to watch those women until they became smaller and smaller.
My unnecessary long warm shower in the camp the evening before felt like a waste I now felt ashamed of, while the low pressure water suddenly seemed a luxury. Just a few steps away from the village, our “urban” morning routines seemed here, in the savannah, bad habits from a different world, a world of too much waste.
I always knew water is precious. I read about it, watched tv about it. But never actually faced this reality.
Maasai tribe welcome ceremony
Once at the gate, the welcoming ritual was performed by a group of men, singing and jumping high off the ground with their tall and slender silhouettes wrapped in traditional red blankets. The higher the jump, the better the prestige of the performer, we were told. After this we became their guests and we were invited inside. Small houses made of clay were built on the ground, all in the same shape, with round corners and tiny windows.
– We only stay in one place like this for 5 years. This is how long the termites need to destroy the houses. Then we move some other place and build another village like this from the ground. Women are the ones that build the houses…
Maasai village. The heard in kept inside the village because of predators
Every one of us was after invited to enter the houses. I went alone and was privileged to have the son of the tribe’s chief as my host. I followed him through a small opening serving as an entrance, lowering my head to fit it. For the next few seconds I couldn’t see anything. It was completely dark inside. I followed his voice in the dark until I saw a glimpse of light in front. It was a fire made on the ground, in the middle of a room. A woman was busy cleaning a few pots gathered around that fire. She remained silent as we took a sit down, on small wooden chairs. I now started to see better around but the heavy smoke inside made it difficult to breathe and my eyes were hurting. I struggled to keep this for me and be a polite guest. The young woman seemed disturbed by my visit. I would have been the same in her place.
My host started talking, presenting the house, offering information about the way they live. I felt he was somehow uncomfortable with this situation of having a stranger curious about his way of living. For the money that the tourists bring, the locals have to perform this show but this doesn’t meat they feel comfortable doing it.
The woman remained quiet, ignoring my presence. I was feeling uncomfortable with this situation as well, while I was still struggling with that smoke.
– ….and the cow we keep it here… he smiled hesitant and showed me the door in the back.
– So we have fresh milk every morning, this is our fridge, he joked with a shy smile.
– Hmm, like my grandma, I said. My remark made him stop and look back with surprise. Suddenly we reached a common ground and we didn’t felt so different anymore.
I told him how my grandparents lived back in the days, having seven kids and keeping animals in the stable build close to the house. Next we spoke about how people process milk, conserve the meat without freezing it or use plants for medical purposes. We both knew that mint was good for stomach pains and we laughed abut this. It was interesting to exchange these information. His voice became different, relaxed and he was smiling.
I asked about the Maasai tradition involving men that turn 18 years old and need to have their initiation in life: they leave the community and go live for 3 years in the wild. They learn how to stay alive in the savannah and most of all to respect the greatest teacher: nature. The final exam is to hunt a lion and is performed the Maasai way, not waiting like a coward with a gun in a jeep to shoot the animal in the back, from a long distance. The skin of the lion is then part of the ceremony back in the village.
An ancient tradition that is rarely kept nowadays, after the cowards with guns have succeeded to reduce the lions population too close to extinction.
So the Maasai are finding themselves forced to adapt to the new reality.
I completely forgot about the smoke and the pain in my eyes and when we finally came out of the house, laughing and chatting, my Spanish friends from the camp looked fully surprised and as soon as we left the village they were curious to find out more about my visit inside the house.
-I want to offer you something special. It’s a good price, my host said, taking me aside, before leaving the village.
– Is it a…
– A lion fang, yes…
– You want to see me behind bars? I joked, with the beautiful piece in my hand. I knew that in Kenya, wearing, owning, buying or selling any piece of wildlife material is is strongly prohibited and punished. – Look, this is fantastic but I can’t have it, it belongs to only one owner – the lion. But thank you, I’m deeply honoured.
In reality I was shocked…
Before leaving the village, the Maasai taught us their main survival skill: how to make fire in the wild out of 2 pieces of wood and a little dry grass. Rubbing the dry wood until the ash comes out and then blow it on the dry grass till fire is born seemed easy but I know looking is not equal to doing and my chances of surviving in the wild are below 0.
– It’s marketing…
Richard, our driver and guide cut down my enthusiasm about the lion’s fang necklace. Maybe he was right. But one thing that I know for sure is that any other necklace bone I saw after, during the trip to Kenya, and I’ve seen many in a lot of places, didn’t even got closer to the one I hold in my hand in that village.
– Maybe, just marketing… I answered him, playing with the new copper bracelet on my hand and the new camel bone necklace on my neck. Souvenirs from the tribe’s chief son.
The Maasai market
In an improvised flea market outside the village, a bunch of women were selling hand made crafts: Maasai jewelries, small wooden sculptures and Maasai war masks. I bought a mask and two Maasai warriors chopped in ebony wood and painted in red and white. They will always remember me of the two unreal silhouettes of the Maasai warriors I first saw when we entered Maasai Mara, in the first day. Like two guardians of the wild, an unforgettable fantastic image!
Leaving Mara
The last time I touched the ground of Maara was in an improvised market. A few Maasai women were trying to sell their products to the tourists in the cars stopped in front of a gate, before exit. I liked a red bracelet and tried to negotiate the price…
– You are killing mama Maasai! the lady said. She was wearing all the colours of the world plus a beautiful smile. Who could resist such a seller. I left the car to see more of her products. I left with the red bracelet on my hand, bought for the priced she asked, waving my hand from the window as our van was leaving.
– The road took us through the Massai people territories, guarded by gates and barriers that opened each time Richard was paying a small tribute for our passing. And there were many of these on that dusty road crossing the savannah.
We drove for hours through the savannah until we finally reached the paved road again. We left behind all the wonders of Mara, its fantastic Maasai warriors, our tents in the camp, the village and all the wildlife and dreamy landscapes that not even dreams could project.
Maara is truly, madly, deeply unforgettable.
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Lake Naivasha
We’ve been driving since forever. The whole day…
The group in the van changed on the way, the American couple stayed in Maara for a day more, we said a long goodbye that morning as they were continuing their 7 months trip to Africa and after to Asia. Together with the Spanish couple and the two Chinese girls we were heading to Naivasha. On the way Martina joined us, a Swiss girl that has been working as a volunteer in Uganda for the last three years with an NGO involved in offering protection to abused children, from sex trafficking, child marriage, violence and even slavery.
At first she was silent. But with a Catalan guy and a Venezuelan woman in the van, no one can stay silent for too long. Marina started soon talking and just minutes after she had all of us silenced. She told us about what she saw in the last three years in Africa, about the kids in the centre, the terrible abuse cases, about Congo, the rebels there and the lava lake, the mountain gorillas in Uganda… We were charmed. This 20 smith years old woman has seen a lot, more than many in a lifetime.
– Ahhhhhaaahhhh, Ahhhhh, Ahhhhhhh
We heard out of the blue this scream that brought us all back to reality from the world where Marina’s stories have taken us for the last hours.
I was looking on the window and saw the pink line somewhere in front, far away, by the shores what seemed to be a large lake, but I didn’t realised what it was until I heard the same Chinese girl as loud as she could:
– Flamingooooooooos!
After all that we’ve seen together the last days, lions, leopard, giraffes, elephants, all the incredible wildlife and the views that made us express in all ways from tears to laughs or exclamations, in all that time the Chinese girls were quite reserved in reactions, as if they did safari their entire lives. In fact all of us in the group were first timers.
Well, this time Kenya had got them truly! They were going completely nuts seeing all that pink! We all turned back to them in surprise and the next second an explosion of laughs followed.
Truth is, we were now getting closer to the wide beach and understood what provoked their exuberant and hilarious reaction: all was pink in front of us. Thousands and thousands of pink flamingos were colouring the shores of Lake Naivasha in pink! A spectacular sight!
Pink shores of Lake Naivasha
We all jumped off of the van as soon as we reached the beach. We tried to get closer but they seemed determined to maintain the distance. And then, something incredible happened: a few flamingos opened their wings and flew off, cutting the air meters above the shore. In a perfect synchronising, they were joined soon by hundreds of others until the point where whole sky turned pink and the sound of their beating wings replaced the silence.
In the sunset light this was a view to remember!
Flamingos on Lake Naivasha
I was the last to leave the beach and brought with me incredible photos and the promise to share them with the rest of the group after. I was wearing pink flamingo feathers earrings bought from a seller on the beach. I felt nothing but pure happiness.
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We spent the night in Naivasha, in a hotel. After sleeping in a tent for so many nights, a hotel room seemed like a long forgotten comfort from another life.
Safari in Niavasha
We completed the famous BIG 5 during that morning safari in Naivasha park. The missing one was the rhino, after we’ve already seen in Maara lion, lepard, water buffalo and elephant. The feeling was of the purest happiness.
Rinos in Naivasha Park, Kenya
We then took a boat ride, saw hipos from very close, quite too close at one point where about ten of them started pop up at the surface and our guide made a sudden manoeuvre to get us far from there fast. They are not necessarily violent but getting too close to them drivers them mad and if so, yes, they have what they need to kill a human with little effort if they want so.
After a few tries in vain to tempt an eagle that was too full for that day for another easy meal, he finally offered the much desired show: left its brunch and cut the air in high speed to catch the fish thrown by our guide.
– Maybe he couldn’t see the fish we threw…was my silly conclusion coming from a too tired brain
– He’s an eagle…
Olga and I started laughing loud in the boat at her very correct remark. After the Spanish couple and Marina left the group that morning, Olga, a Russian woman that I’ve already seen around in the camp in Maara, joined us, as her trip plan through Kenya was at that point the same as mine. She was living in Chicago after graduating in US and was initially traveling with her brother and his wife and kids in Kenya. After the safari in Maara, she left them and was heading back to Nairobi. On her way she was sent by the tours agency to our group.
We started talking and got close during that day. I found out that she has joined the American couple in their extra safari day in Maara. That day they went again to the river in Maara, the place were the great migration crossings happen and they saw a crossing that very day. Hundreds of wildebeests rushed out of the blue towards the muddy waters. It was a life and death battle as crocodiles are waiting there a whole year for the feast. I saw the photos she took, the event I too wanted so badly to whiteness. But no wildebeest was willing to die when I was there.
Amboseli Park and the night safari
My eyelids were heavy, my mind filled with images of safari, lakes, flamingoes, too dusty roads, colourful dressed people in front of colourful stores, endless roads, crowded markets… And everywhere the red soil of mama Africa. From our initial group the only ones left were the two Chinese girls with whom I wasn’t talking much anyway. The trip through Kenya was continuing towards Amboseli.
Another Chinese young woman, a teacher, traveling alone and a Spanish woman, Miriam, also traveling alone before her 3 weeks of volunteering in an orphanage in Kenya, have joined us. We were now 5 women, 3 of us solo travellers. I wasn’t in a friendly mode anymore, I felt like I had enough new friends for the last days. The two women were just starting their trip to Kenya and were excited to have their first safari in Amboseli. I realised how lucky I was to have joined such a cool group from day one: all pretty close as age, coming from different countries but all had travelled to enough places to have nice stories to tell and most important: all coming to fulfil a lifetime dream: the first safari in Africa. So we shared all the happiness, intensity and excitement of each moment. And this truly made the trip more exciting for everyone.
We made a stop in a small town where Richard, our driver had something to do. A few kids were playing around and as we waited, I had the idea to call two of them and give them some candies. I had a one kg bag of caramel candies that I had in mind to share with some kids at one point, as a friendly gesture. The next second I found myself pushed agains the van by a tsunami of small bodies and a sea of little hands grabbing my hands in a me, me, me, me, me noise that immediately attracted all eyes around. I tried to organise them, to give an equal number of candies to each, but i was fulling myself. They calmed down when the last candy I had was in the hands of one of them. I wished I had 10 kg more candies… With cute candid smiles and mouths full, next second they spread all around, continuing their play from where they left it.
The kids
The Chinese teacher was apparently inspired by this and she went to buy something from a store nearby. For my surprise, minutes later, she came back with a big bag full of pens.
– Didn’t they have candies?
– Yes, but I want to give them something they useful for school.
I smiled and wanted to see where this goes… She waves the kids that rushed again towards the van, ready for another round of candies. Her authoritarian air stopped them from repeating the episode they had with me. After a well prepared and full of motivation two minutes speech about the importance of education and the benefits of a pen in the life of a student, she starts sharing a pen to every kid. Well this time the interest was that low that some of them didn’t even wanted the pen and those that did took it were having long disappointed faces.
– Now you can also make drawings if you want, she tried to advertise the pens to the kids that were already leaving.
A few hours later, on the road, I realised that my cooper bracelet bought from the village, from the chief’s son, was gone. This made me sad and I remained silent for the rest of the drive.
Small towns, villages, markets, the live colourful movie of Kenya was developing on the screen of my window. In a small town we made a stop and I got off the van to stretch my legs a bit. I bought the most perfect mangos from a lady. I could feel their delicious scent from the stall. I had in mind to eat them in the camp, once we arrive in Amboseli.
I was amused when the Chinese girls, after all those days when they had separate food from the rest of us, prepared for them only and never touched the food or fruits we had served at the points where we stopped on the way for lunch, this time they totally broke the no 1 rule of food safety when traveling: “if you can’t peel it, don’t eat it” and they bought from a vendor on the street two packs of assorted fresh pre-cut fruits. I then was waiting for them to ask Richard to pull over so they can run into a bush… it didn’t happen.
After hours and hours of driving when we all couldn’t wait to finally reach the camp, we stopped. The road was blocked by a long line of vehicles. After about 30min we realised no wheel has moved so something was going on. The cause of all this was far away, in the front, but no one knew what it was, not even the local kids that came to see why so many cars were blocked on the road. The sunset signalled that the last hour of daylight was going to end soon. We were blocked. From one person to the other the information finally reached us: the Maasai tribes that were owning that land had a dispute with the authorities and in conclusion they blocked the road. Police came and a rock fight started. I saw Richard was becoming worried and keep talking to other drivers. Some cars were turning back.
As the last rays of sun were disappearing behind the horizon, Richard came to us and said we’re going to follow another road, through the savannah since we were not far from the camp. We left the road and minutes later the road was gone behind our van in a cloud of dust. The bonus safari at sunset made us very happy. For Miriam it was a first and she got very exited to see the first wildebeest.
– You’ll see thousands, I said and the Chinese girls and I started laughing.
We drove by groups of wildebeests, impala, zebras. The night was conquering the day and soon all I could see were little lights disappearing in the dark: the eyes of different animals.
We were driving for an hour already. Sometimes I could see in the lights of the van, in the front, groups of wildebeests or zebras turning heads and looking at the van surprised as if they were saying: what the hell you do here at night? We didn’t knew either… Richard was driving fast and was very silent. Every few minutes the van was jumping in the air and landing back. I had to use both hands to hold myself and avoid being thrown and get hurt. My hands were so tight it hurt. I couldn’t see it but I smell dust. Tones of dust, the whole dust in the world. I feared that we got lost and had no freaking idea where we were. No one was saying anything and the Chinese girls have stopped asking questions long ago.
The night was so black and the sky was turned into a curtain of stars. I didn’t know which feeling was stronger, fatigue or worry or both in a hard to bare mix. I was waiting for the moment when the van will either break in two or crush in the middle of no where since there was no road around, not even upon savannah standards.
Out of the dark a gate appeared in front. Upon it I could read Amboseli. Richard got off the van and I saw a light cutting the dark and then a small window. Richard talked to the man for a minute. The gate opened, we entered and after who knows how many minutes we reached another gate, the one to the camp. Our mighty van bit the dusty road and the breaks hold in still, finally. When the tones of dust in the air around started to lay back to the ground, I saw a light was lit, a door opened and three Maasai young men came out with sleepy faces. Richard opened the door for me and the 5 of us stepped off the white van, dusting off our clothes with slow tired gestures. The night safari was over! When I saw Richard I was shocked: his face was now all read not black, his t-shirt all wet and lines of sweat were pouring down its face. I then understood how worry he was not for us but only for our safety. But he got back his smile and we joked about our adventurous night safari. We thanked him. We’ve reached Amboseli safe and I was relieved, even though my Maasai mask arrived broken in two and the mangos I bought from that nice lady were turned into mashed mangos and ruined.
I shared the tent with Miriam since the last thing I would have been able to do at that point, after that day and that evening, was sleeping alone. That’s the last memory of that night:
– Miriam, I think we have mice inside the tent….
– Yes, there’s mice shit everywhere…
– Do you think mice can climb up the bed?
– In the bed… no, they can’t.
– Ok. Good then.
And I feel asleep feeling safe.
P.S. It’s been a year and three months since I wrote here… I feelt like couldn’t do it anymore in all this time. A lot has happened. With every day of this last two years we all got more and more far away from what we used to call normality before March 2020. Too many “it can’t be” from the past defines the present reality. The only constant and anchor that remains is nature. The healer, the comfort, the hope.
With the Spanish couple, Miriam and Martina I’m still in contact, as Instagram friends. I was in contact with Olga as well, until last week when I saw she unfollowed me on Instagram. Probably due to my anti war in Ukraine stories. Though she was also posting same thing, it seems it was just pretending. I unliked her posts and blocked her account.
The next morning, opening the tent to this: Killimanjaro, before the last day of Kenyan safari. This time: Amboseli
Kilimanjaro Mountain seen from Amboseli, Kenya
Next: safari on land in Amboseli and safari on the Indian Ocean, Diani Beach
After 6 hours of riding across the vast savanna, I was getting so high on Maasai Mara. It must have been around 12pm but time in the wild is counted by the sun only. We were all contemplating in silence those fields as our minds were processing the images we’ve fed them so far. Too much to believe. The dream that brought us all to Kenya was happening, we were living it.
As the dust was a provocation we thought we got used to, the next level was quite annoying: the flies. First 2-3 of them and seconds after they were everywhere. In our eyes, ears, mouths and no techniques we used would discourage those kamikaze. Then came the odour… We understood soon why all these: the golden fields of the savanna turned dark. Thousands of wilderbeasts were occupying Mara as far as we could see. Zebras were joining the party in much small numbers, like black and white spots on that paint. I have never seen so many wild animals in one place and never thought this could be even possible in the wild.
– There! This is the Great Migration, I heard Richard, our driver and guide saying. And my thought completed his words: …and this is why is called one of nature’s greatest shows of Earth.
We finally arrived to the river, this ground 0 spot of the Great Migration from Serengeti to Maasai Mara, one huge national park split between Tanzania and Kenya. Here, down the hill, we escaped the flies and the smell. I instantly recognised the place as if I was there before multiple times. The deja-vu feel was caused by the mind-blowing images in National Geographic where hundreds of wildebeasts were rushing into the river into a cloud of dust and death as many of them got straight into the jaws of hungry crocodiles waiting down there for their Migration festive meal. We stopped a few meters close to the edge and wait. All the other people in all the other jeeps and vans were playing the same game: waiting for a river crossing. To feed our rush for excitement and our primary instinct for kill. A crazy game I got myself dragged into during those days in Africa. Though I condemn violence in all its forms, I was surprised and ashamed to realise I also joined the club into that thirst of blood, of kill. Somehow… there it seems justified, on that primordial movie set where life and death meet in the most natural form: the kill to survive.
5am – start of a great day
Terrible night! Though I was exhausted, I’ve barely slept. The noises all around I couldn’t identify played like riddles all night long, the suffocating smell from all my 8 mosquito repellent I used before sleep, the feeling that there was someone inside my tent that made me jump out of sleep, the unexplainable real sensation that someone touched my shoulder at one point… and in the end the morning chill that woke me up.
I used my phone in the dark to find the opening in the mosquito net of the bed and rapidly reach the light switch on the wooden wall separating the tent from the bathroom built behind it, with an open roof. Well, at least I slept in fresh air… I then checked the zipper of the tent, with no lock, the only thing separating me from the outside that night…
As there was no other furniture, I used the second bed, which was empty, instead of table, chair and closed. And started to dance. The mosquito proof dance which meant that any time significant areas of my skin were left uncovered or unsprayed with insects repellent, I had o move a lot. On the shower or on the toilet, I wouldn’t stop “dancing”.
I finally put on a lot of clothes and I completed my declaration of style for that safari morning with sox and sandals. Too cold to care: 10C. Yes, Africa, exactly! Not that hot as a European might think.
At breakfast I found out half of my safari buddies had also endured a bad sleep while the other half slept like babies. But we had a whole day safari in Maasai Mara ahead of us and that was the best thing in the world in that morning at the end of August.
– Haaaa, did you hear the hyenas last night: eeww, eewwww, eeewwwww. That was Richard’s good morning….
I exchanged frightened looks with Ariadna, the Venezuelan woman in our group.
It was 6am when we left the camp, following other jeeps, heading towards the sunrise spot in the horizon. The sky was in flames, the safari day was starting. What a great feeling!
In the first hour we saw a cheetah, two lions wandering around in the distance, probably preparing for a hunt, hundreds of wildebeasts, of zebras and Thompson’s gazelles, an ostrich male, warthogs, buffalos…
Two Beauties of Maara
We drove further until there were no other jeeps in sight. On top of a hill we met a family of giraffes formed of more then 15 members, including 3 calves. We stopped the van and observed them for some time from just a few meters distance. They were so calm and quiet, moving slowly from one acacia tree to another, curling their long tongues around the big thorns on the branches to reach those tinny leaves, spreading their long legs and bending their necks all the way down, to reach the grass. In this position in which they look soo hilarious, like some clumsy gymnasts, we’ve learned that they are the most vulnerable towards predators. They only do it when they feel safe. Otherwise, their kick can kill a lion on the spot. Such a majestic creation they are.
The next live performance was “acted” by a group of 10 elephants, mothers and their calves. Their society works like this: the males are solitary while females live in large groups lead by a female leader. Richard broke the rules and got us off the track for a few meters, bringing us so close to them until we could even see their eyelashes. He stopped the engine again and we observed them in complete silence. Time was paused for all of us there, turning seconds and minutes into frames and memories made to last all our existence. At times they looked straight to us, peacefully, rising their massive heads to just check on their new visitors. What could they be thinking about us?
The giants of Maasai Mara,
A massive buffalo was approaching fast from the other side of the field, looking not so happy to have human spectators at that early hour, so we had to leave in order to avoid getting dangerously close to the one who’s reputation is of being the deadliest animal in Africa.
I couldn’t stop thinking: is our presence there right? In the wild, in their world, as little as we left of it to them. It is intrusive, to call it straight. I felt it often there, during those 7 days of safari, in many situations. Sometimes big predators as lions or cheetahs have to change their hunt plan just because 10 jeeps filled with curious humans got in their way to take some photos or make loud excitement noises. In the savannah reality, us, humans, with all our reactions, devices, cameras with huge lenses, we no longer look as the one specie that has evolved so much… It’s somehow a funny scene and we look dumb.
But in spite of all this interference, the fact that we are intrusive there, it’s a compromise that is digestible up to one point: all animals there are free, they can hunt, eat, fight, mate, wander, sleep, raise their offsprings as they please. They have adapted to this human presence. It’s common to watch hunt scenes taking place a few meters away from safari jeeps or see lions from very few meters distance, as we did later that day. I won’t believe it unless I lived it: two young male lions, sleeping next to a bush, for a little shade in that hot afternoon, ignoring completely the jeeps filled with people, moving in circles around them.
Still, everybody is that calm and that safe only as long as humans stay in the jeep. It’s totally prohibited to step off the car during a safari. We once saw a lion suddenly changing its direction just because he felt a human was on the ground at more then 500m distance. One safari guide had troubles with its car and had to check it for a few seconds. For us, the only times we walked on the fields of Maasai Mara were for those nature calls that really demand it: a visit in the bushes. Always on higher ground, chosen carefully by Richard. Peeing in the wildest wild, after you just saw what can get you, is really something to laugh about. After…
Picnic in the savannah
We left the river site where no crossing seemed to be in plan for the next hour to look for a quiet and safe place to have our lunch. After a few tries nothing seemed good enough for our Richard. We were all hungry… Then we saw it, this huge acacia lonely tree in the middle of a field with tall golden grass where a heard of zebras were enjoying the fiesta. The ideal place. We stepped off the car, walked around a little, breathe that hot dry air then laid down under our tree and had the best picnic in the world, watching the zebras nearby. Happiness is made of moments like this.
Curious zebras, Maasai Mara
To cross or not to cross
By the river we occupied again a still vacant spot close to the edge and joined the waiting ritual. Thousands of wilderbeasts were turning the horizon dark, some part of large groups, others marching in long lines one after another, in a perfect rhythm. A group of hypos were relaxing on a sand bank by the river.
Lazy hipo afternoon in Maasai Mara
A few crocodiles raising their heads above the muddy water from time to time. By that river that day every living creature was waiting: the wilderbeasts for one of them to have the courage to initiate a crossing so they all can follow, the zebras for the wilderbeasts to go first, a strategy they ofter apply, the crocodiles for their opportunistic fresh meal and the people to see some action and witness how animals are being killed on the spot, without them feeling guilty for it.
I’ve noticed a group of zebras moving a lot, going back and forth around the edge, approaching then distancing, forming a circle and making a lot of noise. They looked as if they were up so something but keep changing their minds. I started paying attention, they wanted to cross the other side. A few others seemed to be calling them from the other side with noises and moves close to the edge on their side. It was an unbelievable scene: they wanted to cross but were afraid.
A larger group of wilderbeasts was forming close to the edge as well. A few times one of them was rushing up to the edge, but then suddenly stopped, coming back slowly and discouraged. It’s how the crossings happen during the great migration, it all starts with one crazy fella that starts running out of the blue towards the edge and all of a sudden hundreds, thousands follow into the river. Some broke legs, some are drowning, many are hurt by the crowds crossing over them while a few get eaten by the crocodiles. But most of them, around 2 millions, survive and so they complete a journey meant to bring them from Serengeti to Mara where in that time of the year the grass is greener. They do this journey every year, facing death in the face and pursuing with living.
Every time a wilderbeast was getting closer to the edge, we stopped breathing. Time stopped and all eyes were in that direction, cameras were ready… but nothing happened.
The only ones who seemed that were having a plan were those zebras. After many hesitations, “talks and argues” and calls from their friends on the other side, they finally rushed to the edge of the river and started the descend. Down there they analysed wisely which is the best spot to cross and finally they got into the water, did it and got away with it. All got alive on the other side, welcomed by the ones there who were watching their crossing all this time, in silence. Their victory was enjoyed on our side too, with applauses.
And that was the only crossing I got to see. I left Mara the next day to continue my trip to Amboseli. A few days later a Russian woman joined our group, what was left of it after we started splitting. She showed me photos with the crossing that took place the very next day. Well, as I like to say: it is what it is and what should happen happens.
Richard was talking the whole time on his satellite phone to other guides. He seemed to know everybody we met and by the afternoon of that day we even got convinced he also knew all the lions in Mara. He was laughing and enjoying each time we were telling him this.
Only this time he was getting agitated and pushed the acceleration until our old white van seemed to be on a race of tearing itself apart on the bumpy tracks of Mara. We got to a small river and almost got stocked there in the mud. He won’s say a word about why all this. We arrived in an area with trees when he finally slowed down. From a few meters away I saw the sleeping beauty of the savannah: high in a tall tree, on a large brunch in the shade was laying a gorgeous leopard. Around it jeeps, people, cameras, photographers. Nothing could bother its sleep.
A few minutes after, as we were all charmed by its beauty, he woke up, turned its head towards us, open its eyes with the wildest and coolest gaze I lived to see, yawn showing its jaws and fell back to sleep. The show was over. We had 4 of the big 5: lion, buffalo, elephant, leopard.
Richard tried to start the engine so we could move. Nothing, just a little engine cough. He tries again. Ups! Nothing. There couldn’t be a better moment for an engine to stop working then sitting under a tree with a wild leopard, a naturally born killing creature.
– Now who’s gonna push the car? He looked towards us and we stopped laughing instantly.
He was just having fun with us. He started laughing seeing our confused faces. Another jeep approached us from the back, pushed us until finally our engine started. We left the leopard sleeping and as soon as we got far enough our little adventure turned into loud laughs. We felt drained of every drop of energy. 12h were coming to an end and the sun was kissing the horizon again, preparing for a savannah sunset. We were dusty, exhausted, every cell of my body hurt but I was so absofuckinglutelly happy.
I took a shower being grateful for this gift in the middle of those dry lands. When I got out I thought I heard something which I didn’t wanna believe was true: my whole tent was conquered by a zzzzz-ing. Mosquitos were everywhere! It was getting dark and as the generators were not yet on, I had no light but I thought I saw something flying around inside the tent. Was not an impression. Was a bat… So reality was like this: a tent filled with mosquitos and a bat flying freely inside. I had no malaria pills but bats eat mosquitos. What could I do… I took my tusker beer bought by Hosea, my driver in Nairobi and left the tent to join my new friends and end a great day with a great evening. Thank you Kenya!
PS: that night I slept like a leopard
An animal was killed every 3 minutes by trophy hunters over the last decade. 1.7 million animals perished like this. An industry worth 340M every year. (Euronews)
Once among the world’s most iconic hunting destinations, Kenya has had a national ban on trophy hunting since 1977. But poaching still exists, in spite all efforts, everywhere where “trophies” are still alive. I can’t stop wonder one thing: how is it possible to see those animals in the wild and the only urge that comes out of all this is to kill, to destroy.
– I will go to Africa one day to see the lions. And when I’ll see them, I will cry.
This is what I used to say to my friends about one of my biggest dreams: the African safari. The big truth that I now know it is that nothing can prepare anyone for Africa, the red continent where all expectations are exceeded.
Loud knocks at the entrance door. I opened one eye in the dark room with the curtains pulled and my first thought was: where am I now?
Ahhh, yes, Nairobi! My brain figured out: that one week safari starts today! That was the fuel I needed to jump out of the bed like a rocket and reach the door in 2 steps. I opened it and the light blinded me. A very worried man was standing there, and all I could see first were his eyes contrasting its cocoa skin.
– Sister, excuse me, they came for you, for the safari. Are waiting, I tried to call… he said in a hurry.
I loved how he called me sister. I must have been quite a chaos in person myself, in pyjamas, my hair was a mess and my eyes barely opened on a sleepy face.
– OMG, I overstepped! The safari, yes! I went crazy going in circles inside the dark room, trying to figure out what to grab first. What time it is?
-It’s 7! They came and….
– What??? 7? Only? They’re supposed to come for me at 8:30! I started to laugh, covering my eyes with one hand and leaning against the wall in relief.
The guy asked then three times if I permit him to enter in my room to check the phone. He stepped in very shy and saw it was actually unplugged.
In one hour I was ready to go. I met Josea again, my too early bird friend I met the day before, at my arrival. He and another guy drove me first to the centre of Nairobi, at the tour agency office. I recognised the narrow passages between the buildings, close to the place where the evening before I managed to change, with his help, 200 euro into Kenyan shillings. The whole operation seemed like a drug traffic scene in a thriller. The census that was taking place those days has been shutting down the whole city, closing all shops, banks and exchange offices very early. That evening, after asking around a few people with no success, Josea made me a discreet sign to wait where I was. He then approached two security officers, talked to them for a few seconds making sighs towards me. He followed one of them on a back street and made me a discreet sigh to follow them. I couldn’t see much because of the dark but enough to figure out that the place looked very grim and quite spooky, with dumpsters all around and trash spread on a dirty broken pavement between two old buildings with walls covered in old graffiti. It smelled like garbage. I was assessing how low was the level of my safety in those circumstances and it seemed what we were doing was illegal. The idea of being scammed came only second. Happily it all worked well, the “operation” was a success, I even got a good exchange rate and finally had Kenyan money in my pocket.
During the day it was different, except that garbage smell. We entered a building, got inside a small elevator, then passed through a corridor with a beauty salon where a few Kenyan ladies were doing their curly hair straight, and then a door opened to a small office:
– I’m Simon, welcome to Kenya!
Simon was the type of guy looking like those black male models that we see on fashion catwalks or Vogue magazines: tall, well build, killer sensual lips and a sexy smile on a very handsome face. That and his leather jacket brought that kind of smile on my face, the kind that attractive people can only bring, instinctively.
I payed all the expenses for the safari trip and stored my big luggage in their office till I was coming back. It felt so good that for the next days all was taken care of. All my safari outfits were in my polka dot backpack: the sunscreen, the hat and the 7 types of mosquito repellent. In my country Malarone, the prevention pills for malaria, was impossible to find, so my plan B strategy was to keep mosquitos away.
And off we were…
One American couple from Carolina, one Spanish couple from Catalunya, two Chinese girls and myself. That was our group in the white old safari van with 8 seats, drove by Richard, our driver and guide, who’s grey hair and pronounced lines around his eyes were a guarantee for how much he saw and knew. Ohh, and how he exceeded all our expectations by the end of those 7 days and 6 nights! We were already set to become friends the moment we stepped in that van, as great experiences always create strong bonds between people that live them. I started off on the right foot and got the single seat in the front of the van. Well, again, the perks of traveling alone! Well, the downsides came later…
The van started to move, following the other 3 in the font, heading to Masai Mara. I kept staring outside, at the streets, the people, the buildings. I didn’t felt like talking, socialising, getting to know the other people in the van, blabla. At all! But when there’s a pure blood Spanish – Catalan around, this doesn’t last long. As soon the wheels started rolling, he started talking and by the time we left Nairobi we all got to know each other, our names (except the Chinese girls…), where do we came from, what we do for work, what languages do we speak and how our Kenyan holiday plan looked like. Hearing that the American couple was starting a 7 months long journey in Africa and Asia caused a loud awwww in the van. Then the Spanish couple was going to Serengeti, in Tanzania and after to Zanzibar. The Chinese girls and I only Kenya. Richard joined the conversation soon and the atmosphere became quite cheerful, and we talked until all of us got tired and some fell asleep. I continued watching Kenya revealing itself from my window seat.
market in Kenya
As soon as we left the busy Nairobi and its concrete city vibe, the savannah started showing its patterns, one by one. First tree by tree, image by image, as if a video was loading, and then like an explosion of frames that turned all my previous imagination into reality: umbrella acacia trees, tall dry grass, vast horizons crossed by apparently endless roads passing through villages with the most colourful cottages I ever saw, built straight on that unbelievably red soil. The red continent was revealing its beauty rapidly, strong and tangible. Elegant women in beautiful and colourful dresses, wearing high heels and makeup on the dustiest roads I ever saw. These images were so contrasting. Later only I understood it was not a feminine statement as it is in the so called West. It was about being strong and fearless and elegant and feminine no matter what and where. Such power can only be profoundly admired and applauded.
For 8 long hours Kenya was showing itself to me as the rest of the group went quiet and asleep. I kept watching that movie playing on the screen of my window, with every town, village and markets we passed by, with every kid waving his hand, with every corner looking like a Pulitzer awarded photography.
Kenya, Africa
Hell’s Gates, the door to Maasai Mara
After lunch in a restaurant where many other vans and safari jeeps were stopping in front, we made a short stop at Hell’s Gates, the point offering perfect views over Rift Valley, the vast savanna below, reaching far away as if it owned this world. Once here was a prehistoric lake that fed our human ancestors. We got sooo excited observing in the bushes some rodents looking like huge rats. Some Asian tourists started taking photos of them frenetically. We were all at the beginning of our journey and that seems to me now so funny, comparing to the photo opportunities that followed.
Maasai Mara starts here
The roads got dustier and bumpier and the landscape wilder. Richard announced that we were entering Maasai Mara. His voice came as a poke to reality to me: I was in Maasai Mara! Then the dust, the heat of the late afternoon and the constant same views of the savannah, still and quiet, made me sleepy. I was struggling not to close my eyes fearing that I will miss something great. What a premonition. And then I saw them, like two silhouettes from another world – tall, very slim, with unusual long legs and hands, with skin like black velvet and their bodies half covered with blood red rags, with high sharp swards in their hands and a fearless yet calm sight, with colourful large necklaces around their neck and long earrings hanging down their ears. I almost hurt my neck trying to gain one more second of this: two Maasai warriors watching us passing by in a cloud of dust, leaving them behind, vanishing into the immensity of Mara.
– Did you see that…??? I said seconds later, when I could again articulate.
No one did saw them but me and it was impossible to describe it in just words. Such a powerless instrument for such striking scenes. The image of those Maasai warriors was like a tattoo on the memory, two uncrowned gods of the wild who’s image is one of the strongest I have about Kenya.
This was how Maasai Mara, the land of Maasai tribes – in translation meaning the people that speak the language Maa, opened its doors to us. And I could feel that my moment – “I will go to Africa to see the lions. And when I’ll see them, I’ll cry.” was close….
Maasai woman in Kenya
I was watching ahead, with a far-off look, in silent, resting my chin against the front seat back next to Richard. For quite some time the sandy track we were following was just a pale yellow line crossing the dry fields. The afternoon heat was making the landscape blurry. Then I think I saw something… First I thought my eyes are wrong, then that it was because of the heat or maybe a piece of dry bush left there, in the middle of the road, by the wind. It was still there, right in the middle of the road, as the distance between us was reducing fast. I lift up my head and focused to that. It still wasn’t moving and a shape was slowly contouring now. The shape of a young impala was becoming a certainty. We were getting dangerously close and Richard didn’t seem to thing of slowing down. Before I could spell “Richard, watch out”, only when we got a few meters away, as if it was challenging its courage, the impala decided to jump away and instantly vanish. So Richard wasn’t risking to hit it, he just knew it will jump aside in the last moment. This time we all saw and got super excited. I saw a smile on Richard face in the mirror. How many people he must have drove like this, through their first safari experience, whitening their first reactions.
Now the wilderness around us was as cut off from the National Geo documentaries about Africa, those I used to watch sitting down, on the carpet, in our living-room, when I was a kid, so I could see better.
We didn’t even had the time to process what we just saw and finish all excitement exclamations when suddenly a large group of giraffes appeared out of nowhere. It happened so suddenly that it took us all by surprise and without phones or cameras at hand. In spite of all the promises and guarantees made on the tens of tours operators sites I checked while organising the trip, I never thought it could be quite like that: an abundance of wildlife in one place: about 20 giraffes, tens of zebras and even more wildebeests appeared out of no where. Richard stopped the car and the engine and let us wonder as the animals were just a few meters away from the road, doing what they do all day long: eating. They didn’t even blink seeing us. And there it happen. In front of a sight that no zoo could ever offer and no documentary can even get close to, in the middle of the savannah, my tears didn’t wait for that first lion. My eyes got wet. For feelings like that make days in our lives worth remembering there is no effort too big, no distance too long and no boundaries impossible to cross.
Kenya
The camp
At the end of a 9 hours ride we arrived in the camp. Our neighbours for the next days were the inhabitants of a Maasai village. We passed by their settlement, followed by a cloud of dust, as a few young men were directing the cattle inside their village walls build of clay and soil. A large group of barefoot kids dressed very colourful stop their game in front of the village to salute us and didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the dust that came after us, leaving them invisible.
A few Maasai men in front of the camp helped us with the luggages in change of a tip. I only had my blue-marine polka dot backpack. This is how tourists coming to see the lions bring a benefit to the local community, besides buying hand made souvenirs or sometimes making small donations.
A few rows of large tents built on the ground, closed with a zipper, housing two beds covered with mosquito nests and in the back, a bricked up, well, almost up, bathroom with a shower in the wall, a toilet and a sink. One tent was mine alone. It was basic but having all it needs and the bed was clean. Cleaner then in other places where running water is not as precious as it is in the middle of the savannah. The water pressure at the sink was very low, it took a lot of patience for a hand wash, but the shower was good, with warm water. Outside, a kitchen, a small bar and a large room with white plastic tables and chairs where guests could serve the food from the buffet. Electricity was available only during the night. That was our camp, simple but filled with excited people.
We had one hour to leave our luggages and get ready for the first safari. I sit on my porch a bit. In the tent on the right the Spanish couple was laughing loud of something only they knew, on the left Elaine, the American woman saw doing some stretching.
The afternoon: the first safari
We jumped back in our white old van and headed straight into the wild. Richard opened the roof and like this it looked more as a safari car. Well, still quite far from the jeeps we’ve seen around. The cool air of the afternoon smelled like vast fields and dry grass. A few minutes only after we left the camp, we started meeting the animals. Wildebeests were everywhere, zebras came after, impala in small or bigger herds with many calves among them, a few warthogs with their funny walk and constantly on the move, an ostrich female. With every distance covered, advancing into the dry depths of Mara, we were more and more mind-blown. Like a dream you have for so long and when it becomes reality you realise it has exceeded any scenarios your imagination could have crafted.
I got my camera out of the bag in a general “woww” from my safari companions. My new lens, a telezoom, bought especially for the trip, was one of the best acquisitions I ever made. Even though is the cheapest available from Sony, it totally made the difference when it comes to taking photos during a safari. The phones, even the newest models, were quite useless so I promised the others to share my photos when back home.
We were talking about that when I instinctively turned my head away and looked far, to an area where the dry grass was even taller growing by some bushes. I just couldn’t take my eyes off that spot, without seeing something there, as if I felt it. And there it was, perfectly blending in, part of that far away field, a lonely gorgeous lioness.
– A lion!
Only after long minutes and using Richard binoculars all the others manage to see her. Laying in the grass, with her mouth opened, breathing relaxed and calm.
– Girl, you got eyes for lions! I couldn’t see her not even after pointing the exact spot!
The first of the big 5 was that lioness. The 2nd came fast after, was a Cape buffalo in a swamp we passed by, looking angry at us with his dark massive horns covering its upper head and curving around its head like a true threat. Called the Black Death, it is known to have killed more game hunters than any other animal in Africa. It’s a karma weapon after all.
Cape Buffalo in Maasai Mara
A cloud of dust raising up in the sky was the target Richard was aiming. The old white van was running wild on the bumpy track and five other jeeps were following us. We arrived to what it seemed to be at first a jeeps an vans gathering in a cloud of dust. But that was not it. We saw the reason of this madness: two male cheetah laying in the grass a few meters away, totally ignoring us silly humans making excited noises and using phones, cameras and even half meter long lens to get an image of them. The sun was setting and it was the most perfect golden hour that our home, planet Earth, can offer as another gift to us.
The narrow path was going up. Every person in front of me was like an obstacle meant to slow me down. I was trying to be as polite as someone in a desperate hurry can be. I was literally running and sweating but the worse was that I had no idea if the direction was right. At one point people became very rare obstacles. I looked down from the edge of the cliff and the view was spectacular, a row of people was crossing the long wooden bridge above the turquoise water of the lakes and a big high curtain of waterfalls was opening in front of them. All in a beautiful green scenery painted in all shades. A few seconds for a photo I’ll always have so I stopped… No faces that I could recognise around. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it. Damn it! I had to admit it, my biggest fear that day has happened: I got lost in Plitvice.
Split, what a nice surprise!
The summer of 2019 have been awarded ever since winter to Croatia. My 10 years old birthday tradition demanded a new place to be enjoyed that summer. Another two reasons were Plitvice Park, present in many tops of the most beautiful places in this world and… King’s Landing. After the fatal and disappointing end of Game of Thrones, I had to see Dubrovnik.
After a short stop in Zagreb, I flew straight to the seaside, to Split. At the end of a short walk from the port, where the bus from the airport dropped me, I easily found my hotel: tinny, basic but cosy, with a little park in front where tall pines were cooling the hot July afternoon air with their dark shade and where cicadas were singing their summer hits, right next to a very fancy and pricey hotel and…. now comes the best part: a few meters away from the beach, one of the most frequented in Split. My booking wasn’t that generous with these precious details and I was terribly happy to have my expectations so exceeded.
A few minutes later I was, of course, already out in the street, ready to start counting many steps on my Garmin bracelet that day. I had a frugal beef salad in one fast food kiosk recommended by my host. Waiting for the sun to be more friendly and less burning, I wandered around, on quiet streets with beautiful old villas with little balconies nicely decorated with flowerpots. I discovered a little church with limestone walls covered with fuchsia bougainvilleas, those flowering factories that I adore. A few palm trees in its yard were making it look so like it was somewhere on the Italian coast…
A late afternoon swim and a lazy time on the beach in front of my hotel assured me that finally my summer vacation was ON. This time made in Croatia.
Evening by the Adriatic in Split
It was amazing to discover that Split was way more beautiful than I imagined. As I walked by the yachts aligned in the harbour and reached the beautiful promenade build in yellowstone and called Riva, the central stage for the city life during the day but mostly after dusk, with restaurants on one side, facing the sea, and palm trees on the other, it was obvious why Croatia is making so much money out of tourism. I couldn’t wish for more in a summer evening at the end of July then one of those places where holiday never seems to end.
I left the lively boardwalk behind and followed a song that seemed to come from a street somewhere in the back. A party? No… The 1700 years old columns from the Diocletian’s Palace, that have seen so much history, were now witnessing a wedding. And as events like this are not always seen in an ancient site, the place was now a huge gathering of tourists and wedding guests where the bride and groom, golding red wine glasses up in their hands, were the main voices of a song that all the guests seem to know by heart. This happiness was so contagious that all the people around were smiling. The toasting continued late into the night as I passed again by the place. An important day was starting early, in just a few hours, so was time to call it a day. A great one!
OMG, Plitvice Lakes
I’m not a morning person. But there are two things in this world that would make me jump out of bed at early hours: a beautiful place I want to see, that I already payed for.
Like Cinque Terre in Italy, like Benaghil, the beach inside the cave in Portugal and like so many other beautiful places I heard about before seeing them, Plitvice was a little obsession. I wanted to get there.
Split at 7am was something I wouldn’t normally enjoy. Fresh and laid back, like all places by the sea in the morning. I arrived at the meeting point 10 min earlier. To avoid the hustle and bustle I payed for a small group tour to take me to Plitvice, 250km from Split.
At about 11am we were in front of one of the entrances in the national park. The parking lot was packed with big buses bringing tourists from all the cities on the coast, also from Dubrovnik and even as far as Zagreb. A few tourists who didn’t had a tour booked and came by themselves were trying to buy entrance tickets. They were told to wait and see, at that hour all tickets were already reserved by the tour operators. The joy of summer high season…
– The authorities had to limit the daily admissions to the park, they had to, the place was too crowded before, our guide told me.
Then, with a little map of the itinerary in the hand, we were directed to the tourist bus. After a short ride, we reached the starting point. I looked at the map… I’m terrible with these things and space orientation in nature. “I hope I won’t get lost here” I thought, thinking about what the guide repeated a few times during that morning, “If you get lost, you’re on your own, we will have to leave at 5pm from the parking lot.” I wasn’t in the mood of socialising but I tried to remember o few of the people in the group by the clothes they were wearing: the tall blond guy in shorts, the Spanish girls, the Indian family…
It started like this:
The more we advanced, the greener and wilder it became. Like an Avatar land of wonder where lakes with the clearest water were either reflecting the trees around or offering perfect views to their depths, where plenty of fish were moving among fallen tree trunks now covered with dark green algae. Swimming was forbidden. The Spanish girls I was with at one point, we couldn’t stop fantasying about a swim in that paradise. The place looked spotless, no track of garbage as if the thousands of people wandering around every day didn’t exist to spoil it. The park was well taken care of.
As we walked deep into this trekking paradise made of a chain of 16 terraced lakes, united by waterfalls, walkways made of wood across the water were offering breathtaking views. My photos took time, I wanted to breath in this place and take my time so I lost sight of any person from the group. I was too relaxed to care and I still had plenty of time to enjoy this:
And this:
The place was becoming crowded and at one point we even got blocked and had to wait for about 30 minutes. The moment I figured out people were actually waiting in line to take a photo in a specific place in front of a waterfall, I went further, outrunning the crowd. I found another spot, even better.
An electric boat inside the Plitvice park links the 12 upper lakes with other 4 lower lakes. By chance I suppose I got to the jetty in the same time as many others from the group. A short boat ride took us to a new starting point, this time to Veliki Slap, a 78m-high waterfall, known as the Big Waterfall, the largest fall in Plitvice and in Croatia. The landscape was constantly changing, from unreal turquoise lakes to forest clearings where the sun rays were sneaking in and again to lakes, this time with light blue shades, with shallow waters where hundreds of fish were swarming in peace right next to the narrow path where, this time, no one else was walking. Such a bliss! For a few minutes I was all alone, sitting in the shade, watching all those fish so close I could touch them and hearing nothing but the birds. I stopped and look around at how wonderful this place could be. Waterfalls everywhere, small and big, solitary or covering an entire wall where water was pouring down noisy on parts covered with vegetation or on rocks. The picturesque landscapes were indescribably beautiful, with picture perfect spots every few meters.
Time was running out and one of the main attractions, the Big Waterfall was close. As if all the people in the busses that morning were gathered here in the very same time, the narrow path leading to the place was very crowded. I saw two women in the group but they were too fast to follow if I still wanted to enjoy the views I was passing buy not running as if I was on a treadmill at the gym, facing a window with nothing to see. I was in a hurry now and I got a few shots from above. It was impossible to stop for more then one second since we were now packed, moving like a human snake formed by hundreds.
I got down only to take a look from the bottom of the fall all the way to its top. A few seconds was all I had. I started running up again, grateful that most of the people were heading down and not up so I could move faster. 30 minutes left to find the parking lot where the bus was waiting. The top view of the Big Waterfall hold me in place for a few seconds in a aww moment.
It was so hot outside. The perfect blue sky from the morning was now turning lighter. The way up was dusty from all the people walking up and down. I got to a crossroads. I made a choice though I wasn’t sure. Then I turned back, took another way. At one point the crowds were far away and I could run. 15 minutes left. Then 10. I thought OMG! Then, one minute later, oh shit! Where the hell was everybody? I saw light, a sign and I was out in a parking lot, a huge one with a few busses. Now which one is ours? I saw an information office and went to ask them. Damn it! it was another parking lot! The one I had to go was down the alley, then turn left, continue straight, then at the sign turn right… the king of answer that can drive one crazy even in a relaxed moment. I ran on the alley back again. 10 minutes passed the meeting hour. I was already thinking wether I will sleep in the woods or beg for a car to take me somewhere, anywhere where I could find public transport. I was desperate but in a way accepting the drama and looking for solutions as I was left alone there. And then, I saw in front the Indian family! They were running too but seemed to be more confident about the direction then I was. I followed them and I finally found the right parking lot, the bus and the guide:
– Why didn’t you called me to wait for you? I waited for your call…
– I didn’t think I will be in time so…. I was barely articulating the words but I was so relieved! I wasn’t going to sleep in the woods that night! And I had all the beauty of Plitvice with me now, as a dear memory.
Right now, as I write this, in my balcony back home, after a month since I have escaped my quarantined big city and returned in my hometown to wait here or better times, these memories are so sweet. From the slopes of a mountain, between two high hills covered with forests and a river, nature has been my comfort where the song of birds have silenced any bad thought and the scent of acacia flowers in bloom makes me grateful for this never expected break from a constant rush and optimistic for the better times to come.
First big thing I did that fresh morning was chasing a huge black butterfly through the garden in front of my bungalow. I saw it from the terrace as I was just out of bed and I ran down the stairs in pyjamas. But he was not into photos, apparently, and made my mission an epic fail. After a short hide and seek among the banana trees, he left me for the frangipani flowers up in the trees. The rain shower the night before was a bliss for the lush vegetation around. The scent of frangipani was now spicing the morning. I picked up a white flower and placed it between my fingers, like a ring. I raised my hand up and took a photo with the blue pool in the background, surrounded by the green of the paradisiac Balinese garden. Ahhh… mornings in Bali!
Then, back to life with another spicy breakfast: fried rice, fruits, black tea. The one the day before, with black rice was the only non spicy exception I had in all my trip to Asia. My bungalow neighbour came along the alley. With his frizzy hair and loose clothes he looked like an artist looking for the meaning of life. He asked something in French, I answered back. Hmm… French people, funny how some presume everybody speaks French in Indonesia. Then a voice interrupted my thought:
– Good morning, your driver is here, waiting for you. For that day I had big plans so I arranged this the day before with my host. I abandoned my hot fried rice and ran to meet him.
He was in his late 20s, maybe, though with Balinese people looking so serene, age is quite a riddle. With beautiful Balinese traits reigned my a happy smile and kind eyes. I immediately complimented the sarong he was wearing and he liked that.
– Well, we are going to the temple, soo…. And so I met Wayan.
I insisted he joined me at my table for breakfast, so we can talk more about the plans that day, he did pleased for only 2 minutes, then excused himself and left to wait for me at the entrance. This was inappropriate for him, as he was not a guest, so I let it like this.
The huge Toyota Land Cruiser outside, with beige leather seats and Wayan opening the door for me as my host was waving to us at the gate made me wander again: why would I spent any more cents on holidays in Europe when I can have this for 30$ the whole day??? Asia is definitely perspective changing…
Wander: Tegalalang Rice Terrace
As the first rays of sun were caressing the rice paddies, Wayan and I were already walking on the tiny alleys built between them. Small terraces filled with water, where the rice was growing, were drawing the landscape in perfect lines in tones of green. All shades of green. In some parts the crops were young, like sparse green lines raising from the muddy water, in others thick as hair, completely covering the surface. It’s no wander Tegalalang Rice Paddies is one of the most iconic places in Bali: photographed, posted, Instagrammable and so liked and shared. Wooden cottages in the front and green rice paddies as far as you can see on each side, delimited by coconut trees where the jungle seemed to have taken back what was hers. We went up following the narrow path, while I was taking tens of photos and constantly stopping to take in all that spellbinding beauty and fill my eyes with it… And so we reached the top, where the views all around were spectacular. Such views deserve… a swing, to make the photos look even more spectacular. Sure, someone with initiative thought to give a hand for more Instagram likes, install the swing and start a business asking for a fee. And, boy, that fee was pricey! Wayan tried to negotiate for me. It didn’t worked out, the owner of the swing kept his price. I also tried, with no success. So I used my last negotiation weapon: the leaving technique. The owner didn’t even glimpse.
– God damn it, I can’t make peace at all with this guy!!! I told Wayan, half amused and half pissed off.
– I thought you really don’t want to pay and you want to leave….
– Sure I don’t want to pay but I want that damn expensive swing! Let’s go back, I’ll pay, whatever! It’s not like I do a swing over the rice paddies every day.
With my deepest philosophy of life when it comes to high prices, we went back. I payed the price but told the owner he’s a stubborn guy and he’d better not drop me down there, tens of meters down, cause for sure I’ll be back and haunt him for the rest of his life. We all laughed, after all, this was Bali, all here is about truly living. I was being prepared to be launched up high in the air, into the rice paddies abyss. Wayan got my phone, he was in charge of the photos. The first swing blocked my breath: it was sooo up high! But the views conquered all fears. The next one was even higher and my hands turned grey as they clenched around the ropes of the swing. From the third, I finally enjoyed it: the wind in my hair, the air above my feet, the speed, the fresh scent and the top views of Tegalalang Rice Paddies. And so, Bali swing was checked out of my to do experiences and the photos Wayan took were fab!
Now other tourists were starting to wander around and the feeling that the place was ours entirely vanished. The magic left, the beauty stayed. Two women came to the swing, they made a long face hearing the price and started a shy negotiation attempt. No success. I slowly whispered one of them: “I tried too, he’s stubborn as a mule.” And so they payed.
As we followed the path back, I asked Wayan a few practical questions, like how much rice can you get from a 3m long parcel, how many crops you can have in a year, what processes are needed, what happens when the rice is mature enough to be harvested. An interesting fact: the land belongs to the state and it’s being rented to people so they can use it to grow rice.
Believe: Pura Tirta Empul – the holy springs and the ritual of purification
Besides beauty, the next feeling that is omnipresent in Bali is the spirituality. For a thousand years, Balinese Hindu worshipers and people from all over the world and of all religions have been drawn to Pura Tirta Empul (Holy Water Temple) where the sacred springs, said to be created by The God Indra, are believed to possess healing and magical powers.
The temple from the outside looks as it’s trying to keep the secret of what’s inside. As we passed the entrance, the story unfolds. The beautiful architecture brings back the old times into the present, with Hindu Gods carved into the dark grey stones, the decorations and most of all the silence around impose a deep sense of respect for traditions, history and spirituality. First think was changing my dress with a green sarong surrounded by a red sash. This was provided at the entrance, for 10k, only for those wishing to perform the water purification ritual, which of course I was going to and which includes offerings, meditation, prayers, bathing process, water drinking directly from the springs and in the end taking the time to figure out how all these made you feel. Here’s how it goes melukat, the purification ritual:
Purification Ritual at Tirta Empul Temple
To do it properly, meaning do as the locals do. Start with an offering to the gods in the first section of the temple, called Jaba Pura. The small square plate made of dry palm leaves contains rice, leaves, even sweets, colourful flowers, stick of incense and can be bought as it is. Or, you can prepare it yourself and get more involved in the process.
Next, in the section Jaba Tengah, there are 3 pools with 22 water spouts in total. The first and biggest has 13, next 3 and 6. Start with the first, from the left, from the second spout, skip no1 as it is for children under 10 (though many use no1 also) and no 11 and 12, which are destined for rituals performed for the dead, which are cleansed immediately after they pass away, as an essential part of their preparation for the after life. In front of every spout repeat this ritual: join hands, recite 3 times the mantra “Ooom”, rinse your head and face with water 3 times for body and soul cleansing then drink 3 times and spit out that water (eliminate the negative). Then again drink 3 times and this time swallow, it is said to be for healing. It’s all related to no 3: the 3 gods: Vishnu, Brahma, Shiva. In the end put your forehead under the water, for protection. This will be repeated to all the other spouts, 2-10 and 13.
Go to the second pool, which is about karma, repeat from left to right in front of every of the 3 spouts, just as before.
Go to the 3rd pool, which is believed to cleanse the body of any illness. This time start from the end, from right to the left. The last spout, the one in the left here, is believed to be the most powerful, The Tirta Empul, which gave the name to the temple. here some say the ritual should be done 7 times. And that’s it. Relax after.
Truth is, I found so many contradicting information about how the ritual should be done correctly, like weather to drink or not the water or that women should tie the hair or even about which spouts should be used and how…. The best is to ask a local there who seem knowledgeable and willing to help in change for a tip. Even so, probably some parts will be “adapted” on the way.
In conclusion: I did drink the water. More then 2 years have passed since and I’m alive. Thinking about the fish in the pool where the springs come from the ground, not to mention the ritual involving the dead….this might sound crazy. Still, at that moment, I was somehow absorbed into the energy of the place and thought more about karma then the bacteria in the water. I don’t know if the feel I got in the end was due to the water, a bit cold and so refreshing. Or was due to the good night sleep or the vitamins in the breakfast, etc…. but I felt different: lighter, as if my bodyweight had suddenly reduce, my mind was free from all concerns and a positivity had wrapped my spirit. I don’t know what, but there’s something about that place. Although the purification ritual I have performed was far from what’s called right, I left Tirta Empul filling truly and deeply purified, body and spirit.
Indulge: the waterfalls – Tibumana and Tukad Cepung
The sight of a guy that had just suffered a scooter fall brought me back to reality. He was literally skinned on a large portion of his hip, his bum and hand. He was with 3 other friends, just parking their scooters, walking in his underwear while with a hand he was holding up the material of his underwear, revealing his completely skinned butt cheek. It was indeed a hard core view that stayed in my mind, related to all past and future scooter rides.
We followed a path through the jungle. Gosh how green it was! The first waterfall we stopped to was smaller but the landscape around made it look as if we were on a deserted island, somewhere in the promised paradise. I have a thing for waterfalls and Bali is the place to go for people with “my obsession”. There’s something in their power and how nature looks untouched in their surroundings as if waterfalls are ancient guardians of its beauty. Besides all the rice paddies, the temples, the beaches… the OMG factor in Bali are its waterfalls. We took a few photos as I was sitting 2m away from that little one and in a few seconds I was soaking wet under that natural shower.
Next was Tibumana waterfall. We walked deeper into the jungle, passing by durian trees with thorny fruits hanging down the branches, banana trees carrying their huge red flowers and cocoa trees. We followed the stairs and the curtain of vegetation soon revealed a nature’s wonder: the Tibumana waterfall. Words are powerless. It was an irresistible invitation for a memorable swim.
As I was completely charmed by the place, Wayan left me and went a bit further to talk to a friend of his he met there. I later joined them. The place by the river was fill with zen stones, I noticed them immediately and approached a few which needed a closer look.
– Hi does all these, you see, Wayan told me.
– You mean all those zen stones sticked together with I don’t know what king of glue? It’s impossible otherwise, I joked.
It seemed indeed impossible but yet those zen stones by the Tibumana waterfall in Bali that day of September were mocking all Physics lows we know. I checked them one by one from each angle. My conclusion:
– I got not idea how you do it! We all laugh.
– You know except a few, they resisted even the earthquake two weeks ago.
He meant the earthquake that killed nearly 500 people in Lombok that year, the island close to Bali, and was seriously felt in Bali too.
We left, him with me convinced he’s some sort of Hindu magician 🙂
The wonder: Tukad Cepung
If I only knew what was next….The photos that led me to this waterfall showed maybe 1% of it’s true beauty. That 1% made me really wanting to see it, so I was prepared to see another beautiful place in Bali, but not the best waterfall I ever saw. I few minutes of not so easy trekking through the jungle… The vegetation got wilder and thicker, the path steeper, in some parts very slippery. It seemed this one was hidden well, deep into the jungle. High trees carrying large lianas pouring down the walls. It was like a corridor left once by a large powerful river that in time got smaller, a long narrow passage with straight walls meters high, on top of which the lush vegetation was exploding, sending bits of it down to us through the lianas.
It got darker, the sky was now just a small blue line above our heads, sending little light down there. It was unbelievable, nature couldn’t get more exotic then this, I told Wayan. Water was pouring down those walls like curtains of small, almost invisible waterfalls. It was extremely humid, which very well explains the vegetation so dense inside the passage. I climbed a huge rock for a photo. Got a few scratches, totally worth the sight from the top. We arrived to a cave, passed through it and got out in the light again when I felt small particles of water touching my face like a wind. We followed the river and entered another cave, bigger, and behind its walls, we heard the echo of some voices. A few steps further the waterfall revealed its wonder.
A straight curtain of water was pouring down, from the green of the jungle and the blue of the sky to the dark of the cave. One more problem: it was packed with people, Instagrammers like, turning the place into a never-ending photoshoot. But as patience is always rewarded, I somehow felt the right moment might come. And it did. As by magic, at one point everybody left, one by one. I quickly went back again, inside the cave, walked closer, paying attention to the slippery rocks in the water. I got drenched even at many meters away from the fall. It was now all mine… No other sound but the water falling. I raised my hands to the sky, closed my eyes and let thousands of water drops fall on my face, covering me like I was part of it. It left like I was flying in another world. A few seconds later I opened my eyes again, preparing to leave and I saw Wayan was not the only one saving my moment into a photo for later. A few guys with real cameras were taking a few shots too. One said to me to wait a bit more there as he did a few more. I didn’t mind, it wasn’t me the subject, I just addend a touch of yellow to an already perfect place.
Feel: my first Balinesse massage
After such a day of wonders Wayan and I went back to Ubud, planning the next day and talking about his family, about the famous healers and the Balinese food. I was too happy to be tired. I had one more thing to try: a Balinese massage. I picked one place randomly on a street in Ubud. Light music, candles, petals… A lady came and offered me a tea while she prepared the place. So after a day where every cell of my soul was moved, it was time for my body to feel the same process. Fists, fingers, elbows, she took care of every muscle and bone. That pain was good. Made me feel I was alive and happy in Ubud.
“Was just another day for only me in Paradise”… if I can reinterpret Phil Collins song.
It was dark for hours already when we finally arrived in Udawalawe, home of 500 wild elephants living in this natural reserve park that covers 308 km2. A few of them I was hoping to meet during the safari, next morning.
As the car stopped, I jumped out and stretched my hands above my head, had a deep breath of that warm but fresh air. I felt the scent of field, of dry grass and dusty ground. We have left the lush greenery behind is, in Ella and here I was surprised to find a totally different landscape, of savanna, with less green and more yellow.
Our hosts from the B&B were waiting for us, Deesa, my driver during the trip in Sri Lanka and myself. Was such a warm welcome, as if I was visiting some long time friends. The lady of the house, her husband and their young boy were kind and friendly. The house looked lovely and had a nice garden around where they’ve showed me papaya and mango trees, with fruits hanging down, and many more other plants and flowers. They spoke little English but we found ways to communicate even without Deesa’s help. My room, also, was just perfect. We were the only guests of the property for that time so we were spoilt. I still can’t believe all this was less than 8 euro a night. But something else had brought me there, and was nor the house or the garden. Was the food, praised by many other previous guests who were calling the dinner there as the most authentic and fingers licking good they had in all Sri Lanka. So there I was!
And the most important thing for a starving foodie like I was, who saved her appetite for the best to come: dinner was ready: home cooked rice and curry. I kept hearing “rice and curry” from Deesa all day long and I thought was just that, rice cooked with some curry. I was hoping will be served with something else, though… So when the lady brought a large plate with simple hot rice, put it in the middle of the table, in the yard outside, and then started a come and go back series at the end of which the entire table was full of smaller plates with… everything: chicken, sauces, vegetables of all kind, all with curry, all yellow, I finally understood what the famous Sri Lankan curry and rice actually means: a feast!
The host didn’t forgot to bring me a spoon and a fork. But I was decided to have my amazing Sri Lankan dinner the Sri Lankan way: by hands. They all seemed happy to see me embracing the local customs. Deesa showed me how it’s done: he first used a big spoon to take some rice, puts it in the middle of its plate and then surrounds it with little portions from all the dishes on the table, ads sauces on the rice, then mixes it a bit with 3 fingers from one hand and with the same 3 fingers starts to eat from all at once. Eating with hands, indeed makes food taste better. For dessert we had pineapple, the best I had so far, sweet and with a delicious flavour. I also brought on the table rambutan and langsa, from Malaysia, and invited everyone to have as much as they wanted.
An interesting thing happened: while we were eating, our hosts joined us with their presence, standing nearby but without taking a seat at the same table, even after I invited them repeatedly. This was only for the guests and so a gesture of deep respect. We talked, laugh and I ate so much I couldn’t even move in the end.
It was a perfect dinner in a perfect company. At almost midnight they left, leaving the house to us only. Deesa and I were having a last Lion beer when I started hearing something outside, over the gate, not far from where we were. Something was moving in the dry vegetation, seemed like something big.
– Shhhh, hear that? I said
Deesa, who was in a very good mood at that moment, said was nothing, just my imagination. He continued his story about Singiyria and the king who build a kingdom there, up on that 200m high rock. Then again I heard it, even closer and louder.
– Do you hear it now? I interrupted him. See, it’s not my imagination. Maybe it’s a leopard, I joked. The noises continued until we heard some barking, like 4-5 dogs maybe but very aggressive.
– Ha, ha, it’s just dogs, you see… No lion, only Lion beer here, Deesa said.
We started laughing and the very next second we stopped suddenly and looked to one another with both surprise and uncertainty.
It sounded like a fight, a wild animal attacking, just a few meters outside the gate surrounding the yard where we were sitting. Roars followed by other noises, a clash and after, once again, those dogs barking. It lasted for maybe a couple of minutes during which non of us even blinked. We heard a few more barking noises and then suddenly it was silence.
– This was no dog, Deesa, I said, a bit worried. This was something wild. And pretty big!
– No, this was no dog, true.
– What was it then? I looked over my shoulder, checking the length of gate with my eyes. Is this gate safe enough?
– Don’t worry, it is safe here. Leopards sometimes come closer, they have started to eat dogs, that’s why.
I have no idea if that was indeed a leopard, I have never heard one before, in real life and either way not like this, attacking. But it was certainly a wild animal. After this episode, the silence that surrounded us was interrupted by nothing else but the joyful crickets. I went to bed soon after, around midnight.
6am
I thought I was dreaming but after a few more seconds I realised that terrible noise coming from the door was real. First I thought it was Deesa, who went nuts to hit the door like that, as if he wanted to tear it apart. Then I heard something that sounded like some squawks. So this was not Deesa!
Are monkeys hitting the door like that? I thought. It can’t be! I was in a natural reserve, true, but still… I heard a rush outside and for a couple of seconds was quiet. But right before I started to feel relief and happy I’ll have a few more minutes of sleep, the noise transfered quickly to the window, which happily was shuttered.
And so the show started! Squawks and scratches and miaowing and yawing and the conclusion was only one to made: was a pack of crazy monkeys who decided that no human was there to sleep at 6am. The thought that I should never complain again about the birds at home, making too much noise in summer early mornings, just crossed my mind. I had an itch to see what exactly was outside but I was a chicken, I admit. I just thought I would be quite outnumbered…
When they finally decided to leave I went outside, checking the area first from the door. Was almost 7am and and the jeeps for the safari were going to arrive soon. Deesa was just up and the moment I see him in the yard, I started:
– You won’t believe this! A large group of monkeys woke me up, they scratched and hit the door and then the window…
He just sits there with that look. But anyway I continue my description of the noises.
– Monkeys here, noooo, they don’t come here. You must have dreamt.
I didn’t got the time to insist on the authenticity of the happening and I hear him:
– Where are my sandals? I left them….. here….. Was nobody but us here last night.
– Now you still believe that I was dreaming???
As he looks around the yard and sees his sandals among other shoes threw out everywhere, we both start laughing.
– Hmmm! Those monkeys… I hear him mumbling as he starts picking up his sandals from all over the place.
Our hosts were just entering the yard. We kept all the stories, from midnight and the one in the morning, for us. Breakfast was soon ready and it looked like an Instagram post: fresh made appa, some local curved crunchy pancakes made of rice flour and fruits and honey, so again I ended up being too full.
The safari
The jeeps arrived, we jumped in and headed to the entrance of the park. It was a very early morning and the red ground smelled fresh and life giving.
I knew I wasn’t in a zoo but I somehow had big expectations. After about 2 hours riding on very bumpy alleys in the reserve, all I got to see were a peacock, an eagle, a heard of buffaloes and 2-3 crocodiles. I wasn’t disappointed but I was dreaming of seeing the lake and the elephants bathing there…. It seems they had other plans for that morning…. like hiding in the bushes.
We still got to see a few of them, a large male, a young one and then another one in some bushes. They were all eating for as long as we were observing them and seem to have no problem with us around. In the end, by a lake, another lonely male was putting on his natural sunscreen: the mud.
So my first ever safari was fantastic, no doubt. I did saw the elephants in the wild, happy and free and nothing compares with the pure happiness of seeing a wonderful “beast” like this in his natural habitat, in his home. Even if this means waiting for long minutes in the sun, in front of a large bush where something moves, waiting for it to come out so you can get a glimpse. Yes, us, humans, are intrusive, with our jeeps and cameras. We probably look so silly to the animals. But if in places like this they can be free and safe, it’s still an acceptable compromise.
After having a bite of this wonderful wildlife sanctuary in Udawalawe, we headed south, on the Indian Ocean coast, to Mirissa, Unawatuna and Galle. Few places in this world can bring the peace through beauty as these purely exotic beaches can. With high coconut trees with swings hanging down, stretching above the sand on long sandy beaches where high waves bring surfers on and on to the shore, il looks like wallpapers. Those we get to see while at work, closed in glass and steel offices and doing tasks we force ourselves to believe are “motivating”, those we lie ourselves that are just Photoshop. But they are so real, out there.
We then continued our way back to Colombo, driving by that wonderful lush vegetation, by the rubber trees plantations, by the banana trees full of green bananas, by lakes surrounded by coconut trees, covered in water lilies and lotus flowers, by the greenest rice paddies or huge trees turned black by hundreds of big black bats sleeping on their branches. In Galle I watched the stilt fishermen on the costs, keeping alive this ancient tradition, one of the so many in this country, called the tear of India.
In the end, Sri Lanka was more then I can ever say, it touched my heart in a special way, through beauty, warmth and that charming simplicity that few places still keep. And it became one of my favourite beautiful places, where I just can’t wait to go back, for more.
P.S. It’s been almost a year since my trip there and I still keep in touch with Deesa. Last time we talked, a few days ago, he said business is going bad now. The tragedy that took place there on Easter makes people avoiding Sri Lanka and this means no customers. He doesn’t complain, he just hopes for better times.
If I had the time and money, I would go right this second back to Sri Lanka and stay there for a month, at least. I dream to go back one day, soon.
After a few hours of trekking in Taman Negara jungle, through lush greenery and sweating like never before in my life, due to that 90% killer humidity, we finally reached the Kuala Tahan Tembeling River. It was like I imagined, dreamy: the dense tropical rainforest, with high trees spreading their branches like tentacles and twisted lianas vines hanging down like green curtains, was split in two by the waters of the large river, of milk and chocolate colour. A man was waiting for us right there, on a few meters wide beach of white sand. We continued by boat, on the river who’s waters were warm like a soup, crossing tumultuous rapids, gazing at beautiful birds flying from one side to another or huge lizards on the shores, sending us curious looks. We arrived in an area where the river was running quiet, just like a lake. The trees brunches looked here like hands, each trying to reach the other side.
– You can take a swim if you want, says Abdullah, my guide and already my friend.
– To see what gets me first: a crocodile or some piranha? He laughs as we touch the shore on a small secluded beach with yellow sand, carried out there by that mighty river. For a second I thought I saw a naked boy disappearing behind the dense vegetation. Or maybe I did saw him. We were now on the territory of the Orang Asli tribe, heading straight to their village.
In Taman Negara there are two ethnics of Orang Asli – Batek and Semokberi. The life of these aborigines is very basic, nomadic style, but what amazes me the most is how knowledgeable they are about the jungle, their home, basically.
I look around on the river bank and smiled, thinking it looked just like a photo of the Amazon, wild and mysterious.
Abdullah continued his lessons about the fantastic plants growing in the jungle, he showed me one that closes its leaves every time it gets touched. I had fun for minutes teasing it, for his amusement. His love for nature is a mix of respect, humbleness and gratitude and the fact that got us close was exactly that he saw I share the same feelings.
We then follow a narrow path going up the hill, almost hidden behind large fern leaves. A few cottages covered with rags and dry palm tree leaves are raising out of the dense green. Were build, apparently, to offer shade. I can see now three old women sitting under. No walls, only the roof and I can barely see them from the distance. I noticed they are dressed very colourful, with sarongs tied around their slim bodies.
A few more steps further and we are now surrounded by more cottages, some of them having all 4 walls, all covered with palm tree dry leaves. The entire village is formed of not more than 10 homes. The Orang Asli, the original people, the oldest inhabitants of Malaysia live like this for thousands of years, in small isolated communities, just a few families in the heart of the jungle. They hunt in the old ways, with poisonous arrows blown through bamboo long pipes, making fire from dry pieces of woods, following their own rules and customs. They are protected, fed and educated by mother jungle and she is providing them with all they need. They fish, pick up fruits and hunt, and sometimes they plant corn or a few trees for fruits. Their impact on environment is almost 0. This way of living, away of all the benefits and madness of what we call the modern life, is so fascinating. From the Arctic and the Sami population to Asia and its aboriginal inhabitants, people still live like this. I can’t stop myself wonder: How come we got so far from this? Polluting all, over fishing the oceans, destroying and rubbing the nature of all its gifts, heading with fast speed to a future that looks grim and even incompatible with life.
Here time has stopped for good. A young woman wearing an orange sarong tight up from her solder to her knees takes a naked 3 years old boy and starts bathing him in a bucket, behind a bunch of fern bushes. She uses water only. Her dark skin looks so beautiful, like velvet, contrasting the light orange of her sarong. I see other two, very young, who are carrying their offsprings in baby k’tans.
Abdullah says they all merry very young and because they merry inside the community only, sometimes the children are born with health problems or major handicaps. If a woman marries a man from another community, she moves away, following her husband.
The modern world got them too in some ways. Now women are taken to hospitals to give birth, the Government is trying to keep the children in schools and to provide the tribe with clothes or food. And so, with plastic and precessed foods. In change, they accept visitors. It’s a compromise, having strangers to observe them and take photos of them in change of material advantages. Less hunting, less risks taken, easier life. I did restrain from taking photos and I tried to be as little invasive as I could. The only few images I took with me were taken without anyone’s notice.
We are soon greeted by a skinny man in shorts. He smiles with all his face. He’s got no teeth left but he’s proud to be a great hunter. He is ready to teach me to blow the pipe and I’m ready to learn. The arrow is like a 20cm needle made of bamboo with a round end polished with a dry leave that stands as sand paper. He starts by showing me how he makes the arrows, the technique is fantastic! Once the arrow is ready, the sharp end gets covered with poison. The wild target has no chance once it gets hit by this.
We use a Hello Kitty toy, pinned on a fence, as a target. I never like this character anyway so I enjoy it even more.
The pipe is more then 2m long, made of bamboo also. He does it 3 times and hits the target each time in the head.
My turn now: 1st time I suck, second I get closer and 3rd I hit the Hello Kitty straight to the heart. But only after I got extra indications from the master. I hear applauses and we all laugh.
– Now you are a true jungle surviver! Abdullah said
– I should move here!
Fire lesson is next. A young boy takes a piece of dry wood and a rope. he starts rubbing the two parts and seconds after we see smoke. He continues with fast moves for a few more seconds, then puts the resulted ash in a bunch of dry grass. He blows and the smoke gets even more dense. Right after he has fire in his hands. My turn to applause now. 1min 20 seconds was all he needed to light the fire.
We head then to the last cottages of the village. A few children are playing outside and I am amazed how independent they are from such an early age. We sit there, among the people, on a bench improvised from two trees. The chief of the tribe comes, Abdullah salutes him and they start a long conversation while sharing cigarettes brought in by Abdullah. He also bought candies for children and he passes them to me so I can give them. They surround me smiling, with curious looks, grab the candies and run away. I saw them after heading to the river. They reach the small beach we came from and the next second they are all jumping in the water, naked, laughing and speaking loud. What a peaceful life and what a fantastic scene was developing right in front of my eyes.
We got carried out and instead of spending here, with the tribe, one hour, we spent the whole afternoon, almost 4 hours. Indeed, time has different values here.
We went back to the jetty where Sun, the driver, was waiting for me. I said Abdullah good bye promising to come back one day to the green paradise of Taman Negara. We then drove back to Kuala Lumpur.
On the way back Sun made a few stops in small local markets to buy all sort of exotic fruits, like rambutan and langsat and different desserts, just to have me taste the delices of Malaysia. All was fantastic. He refused any money from me, his reward was seeing me getting in love head over hills with his country.
The day ended with a visit at Batu Caves where a hindu festival was under way. The steps going up to the caves were just painted in the rainbow colours on this occasion. A hindu ceremony was happening in the middle and huge colourful hindu gods were placed in front of a shrine decorated with thousands of flowers. Tens of men dressed in white sarongs were attending, singing, praying. Sun explained to me a little of the significance as he was a Hindu, original from India.
We got right in time at my hotel for a last swim in the fabulous infinity pool, on top of KL. What a city, what a country, what a day!
PS: I do kept in touch with Abdullah, send him photos from Europe or the places I’ve been after. Seeing the photos with winter in Finland, he said he would die there, in that cold. Every time he asks when I’m going back.
My Beautiful Places 