Sam & Mark Are Where!?!

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noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 17:16:00 +0000

We have been out of Peace Corps for a while but have finally managed to put the "R" in RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). Read: we're in America!

During our 2 years in Mali we talked quite a bit about returning on a boat, dreaming of crossing the Atlantic in days instead of hours, so we did. Our ship left from Dover, England. We first spent some time exploring the famous white cliffs.

Atop the white cliffs.

It is a little too slippery for Sam's liking.

Your town needs a nice castle to be taken seriously in England.

We boarded the ship for the journey across the Atlantic Ocean. It turns out that this is much larger body of water than a quick glimpse at the map might indicate. It took twelve nights of pretty much constant steaming (or diesel burning, as it is nowadays) to get stateside.

It took 2 days of cruising to reach Portugal. The seas en route were so rough that many folks were hiding in their staterooms or using the white bags provided on the stair railings (We've seen these in planes before). In fact, we were afflicted with land sickness when we walked around Lisbon. It was tough to stop swaying.

Beautiful old world architecture.

The streets look the same as they did back when Portugal ruled the seas.

With the one port of call behind us we had the next 8 days at sea. Since we were making up for lost time living in a muslim country, we spent much of the days eating bacon, playing trivia and drinking beers in the hottubs.

On the way to the hottubs (note: beers in pockets).

Familiar decorations onboard.

Finally touching land in the U.S. of A.

We have looked forward to returning home for so long. Obviously, we are happy to be home. We will do our best to see everyone as soon as possible. We don't need to tell any of you to be patient with us, you are all used to that. We will try to see all our friends but, as we learned in Mali, it is family first.

Lila playing with dad and Uncle Mark.

Kayla, Emily and Megan dancing with Aunt Sam.

We are thrilled to be back but will never forget where we went. We cannot express our thanks to all of you who made it all possible from family to friends to Peace Corps crew. It has been incredible. We have grown in ways we never expected, seen places and done things we could never have imagined and met people we will never forget. Thank you all.

"That way to Africa."

Scotland

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 17:20:00 +0000

Off to Bonny Scotland for some cold and rain and a visit with the brother. We leave from England to head home soon but a few pints up north is always a good idea. We saw palaces, pubs, mountains and football pitches, with plenty of pleasant nights with great conversations along the way.

Check it out:

Mark and Brian intrigued by the commentary at Holyrood Palace.

Scotland has plenty of ruins.

Ascending the staircase of Arthur's Seat.

There was a crowd atop of the Seat but great vistas of Edinburgh Castle.

Us with our friend Stuart's mum who had just returned from her first trip to America. A trip which included, oddly enough, a weekend at Mark's mum's.

Downtown in the capitol.

Typical Scottish scenery.

Looking down on the Firth of Forth.

Off to the Hearts vs. Rangers game at Tynecastle.

Great seats had us close to the action. Yer man, American Maurice Edu had a good game for the visitors.

The only happy ones in the crowd at the end were the visitors fans and us, who had less invested. Sam and Mark with Brian's roomate Katherine (the only one smiling) and some stern looking Hearts fans.

Our heros with Arthur's Seat in the background.

Bulgaria

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Sun, 26 Sep 2010 17:36:00 +0000

When arrived in the rather cosmopolitan city of Sofia, Bulgaria, there was a puppet festival going on. All around town there were advertisements for the shows. There were even a few 3-D advertisements:

We stumbled upon one such show in a park (they were are held in various parks around the city) and it was a trip. The word "puppet" is much more open ended than we had realized. This show was an intricate performance piece that kept a large group of people, all speaking different languages, captivated the entire time with its human puppets:

We later found ourselves in a landscape which we have not experienced in years, mountains. We visited the ski resort town of Bansko in the Pirin mountains and, it must be said, they were much more impressive than we had expected:

It reminded us of our former lives in Jackson Hole. All the taverns looked like Pepi Steigler's Restaurant, except we could afford food there, so that was better:

The vistas we equal to any mountains we've seen around the world:

In the beautiful town of Plovdiv we enjoyed walking through the old town but ran into a few rainstorms so we ducked into taverns to avoid them. We spent the time having fresh wine from the barrel:

We were not limited to wine, however. They practically give beer away for free in this country. It is not just sold in bars and cafes but on virtually every street corner. In fact, you see it very often at bus stops, since it is cheaper to buy than water:

It is sometimes better to stick with the beer and wine, as the offerings on the menus can be a bit strange:

In Veliko Tarnovo we stayed in the house of some locals and the view was stunning:

We walked on the walls surrounding the old fortress:

After that it was off to the Black Sea coast and the resort town of Sunny Beach:

Believe it or not, some friends of ours (who have obviously not spent the last few years in Peace Corps) own a penthouse suite in this town and put us up for a while. Once installed we had little to do but hang out and watch the sunsets, which is better than we deserve. Thank you, Travelling Campbells:

(You may notice our preference for white wine. It makes us a bit of pariahs in Bulgaria. They adore wine. To say they prefer red would be a massive understatement. They have many, many songs about red wine but only one about white and it goes something like this, "White wine, oh, white wine, how I wish you were red.")

Crete

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Sun, 19 Sep 2010 19:00:00 +0000

The amazing scenery tour continues...

We kept island hopping until we were at the southernmost outpost, Crete. Cretans are a proud, mustachioed lot. Mark was deep undercover, only Sam could tell.

This island was much bigger than the previous islands we had visited. It required a car rather than a moto and it our adventures took us on some of the curviest roads in the world.

We went deep underground.

We climbed ancient ruins.

We visited old leper colonies.

And we enjoyed the azure waters of the Cretan and Libyan seas.

Greece - A visit with an old friend

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 12:46:00 +0000

The exodus from Africa is complete. We left Egypt and met up with our old friend, Mark Lister, in Athens, Greece. From visiting ancient sites, to island hopping, mountain hiking, to drinking local wine from the barrel and eating fried cheese until bursting at the seams, it was a great time.

First, a note about mustaches. When one thinks of Greek men one thinks, unless one knows very little of the world, of mustachioed gentlemen. In fact, I believe it was Stuart Campbell's brother Steven who once said, "If ye' been tae Greece sans a mad 'tache, ye' canny sae ye' been tae Greece at all!" Exhibit A - Traditional Greek Dress:

The two Marks, in the interest of cultural intergration, took the example of the mustachioed gentleman in the diorama.

Nailed it.

Now, on to some highlights of the visit:

Saw some photos of Lister's girlfriend and she makes a variation of this face in all her photos.

Old man and the Sea.

Supermodel photo shoot.

Island hopping.

We were going to rent a car but Lister could not decide which one, so we got motorscooters instead.

Go, go speedracer, go!

Moto riders.

Go, go, go, speedracer.

High above the Greek Isles.

Monasteries in the sky.

Looking down on a Greek village.

Typical scenery at Meteora.

Typical Greek island scenery.

Typical Greek architecture.

Route planning.

Route planning.

Trying to figure out where we are.

Donkey riding.

Donkey parking.

Birds.

Tasting local fare.

Sea Babies.

Baywatch Naxos.

Sunrise on Santorini (our hotel beach).

Sunset on Santorini.

The heros of our story.

Sinai

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 05:27:00 +0000

We returned to Egypt to relax for a few days on the Sinai Peninsula. It is seemingly world’s away from the rest of Egypt (so much so that it has its own special visa if you only go there). It is a rugged piece of land surrounded by the Red Sea. Strangely, while seeming as if there is absolutely nothing to do, there is tons of stuff to do here. If you scuba dive, you could stay for months and be happy, if you are religious you could go on a pilgrimage to Mount Sinai, where Moses received the Ten Commandments. If you are a cheap backpacker you could just hole up for a few bucks and take a load off. It is pretty nice.

We “climbed” to Mount Sinai. By this we mean that we took the path to the top with the rest of the piligrims. It was like a highway of people, camels and camel drivers. There are many teahouses along the way for the weary, cold and thirsty. Believe it or not, and the predawn breeze can be a bit bone chilling, being at nearly 10,000ft. It is legitimately tiring as it is a few thousand feet up and it is done in the middle of the night but the sunrise is a sweet payoff. We were so sleepy from being up all night and tired from taking the “Stairs of Repentance,” a roughly hewn staircase all the way down (but mostly deserted, so that was nice), that we were thankful we were not carrying down two huge slabs of stone, like Moses. He must have passed out hard when he got back to his scuba dive camp at the beach, just like we did.

When not doing our Charleton Heston imitations, we were based in Dahab. This is a little seaside town that bills itself as the “Koh Samui of the Red Sea,” a reference to the famously laid back backpacker/resort areas on the islands in the Gulf of Thailand. It is pretty not far off that description. The atmosphere is one that people go there and only leave when their visas expire, if then. The days are as follows: sleep as late as possible, have some fresh squeezed juice, eat brunch, sit in the sun reading, maybe scuba dive, maybe snorkel, nap, happy hour, eat a delicious dinner reclining on a sofa at a Bedouin style table watching the moonrise over Saudi Arabia, sleep, repeat. It gets exhausting.

(This is what everybody looks like in Dahab!)

Watching people play out around the reef right off the boardwalk prompted us to decide to do a little scuba diving in the Red Sea. It was great. We have never seen so many fish. The bizarre city of coral we would wind our way through was captivating. Like nothing either of us had ever seen. When we got out there early we had it all to ourselves. Dahab is one of those places where the snorkeling rivals the diving. We did a bit of that too. Sunset seemed to be rush hour on the reef, as thousands of fish caught the current home just beneath us. Quite a sight.

Jordan

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 08:11:00 +0000

We decided we needed a little break from Egypt. Anyone who has ever been to Egypt will know what we mean. It is a bit taxing. Where to go? Sudan looked a little hot and Libya is a difficult border to get across. We decided on Jordan. No, Egypt does not technically touch Jordan, you have to take a boat across the Gulf of Aqaba in the Red Sea or cut across Israel, but we figured we would go overland and get a beer along the way.

Jordan is the site of the famous lost city of Petra. It consists of buildings hewn directly from the Technicolor cliff faces. Picture the area around Moab but with incredible ancient tombs and temples carved into the rock itself at every turn. While this city was once the world famous capital of the Nabataeans, trade routes shift and civilizations wax and wane. The city was lost to the west for over a millennium. It was known to the local Bedouins but they kept its existence to themselves, fearing an influx of foreigners if it was ever discovered. A ludicrous idea…

“The Middle East in August?” you say. But of course. We went fully expecting it to be sweltering and, in fairness, at midday it was hot but being up in the hills it was surprisingly comfortable the rest of the time. Best sleeping temperatures either of us had experienced in years. The country itself is great, with charming, funny people (“Mister, you want a taxi?” they ask while gesturing to their donkey) and facilities to deal with visitors. Very relaxing.

When we thought of Petra we thought of the Treasury building at the end of the slot canyon called the Siq, which is where Indiana Jones retrieved the Holy Grail (note: Sam and Mark in each picture). We were as surprised and thrilled with the sudden sight as Indy. The other building many think of is called the Monastery. What most people (read: Sam and Mark) don’t realize is that these two buildings make the extreme ends of the site and that there is a whole city in between. Petra is a great workout. To get down the Siq, across the city and then up to the Monastery on top of a mountain on the other side is a pretty good day if you throw in some detours along the way, which is nearly impossible to resist with so much cool stuff everywhere.

(Above The Monastery - notice the people at its door)

This place is not exactly up to code for accessibility. Some of the tombs (which are what the majority of the carved building are) are up some pretty challenging paths but the payoff is great. There is a good deal of up and down here. We climbed up to a ruined crusader castle which was built on a mountain overlooking the whole town (and on some tombs for that matter) and took in a stunning 360 degree view of the site. What we realized was that it would take a lifetime in that area to see all the stuff that was built there in antiquity. The structures trailed off up every canyon and wash as far as the eye could see. There are more than 800 registered sites there. Those are the registered ones.

(Crusader Castle)

These guys were audacious in their monument building, too. While not constructing obelisks the size of the Egyptians, they still impressed. The Egyptians built huge obelisks by carving out stones and erecting them, the Nabataeans simply leveled off the whole mountaintop 18 feet, leaving behind only the obelisk shapes. What!?!? The chambers in these monuments were perfectly cut and colossal, too. The fact that there were no columns to support them had a visual effect that was almost indescribable, like the inside of a cathedral held up by magic.

At one point we kind of stumbled upon a stairway (we had been told about something like it but had no idea if we were in the right place) that was straight out of Lord of the Rings. Up, up, up the side of the mountain it went until a little carved tomb. The path seemed to end there (and would have been a fantastic hike alone with the bird’s eye views of the amphitheatre hundreds of feet below) but we pushed on and found it continued further, hidden from view at the top. This path continued through the upper valley (with some sort of sketchy exposed faces at the end) until we came upon an overlook of the treasury that simply took our breath away. It was stunning. Stuff like that deserves to be seen by the masses, although we were happy for the Jordanian lack of signage, since we had it to ourselves.

Each day after hiking in Petra we were pretty wiped out. The dueling mosques of Jordan sometimes reduced our sleeping time but we did not mind. We were usually looking out the window anyway, since Jordan gets top honors for sunrises and sunsets.

(Pondering the mysteries of Petra)

Egypt

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 18:06:00 +0000

We went to this light show at the temple of Karnak in Luxor, Egypt and the narrator said, “these monuments were not built on the scale of men but on the scale of gods.” She nailed it. The ancient sights in Egypt are so over the top huge it is hard to get your head around. In fact, we found we could stare at them all day and still not comprehend what we had seen. They are not just huge but every inch of these enormous monuments are covered in detailed writing and pictures.

We could not believe the sheer numbers of tourists arriving by the busload and we could not believe how easy it was to escape the throngs and get a temple to yourself by walking about fifty feet off the path. A couple off the tour circuit we literally had to ourselves. We could not believe the amount of hassle you get from Egyptians in and around these sights. Be that as it may, there are things to see in Egypt that have been boggling the minds of travelers for thousands of years.

Resting...

Resting...

Standing...

Smiling...

Giza

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 21:41:00 +0000

Checking out the last remaining Wonder of the Ancient World

Tunisie

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 14:50:00 +0000

Well, we made it out of West Africa but only as far as North Africa. We are in Tunisia and having a great time. It is nothing like West Africa here. In fact, we think it is a bit of an insult to Tunisians to lump them in with “the developing world,” as some people insist on. There are paved roads to even the most far flung locations in the country and there is power and safe drinking water in all those towns too. It is like paradise.

Also different from West Africa, there are actual attractions here. Namely, there are beach resorts, museums (with stuff in them) and Roman ruins as well as the physical beauty and oddity that caused much of Star Wars to be filmed here. Coming to Tunisia was a bit of a shock to the system, after many travels in West Africa where the journey itself was the destination and the rest of the time was spent convincing yourself of that over a bad local beer (although a camel trek in the Sahara might fit into this category- without the beer).

Sam in the Roman Ampitheatre at Dougga

Mark standing in for the missing statue of Jupiter

Sam and Mark grunt on communal Roman toilets

Having a beer at Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru's house

Sam and Mark (Owen and Beru are bar-b-queing out back)

Sam mounted on "Old One Hump" while Mark negotiates with the perpetually grumpy "Ezmerelda" (names given by the riders)

Inside the Colliseum at El Jem, 3rd largest in Roman history

Checking out some mosaics

Hiding out in the seaside town of Mahdia

Service Has Come To An End

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 17:13:00 +0000

Up until this point we have avoided boring you all with descriptions of our services here in Mali. This has been pretty deliberate and will continue. On the one hand we do not want to bore our readers with mundane tales of everyday life. On the other hand, many people believe we are out there saving the world, a rumor which we would not want to dispel. Therefore, we refrained from descriptions of our day to day service and stuck to tales in which we thought folks might be more interested. Sorry if you are one of the handful who might actually have been interested in that stuff. We’ll be happy to tell you all about it over the beers you buy us when we return!

That return is imminent. Our service in Peace Corps is finished and, while we will not be home right away, we begin moving in that direction now. It has been one hell of a ride. As we were told by our country director in a casual conversation during pre-service training, “just don’t quit.” We thought that was the least helpful advice ever at the time. During our recent (even more casual) close of service interview we were forced to admit to him that, while the advice gave little real direction and we thought it lame at the time (we were like “yeah, but tell me why”), it was probably the only real advice that could be given to anyone, the only advice that makes sense given that everyone’s service is so different that doling out advice becomes nearly impossible. Against all odds (read: expectations), quitting is no longer an option. C'est un fait accompli.

Cultural integration is complete!

The final three:

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 16:57:00 +0000

One was from our friends Zack and Shannon, which apparently took much longer than normal to arrive due to it being strangely shaped like the elusive Wyoming Jackalope.

Another came from our PCV friends Karmen, Joelle and Jessica, who managed to find an amazing likeness of Sam and Mark on a card in Ghana.

The final card we ever received in Mali came from Belfast, Maine. We sent it ourselves.

Goodbye to Yelimané

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 13:04:00 +0000

We visited Yelimané for the last time this past weekend. As much as we realize things have changed since we first set eyes on that place, we also realize that nothing really does change. Kids get bigger, new ones arrive, older people leave, mud buildings are replaced with concrete, temporary markets are replaced with more permanent structures, true, but one could return there in twenty years and the same lives will still be going on. The spirit of the place will remain the same. The lives will no longer be lived by the current parents but by their children and they will continue much as before. Prayers will still be said five times a day, fields will still be hoed by hand, women will still give birth aided only by other women whose qualifications are that they have survived all their deliveries. The same food will be eaten, the same transport will be taken (this is meant in the most literal fashion – the same vehicles will be in use), the same villages no more than an hour’s walk away will be the furthest some of the women will ever travel in their lives. Children will still be cute and their lives will still be difficult ahead of them. People will take time for people. Tea time will remain the most important time, the only real time. The joy in life will be, as ever, chatting with family and friends. Nothing will ever be more important than properly greeting people. We hope to take some of these last bits home with us…

Postcard Wall Is Complete

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 14:23:00 +0000

A few final cards have joined the wall. These will likely be the final additions, as our time here comes to an end in less than 2 weeks. If you sent us one (or many) we thank you, if you are planning to send us one you are too late, if you sent one that never arrived don’t worry about it as that is pretty common, if you never sent one shame on you. There are kids in Africa starving for news from their friends.

Jay Oleson from Sam’s high school class sent one from his home in Bretton Woods, NH. Good to hear from him and great to get an antique postcard through the mail (it must be about 100 years old). Very Brewster’s Millions.

J.B. Boyd sent us a card from South Carolina rather than make good on his claim to come visit us in Africa. We think he was just trying to get out of the deal where he stayed with us in Africa in exchange for a painting, or maybe he was just taunting us because he lives in a "real" tropical paradise.

The Wandering Wallaces of Dialafara, Kayes region fame seem to have had a pretty good year. They spent it teaching English in France and then worked at summer camps there before touring Italy where they sent us a card from Pisa. They are now off to China for a year to teach English there. Exciting.

Emily Doerr continued her impressive postcard sending rate. She has a new job and they seem to be sending her all over the globe. She checked in from Belgrade (which looks just like it did back in the ‘40s) and from Skopje, Macedonia (or at least we think that is what it says but we are pretty sure they spelled it wrong). She was wondering if she had sent cards from the most bizarre places and normally she might be in the running (although Finland and West Virginia are hard to beat) except that we both agreed that the random card from a stranger in Malaysia who just happened to read our blog was hard to top. Emily was just in South America and we hope to get some from there before we go but it is likely too late.

We listed at one time or another all the cards we received. As we said, if you did send one and it never got here don’t sweat it. We sent ones to ourselves from the USA and they never arrived, so we know it does happen. We just want to say to those that did send us cards, thank you. Life as a Peace Corps volunteer in Africa is not always easy and we didn’t always want to be here. Looking at that wall and seeing all the support we get from great people made it bearable at times when it really wasn’t. So, thank you all for reminding us what we left behind and who awaits our return, you helped us through this more than you know.

Team America

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 15:26:00 +0000

The World Cup is on. Africa is quite psyched to be hosting its first tournament and, truthfully, its last for many, many years. It doesn’t really matter how well the South Africans pull it off or how well the “home” teams do (that would be all African teams except Algeria, who would be the first to tell you they are not African), it is just how the tournament is set up. The next time it will be back on this continent is like 16 years from now. Judging by how this development thing is going, maybe not even then. We will enjoy it while we are here.

As it is, African teams continue to underwhelm. The entire continent is disappointed with them. Players not giving it their all despite being some of the best players in the world, coaches not coordinating well, ministers interfering with rosters (see: Cameroon). The last day of the second games was pretty good for them, as none of them were playing and could not, therefore, deliver a disappointing result. Hopefully there will be some amazing results out of South Africa, Ghana and Nigeria in their last games.

As for Algeria, it is appropriate that they don’t consider themselves African because then we don’t have to root for them. We were not going to do that anyway because they are going to try and knock the U.S.A. out of the tournament. This will not happen. We were knocked out by a real (West) African side in the group stage last time. Not this time.

Appropriately, we will dress up in our away jerseys and cheer them on. Mark will continue to wear his U.S.A. world cup mustache until their final game, which will be on July 11th, insh’allah! If all goes well, the U.S. will top the group and exact revenge on that same African side from the last world cup, Ghana, paying them back with interest in the round of 16.

(Team America are ready to win this thing!)

Ghana

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 14:13:00 +0000

On to Ghana, the whole point of the trip. We got to Accra and headed to, brace yourselves, the mall. We know this sounds strange to you all back in civilization but it is hard to understate how relaxing it was to escape Africa for a day by going to a western style shopping complex. There was a super modern movie theatre there which we hit and then, being starved for big screen movies in English as we are, exited only to turn right around and go in for second film. It felt like being in America until we picked up Brian at the airport when the plane was hours late. Oh wait, that feels like America too.

The next day we hit the beaches that were the whole point of the trip. We went straight to a place on the western coastline called Butre because it looked a bit more isolated. It was. It was deserted, in fact. We stayed for three nights in treehouses sipping beer and eating fish, you can’t get much further away than that.

After the beaches we saw the slave castles at Elmina and Cape Coast (where Barack Obama had been last year), which was another sobering affair. Again, it was difficult to comprehend the depths of misery that occurred in such a beautiful place.

North of Cape Coast we went to Kakum National Park and walked the canopy walk. That proved a welcomed bit of levity after the coastal forts. It was incredible. We were 100 feet in the air over the rainforest canopy looking through and down on the jungle. Predictably, we did not see elephants tromping below since it is a crowded tourist attraction where people make plenty of noise but it was still fantastic.

Did we mention that most of our food was out of plastic bags or on sticks? (Susan's boyfriend, Brian)

Up to Kumasi. We ran into some Peace Corps friends in the Kumasi Zoo. West Africa is a small place. We looked for the rotting manatee exhibit there but they do not seem to be as progressive as the Bamako Zoo. It was actually pretty good.

Then we walked through the biggest market in West Africa. We had to do this just because Mark would point out every market he saw. Why? If you have ever read a guidebook for West Africa, the markets take center stage as they are the only attraction in most spots. Reading the myriad ways to describe the same old thing which we are forced to endure every time we want to buy tomatoes was kind of annoying. We wanted to read about anything but markets. Alas, there are few sights. Suffice it to say that the Kumasi marche it was, as billed, a buzzing hive of activity, vibrant and colorful as ever with a pulse and electricity found in few other places in the world. Ugh.

On to Mole National Park. It was a really sweet experience, like how you picture Africa in your head. We stayed for two nights and saw more monkeys, baboons, warthogs and antelope than you can shake a stick at as they walked through the camp. Pretty cool. The only drawback was that it was crowded with loud students from the U.S.A. Gapers.

We did not have that problem up at the Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary, in the northwest of the country. We had been told that this was a less travelled part of Ghana and that was accurate, we had it to ourselves. We were out for hours in a canoe looking for hippos but it seemed like we would have no luck until the very last second. We checked one more spot and there they were, seven big ‘ole hippos. It was a pretty good sighting since the population in that part of the Black Volta is only eighteen. That's actually the second biggest population in Ghana, soon to be first when a new dam drowns the others.

We were all quite road weary at that point and after another night in relaxing Bobo, we went our separate ways. Susan and Brian went on to Mopti and Sam and Mark returned to Bamako. With two laps of West Africa now in the books, we were ready for our own bed and some clean clothes.

The Long Way to the Coast

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 12:38:00 +0000

For our second year getaway trip we decided to head east, to the beaches of Ghana. We went with our normal plan, which is to have no plan at all. Our travelling companion was our friend Susan and our only fixed date was to meet her boyfriend, Brian, at the airport in Ghana two weeks after we started our trip where he would join us for the remaining two weeks. In certain places having that much freedom might lead to distraction due to not having time to do everything. Not a problem here.

We entered Burkina and stayed in Bobo Dioulasso for a few days. We found this to be one of the nicest spots in West Africa, actually. With its tree lined streets, its relative lack of motos and harassing locals and a sleepy pace of life, this town was a real nice change from Bamako. It is also a hotbed of Christianity. The Jesus part is less alluring than the real reason we liked the heavy missionary presence in the area, the profusion of little open-air bars. They were on every corner. There is nothing like a frosty local brew in the middle of the day during the hot season, especially when they are practically giving them away. This was a recurring theme for the trip.

Onward to Ouaga where we decided, if we could get the right visa, that we would take the long way around to Ghana. After brief discussion of the bribe (our only one this whole trip!) and an afternoon of waiting, we had our five country visa. That decided it for us. We were off to Niger.

Naimey is a pretty nice capital city, as West African capitals go, albeit less fun to say than Burkina's capital Ouagadougou. It is cleaner than most, maybe because of less people. Of course it is also much further away than most, on the edge of the desert, making it also much sandier than most. The Niger river flows through town and still has, as we saw, hippos right there in the middle of town. This is not the case in Bamako (even though the country’s name, “Mali”, means hippo in the local language). In Bamako the river is so dirty that the only creatures you see in it are women doing their wash, yuk.

Why go to Niger at all? Well, we had heard there were giraffes, the last herd of wild giraffes in West Africa. We were shocked at the ease with which we arranged everything to find them. In Niger, they actually understand the tourist thing (in this case, at least) and try to make it easy on people! This was a serious departure from the West African norm. It did take a bit of effort to find them but nothing compared to our ordeal looking for elephants in Mali (which was long and uncomfortable but still recommended). The giraffes were not far from the capital and not too far from the road. They were fantastic. None of us had any idea how cool they were until we saw them in the flesh. It was worth a five hundred mile detour.

Then it was on to Benin. Why go to Benin at all? Well, we had heard there were giraffes in Niger. We traveled Benin from north to south, stopping for a few days in the beautiful hill town of Natitingou to laze by some waterfalls and just chill out. We made it to the coast at Cotonou but headed directly to the old voodoo capital of Oudiah. We actually spent a day walking from town, down the slave walk, to the point of no return (where the slaves were packed into the holds of the ships waiting to take them across the ocean, never to return) and back. It was such a nice tropical walk and so picturesque and peaceful at the monument that it was hard to get your mind around the fact that some of the more miserable moments in human history occurred right where you were standing.

On to Togo. Why go to Togo at all? Well, we were in Benin because we had heard there were giraffes in Niger. We spent a few days on the beach to recharge our batteries. The beaches were, unfortunately, too dangerous at which to swim. While being very scenic, they were also so steep and the current is so strong that we were warned against going in: severe under toe. We were, however, impressed by the profusion of good beers (read: four passable varieties) thanks to Togoland having at one time been a German colony. Therefore, it was probably a good thing that we were not swimming in dangerous waters while sampling these.

(Believe it or not, these are very dangerous waters.)

Eastern West Africa lap complete

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 09:18:00 +0000

The sights in West Africa are “few and far between.” This saying is usually an exaggeration meant only to add emphasis to a story but not altogether true. It is difficult to express how literal it is here. The countries here are pretty big and the distances are made almost impossibly far by grueling transport but there is almost always something along the way in a journey, right? Not so much in West Africa. There are very few “tourist” sights per nation. In fact, after our recent lap of eastern West Africa, another saying comes to mind. In West Africa, "the journey is the destination."

We took a month long tour which brought us from Mali, through Burkina Faso, Niger, Benin, Togo, Ghana, back into Burkina and eventually returning to Mali - all on public transport. What is that like, you ask? Well, if any of you happen to have a sauna in your house (maybe you are Finnish or maybe just eccentric) you should invite twenty to twenty five of your buddies over, heat up the sauna and all sit in it together for about twelve hours. Provided that your sauna is no larger than a cargo van, you will get the idea. For those of you who do not have a sauna available in your house don’t fret, you can head on down to the local YMCA and perform the same experiment. They have suanas there and you will probably end up with a more authentic experience anyway, what with the locker room smell, the others being complete strangers and your strong desire to be somewhere else after about ten seconds.

In reality, the transport in places like Guinea, Sierra Leone and the Ivory Coast made our transport in eastern West Africa look like a couple of recent grads backpacking Europe. It is difficult to describe those transport experiences without developing a nervous twitch or tick, so we will leave that in the past.

Anyway, you will all hear more about those travels. We will fill everybody in on the highlights soon but for right now we are off our Close of Service (COS) conference. Once we have been taught how to be Americans again we will get to the trip tales. For now, just know we are safe “home” in Mali.

(Mark outside of the car, resting on the curb, as is the radiator...)

Out of Range Again

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 12:22:00 +0000

The good news is we made it back to Mali. The bad news is that it is full on hot season, which means it is uncomfortable in Bamako. As we did last year, we planned to flee the country during a portion of this time. We are still going on our vacation, regardless of having been home recently,since we have been looking forward to it for a year.

We will be gone to Burkina Faso and Ghana for quite some while, during which you will not hear from us much (read: not at all). This radio silence does not necessarily mean we are in trouble, although we will try to get in some situations worth reporting for your reading pleasure. It probably just means that we are either having a great time or not near the internet. Knowing what we know of the rest of west Africa it is likely that both are the case.

Thank you for your mail

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 12:19:00 +0000

The fantastic cards keep pouring in. We had some seriously far-flung ones since last report. We also had quite a few first-timers getting on the wall, always nice. Time is running short, so get yours to us!

The Travelling Cambells continue to lap the planet, checking in twice from Ireland and Scotland. They also made it to Costa Rica, Italy and Denmark. A strange set of cards too, everything from a baby pig’s backside from Finland to a woman in California.

The Schiebels of Littleton, Colorado went all the way down to Patagonia and thought to send us one from there. We thank them and look forward to imposing on their hospitality again sometime soon.

Emily Doerr’s new job (which is not new by this point but we kind of live in a vacuum) sent her to Vegas, baby! What is says on the card stays on the card.

Janice Deering is doing well. She sent us two from the beaches Costa Rica, where she was kicking back. We’ve been meaning to get there for years ourselves, it looks incredible.

“Kevin Coughlan continues his hilarious postage onslaught with depictions of “Kick the Can with Dad,” Information Superhighway” and the “Wyoming Riding Mower.” These ones continue to remind us of how backwards we believed our town to be, until we came to Africa, of course.

Our buddies Zack and Shannon checked in twice from Jackson, Wyoming. We are surprised they are not sending us notes from all over the planet too, per their usual.

Louise Gignoux “decided to finally add to our collection" (others should take note). She was riding her jeep through Moab which she does when not shooshing down slopes in Jackson or summering in France. Easy livin’.

Amir Fouad, of Bridger Gondola fame, sent us one from the Matterhorn. On the back he reminds us to root against Algeria in the World Cup after they ousted his Egyptian squad. Fear not, being in a neighboring country and seeing a bit of their fans recently, this will not be a problem at all (especially as they play the U.S. of A.). At least he still has the US and Switzerland for whom to root, the perks of being a tri-citizen.

Not to be outdone by the Travelling Cambells in the bizarre department, Brother Brian in Scotland sent one with ridiculous public pronouncements by graffiti artists along with a bizarre card depicting a bagpipe playing pig, which is on some building in Edinburgh in lieu of a gargoyle, apparently. The coup de gras, however, was his “Sam and Mark in 40 years” card. Kudos.

Cousin Mikey and Sarah were apparently hanging out with the Kennedys, who have their own postcards. They will have less time for such high-jinx now that they have welcomed James McCarthy to their clan, although they will probably spend the summer on the Cape so maybe we are wrong.

Kallie and Katie Hannon were hanging out with aunt Cindy in New Hampshire but sent a postcard that said “Maine” on it. We think they are trying to start a debate between the couple composed of a New Hampshirite and a Mainer about which is better. This is one of our favorite topics.

Finally, our pals Nic and Jimmi got on the board in a big way. They sent us not one, not two, not three, but eight cards from South Africa. Impressive.

Trip Home

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 17:59:00 +0000

We have returned to Africa after an up and down few weeks in the States. The joy of seeing our families was tempered by the sadness of burying a father. While the graveside ceremony was something Frank would have bore begrudgingly, the Irish wake was an event in which he would have reveled. It seemed the entire town of Belfast, Maine came out to the pub for the memorial and a great time was had by all. While the memorial in Boston was much more subdued, it was no less of an honor to see all our friends come out to support us during difficult times and we thank them all from the bottom of our hearts.

Thanks to some fortuitous volcanic activity, the brothers Hannon were reunited for an extra week, which is the longest time that has happened in years.

There was a new Hannon to meet as well. Her name is Lila and she is wicked cute! There was a rumor that she was really fun to hold and play with but everybody had to be content just hearing the reports since Aunt Sam was a bit of a baby hog!!! We can’t wait to see her again when she will be starting to walk.

We also got to see Barb, who goes by Nana now, and John. We could go for walks in Acadia National Park from their front door, which was great and we will be doing quite a bit of that when we finally return.

We spent some time in Vermont and New Hampshire with Sam’s side of the family, too. The girls are growing like weeds. They are so big we can barely all fit on one couch anymore!

When we arrived in Vermont it was 80 degrees, freezing! It only got colder from then on out (later in the week we saw snow when we headed up to Killington) but the weather held long enough to play a family game of softball, Kids vs. Adults. The kids were named Creamers, but they really got creamed. Who knew old people could still hit, run and catch? It is funny how Mark and Sam are still on the kid’s team.

We saw some other old friends along the way. We look forward to seeing them all again and those that we missed next time around.

So, we are back in Mali for the home stretch. We are actually going on a vacation, which we had planned before all this, to Ghana next week. That will be a good bit of arduous overland travel. It should convince us to go get good jobs somewhere so we will have the money to fly from now on. After that it is our Close of Service (COS) conference and a few weeks to wrap up our work. Then we are finished with Peace Corps and whatever comes next, we shall see…

Sad News

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Thu, 08 Apr 2010 10:52:00 +0000

Mark's father, Frank Hannon, passed away on Saint Patrick's Day. He was happy man who enjoyed life fully. He was sixty three years old.

We've returned to the States for the memorial services. While we are terribly saddened by the reason for our return, it is nice to see our families and friends once again. Bringing us home and the family together would please Frank greatly. One last gift.

He will be missed.

Francis Joseph Hannon, 1946-2010

The Elusive West African Red Ass

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 12:31:00 +0000

One thing there is not a lot of in West Africa is genetic variation, at least not among domesticated animals. When you picture in your mind cows, goats, sheep, camels, dogs, horses and donkeys you can be confident that the same picture appears in the heads of everybody else in West Africa because they all look the same. All donkeys are grey with a black stripe across the shoulders, all horses are white with a dyed red tail and mane and with a Toureg rebel on top and all dogs look like Santa’s Little Helper, including ours:

(Hercules is wicked cute!)

Obviously, when you make a sweeping generalization like this one you immediately see contrary examples pop up. Yes, of course, there is occasional black horse and tan donkey but not often, virtually never. We have yet to see anything other than a variation on the S.L.H. theme when it comes to dogs. That is why it is so strange to occasionally come across the extremely rare and exotic West African red ass.

“Red donkeys? I don’t think they exist,” you say. While these shy and elusive creatures are rarely seen by the casual visitor, Sam and Mark just so happen to live next to the plastic and cardboard (they can’t afford tar-paper) shacks of the falitigi (donkey boss) trash collectors. Owing to the sheer numbers of donkeys observed, we occasionally spot a red one. Incredible but true, not unlike seeing an all black penguin in the Antarctic, a white buffalo in Janesville, Wisconsin, or a R.O.U.S. (Rodent of Unusual Size) in a fireswamp.

After each ludicrously long and horribly unhealthy day of trash collection, the falitigis return and unhitch their donkeys from their carts, allowing them to roam the neighborhood streets. Not far from our house, near the smoldering mountain of trash (Note: this is not an exaggeration. There really is a three story high mountain of trash burning constantly, raining ash down and wafting the smell of burning plastic into our house year round. Glamorous!) there is a portion of the road which has been repaired with the red earth for which Africa is so famous. These red rocks have been pulverized by heavy trucks and ground into such a fine powder that it covers our feet, gets on our clothes and into our lungs. Donkeys love to roll around in the dirt to cool off and stop the bugs from biting them, at least for a little while. Every once in a great while they use this unique spot. The result is a strange sight: bright red donkeys. Behold!

Bike Ride

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 11:32:00 +0000

It is probably true that pretty much all volunteers who are out en brousse think to themselves at some point or another, “I should ride into my regional capital (or banking town or whatever).” It is also likely that most of them actually do it once or more, depending on the distance and transport, etc. The Hannons are no different than any other volunteers. We often discussed how we should ride from Yelimane to the closest major town just to say we’d done it, if nothing else. There was a snag, however: the starting point of Yelimane is not exactly “close” to anywhere.

That being said we, two virtual amateurs at cycling, decided that we really needed to cross that long bike ride off "the list." So, during our last visit back to our old village, we brought our bikes on transport with idea of riding them on the return voyage to Kayes. There are a couple of issues with this idea worth mentioning here: 1) It’s hot, well over 100F (owing to the route’s position on the globe, there are also very few trees and, thus, virtually no shade), 2) fitness; Mark and Sam are out of shape, 3) there are few towns and villages along the way to get water (and none that people reading this would consider “safe drinking sources”), 4) oh yeah, almost forgot, its 160 kilometers (that’s 100 miles!), 5) see numbers one and four.

Like a lot of decisions we’ve made, we were going anyway, good idea or not.

So, at 5:30 we got up before dawn, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to start at six. The first problem arose, or should we say failed to rise. We got all ready to go, strapped on our bags, prepared our water bottles, ate a bite or two of bread and opened the door to say greet day but the day was not there to greet us. (Probably a telling sign of our forethought, or lack thereof, for this trip: it had not occurred to us that we were now 500km west of our normal sunrise.) For those of you who do not know, the closer you get to the equator, the less twilight there is preceding sunrise or sunset. It's not exactly like flicking a switch but nearly. We sat in the pitch black for a while, each of us thinking that the ride would go much better with an extra half an hour of sleep. At 6:20 there was barely enough light to see the road and walk to say goodbye to our friend, Ali, who was making bread but by 6:30 it was light and we were on our way.

We were making great time. Going about 25km between stops and only resting then because we knew it was a marathon, not a sprint. Spirits were high. No aches or pains yet. Our second stop was the derelict bus at 50km from Yelimane. This is a landmark that always held a morbid fascination for us. A skeleton on the edge of the Sahara, the ghost of transport gone awry, it stands sentinel over the road, as if to say, “abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” or maybe just “bring extra water.” At the very least it implies, “never take Diema Transport,” Sage advice.

Nearing the halfway point, we started to exhibit the snappiness with each other for which we are famous. Fortunately, we encountered something unexpected which put us in a good mood again: a herd of camels. While all the lions, antelopes, giraffes, etc. in the area are long gone, it was still uplifting to pass through a herd of, what we consider, exotic animals. It reminded us, if nothing else, that we were not in Kansas anymore.

We stopped for food in the big town of Djiagoumbera. There were no fruits, the meat at the local rotisserie not ready yet, the hard boiled eggs we bought were so rotten they looked like something out of a Dr. Suess story. Sam was much more annoyed by the lack of food but Mark was being blinded by sunscreen laden sweat dripping into his eyes and practically blinding him, so we were both a bit irritated. We moved grumpily on.

At the 100km mark we found a small baobab tree and sat in its shade eating peanuts and drinking water. We were still upbeat although clearly getting tired at this point. Our distance between breaks was shortening. This probably would have been a good distance for one day any other time. It was sweltering.

The village of Medina is at 107km. We needed some water as there was a long stretch ahead and we would get parched. We ask a little girl for water. She said the well was bad. No problem, we would treat the water with bleach. She frowned, saying, “no, it’s really bad.” (A little advice here: when a villager tells you twice their water is bad, they really mean it.) We gave her our bottle to fill anyway and she returned filled with what looked like slurry from the tunnel walls of the Big Dig project in Boston. We thanked her and moved on before they tried to feed us; we did not want to find out how they’d follow up that water.

The heat was getting unbearable. We couldn’t whether decide to curse Allah or thank Him for the headwind he had provided all day. While it slowed the trip down it certainly kept our core temperatures down as well. Things were rough after eight and a quarter hours of exercise, wind, sun and thirst. Sam proclaimed, “I’m about to lose my shit!” We took half an hour break to find her shit (it was apparently under the shade of a tree in the village of Goumera), which was fine with Mark since his neck was so stiff he could barely turn his head. We replaced the milky Medina water with something more potable and were on our way again, 28km to go. We rode the last real isolated stretch before the hustle and bustle of the main “highway" between Kayes and Bamako in the hottest part of the African afternoon.

At this point in the trip stops were necessary every 10 kilometers (6.4 miles) or so. Our energy reserves emptied long before. At the Kayes airport we pulled off and rested for a good long while in the shade of a lone acacia tree. We did not dare to bring our bikes too close, though. A big thorn in a tire after 140km and so close to our destination might have broke our spirits. We had no such concerns for our butts though, as at this point in the trip they were numb, and plopped down for a siesta.

Knowing it was almost over we pumped ourselves up for the last time. The last 15km to the bank of the Senegal River was clogged with tractor trailers and donkey carts. We were so close we barely noticed the traffic. The final 2km are downhill to the bridge and mericifully easy going. So easy, in fact, that we stopped and bought vegetables for dinner. Having made it through the ordeal and only a hop, skip and a jump from the comforts of the stage house, we lazily chatted with gateaux sellers and the ticket lady at Ghana transport. In no great hurry, we soaked in the sights, sounds and smells of the end of our ride.

The bike ride was a bit of a microcosm for Peace Corps. Before hand, we were nervous that we were getting in over our heads or that it would prove too much for us. Then, as it actually began it seemed easy, enjoyable even. This was going to be a piece of cake! It did not get uncomfortable until we were deep into it. Only then did we really start to examine how little we had come and see how long it truly was still to go. Past the halfway point the count-up switched to a count-down and we knew it could be done. As we neared the finish line there was a part of us that almost regretted it was over, no matter how tired we were of it. Back home (the stage house), showered, cold beer in hand, it was almost as if it had all been a dream. We felt accomplished about having done it. Would we do it again? Probably not, but we are both sure glad we "got 'er done!"
(Sampling our just rewards after an eleven hour bike ride: the Queen.)

Yelimane run

noreply@blogger.com (Sam & Mark) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 10:38:00 +0000

We headed up to Yelimane recently for a visit. Mark’s old counterpart up there, Kadja, had a baby so we went up to see him. Needless to say, he is a cutie. Kadja was calling Sam his mom and when we asked if that made Mark his dad, Kadja answered “no, of course not.” Her reasoning: Mark is already Ablo’s dad!

The baby’s name is Fassouri. He is a lucky kid, not just because he is from a loving family or because Ablo is his big brother but because he had a sweet nickname from the get-go. Why? He is named for his maternal grandfather, Fassouri Kanoute, who was the mayor of Yelimane at the time of his birth. Therefore, he is known around town as “the mayor.” Old women will stop what they are doing to ask, “and how is the mayor today?” or “well, Mr. mayor, it is an honor to see you.” It is great.

We saw Solo again. That is the kid who, for some reason known only to them, Cousin Mike(y) and Sarah decided was the cutest in Mali. Anyway, it was up to us to break it to Solo that they were not coming back to take him to America. As you can see from the photo, he didn’t take it well.
Yelimane, while remaining unchanged for virtually the last thousand years, has blown up in the past year. They’ve got it all there now. There is a new bank, an internet café, a new market, improved public restrooms for the market and transport station still under construction, a high school, another giant political party building, a huge hotel. Most notable is a veritable skyscraper of three whitewashed stories (it extends to a fourth story with the stairwell that empties onto the roof and appears to add another story). It can be seen for miles around. Yelimane is going to be as big as San Francisco in a few years and twice as sophisticated.

Our jatigi’s (host’s) family has blown up as well. In the year and a half since our Swear-In as volunteers they have produced ten new mouths without a single death. Mali has one of the highest fertility rates in the world. There have been four babies since our last visit alone! Statistics amazingly show that by the year 2015, 46% of the Malian population will be under the age of fifteen. If anyone is wondering what this population explosion will look like, we suggest a trip up to Yelimane for a sneak peek.

Don’t bother looking for the cat, however, unless you are an archeologist: