Matty P and Natty C,

6:12P and the halls of KFWB are dead. I'm guessing most people needed to get to bed early as we have Leslie Green's Korean Power Breakfast event tomorrow and need to be downtown @ 7A. Talk about being fired up! Nat... not sure how strong the turnout might be.... we might need a few of your friends to come out again. Ah Matt, talk about good memories......

Saw Mark in Las Vegas on Friday.... hung out for awhile with him and the boys. Alex (his 1 year old) curled up and passed out..... kind of like you in the back of the Matrix coming back from LV when the 3 of us made "the trip." That was fun, remember. Of course you don't!

Everybody on my end is doing well. Seems like you're doing the same. Listen, I'm so sorry I forgot your birthday. Tell you what, when you get back, let's you, me Nancy and Natalie get together and we'll go out and pick up a really cute goat for your new place..... okay? 

Ron

You guys are truly amazing.  Can't wait for your return.

Happy Belated Birthday Pro!  That was such an incredible story that there's really nothing else I can say.  Can't wait to see you guys!

October 20, London, England -- Back in London -- our home away from home -- for a few more days before flying off to New Dehli, India for 2 weeks in search of the endangered Bengal Tiger and One-Horned Indian Rhino, a short glimpse of either making my 33rd birthday most memorable.

When travel is your life -- as it has become ours -- one can grow callous to the sights, sounds and challenges of life on the road.  The madness of airports and armed security, transportation -- in all its forms, poverty and beggars -- even charming cobblestone alleys or crumbling fairytale castles can lose their luster -- each transformed from the challenging or magnificent to the expected or mundane.  Like it or not, we are now professional travellers -- a situation where spirited adventure and authenticity must be earned -- beyond the guidebook and backpacker trails on the road less travelled.  Last week, in a tiny Massai village not listed on any map, we had such an experience -- a 24-hour period we'll never forget.

Of the many forms of tourism sprouting up these days, we stumbled across the cultural variety following our incredible wildlife safari.  In a nutshell, adventurous tourists are able to immerse themselves in a multi-day cultural program within an authentic Massai village -- a place that time has forgotten.  After a grueling two-hour dala-dala journey (dala-dalas are small minivans equipped with 5 rows of seats which never leave until "full" -- that is, until body-parts and people are spilling out of the windows and sliding door -- we departed with no less than 29 adults and 1 child -- yes, in a minivan!) we arrived at the village -- more a collection of primitive mud huts scattered across a dry, dusty desert landscape than my preconcieved notion of a village.  After challenging conversation (our Massai and Swahili needs help), we decided to hit the hay -- literally -- in our traditional boma (read mud hut).  The circular structure was divided into 4 "rooms" -- one for sleeping, one for sitting and cooking, one for livestock (cows and goats sleep alongside their owners to protect against lions) and a small storage area.  Lantern in-hand, Natalie inspected our primitive hotel room from top-to-bottom; :30-seconds later she let out a shriek, "Matt, come check this out!".  Inside the storage area, startled from the light and Nat's scream, was a small, white-and-brown goat, a large bell hanging noisily from its neck.  The novelty and laughter of sleeping with a goat a few feet from our heads soon wore off as our friend paced in circles until the early hours of the morning.  Only the thought of "eye for an eye" retribution from the Massai warriors kept Natalie from strangling the restless goat. 

Needless to say, we were up with the sun and were soon off to see the wizard, that is, the local Medicine Man. Down the parched yellow and rock-strewn road we went, a massive African eagle perched eerily on a boulder nearby, watching our every move. We approached the boma with trepidation, a throng of goats and chickens scattering as we entered the one-room mud hut.  A shriveled old man dressed in a red, Massai toga -- his ears stretched to his shoulders -- smiled and welcomed us to join him on the mud floor, 5 gourds of varying size and color, strewn on the ground before him.  Our host and guide, both Massai with very limited English, rounded out the unlikely fivesome.  The Medicine Man immediately started explaining the gourds at his feet -- each containing powders and extracts with specific medicinal purposes.  The first quickly caught my attention, "this made from rare tree outside a sacred cave in the mountains, used for high blood pressure", our host translated.  Given my precarious cardiovascular state (for those of you in the dark, I was diagnosed with high blood pressure just prior to our trip and now take Crestor daily), I quickly bought a small pouch of the extract.  I should have waited.  Any trace of credibility quickly eroded as he continued to explain the contents of the other gourds.  One for kidney problems -- all one needs to do is open a large gash above each kidney and liberally sprinkle the magic powder on the open wound.  The next, for marital problems, "for any problem with wife, man rub powder on face and problem go away",  he muttered as Nat bit her tongue.  One of our favorites, for erectile disfunction and sterility, came with the following instructions: "add water to make paste, then spread on your wife, problem go away".  Remember, the majority of Masaii villagers shun contemporary hospitals and doctors and leave their ailments to the local Medicine Man -- all of these remedies have been in use for centuries. The fourth gourd contained a bunch of rocks -- used in a non-traditional manner of faith.  Mothers with a missing child are told to hold one of the rocks in their hand, continually asking (praying) for the safe return of their child.  The fifth and final gourd was much larger than the rest, containing a collection of rocks and small bones.  This gourd could predict the future, and we couldn't resist.  "Ask the gourd a question", he asked through our translator, as he passed us the gourd.  In a sort of African-karaoke, we spoke into the gourd, "how many children will we have?" the first of a half-dozen questions that elicited the same answer, "you'll be rich and strong".  Clearly, the gourd was not fully cooperating today.  For the next 2 hours, the Medicine Man peppered us with questions on life in America, he laughed at many of our answers.  We smiled politely in return, not wanting to be culturally insensitive.

Later that day -- after a lunch of ugali, greens and beans -- we started off for the advertised highlight of the weekend adventure -- the traditional Massai market.  Hundreds, maybe even a thousand tribes, gathered each Saturday to buy, sell and trade their wares -- some walking from as far away as Kenya and Uganda.  This was the veritable Wal-Mart of east Africa.  Cows, goats, live chickens by the handful, Massai shoes (made from discarded tires), fruits & veggies, fabrics, firewood and charcoal, the slaughter-house adjacent to the livestock market -- all blended together in a symphony of sight and sound.  We were the only foreigners at the market -- drawing stares, snorts, smiles and even a threat -- one of the butchers raised a bloody knife at me as the kill bled on his bare feet, furious that I dared snap a photo of his artistry.  Slightly rattled, we proceeded past the angry butcher to the goat and cattle market -- after all, we had a job to do.  Weaving our way through the crowds of hooved animals and Massai warriors, we inspected the livestock, intent on purchasing a young, healthy goat.  After a few conversations and inflated prices, we found what we were looking for -- a brown and white beauty -- and for a fair price, a hair under $15 US dollars.  The goat was our gift to the poorest family in the village -- a widow with two young children.  Buying a goat in a Massai market was not the highlight of the day -- no, the highlight was the satisfaction that an incredibly poor family now had fresh milk and the prospect of a growing herd.  Our gift was not without restrictions, the first-born goat from ours would then be given to the next poorest family in the village, as dictated by the village elders, and so on -- thus, helping to break the cycle of poverty.

Believe it or not, our incredible day didn't end there.  Back in town that night, we set out for an early dinner at a favorite, local restaurant.  The establishment was adjacent to an open-air museum, which we had to walk through to access the restaurant.  After dinner, we emerged from the restaurant right smack in the middle of a Tanzanian wedding -- hundreds of locals dressed in traditional costume and colourful clothing were milling about.  The wedding was about to begin.  Dressed in flip-flops, running shorts and a torn t-shirt (Nat was dressed slightly better than I) -- we tried to sneak out the back.  At the door, we were stopped by a man in a bright green suit and a smile from ear-to-ear.  "Welcome, my friends.  Relax.  Please join us as we see the beautiful bride off", he graciously offered, the way he started walking us towards a few empty seats clearly showing "no" was not an option.   For the next hour we sat, listening to live Swahili songs and bilingual sermons, the wedding party dancing past us on the way to the alter.  I wonder what the bride and groom will think when they watch us on their wedding video?

M & N

DANIELA Y EDUARDO,
Nos Pensamos en ustedes mucho! Vamos a verles muy pronto. Tenemos un vuelo a Santiago el 16 de enero! Como estan ustedes? Hay algo nuevo?
Nos Vemos!
Mateo y Natalie

Dear Matt and Nat

It was nice travelling with you guys in sunderbans. Hope you are enjoying your stay in darjeeling. Just wanted to tell you that we are going to delhi our home and would be there when you come to delhi so it will be great if we can meet up in delhi when you come there. My contact no is 9830776077 It is our mobile no you can call us on this no. It is a calcutta mobile no but we will also be using this no in delhi.

Will wait for your call. Till then Astalavista

Cheers!

Nadeem and lubna

Hola chicos, como estan? nos acordamos siempre de ustedes, no los hemos olvidado y espero que vuelvan pronto a la Argentina.Suerte chau
EDU Y DANI

Dear Matt,

Happy 33rd birthday! We're sorry we can't help you celebrate... we'll have to have a big fiesta when you get home to cover all the missed milestones. (We better start stocking up on the liquor.) Hope it's a great day and year.

Love and miss you guys,

Colleen and Peter

Hey Guys!

How are you doing?  We were just thinking about you tonight and wanted to check in.  Hard to believe that you are still traveling.  How do you travel so long without running out of money?

In any event, glad to hear that things are well. 

Best,

Marco & Angela

Arusha, Tanzania -- October 5th, 2006 -- "In Search of the Elusive Rhino" 

Writing from Arusha, Tanzania -- the jumping off point for safaris in Serengetti National Park, Ngorogoro Crater (one of the world's natural wonders) and Lake Manyara National Park -- where we just returned from a 5-day visit to all 3 locales.  Serengetti borders Ngorogoro, and Ngorogoro is a short distance from Lake Manyara (and beyond Serengetti is the Kenyan border and the Masaii Mara park system) -- collectively, they form a vast refuge that protects one of the last great concentrations of wildlife on earth.  The safari delivered as promised -- within 5 minutes of our arrival at Manyara (our first stop) we were face-to-face with a  small herd of African elephants, one of which walked right by our open-topped Toyota Land Cruiser, its head and ivory tusks mere feet from our open mouths.  Over the next 4 hours, we came dangerously close (yet safe within our vehicle) to a family of warthogs, lazy hippos, veracious giraffes (they just eat, eat and eat), hyraxes (small rodent-like animals that suprisingly, are the closest DNA relatives to elephants), dik-diks (world's smallest antelope), troops of babboons (considered vermin across most of Africa), zebra, antelope and countless other animals.  At the end of the day back at camp, sipping on a Kilimanjaro brew, we were suprised to hear our guide, somewhat dejected, claim that the day's viewing was sub-par.  Serengetti National Park, he promised, would deliver -- and he was right.  After a long 6-hour drive, we arrived at Serengetti for an en-route gamedrive to our campground -- and that's where we witnessed first-hand the magic of the Serengetti.  Just beyond the entrance, under an ancient yellow acacia tree, lounged two male lions, one with a full mane, the other working on one -- each indifferent to our presence a few feet away.  The rest of the afternoon was spent in amazement -- years of Discovery Channel documentaries were now unfolding in front of our very eyes.  To add to the excitement, our "budget safari" came with budget accomodation -- camping -- which itself turned into one of the highlights of the trip.  Nestled in the heart of the National Park, our campground was open to the elements -- that is, the only barrier between us and lions, hyenas, jackals and other animals was a thin piece of burlap.  Our guide and cook warned of visitors in the night, and to be wary of wandering off as it could be detrimental to one's health (2 weeks prior a Swedish woman who left the safety of the truck on safari while the driver fixed a flat was attacked by a lion -- the guide winning a tug-of-war after belting the lion with a tire iron).  This was the real deal -- and the sounds of rustling, scampering and howls just outside your tent was incredibly exhilarating (read: scared to death).  Our all-day gamedrive the following day was incredible -- 5 cheetahs, 8 lions, 2 leopards, countless giraffes, elephants, antelope, gazelle, water buffalo, an incredible variety of birds (including the African ostrich -- the world's largest) and dozens of other species.  We watched a train of elephants walk single-file from a distant horizon to drink and bath in one of the few watering holes -- their massive hulks growing larger as they walked towards our shoreline vantage point.  The only missing piece to our Serengetti wildlife puzzle was the elusive black rhino -- which is fiercely solitary and hardly ever seen within the Serengetti.  In fact, our guide -- Reggie -- has only seen a black rhino 3 times during his 11-year safari career.  "Maybe see rhino tomorrow in Ngorogoro -- no promise, but good chance -- 28 black rhino in Ngorogoro -- we'll see", he mentioned.  Nat and I slept that night dreaming of rhinos -- OK, just me.  We left just after sunrise for the crater, which is reknown for having some of the best, up-close-and-personal wilflife viewing on the planet.  With a constant source of water, rich grasses and meat for the carnivores, the crater, for animals, is an ideal place to live -- and for most, never leave.  Throughout the day dozens of 4x4s criss-crossed the crater -- lions, hyenas, elephants, wildebeest, buffalo, zebras -- all put on the usual show.  Yet, despite the number of trained eyes, CB radios (which all drivers listen to religiously for word of a sighting) and vehicles to give chase -- the elusive rhino remained unseen.  On our way out of the park, we stopped at a local guard shack for our exit papers, which takes 10 minutes or so.  Our guide left the vehicle while I scanned the hillsides with our binoculars -- and then I spotted something.  I knew it wasn't an elephant and it was too large for a water buffalo.  When Reggie came back to the truck I asked him to hop in the back and take a look.  After grabbing the binoculars and scanning for a few seconds, he turned with a smile.  "Congratulations" he said, while shaking my hand. "You just found rhino -- thank you."  He turned and shouted to the other guides, who in turn, informed their guests of the sighting.  All eyes were trained on that hillside as we drove away -- I turned and sat in my seat, with a smile from ear to ear.

Nat and I leave tomorrow for a 2-day stay with a local Masaii tribe -- we'll sleep in dung houses, ride camels and help tend the cattle -- wish us luck!

M & N

Hi Matt&Nat

Greetings from far up in the cold parts of Norway! Just wanted to thank you for giving me and Eileen a wonderful evening at Two Tables and at the italian place. We really enjoyed talking about Simpsons, Seinfeld, travelling and all the other things we got the chance to talk about during our evening in Stonetown.  

I hope you'll continue your journey with the same sparkle in your eyes, and hopefully you'll meet great personalitys on your way through Africa and Asia. 

If you ever think of travelling to Norway (Lofoten, Trondheim, Bergen, Oslo, wherever actually);

You know who to call!

Best wishes

Bjørge 

September 27th, London, England -- Fresh off the plane after 6 rainy yet incredibly green days on the emerald isle of Ireland.  Normally, late September marks the beginning of the end of the high tourist season -- traffic on roads and trails slows to a trickle, EU-inflated prices start dropping from are-you-kidding-me to just expensive and the leprechauns come out of hiding; but late-September, 2006, has been anything but normal.  Sure enough -- in keeping with our uncanny Forest-Gump-ability to stumble blindly into or upon celebrities (Vince Vaughn just behind us at Heathrow Customs), global events and major media interviews (Travel Channel at World Cup;  BBC here in London) -- we land right smack in the middle of the Ryder Cup.  For golf novices like us, we had to learn the hard way that the Ryder Cup is to golf what the World Cup is to soccer.  Imagine tens of thousands of affluent, silver-haired, golf-gear-clad tourists invading the tranquil island for 2 weeks of touring before, during and after the Dublin-based tournament.  Luckily for us, we retreated to the opposite side of the island to the rugged, rocky peninsulas and wide open spaces of Kerry County.  To this point in our journey, our travel highlights and best stories have been focused on incredible natural wonders, unforgettable personalities or random encounters -- yet, in the case of Ireland, beneath the countless stone fortresses, perfectly poured pints of Guinness, spray-painted sheep and crumbling castles -- our most lasting memories will be in our choice of accomodation.  Each night and each place was memorable, so, for the sake of brevity, we'll only list one: Perched high on a wooded hilltop outside of Dingle Town stands Ballintaggart House, a massive, 17th-century hunting lodge built by an eccentric and crazed Duke, now an unforgettable hostel.  Among the most charming aspects of the grand-ole lodge:  long winding driveway flanked by wind-bent, centuries-old trees -- 12-ft-high carved ceilings and aged, wonderfully worn hardwood floors and fireplaces attained only through centuries of use -- the massive cobblestone courtyard and giant soup urns leftover from the days when Ballintaggart fed the hungry masses during the Potato Famine from 1845-1847 -- the crumbling gravestone beneath the giant oak, its occupant and mourners long since departed from this world.  Or so we thought.  As it turns out, our friend the Duke was not so friendly after all.   For months, he chased a local woman from a simple, working-class family.  Going against better judgement -- after all, he was rich, powerful and coerceful -- they were married in a grand ceremony.  The honeymoon was very short-lived -- within months, the Duke had become enthralled with another woman, a local prostitute who's dark reputation in Dingle matched her new mate's.  So what is a wealthy, arrogant and politically powerful Duke to do with his new, unwanted bride?  Well, in rural early 18th-century Ireland, after failed attempts at poison, you simply strangle your wife in the upper sitting room of the grand mansion, eliminate your problem and move on to bride #2 -- which is exactly what he did.  When the former wench took up residence at Ballintaggart, the local townfolk had seen enough -- while the Duke was away on a hunting expedition, an angry, local mob -- headed by the family of the strangled girl -- exacted revenge by hanging the prostitute from an oak in the center courtyard.  Seconds before her neck was snapped, she promised to "haunt any women who dared sleep in the great house".  Our hostess proceeded to tell many a haunting story of unsuspecting female backpackers -- who had no knowledge of the history of the house -- leaving the hostel in the middle of the night, scared to death.  This place really was incredibly eery.

Nat and I leave the comforts of Europe tomorrow for the wilds of Tanzania, Africa.  We start a 5-day camping safari followed by a cultural immersion program where we stay with a nomadic tribe for 4 days.  Wish us luck!

 M & N