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Flashbacks in Buenos Aires

Posted: March 01, 2004

DAY 133:  In February 2002, I spent a day in Buenos Aires during a stopover en route to Antarctica.  During that day, I wandered around the central part of the city, looking for a new camera to replace the one that had broken on me, seeing the main sights on the way.  Just over two years later I was back in BA visiting the familiar sights, and everything came back to me — including the familiar words of spoken Spanish I had been accustomed to hearing four weeks before.  After being in Portuguese-speaking Brazil for a month, I had to revert back to my broken Spanish speaking ways, although I still kept on saying “obrigado” instead of “gracias” (“thank you”) and had to correct myself all the time.

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It Takes Two to Tango, But Hundreds to Start A Revolution

Posted: March 02, 2004

DAY 134:  Two days prior, I was in Rio de Janeiro — a city of samba — but had flown to Buenos Aires, a city of a different dance:  the tango.  If there’s one thing to be associated with Buenos Aires, it’s the tango — however, if there’s another thing, it’s political demonstrations.

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Go Directly To Jail

Posted: March 04, 2004

DAY 137:  After the seven-hour flight — which included a screening of Intolerable Cruelty, some of Disney’s The Haunted Mansion, some Super Nintendo and hardly any sleep with all the noise coming from the rowdy Argentine rugby team on board — I touched down in Cape Town, South Africa’s international airport, five time zones ahead of Buenos Aires (seven from New York City).  The weather was gray and rainy but I knew things would be looking up; for the first time ever in The Global Trip 2004, I was in an English-speaking country and didn’t have to think so hard before speaking.  However, little did I know that morning that I’d be in prison by that evening.

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Price Hike

Posted: March 06, 2004

DAY 138:  Cape Town is flanked to the north by the geological marvel known as Table Mountain, a massive rock formation with a flat top like, well, a table — but one that was sculpted by a blind man.  It was my intention of the day to go on a hike to the top of Table Mountain, but due to high winds, the trail was too dangerous to do, and so the Blog entry will concern a different type of hike: a price hike.  (Hey, it was the only unifying thing of the day I could come up with for the angle of this story.)

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American Vacation

Posted: March 07, 2004

DAY 139:  Adam and Brett, the two Americans I met the night before in the hostel’s living room had pretty much the same plans that I had for the day:  to trek up Table Mountain and to see the big rugby match.  The two guys were in a five-way car rental share with three other Americans and so I became the sixth one to pack in.  Although it was a tight squeeze, I appreciated the fact that with a carful of Americans, I could freely say I was “on vacation” instead of saying “on holiday” — as every non-American English-speaker calls it.

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Just Relax

Posted: March 08, 2004

DAY 140:  To recall a conversation I had when I first arrived at my Cape Town hostel, the guy who checked me in, Ingmar, said that it’s good to have a relaxed attitude in South Africa because things may take all day.  Patience I’ve learned, is an important virtue on the backpacker trail, especially when waiting for your bus, your boat, your train, or your Carnaval costume.  Patience is also good to have when you’re eagerly watching the timer count down, waiting for your microwave popcorn to finish popping.

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School Trips

Posted: March 09, 2004

DAY 141:  Since the age of three, I was raised in Teaneck, New Jersey, U.S.A., a proudly multi-cultural suburb of New York City.  Teaneck has some roots in the American Civil Rights Movement of the 1950 and 60s — in fact, my middle school science teacher, Mrs. Lacey, was a good friend of the King family (as in Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.).  When I was in the first grade, I was selected to be in a small group of students to go on a school trip to another school on the other side of town to meet Rosa Parks, the heroine of the Civil Rights Movement that refused to give up her “White Only” seat on a bus in segregated Montgomery, Alabama in 1955.

As much as it was an honor to meet Rosa Parks, I was only in the first grade and assumed that anyone spoken of in history lessons was dead, and so I didn’t even believe it was her — just an actress playing her.  I couldn’t wait to get leave that trip so I could go home and watch Josie and the Pussycats.

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The Ride of Good Hope

Posted: March 10, 2004

DAY 142:  If you haven’t figured out already, I’m a pretty big cycling enthusiast.  I’m no Lance Armstrong or Dave Mirra (nor do I aspire to be), but I do enjoy the feeling of being on the top of a bicycle, riding through the landscape without motors or windshields, until my thighs burn like crazy and my groin feels like it might need some sort of surgery.

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Reading is FUNdamental

Posted: March 10, 2004

DAY 143: Every now and then I need a day to just chill out, catch up on Blog duties, do a little freelance design work and — one of the favorite pastimes of the backpacker set — read a book.  Reading sure does stimulate the mind when your body is still sore from a bike ride the day before to do anything else.

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Alumni Day

Posted: March 11, 2004

DAY 144:  It may be interesting to point out that I attended Teaneck High School, five miles from New York City, from 1988-1992, and Rutgers University, the state university of New Jersey, from 1993-1997.  While this information isn’t exactly exciting enough to tattoo on your ass, I mention it because I ran into people from both schools before the day was over.

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Zombie

Posted: March 14, 2004

DAY 145:  Amongst the things that I hate about the way my body operates — other than the odor it produces in my crotch when I wear polypropelene long johns on a day of snowboarding — is the fact that it decides to wake up whenever the sun rises, regardless of how late I went to bed the night before.  My body is a morning person, but my mind just wants to hit the snooze button.

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Irish Telepathy and The Next Generation

Posted: March 14, 2004

DAY 146:  So I was sitting in the kitchen with my roll and Marmite for breakfast.  At the table was one of my dormmates, Farhad, a forty-something South African from Ladismith in town to do the famous Cape Argus bike race the next day.  Farhad, a second-generation South African of Indian descent — one of the bigger ethnic groups in South Africa — was a teacher and taught me a few things about the days of apartheid.

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Finishing in Cape Town

Posted: March 20, 2004

DAY 147:  Named after its two major sponsors, The Cape Argus Pick ‘N Pay Cycle Tour is a 108-kilometer race, which takes willing participants up and down the hills, neighborhoods and beaches in and around Cape Town.  With about 35,000 participants, it is the largest individually-timed sporting event in the world — and one of these 35,000 just so happened to be in my dorm room.

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The Little Green Van

Posted: March 20, 2004

DAY 148:  In travel culture, there are two kinds of people away from home:  “travelers” and “tourists.”  From the pages of National Geographic Traveler to internet bulletin boards, people usually agree that the term “traveler” refers to those who see foreign countries independently, outside of a tour package, usually during a fair amount of time, without the fancy resorts or the fuzzy slippers you get in first class.  “Tourists” are those that travel on limited time, usually with a package tour, with the purpose of getting away from life at home to live it up, with or without those fuzzy slippers.

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Big Cats, Big Birds and Telephones

Posted: March 20, 2004

DAY 149:  The Cango region just north of the mountains of the Garden Route has many attractions, each with its own brochure fighting for the tourist dollar.  Sorting through the options was a bit daunting, but luckily the Bok Bus people figured out three main highlights.

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Superlatives

Posted: March 22, 2004

DAY 150:  An electronic alarm clock went off at 6:30 in the morning.  I knew I didn’t set mine and just lay in the dorm room along with Chris, Andy, Sonja and two other English guys.  (The four other girls paid extra for private rooms.)  The alarm wouldn’t stop.  I heard Chris rustling through his bag and I thought to myself, ‘Hey, Chris has the same alarm clock as me!’ but the incessant beeping continued and I realized that it was coming from my bag.  I leaped off the top bunk and shut it off — I had forgotten to turn the alarm setting off from the day before.  I hopped back into bed.

Half an hour later, Andy’s alarm went off.

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Up In The Air and Down The Funnel

Posted: March 22, 2004

DAY 151:  I don’t know who said that video games deteriorate a youth’s mind, but whoever said it obviously never got to fly an airplane.  Having flown virtual planes growing up on computer flight simulators and Zaxxon on my 1980s ColecoVision, I was all prepared for when I was handed over the controls in a real plane 7,000 ft. in the stratosphere.

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Foofie To The Very End

Posted: March 22, 2004

DAY 152:  Amongst the differences between American English and South African English are certain words and phrases — in South Africa, a “backpackers” is a “hostel,” a “braai” is a “barbecue,” and a “foofie slide” is a phrase that just sounds so silly, you can’t help but giggle when you say it out loud.

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Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Into A Protective Steel Cage…

Posted: March 22, 2004

DAY 153:  Ever since a particular Steven Spielberg movie was released in 1975 about shark attacks — I won’t mention any names — sharks have been engraved in the mainstream human consciousness as vicious man-eating fish that can split you in two if you’re swimming in the ocean with a ridiculous 1970s hairstyle.  In actuality, sharks, the top of the ocean food chain, are actually quite peaceful marine creatures that would split you in two even if you had a ridiculous 2004 hairstyle.

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Cute Baby Animals At Knifepoint

Posted: March 22, 2004

DAY 154:  If you’ve read the comments of Day 149, you probably know that I got mugged at knifepoint at dusk on Sunday, March 21st.  Since my little Sony digital spy camera was violently cut off its strap by my assailant’s blade, there are no pictures for this Blog entry.  Therefore, in lieu of the photos I would have shown you from this violent day, I have posted tranquil pictures of cute baby animals that I found on the internet.

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The Positive Poster Child

Posted: March 22, 2004

DAY 155: I was ready by nine in the morning to walk downtown to the police department to report my mugging at knifepoint the night before.  Word of my story got to Sylvia, The Backpack’s “gran” (“grandmother”) and she totally flipped out when she heard that all that could have been done for me by the staff wasn’t done.

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Back On The Streets

Posted: March 23, 2004

DAY 156:  I hadn’t left the confines of the hostel since the mugging at knifepoint two days prior, and it was about time I got over my fear and ventured out on the streets of Cape Town again.  However, my fear was merely replaced by paranoia.

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The Changing Of The Group

Posted: March 24, 2004

DAY 157:  I always wondered about Eve, Ingmar, Joanne, Dave and Karen, the young twenty-something employees of The Backpack.  They’d make good friends with travelers — only to have them leave 2-3 days later.  How tiring it must be for the regular employees to go through transient friends so rapidly I thought — that is, until I became a regular myself (waiting for my bank card) and realized that it’s just something you get used to.

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A Day At The Office

Posted: March 27, 2004

DAY 158:  If there was one thing worse than being mugged at knifepoint, it was the long arduous task of getting back on track after the fact.  With plenty of telephone calls to make (picture below), e-mails to send and forms to fill out, the whole ordeal was more work than at a corporate office job.  I swear at some point I had to submit a T.P.S. report somewhere.  If I had known beforehand that I was going to be mugged, I would have tried to pencil in the assailant two weeks prior when the office wasn’t so busy and there was a bit of downtime.

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Mugged Again

Posted: March 27, 2004

DAY 159:  When I started the day, I felt confident that everything would go according to plan and I’d be on my way out of South Africa already.  Little did I know at the time that I’d be mugged again and stuck in Cape Town yet another day.

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The Biggest Let Down in Cape Town

Posted: March 28, 2004

DAY 160: Originally I was only supposed to be in Cape Town for a week; my mental capacity for any one place while traveling can only handle so much with my overstimulated, MTV-generation short attention span.  It was supposed to be my “final day” in Cape Town before I hitched a ride with the two German girls in my room, but hanging out with alumni kept me in town another half a week longer.  It was my next “final day” in Cape Town before I did my Garden Route Tour, but it really wasn’t because I came back six days later.  The following day was to be my real “final day” in Cape Town, but then I was mugged at knifepoint half a block from my hostel, which caused a corporate and bureaucratic chain reaction that kept me another week. 

After multiple “final impressions” of Cape Town and all my issues finally settled, it was finally time for my final “final day” (at least that’s what I hoped that morning).  However, my “final day” in Cape Town had the biggest let down of all.

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Escape From The Cape

Posted: March 28, 2004

DAY 161:  “Erik, you’re still here?” Joan from housekeeping asked me.  She had bid me farewell four days before during her last shift at The Backpack since she expected me to be gone by next shift.

“Yeah, I’m still here.  But I’m leaving right now.”

David from Manchester walked in on me in the kitchen with a smug stare which said, “Ha ha, you’re still here.” 

“I’m finally leaving this time,” I told him.

“Ready to go?” Eve the Frenchie at the tour desk asked me.

“No, I think I’m going to hang out another week,” I joked with her before having her call me a taxi.

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Influencing Windhoek

Posted: March 29, 2004

DAY 162:  Windhoek, capital city of Namibia, like Cape Town, South Africa, is a modern city which reflects its historical past.  During the late nineteenth century, when all the European nations were scrambling for colonial territories in Africa the way last-minute shoppers scramble for gifts on Christmas Eve, the territory which was later known as Namibia became a German colony.  Despite the rebellions from the indigenous Herero and Nama tribes, the Germans conquered with their big guns — that is, until after WWI when they were conquered by the South African army.  (They probably had bigger guns.)

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The New Lost American Generation

Posted: March 30, 2004

DAY 163:  “So what brings you here?” my American dormmate Hunter asked me at the outdoor table as we were eating the breakfasts we prepared ourselves.  I started telling him the usual spiel about may lay off the summer before.

“Let me guess,” he continued.  “You got laid off from a dot com which allows you to take an indeterminable amount of time off, and you figure it’s cheaper to be in Namibia than look for work back home.  And you’ve managed to save enough money to be here for a while.”

I smiled.  Hunter had it right on the money.  “Yeah.”

“Just like the last Americans I met.”

“Yeah, there are a lot of us out here.”

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The Universal Language Of Beer

Posted: April 01, 2004

DAY 164:  I’ve discovered that waiting around for my safari to start in Windhoek during the rainy season for a couple of days isn’t so bad — there’s always beer.

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Making Tracks

Posted: April 12, 2004

DAY 165:  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky when I woke up that morning in Windhoek, so I called up Simon at Outside Adventures to organize a ride to the nearby Daan Viljoen Game Park.  With all the free eggs I’d been eating, I really needed the exercise — it was better than another day of vegging out in front of the television watching movies yet another day.  Simon told me he’d send Ephram the driver by mid-morning.

Jackie, manager of Chameleon Backpackers, came over to reception.  She said the clouds were coming in and it might rain.

“Is there really going to be rain?” I asked.  “I’ve already booked a day trip to the reserve.”

“Well the reserve is on higher ground,” she answered.  “Maybe you’ll be lucky.”

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South With Samora

Posted: April 13, 2004

DAY 166:  I woke up in the wrong side of the bed that morning.  I was cranky that I didn’t have an extra bag to keep things in storage, plus I realized that my fleece jacket was missing.  Whether it was taken by accident, intention or just my own fault I didn’t know, but I didn’t have time to look or replace it; I was to leave on safari by eight in the morning.

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A River Runs Through It

Posted: April 13, 2004

DAY 167:  Water is precious in Namibia; most areas only get enough water in the rainy season to last the rest of the year.  In fact, there were “Save Water” signs all over the backpackers in Windhoek — draught is a pretty common thing.  However, with an unusually long and wet rainy season in 2004, water flowed more than the country had seen in years.  While this was good news for farmers, it wasn’t necessarily good news for tourists unless they have a 4x4.

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Sleepy Head, Sleepy Town

Posted: April 14, 2004

DAY 168: I was so sleepy for most of the day that I managed to take a nap every chance I could in between the highlights of the day.

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Desert Run-Ins

Posted: April 14, 2004

DAY 169:  I’ve learned that traveling in Africa so far is a lot different than traveling in South America.  Despite the language barrier, South America is easier for the solo traveler; public transport is the way locals get around and there are plenty of little towns to service.  Buses leave at least once a day to whatever town you might want to go to on any one of several bus companies.  In addition to public transportation being fairly straight-forward, meeting people to travel along with is easier because you sort of just gravitate to anyone just as confused to Spanish and/or Portuguese as you are.

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Three Dunes and A Canyon

Posted: April 14, 2004

DAY 170:  Sossusvlei (pronounced sue-zoo-flay), which I call “The Big Soufflé,” is not a big poofy pastry that deflates at the sound of loud crash in a classic MGM cartoon.  It is a huge picturesque 75-meter red sand dune, the most accessible via 4x4 amidst a red sand sea of dunes as high as almost 300 meters tall.  Sossusvlei is quite a celebrity, appearing in numerous commercials and films worldwide.  Chances are if you’ve seen a shot of a sand dune from Namibia, you’ve seen Sossusvlei.

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Need For Speed

Posted: April 14, 2004

DAY 171:  I have come to the realization on The Global Trip 2004 so far that the things I’ve done that I’ve called “one of the best things I’ve done” involve going really fast.  My latest need for speed was satisfied by going quadbiking (driving a 4-wheel ATV) through the Namib Desert near the touristy coastal town of Swakopmund, Namibia.

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Fast Forward Through The Sand

Posted: April 14, 2004

DAY 172:  “How long have you been doing this?” I asked Beth at the top of one of the Namib Desert’s many dunes.  Nearby was her sandboard with a sticker on it that read, “Chicks Kick Ass.”

“Eight years,” she answered, which meant she had been in the sandboarding tour business since 1996.

“So you were here when The Amazing Race was here?”

“Yup, that was us,” Beth answered proudly.  “I’m amazed at how many Americans, Canadians and Australians saw that and came here to Namibia.”

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Worrywart

Posted: April 15, 2004

DAY 173:  In order to make up time for the week I “lost” in Cape Town sorting out my post-mugging red tape, I needed to minimize veg-out days in other cities if I was still to make it to Spain for the San Fermin Festival in early July.  This meant that rather than hang around Windhoek for three more days — possibly with people I met at the Namibian Breweries — and leave on a bus the Monday after Easter, I’d have to leave straight away on the only available northeast bound bus, one that afternoon at 5 p.m.  When I woke up that morning around 6 a.m., I didn’t have a ticket yet, and I got a little worried because it was up in the air if I would make it.

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Hakuna Matata

Posted: April 15, 2004

DAY 174:  The Swahili phrase “Hakuna matata,” made popular by Disney’s The Lion King, is such a wonderful phrase.  Hakuna matata ain’t no passing phase.  It means “no worries,” for the rest of your days.  It’s a problem-free philosophy.  Hakuna matata!

(Try reading that without singing; it’s near impossible.)

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Once In A Lifetime, Again

Posted: April 15, 2004

DAY 175:  When you visit a place like Victoria Falls, you treasure every moment of it, taking in the beauty of its sights with your eyes and the monstrous roar of its waters through your ears.  The mist seeps through your pores and into your soul.  After all, it is, as they say, a “once-in-a-lifetime” experience.  This is how I felt in 2000 when I first visited — in fact, the first photograph in the “Would You?” slideshow is Victoria Falls — but there I was again, at Victoria Falls again, arguably one of the Seven Natural Wonders of The World again.  (For the full effect, say this like Forrest Gump when he talks about visiting the President of the United States over and over.)

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Not-So Manic Monday

Posted: April 15, 2004

DAY 176:  After so much that had happened since the last Blog entry posting, I seriously needed a day to catch up.  And since most stores and banks in Zambia were closed for Easter Monday, it was the perfect day to do so.

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Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?

Posted: April 15, 2004

DAY 177:  Exchange rates are a funny thing for the US Dollar.  Unless you are transferring money into British pounds — after of which the Brits will make fun of you for “how embarrassingly low the dollar is these days” — exchanging good ol’ American greenbacks into other currencies can be a somewhat gratifying experience, particularly in a country like Zambia.  With the rate of $1 USD = ZK4765, for just about $210, yes you too can be a millionaire!  (Please don’t share this secret with Publishers’ Clearing House.)

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Acronyms and Flea Shampoo

Posted: April 15, 2004

DAY 178:  Nowhere on Earth is the AIDS epidemic more widespread than on the African continent.  In fact, according to Lonely Planet, “the U.S. Census Bureau predicts that AIDS-related deaths will mean that, by 2010, sub-Saharan Africa will have 71 million fewer people than it would otherwise.”  With the lack of proper governmental and healthcare infrastructure to deal with Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, this rate might not see any sight of being lowered.

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Giving Good Price

Posted: April 17, 2004

DAY 179:  One way to help aid a developing nation like Zambia is to pump foreign money into its economy.  And what better way to do so as a tourist than by buying souvenirs and gifts for friends and family back home.  By the end of the day, it seemed that Deann bought enough to increase Zambia’s Gross National Product tenfold.

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Donations to a Country Going to Mars

Posted: April 17, 2004

DAY 180:  Being at the ZEHRP house was like entering a bubble back into the familiar life I had back in metro-New York City.  Other than watching The Simpsons with fellow fans like Jens the night before, that morning I had Golden Crisp cereal with Deann.  (Yes, Sugar Bear was alive and well in the heart of Zambia.)  Afterwards, we killed the morning in the little “computer lab” in the next door flat where there were some ZEHRP administrative offices.

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Last Day With ZEHRP

Posted: April 18, 2004

DAY 181:  “We’re going to a bakery if you want to come,” Cristina said to me in the ZEHRP living/dining room that morning as I was typing a Blog entry on my iBook at the dining table.  I took her up on her offer and hopped in the SUV with her, Jens and Deann, who was also tagging along for the ride since, although it was Saturday, Shelle was at work at the ZEHRP clinic.

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The Things People Do On A Sunday

Posted: April 20, 2004

DAY 182:  “We have to do something exciting today, so Erik can have something to write about,” Shelle told George in the car as we were driving to the market to get fresh vegetables.

“Where should we go?” George asked me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said.  “I can always just write about The Things People Who Live Here Do On A Sunday.”

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Orphans

Posted: April 20, 2004

DAY 183:  When I was stranded on Easter weekend in Livingstone, a town where only Visa-based ATM cards were accepted, me and my MasterCard-based bank card were lost like a stray puppy.  Fortunately for me, a girl named Shelle picked me up, a Filipino-American stray, and took me home to her house in Lusaka.  For four days, I lived in her house with her HIV research project pals and experienced the life of an American expatriate with all its Western conveniences.  I had found a home.

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Traveler Again

Posted: April 20, 2004

DAY 184:  Some people travel to escape their boring routine lives at home.  Some people, particularly a fair amount of the backpacker set, travel great distances only to travel pub to pub, club to club, and have “generic” experiences they could probably have anywhere — to each his/her own taste I guess.  I, like some other backpackers, travel to leave my comfort zone and experience new cultures.

I’ll admit that I was starting to get a little homesick since Namibia, but being in the American suburban bubble of the ZEHRP house got me over it.  I had “recharged” back in the “normal” life the way a person who works in an office “recharges” on vacation.  After my “reverse vacation” I was ready to face the world again.

And so, on the 20th of April 2004, the six month anniversary since The Global Trip 2004 started, the seventh month began…

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SIXTEEN MONTHS AROUND THE WORLD (in chronological order):

PROLOGUE:

SOUTH AMERICA:

AFRICA:

EUROPE & RUSSIA:

ASIA:

NORTH AMERICA:

EPILOGUE:



PRAISE FOR THE GLOBAL TRIP BLOG

Praised and recommended by USA Today, RickSteves.com, and readers of BootsnAll and Lonely Planet’s Thorn Tree, The Global Trip blog was selected by the editors of PC Magazine for the “Top 100 Sites You Didn’t Know You Couldn’t Live Without” (in the travel category) in 2005.

“Warning: If this site doesn’t give someone the travel bug, nothing will.”

- Colleen Clark and Megg Mueller Schulte, USATODAY.com

“We’ve scoured the web for helpful tips, travelogues and photographs and it is safe to say that your combination of humor, attention to detail, and artistry have made your page by far the most interesting and informative.  You really manufactured a tremendous web page.  As we have read more and more of your entries we have come to trust your perspective.”

- letter to Erik R. Trinidad from Roger M. Brown, Senior Legislative Assistant, Office of U.S. Senator Wayne Allard

“Seeing your no holds barred, real life, real person take on the countries you traveled to, and getting genuine information on the whos, whats, wheres, and whys, somehow made everything seem more accessible… I just [want] to say, with all sincerity, thanks.”

- Luke Kesterton, UK

“[Other travel blogs don’t] even come close to being as good as Erik Trinidad’s The Global Trip… It really is the best travel blog out there.”

- Jen Leo, travel writer (Condé Nast Traveler, L.A. Times) and editor of travel anthologies Sand In My Bra, Whose Panties Are These? and The Thong Also Rises.





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