African Adventures

Our first stop in South Africa is scary, scary Jo'berg -a city with a reputation for crime and robbery! Our bus arrived at about five a.m. and, having heard far too many horror stories, I was instantly on my guard. We managed to make it safely to a taxi which drove us to our hostel. Despite the roads being empty, the traffic lights were against us. I sat frozen in the back (traffic lights seem to be where many robberies happen -at least in the stories I've heard) with my hand over the lock! Paranoid? Me? Never! When we arrive at our hostel we have to wake up the owner to get past the security. We then crash on the sofa whilst we wait for a vacant room.

Against our instincts to get straight out of Jo'berg, we stay long enough to see a few important sights. The first is the Apartheid Museum, which tells the story of the enforced seperation of black, white and 'coloured' people (their word not mine) in South Africa. As you walk in there are signs saved from that time from train stations, toilets etc. which clearly state "Whites Only". This immediately makes it hit home how badly black and 'coloured' people were treated in South Africa. The museum goes into incredible detail and after two and a half hours Pete and I have made our way around half of the exhibits and the museum is closing! So, proving that we are indeed true museum geeks, we actually head back a couple of day later and spend another three hours there! I would have hated being dragged around a museum by my parents for so long when I was younger, so this confirms that I am now officialy getting old!

As the museum cafe is closed we head to a nearby garage, which deserves a mention for the mere excitement it gives us. There are pies, more types of sweets and chocolate than you can imagine and 'the icing on the cake' mini cheddars! Whilst this may not sound too exciting to you, after so long without these foods, it is at this moment that we realise we can have pretty much any food that we normally have back home. Yippee! We love South Africa!

We also make a trip into Soweto. We are taken to Clip Town. This is supposed to be a temporary and unofficial town but our teenage guides have lived there their entire lives. The living conditions here are appalling. The is no 'official' electricity supply (although some dodgy cables that trail through water provide a few people with power). Shockingly, children play right next to these lines and amid sewage posing serious health and safety risks. The town looks pretty makeshift too. Most houses are fashioned together with corrugated iron, wire and practically anything else these people can lay their hands on. The Government have provided the town with a few portaloos, but these are not emptied often enough and our teenage friends recount incidences of other teens pushing them over with people in them for fun. It seems teenagers world-over are quite similar!

Despite the struggles that these people face everyday, those we met were extremely positive. The teenagers who guided us were helpful and very mature for their age; on arrival two boys of about five come skipping up to us and have perfected that 'grabbing two adult hands to swing between' thing that small children everywhere do. Surprisingly, at no point are we asked for money or sweets or pens by the children we meet. We visit a nursery school, which provides food, washing facilities and a great deal of affection for the children, as well as education. The children bombarded us as soon as our shadows appeared in the doorway and scrambled over each other to climb up for cuddles. Pete, who was happily chatting to one boy, soon lost his smile when he realised that the little tyke had chosen to go to the toilet right at that moment! For the remainder of the day, Pete was followed by an interesting odor, much to my amusement!

We then stopped by a class of slightly older children who sang the 'National Anthem' for us with so much enthusiasm and huge smiles. The anthem was created after the end of arphedeid and teaches how South Africa is a country where people from all different backgrounds and of all different colours should live together in peace. This is why they call South Africa 'The Rainbow Nation'. As we were about to leave I made the mistake of doing my newly-perfected ghetto handshake with a boy, which quickly turned the classroom into a chaotic mess. How foolish of me -being a teacher and all- to think I could getaway with giving the handshake to one child only. I could only apologise to the teachers, whose lesson I had successfully ruined! Before leaving we were shown to the school's library, which doubles as a safe place for young girls to hang-out and chat with their freinds. Interestingly this was sponsored by the NBA, who also sponsor the canteen, which feeds as many children -in or out of school- as turn up on the day. This was met by much approval by Pete, who, until injury, played basketball for the island and loves to educate me on all matters NBA!

Besides that, our time in Jo'berg was spend mostly in shopping malls. Our driver to Soweto informed us that Jo'bergs scariness is a myth and that we could safely walk around the centre of town during the day. Having braved many big-bad cities already, we inquire at our hostel about getting dropped off there. We are laughed at and told that being white we couldn't walk two blocks without being robbed. I think we would certainly stand-out and, as we hadn't seen any other white people walking around, we should have put two and two together. However in the defense of those who live in Jo'berg, for many robbery is a means for survival. After being treated badly for many years, many of the black people living in South Africa still struggle to earn a living and therefore have little choice but to find another way to feed their families. Whilst robbing people should never be condonned, for some people it is a last means.

Our next stop is Cape Town -about which we have heard only good things. We take an over-night bus journey. On the plus side the seats are likely to be the most comfortable we encounter on our travels; on the downside they keep playing the chipmunks movie on repeat. Think of what it would be like to listen to 'the Crazy Frog' as you try and drift off to sleep and you will begin to understand how annoying it was!

We decide to spend our first couple of nights on Long Street, which is packed full of bars and surf-shops and serves as the backpacker's road in Cape Town. Our hostel (standards here are amazing compared with the rest of Africa) has it's own bar and, as it is a Friday, has a live band playing. We venture down to find ourselves in a bar jam-packed with sixth-formers. We feel a little old in the presence of so many young people, so we pack it in for an early night.

Cape Town is not without it's share of poverty and crime and there is a huge police presence here. Throughout the night we are woken by suspect goings-on in the street below. However 'crime prevention' vehicles roam the streets and the police are quick to intervene in any trouble. At one point during the day we are approached by a tout and the tourist police intervene immediately. We can only wonder where they have been when we have needed them throughout the rest of Africa!!!

We have timed South Africa to attend the wedding of two of Pete's friends he met through Volleyball -Da and Lize. About twelve other friends are coming out from Guernsey and, as many are clearly not on the kind of tight budget that we are, they decide to rent a villa in Camp's Bay. Even luckier are we that they agree to subsidise our share of the payments, making it possible for us to stay with them. The villa is amazing. Pete and I try to act like this is the norm for us, but the massive room, powershower, huge lounge and kitchen areas combined with the infinitely pool are a little more luxurious than what we are used to! To top it all -not a single cockroach/unidentifiable creepy crawly in sight!

Camp's Bay is the very exclusive area of Cape Town. So we spend a few days chilling out, eating huge amounts of amazing sea-food and sampling some of the local wines. We have hire cars so head out for a coastal drive. We find our way to Simon's Town where we get to see penguins, amazingly, waddling along the beach. There are hundreds of them and we spend absolutely ages snapping away and making lots of "ahhhh" type noises! We then head to Cape Point, where we are delighted to learn that the venicular (like a very steep train) that is taking us up the mountain hasn't caused disabling injury for 4593 days. The target is 5200 and as we stood in the queue I could only hope that they were efficient in updating their sign and that we weren't in fact venturing up on the 5200th day! We then headed to the Cape of Good Hope, where we spotted some wild ostriches. Always in search of a good photo, Pete goes striding towards where they are and strikes a nice pose. I think part of all of us was secretly hoping that one charge at him, but our prayers were not answered!

Everywhere we had driven around the Cape there were signs warning us about the baboons. Disheartened that we hadn't seen any, we began to head back to the villa. About five minutes down the road: they appeared! A family of them were frolicking around the car in front. Pete and I are hard to impress now that we have seen so much wildlife, but, judging by the squeals, some of the other girls were ecstatic to have spotted some!

A few days before the wedding we get rid of 'the boys' for a whole day and a half! The boys headed out to play golf with the groom before heading out for a nice meal and lots of secret boy stuff the girls are not supposed to find out about. Lize had already had a hen party in Guernsey and one with her friends in South Africa and was working during the day, so planned to head down for a meal that evening. With the day to kill, we did what any girls would do and went shopping!

Refusing to ask the boys for any advice about directions before they left, we used our amazing sense for shops to navigate out way Century City a huge shopping centre on the outskirts of Cape Town. Clearly my budget was a little tight, but I actually enjoyed the self-control that I was able to exercise. The other girls more than made up for my lack of shopping effort, buying about 15 pairs of shoes between them (I do not exaggerate -well done girls)! My frugalness was rewarded when I spotted a 'Mr Price' -think the South African version of Primark or New Look- where I was able to buy four pound vests and t-shirts until my little heart was content!

That night we went for a 'quite meal' although without the boys around it wasn't so quiet. Lize brought along a couple of her closest friends, who endeavored to teach us a little Afrikaans before the wedding. We learned that Afrikaner families are quite formal and that it was polite to address parents as "Mr and Mrs....." (and I'd just learned to stop doing that)! We also learned that "Buy a dankey/donkey" means thank you. Finding this absolutely hilarious, I tried it out on our waitress. She went over to another table and said "Oh my God that girl just said 'buy a dankey' in a really British accent!". I think that means she was impressed! After a trip for bagels that morning we got talking about the weirdness of places mixing sweet and savoury foods. Just as we could order our bagels with bacon and syrup (yuck) they serve muffins and scones with jam and cheese in South Africa. No not CREAM: CHEESE! The girls confirmed that this was normal and added a few other strange combos to the South African menu. Again we found this hilarious and grilled the girls about it for ages (I hope they didn't find us calling them weirdos rude and unwelcoming, insults -after all- are the British way of saying 'you're alright'). Of course when we got back to the villa that night we forced each other to eat crackers with jam and cheese -luverly!

Unfortunately for the Guernsey contingent we were not blessed with the greatest of weather and after looking up at Table Mountain four days in a row to see it shrouded in mist, we had pretty much given up. However on the morning we had to go to Robertson for the wedding, we decided to get the cable car up regardless. Luckily for us it was fairly clear at the top AND we managed to spot several Dassies -which just happen to be the cutest little animals ever (something like a cross between a guinea pig and a chipmunk).

Robertson is wine central and the vineyards combined with mountain backdrops are really picturesque. We stayed at a local vineyard, run by a lovely lady who fed us lots of delicious home-cooked food. They also offered us the chance to mix and bottle our own wine and I have to say if you see the 2009 Chatuex Pirouet up for auction in ten years time -don't be surprised! Actually Pete and I knowing nothing about wine and refusing to stick to the 'tried and tested' recommendation both produced hideous offerings that are only good to clean your toilet with!

The wedding itself was the day after we arrived and set in a nearby vineyard. It was a fairly quiet affair and the vows were said in both Afrikaans and English. The vicar added some comedy value (although he was being sincere) by comparing marriage to a Bucky. A Bucky is some form of car and also the long-used nickname of Pete. Had the vicar used the metaphor once or twice we would have been able to control ourselves, but after the twentieth or so mention we had to stifle our giggles. We head in for dinner and of course speeches! Perhaps the most romantic moment however was when Da slipped seamlessly into Afrikaans during his speech to tell Lize how beautiful she looked and how much he loved her (at least I think that is what he was saying)! To give the Afrikaner's contingent their due, they were the first up on the dance floor and whilst the average Guernsey wedding involves all manner of funny / embarrassing dancing: this was far more sophisticated. It seems that all South Africans are born with a natural talent for gliding across the dance floor, executing ballroom style maneuvers with ease! Really it put us all to shame! Never fear though I did more than my share of embarrassing dancing before the night was through.

Before seeing the other's off we make one last trip together in search of whales. We have heard that they can be spotted at place called Hermanus and we are not disappointed! As we pile out the car, we ask the parking attendant where to go to spot the whales and he just points and says "well there's a couple there". I think he is quite used to the whales, seeing them everyday and all, but our jumping around every time they breach probably gives him the indication that we are far more excited! We try, in vain, to get a good picture, but the wind is really strong and the sea choppy, so even those with the flashiest of zooms have difficulty. Nevertheless, if you want to see lots of whales without the sea-sickness / expense of a boat trip -head to Hermanus!

Whilst the others depart back to the rock (oh I miss the rock!) we have another few days left in The Cape, so hire a car. However, this is not just any car. I can barely control my excitement as the hire car attendant leads us to a reproduction 70's(?) VW Golf. These seem to be the budget car of choice in South Africa and I am extremely impressed with the retro-ness of it all. The excitement however does wear off when we realise that all of the features are circa 1970 as well. That means a crazy alarm system with a mind of it's own and a brake pedal cover that likes to fall off at inopportune moments i.e. halfway down the motorway! Nevertheless we had great fun cruising around for the few day before we had to (sadly -everyone should visit Cape Town) leave.

So, moving on from Malawi, our next stop was Mozambique. We took a pick-up truck to the border (we have climbed on the back of so many that this is now normal, so no issues there). From there we then had to get a bike taxi to the border office and from there across 'No Man's Land' into Mozambique. Now just so you don't get the wrong idea, when I say 'bike' I mean literally that -a 'push-hang' to us Guerns! Essentially you climb on the back for a two-ey. As we had all of our worldly possesions on us, including a collapsible table that we thought was an excellent idea, we take three push-hangs. One for each of us with our small rucksacks and various stuff we've bought and another with our big rucksacks. So I sat on the back feeling half guilty at the poor guy fighting to pedal through the sand with his massive load. The other half of me was silently cursing him every time he tipped slightly too far to one side -which he seemed to enjoy doing quite often. It seems that the dare-devilness of my youth has left me and I now think too-eys are a stupid idea!

Now, all of this would be fine of course, i.e. we make it alive, if it hadn't been for a slight 'misunderstanding' regarding currency. We began are journey in Malawi and so agreed a price to the border control office in Malawian Quatra. So, one might think, that when the guy says he will take you the rest of the way for another 200, he is still using the same currency. This is clearly a trick used by these little scamps everyday, as when we arrive they insist that we pay for the second half of the journey in Mozambique Meticas!!! Fine, if it didn't work out at about ten times the price for the same distance! We argue and argue (I think they are used to people just giving it to them and weren't prpeared for Miss Pirouet) and eventually come to a price somewhere in-between. Looking back it is quite ingenious of the boys, but at the time we were not impressed!

We then have to get to the next town, which is about an hour and a half away. It late afternoon by now, so we just want to get there as quickly as possible, but this is not to be. We spy a pick-up truck, which happens to be going in the right direction. Brilliant. Until they try and charge us 4000 meticas, which is the equivalent of 200 dollars. Pete and I are just baffled that these people are so stupid that they think we'd fall for it and cough up the money. We are already annoyed after the bike incident, so are trying to get our point across that that is a ridiculous price. We eventually get them down to 180meticas, which is what the locals are paying, but not until after a big group have gathered and had a joke at our expense in Portuguese (their primary language) for a good ten minutes. ARGH!

We are 'saved' by a guy who says he can take us in a private car with a couple of business people from Malawi for the same price. The Malawian couple are lovely, but it turns out that the guy is mistaken and the car he had in mind is actually going in the other direction! We have waited an hour. It is dark. We don't speak Portuguese. The other truck has gone. And we think we are going to be stranded!

We manage to find the only nice guy in this border town, who sees us looking desolate and scouts around for ages to find us some transport. So about two hours later, we climb on board a massive pick-up truck, which takes us down the bumpiest road ever to the next town.

Clever as we ever are, we haven't booked accommodation. We are taken to an absolute doss-hole. It is run by a guy with long hair, who looks quite grubby and extremely scary. The room he gives us has no bedsheets, no cupboards, no mosquito nets and makes no effort to even pretend it is nice. By now I desperately need the loo, but after Pete ventures out (it is miles away) and comes back saying it is a hole in the ground and is absolutely disgusting, I decide to climb in to bed and pray for the best.

The next morning we have to catch a train at five am. We are soon to learn that if you want to get anywhere in Mozambique 4 and 5am is the only time that buses/trains seem to leave. We haven't changed much money and so we only manage to scrape enough together to take third class. Third class comprises of hard plastic benches, which are roughly big enough for two, but frequently seat three or four. I have the pleasure of sitting next to a man who really smells and who doesn't seem to have any concept of personal space. He puts his arm across the back of the chair when I lean forward, making it impossible for me to then lean back (I could have leant on his arm, but wasn't keen on that idea)! At various towns along the way, locals rush by selling bread, drinks, bananas and various things they have grown. At each stop he leans right across me to buy things out of the window. At one stop his friend and him buy a huge bag full of bananas. They eat these and every time they finish one throw their skins out of the window. However, he doesn't look before throwing and roughly fifty percent land on unsuspecting people outside of the carriage! Pete and I find this hilarious, but the two guys just look at us as if to say 'what do you find so funny?'. I have to say this was one major problem in Mozambique in particular, where people from all walks of life -including the educated, who have no excuse- just throw their rubbish out of bus and train windows. This makes what could be a beautiful country, look like a big rubbish bin.

As Pete and I have used all but a few pennies on our train fare, we have to survive the eleven hour journey with a small bottle of water and some bread we just about manage to afford. About halfway through the journey 'smelly guy' is replaced with a rather large and buxom lady who makes just as many encroachments upon my space. After much sighing, to no good effect, I lean forward for the remainder of the journey and let the lady have as much space as she likes.

We arrive in Nampula. Yah! We head to a hotel that the Lonely Planet describes as 'clean' and 'better than the previous bleak offering'. The guy has rooms and takes us to the first where the beds are unmade and dirty. After pointing out that this might be a slight issue he takes us to a second room, which seems ok. Bed, shower, sink, check! We fill out the paperwork and come back up. We go to turn on the lights. They don't work. We go to take a shower. There is no water. Wash our hands. No water in the sink either! We pack up our stuff and trudge downstairs to demand a room that works (we are paying about thirty US dollars after all)! We are eventually given a room that seems ok. The shower is a cold drip, but we are used to that!

Scrubbed up we head out for some food. We find a place and, although they try to pull that old 'free bread rolls that are mysteriously charged for on your bill trick', it goes pretty smoothly. So, lolled into a false sense of security we head back to our room.

It is the "Oh wow" that Pete calls from the bathroom that starts what is to be a long night. He delights in telling me he can count about forty cockroaches on the walls and around the sink in the bathroom. I freeze and slowly examine the bedroom. There is one smallish cockroach on the floor AND he is heading towards me! Now I don't know anyone who actually likes cockroaches. I think I have watched one two many of those 'city inspector' programs where they raid houses and kitchens that are teeming with cockroaches. I jump onto the bed and hope that they can't climb up. Pete comes out of the bathroom and is no help whatsoever. He has seen many cockroaches in his time and his advice is "just go to sleep". Not so easy when you spy one crawling along your bed! Soon Pete is sound asleep and I lie there (with all of my clothes on) for ages trying to nod off, but I keep feeling itches that could be cockroaches. After about an hour I am nearly hysterical, so grab my book and head down to reception where I plan to sit and read until morning.

In reception there are two old men watching t.v., so I head out onto the front step instead. I try to read, but the security guard is looking at me strangely and I can't help thinking I might not live through the night if I stay sitting there. I head back up and sit, frozen on the bed and eventually I must have fallen asleep.

Another 6 hours of travelling and we reach our destination -Ilha de Mazombique. The island lies of the Northern coast and is beautiful. It was once colonised by the Portuguese who constructed some magnificent buildings there. When the country took independence, the Portuguese fled and many of their mansions still stand derelict to this day. This would give the place the eerie atmosphere of a ghost-town, if not for the myraid of children playing in the streets. Many ask to have their picture taken (before promptly requesting payment)! Others literally run up and fling themselves on you! It is lovely to see children so happy. However, as the children scramble over each other to crawl up into my arms, I get the overwhelming feeling that they actually want us to adopt them. The city is also fired-up with election fever. School-children run about brandishing posters for 'Freelimo' and singing a propaganda song they must have been taught in school and buildings everywhere are covered with election posters. The place is buzzing with excitement, which is well-received after so much travelling. We presume that more than one party was up for election, yet we do not single opposition party poster anywhere. Unsurprisingly, we later learn that Freelimo did indeed win the national vote!

Before we knew it, we were heading back to Nampula (aka Cockroach City). We arrive in the heat of the afternoon and, as I refused to head back to our last hotel, we ask the driver to take us somewhere else. The place we end up at seems OK -until I spy a dead cockroach on the floor in the room we are shown. Great. They couldn't even be bothered to sweep it up! We look elsewhere, but all the budget places are either booked, or not much more promising than the first. By now we are both hot and Pete is fed-up. He would happily go back to our original place and makes his frustration known by striding a couple of metres in front of me! In retrospect I should have tried a little harder to keep up with him!

A hand grabs my arm and my immediate thought is that he is going to try to rob me. I should be so lucky. Before I know it I am receiving a not very welcome slobbery kiss. The guy them runs off but the whole experience leaves me quite shaken. A voice (it really didn't sound like mine) screamed something along the lines of "what do you think you're doing?". There are security guards everywhere and they turn to see if I'm OK. It all just happened really quickly and I was just grateful that he didn't steal anything or hurt me. I actually don't think he meant to do anything serious -he was just some very sad, strange man who saw his opportunity to kiss a white-girl (an unusual sight in his town) and took it. As I was a sniffling mess by this point, Pete suggested we check into the nearest hotel, which just so happened to be a four star place with sky TV where we were happy just to get a decent night's sleep.

Another early start and long journey takes us to Quelimane, where we planned to visit a nearby beach. The town itself has absolutely nothing to offer and, after speaking to some other traveler's who said the beach wasn't that great, we decided we'd leave the next day. Confirming that our decision was correct, we checked into a filthy, neglected 'hotel'. For thirty dollars a night (so really not THAT cheap) it was disgusting. The toilet seat had snapped in two; the sink didn't have running water; there were no mosquito nets and by far the worst thing was the bed. The room had two doubles. Neither had more than a sheet covering it, so we decided to pull the sheet off one to place over us as protection from mosquitos. Big mistake. The mattress underneath was just a big block of uncovered foam with huge holes in it. These holes were no doubt home to some horrible insects, which was proved by the bed bug bites we were both covered in the next morning. I think that is one thing that really made me angry about Northern Mozambique. No where is cheap and yet no where seems to make any kind of effort to pretend it is nice. The hotel manager was sat about doing nothing, when the entire place was in dire need of a clean. I really don't think they deserve the few tourists they get.

A fairly comfortable bus journey later (if you ignore the fact that the bus driver spent half the journey with his eyes off the pot-holed road chatting, regardless of the fact we had two or more close encounters with death) and we'd made it to the much nicer Southern Mozambique. To be more precise Vilanculous, which has beautiful turquoise water dotted by islands of white sand that make up the Bazaruto group of islands. Finally we had found the paradise that you see in posh holiday brochures advertising Mozambique getaways.

We found an awesome backpackers called 'Zombie Cucumber' which was basically a few brightly painted huts, shared showers and social area. Full with other backpackers, this was one of the most best places we'd been in Africa. This combined with lazing around on the beach, gave us the much-needed relaxation we were looking for. We also signed up for a couple of dives. The currents here were so strong and you used half your air just trying to handle the huge waves breaking on the surface. Once you got down there the currents were so strong, that even the more experienced divers were being bashed against the corals. However it was a fairly good dive. We then headed to one of the nearby islands for lunch. The island was essentially one huge sand dune and a climb to the top of it revealed a group of sandy islands. If I was going to get stranded on an island, I would definitely choose one of these, as they were absolutely breath-taking.

On our way to the second dive we had an unexpected surprise -two Dugongs, or Sea Cows! We couldn't believe our luck as they are notoriously rare and our dive master had only seen one other in the time he'd been working there. To be fair they are pretty odd-looking, but we hung around watching them for about twenty minutes. We did take a picture, but all you can see is a smudge -so you will have to take my word for it on this one. We then plunged in for our second dive, which was much less like hard work. We saw plenty turtles, but none of the promised sharks.

We managed to hitch a lift to our next destination, with a couple of middle-aged Americans who had been doing aid work in Africa. The comfort of the journey was amazing and they were a really nice couple. As they refused to take a payment from us, we bought them lunch -our first taste of Mozambique's amazing prawns. Our destination was Tofo (which had been recommended by my Padi dive instructor, as the most amazing diving he had ever done).

Tofo lies on the southern coast of Mozambique where the the warm waters of the Indian Ocean mingle with the much, much colder Atlantic, making it the ideal home for some extraordinary sea creatures. The most remarkable of these are the giant manta rays, which up until people started diving in Tofo, scientists thought only inhabited water more than 50 metres deep. They were only known to exist as they would occasionally be found for sale in markets in Indonesia. However photographic evidence proved this wrong and the mantas thrive in the waters around Tofo, where it is possible to see them glide through cleaning stations of smaller fish as if on a conveyor belt ('A Shark's Tale' eat your heart out)!

The backpackers we stayed in was pretty basic -huts with sand on the floor and what I mistakenly thought was a rat poo (we later discovered that the poo was coming from the gheckos/lizards -much better- who were happily sharing our hut with us)! I booked in to do an adventure dive, which would get me the qualification needed to dive deeper than 18 metres. Again it just involved reading one chapter of a course book and not doing anything particularly stupid during my deep dive (hard for me-but I managed it). The dive itself was amazing. We'd asked to go to a manta cleaning station in the hope of spying some manta-rays, but unfortunately we were not so lucky. The waters however were crystal clear and absolutely packed with brightly coloured schools of fish. There were turtles, giant cod, honeycomb morray eels and stingray! It was definitely the best dive I have done since learning in Egypt and would recommend anyone who is interested in diving or learning to dive to head to Tofo. To top it all we were diving with Nitrox divers (who have added nitrogen in their tanks allowing them a longer dive time at greater depths) and Pete and I still lasted as long under water as they did -about thirty minutes.

The next day -with a bit of encouragement from Pete- we went for a surfing lesson. I have to say, whilst I can see the fun of body-boarding, I am never going to be any good at surfing, so my attitude towards the whole thing was fairly relaxed. Pete really took to it and showed me up by standing about a dozen times!! Less keen on the whole thing, I managed to stand once, but spend the majority of my time kneeling on the board before falling off! My instructor kept saying "You're really good at paddling", which -being a teacher- I knew meant that I was really rubbish! Needless to say, having ticked the surfing lesson box, I have no desire to embarrass myself again!

Another must-see inhabitant of Tofo are the Whale-sharks. They are present throughout the year and marine biologists even think they use the area to give birth to their young. Having not seen any during our surface time whilst diving, we booked on to a whale safari. I was absolutely convinced we would see some, but two hours later -no whale sharks. Shocking. Pete in particular was absolutely gutted. On the positive side it provides a great excuse to visit Tofo again in the near future.

If you time your visit to Tofo right you can see dolphins, manta-rays, whale sharks, other types of whale and, if you put your head under the water, you can hear the whales calling each other! We weren't there at the right time to do this, but what an amazing opportunity that would be! So yes I would recommend Southern Mozambique, which has beautiful beaches and lots of wildlife, but would not recommend Northern Mozambique yet.

Our next and final African stop is South Africa.

Our flight to Malawi took a decidedly scenic route via Kenya and Namibia! We arrived in the sleepy capital of Llilongwe at ridiculous o'clock having not booked accommodation. After trying all of the budget options in our Lonely Planet guidebook without success and considering breaking and entering and kipping on the reception floor until they opened, we stumbled across 'budget lodge'. Sounded just like our kind of place!!

The word sleepy used to describe this capital city is an understatement. The next day (a Sunday in an extremely Catholic country) we headed out into the capital 'city' only to find everything closed. Honestly if tumbleweed had drifted past us I am certain neither of us would have blinked an eyelid!

Ever fortunate with our timing, arriving in Malawi airport the previous night we discovered that our visit coincided with the 'Lake of Stars' festival. This music festival has been running for about five years now and features a mixture of African and UK based acts. It was placed within the top twenty festivals in the world, alongside the famous Glastonbury Festival. The headliners this year were the Maccabees and vaguely remembering hearing their name on Radio One we decided to try and get ourselves some tickets. A quick search on the internet revealed that a company offered packages staying in a posh hotel (with a pool and everything!) and four day entry tickets. Although we couldn't reasonably justify the cost of this, we managed to convince ourselves that it was an excellent idea.

The following day we headed out to hunt down our tickets. Lucky, as always, we scored tickets and decided to spend the rest of the day checking out Malawi's famous carvings!

There are wooden carvings available everywhere you turn in Africa. Everyone claims to be an artist and, if you're not careful, you can spend hours looking at and praising carvings a three year old could have accomplished blindfolded, that you have absolutely no intention of buying. Malawi however is the exception. We could have bought so many of their beautiful carvings, but money and the fact that we would have to carry any purchases on our backs for another month dictated otherwise. We settled for a few choice items: an African lady with a baby on her back; an awesome candle holder held up by collapsible giraffe legs and a small table which doubles up as a game board that we had seen played by old men throughout Africa. Unfortunately somewhere along the way we managed to 'misplace' the candle holder. Unfrotunately I think someone must have taken it during one of our many dodgy bus journeys.

Our original plan was to start at the top of Lake Malawi and travel downwards, stopping at a few different beach locations on the way. However, being short on time, and having secured our festival tickets, we headed straight for the South. We happened upon a really chilled out area called Senga Bay. The bus dropped us about an hour's drive out of town. Whilst waiting for another bus we met a local guy who worked in the orphanage. We got chatting about the festival and, when his lift arrived, he offered to take us into the main town for free.

We managed to find some passable accommodation (if you were to ignore what looked suspiciously lie mouse poo on the bathroom sink)! Exhausted after a whole day traveling we were happy to accept whatever came our way. As it was dark and we didn't have a clue which way to head, we decided to eat at our place. The young girl running the place could offer us chicken and rice OR... chicken and rice. We understood why when we saw the little gas stove she was cooking on outside. To top it all the only drinks they had were beer and fanta! After speaking to a South African girl who worked in the local dive centre, we began to understand. It seems that the drinks supplier comes once a fortnight with his truck: some weeks it has only coke; some weeks sprite; others fanta. She said it had become a game guessing which you'd be drinking for the next two weeks.

The next morning we woke to a healthy breakfast of fried eggs and chips. I am presuming this is all they had, as we ate it the following two mornings too. We then headed out to explore. A few hundred metres from where we were staying the fishermen trawl in huge quantities of small fish that look a bit like sardines. They then lay them out on bench after bench to dry in the sun -the benches went on as far as you could see. We knew we must be fairly near the beach, so continued our search and were rewarded with a beautiful stretch of soft, white sand -much better than the lousy lake beaches we'd seen in other places!

We decided that we would spend the day relaxing on the beach and inquired about getting some washing done. We asked a guy who seemed to be working in the accommodation nearby (which looked slightly better set up than ours). He called himself 'Little Boy' and offered to wash them for us. When we asked how much, he just said "pay me what yo think". This clearly confused us, as we didn't want to offend him by paying him too little. Worst of all he washed them in the lake whilst we sunbathed on the beach. After about four hours of his tireless washing, we were feeling pretty guilty and ended up paying about twenty dollars! Needless to say he was our best friend for the remainder of our stay. After washing your clothes in the river, they count them to check that no-one steals anything then lay them out on the sand to dry. We checked carefully when we got them back, and I have to say they came back pretty spotless!

We'd heard that Lake Malawi was one of the cheapest places to dive in the world. It wasn't; Egypt was far cheaper. However, as we had never experienced a lake dive before, we thought we should give it a go. We shouldn't have. We booked two dives with a small company, who we couldn't fault. Both instructors took us out and marveled at the lake fish. Whilst Pete and I tried to summon some enthusiasm for these tiny fish that were barely visible in the murky waters, it was hard not to look a tad disappointed. I realised at this point just how spoilt I was learning in Dahab, where so many amazing fish swim around you when you're doing your skills! The bonus of doing two dives, was that we got to visit lizard island -home of some ginormous lizards- during our surface interval. The downside of that was that every time our guide spotted a lizard, it ran away. After forty five minutes of scrambling over rocks, we gave up!

Our next adventure was to try and find our way to Mangochi, where the festival was being staged. We'd had numerous offers from taxi drivers to take us for a cheap price, but we valiantly refused. We were going to get the bus for less money like REAL travellers! Unfortunately the buses going that way were already full. Reluctantly we arranged for a taxi driver to take us to a cultural centre we wanted to visit and then drop us at the bus stop near there -about three quarters of the way to Mangochi. It cost a fortune, but we had tickets and accomodation, neither of which we wanted to waste.

We stopped at a 'Cultural Art Centre' on the way, where we paid an absolute fortune for a guided tour of the museum and entrance to the art gallery. Our guide was a joke. He took us into each of the three rooms of the museum, summed up in a single sentence what the theme of the room was and then said we could read the rest ourselves! Um... that's why we hired you! Naturally, being the polite English people we are, we thanked him, and complained to each other about him once he'd gone. The art gallery was equally disappointing. We were hoping to pick up more amazing carvings, but they had next to nothing for sale.

To further our annoyance, our taxi driver was not the most helpful person in the World. Firstly -he couldn't drive. He was in fact a tout who had booked us a taxi, no doubt taking a large sum of money for himself, and then came along for the ride! Whilst he had seemed nice when speaking to us originally, he turned into the most uncooperative man ever! After visiting the cultural centre we asked if we could stop to get some water. He just said there was no where around. This was particularly annoying, as we passed at least five roadside stalls all selling water! He then tried to drop us off at some random point in the road, saying that the bus would pass. It turned out that only one bus would pass this way and, as you couldn't book, we'd be stranded if it was full. Annoyed that he'd said he'd drop us at the junction, we tried to negotiate a price to take us the rest of the way, but he would do it for a penny less than double the original price. We were so angry and extremely stranded, but there was no way we were going to give him any more of our money! We got out and managed to hail a lift with a couple who dropped us at the junction. From there we hopped into the back of a pick-up truck -yes, a pick-up truck- with about thirty other people for the remaining four hours of the journey. What a nightmare!

Anyway we made it and checked into our lush hotel. We had hot-water, air-con, satellite t.v. AND a swimming pool! Whilst the service at the hotel was hilariously bad, we enjoyed lazing in the sun durng the day and heading to the festival of a night. The festival itself was housed on the grounds of an even posher hotel. There were two stages and a mixture of international names (like Nehal from Radio One, Radio Clit, Hot Chip and the Macabees) and local artists from across Africa. Some of the reggae style acts were excellent, especially as everyone could just sway around to them, but the African DJs all seemed to play early nineties tunes and didn't have access to the equipment to mix properly. Being used to the seamless mixing of bigger acts, even I was convinced I could mix better than some! The whole festival was really positive though. Malawi has a reputation for friendliness and everyone goes out of their way to help you. This was no different. The locals and tourists mixed together and there was absolutely no drunken squabbles or fighting. We really enjoyed the festival and, as it is going to just get bigger and bigger, perhaps some of you will make it there one day?

From there we were to head straight out to Mozambique, which is definitely where the travelling fun/nightmares begin.

Rwanda is better known as 'the land of a thousand hills' and that is one thing they were definitely right about. The whole country is mountainous, which makes bus journeys like a not-so-fun roller-coaster ride, but which also provides the most breath-taking scenery! However it is Rwanda's horrible past that drew us to the country. In 1994 millions of Rwandans were murdered in what is called a genocide (an attempt to wipe out a whole group of people). We wanted to find out what caused such a terrible thing to happen and what we could learn from the trajic events of fifteen years ago.

THE HISTORY BIT:

-Rwanda is a small country in Africa. Two main tribes lived there: The Hutu and The Tutsi.

-Many countries from Europe tried to steal African countries for themselves in the early 19th Century.

-Belgium decided that they wanted Rwanda. So they invaded.

-To control the country the chose people from the Tutsi tribe to enforce rules and treated these people better than the Hutus.

-This made the Hutus dislike the Tutsies.

-Germany then invaded the country. They decided to give the Hutus power instead.

-So both groups came to hate each other.

-When the country became independent, there was still a lot of trouble between the two tribes.

-Some Hutus began to tink that they were better than the Tutsies and decided to try to 'wipe out' all Tutsies.

-Hutus took over the country murdering, raping and torturing innocent Tutsies. No one was spared. Mothers, children and the elderly were all murdered horribly.

-Within 100days millions of Tutsies had been murdered and their bodies lay all over the streets of Rwanda.

Our first stop in finding out more was the Kigali (the capital of Rwanda) Memorial Centre: a museum established to educate people about the genocide. This museum was outstanding. The entrance was free (so that even the poorest could access it) and was designed with the help of a British guy who is responsible for the Holocaust Museum in the UK. Housed in a modern building, the museum leads you through a series of rooms, each dealing with a different aspect of the genocide. There are television screens in many of the rooms and first hand accounts of what it was like from some of the survivors. I think what struck me most is how, despite many warning signs (some from insiders), the World chose to ignore the problems in Rwanda. Had some countries helped the people of Rwanda, the genocide might never have happened. The after effects of the genocide were huge and probably best seen in the accounts of children who had first hand experience. One young girl watched as her three sisters were beaten and thrown into a cess pit, where they were left to die. Another young man describes his guilt at being unable to protect his brother from the murderers. For children to see such things is hard to understand, especially when I consider that most Rwandans my own age would have witnessed the genocide as children. The museum also has a series of gardens surrounding specially constructed mass graves that serve both as a reminder of what happened and as a place for relatives to grieve. Bodies are still being found to this very day and, unidentifiable, are added to the existing graves.

Despite the tragedies that occurred in 1994, my experiences of being in Rwanda are positive. The country feels the safest out of those we have visited so far; the people are very friendly and you get the impression that everyone is working hard to move the country forward. How the two tribes have re-learnt to live side by side is amazing and, even if many find it hard to forgive, people are generally trying their hardest to forget what happened and to put their differences aside.

Now, our guide book is short on info so, having borrowed another traveller's 'Rwanda' book, we head to the town of Ruhengeri. Here we have heard that you can go caving. The morning after we arrive, we head out to find the tourist office, where we hope they'll have more information. Upon asking locals for directions we soon realise that they have less idea than we do, although many are happy to stroll with us for ten minutes or so in order to brush up on their English! During our aimless strolling, we come across a massive group of kids playing football together. Boys and girls are equally involved and some of the older kids are joining in despite the fact that they have baby brothers and sisters tied to their backs in shawls (or kangas). We stop to watch and cheer, but before we know it the kids have abandoned their game and crowded around us! There must have been about forty of them, in differing states of dress and cleanliness. We have noticed that we are greeted with far more fascination here than elsewhere. Children -and a fair few adults- literally stop what they are doing and stare at us as we walk by. Some seem curious and after a few moments work up the courage to wave and smile before running away and others clearly regard us with great suspicion. This group have a mixture of both. One small boy just stares at me for about five minutes, before finally deciding to take my hand. We tickle some of the other little ones and whilst some laugh others look scared. After a while the children seem more confident and we ask their names and who is related to who etc. Thinking that the masses of children surrounding me will make a good photo and that the children will enjoy seeing their faces on the camera, Pete goes to take a picture. However some of the older boys quickly and loudly stop us, insisting that we must not take photographs. This seems to be a National thing over here, perhaps due to news coverage of the genocide. For that reason we have hardly any pictures of Rwanda, as taking pictures of anything other than scenery is not allowed.

Anyway we continue in search of the office, accompanied by a couple of boys who insist on showing us the way. When we get there -a room with a man in, no leaflets, no information- the boys are hurried out. The guy insists that we should discourage these children, as they are probably going to ask for something. However we reassure him that we don't really mind them walking with us and he lets them stay. As it happens the caving in Ruhengeri has yet to become established for tourists, so our journey to the town has been wasted. We head back to our hotel, followed by our two friends. Just before we leave them, we have to head into a shop to buy water so we get a couple of lollipops to give them and they run off smiling.

Having heard good things from other travelers, we head next to Gysenyi a small town on Lake Kivu. Lake Kivu separates Rwanda from their scary neighbour the Democratic Republic of Congo. After the genocide of 1994 many of the murderers fled to the Democratic Republic of Congo and in the early days following the genocide Hutu extremists came over the border to inflict further acts of cruelty on the Tutsis. When we arrive in Gysenyi, the effects of this violence are clear to see. Many people are physically impaired and have resorted to begging as a source of income for survival. Some of those affected are in their teens and are living proof that attacks have occurred post 1994. It is not unusual for victims to wave a severed arm in your face whilst waiting for a bus to leave or for a blinded person (presumably their eyes have been burnt or gauged out) to be assisted around by someone asking for money. The dilemma is huge. It is so sad that these people have to flaunt their disabilities in such a way and part of me can't help thinking that those accountable should be paying to help these people. Yet it is hard to sit and look the other way when it is a human being stood in front of you. It is interesting to watch what locals do. Quite often if we see locals giving, we use this as a sign that these people must genuinely be in need of help and give too.

The Lake itself is set within a picturesque mountain backdrop. However, much like our experiences of Lake Victoria, we find our spoilt Guernsey-selves thinking that the beaches back home are much, much nicer. Couple that with the afternoon storms that seem to have followed us from Uganda and it is not ideal for sunbathing. 'Fortunately' we arrive on a Saturday, so we shelter in a hotel bar that has Sky TV, so Pete to get his 'football-fix!'

We chose to stay in a nunnery as it was the only cheap option! However the place is clean and in an excellent location. When we wake on Sunday morning it is to the sound of gospel singing. The songs seemed to go on forever and were beautiful. Luckily the sun has finally shown it's face, so we head to Bar Tam-Tam, a beach bar blasting out RnB tunes. We manage to get a couple of hours sun before the rain sets in and we rush inside to shelter. Once inside, we watched a determined couple as they continue to use the beach as a dance-floor and dance to the music in the pouring rain. I would love to say I went out and joined them, but it was much warmer and drier inside!

We decide to leave the next morning and head to Cyangugu. Whilst this is only along the lake, transport isn't great in this area (perhaps because of possible robberies on some of the less developed roads) so we had to take the bus back to Kigali and then go from there.

The buses here are great compared with the rest of Africa -they actually only have as many people on board as there are seats!!! Of course they have those fold down seats in the aisles, but not having to share my single seat with a smelly co-passenger and my ginormous rucksack for eight hours is a huge luxury! The main highways in Rwanda are also pretty good -there is tarmac and roadsigns and at one point the police stopped the driver of one bus we were in and told him he had to drive more slowly as he had 'mzungus' (Western people) on board! As the country is so mountainous, there are many sharp bends on route to our destination and (I can only presume for fun) the driver seemed to speed up whenever we approached a treacherous and blind corner. Miraculously we make it to Cyangugu alive and find a hotel on the lakeside. Again we are bordering the Democratic Republic of Congo and can make out cars, houses and people across the river.

We awake the next morning and jump straight back on a bus that will take us to the forest headquarters. We arrive at headquarters having read that any of the walks cost about $20. $20 entrance plus $50 guide fees (each, although you only get one guide) was the price we begrudgingly paid! To top it all, having chosen the longest walk possible (to get our moneys worth) which supposedly took three hours, we were back at the base after one and a half having seen next to no wildlife and a not so impressive waterfall! GRRR! To us it just seems ridiculous, but it seems the government in some of these countries notice that tourists want to visit somewhere and immediately get greedy. Unfortunately for them we noticed that the park are averaging about one visitor a week -I wonder why?

Already feeling let down by our 'scenic' walk, we then sat outside the park entrance waiting for a bus. After the longest hour of my life -shivering and trying to gain some kind of enjoyment out of the only food we'd brought -an apple, we decided to walk to the nearest town. It couldn't be that far after all. After fifteen minutes of walking we managed to get a lift. The guy spoke next to no English so we sat in grateful silence. The news came on the radio announcing that one of the lead instigators of the genocide has been arrested in neighbouring Uganda. This was amazing news, but as we knew nothing about our driver's role in the genocide we settled for exchanging a raised eyebrow to acknowledge we'd both heard! After being dropped off still miles from where we wanted to be, we tried to find a bus, only to be told they'd all gone. Just as we were contemplating a very long walk in the dark, we were rescued by some guys with a pick-up truck and hopped in the back for a breezy ride down the mountain.

A warning that the squeemish and sensitive might wish not to read too far into the next paragraph.

Not wishing to give the local Government any more of our money, we decided against a second walk and began our journey back to Kigali. On our way we decided to pay our dues and stop at one of the most horrific of all genocide memorials. The memorial is based in a former technology school and is home to room after room of mutilated bodies. The story behind the memorial is that people from the nearby towns were lured into the college under the premise that it was a safe shelter from Hutu extremists. Sadly for them this was all part of the extremists plan to gather as many Tutsies in one place as possible in order to make the murder of them effortless. Around fifty thousand Tutsies fled to the college in fear for their lives (nearly the whole population of Guernsey) and within under three days all bar seven had been brutally killed. The bodies were dumped in a mass grave and upon retrieving the bodies only one could be identified. This was due to the severity of the attacks upon the Tutsies and because entire families and their neighbours and friends fled to the site together, so there was no-one left to identify them. It was decided that in order that the appalling things that happened there are never forgotten the bodies of those who died should be preserved in lime. These bodies are 'displayed' on bench after bench in some twenty five classrooms. Visitors to the memorial are led from room to room and the sight is overwhelming. I cannot find the right words to describe how I feel about what I saw. The bodies are frozen in time: some huddled; some with their arms outstreched in defence; mothers cling to their children and babies. The extent of their injuries is sickeningly clear to see. We walked from room to room in silence and, after the first couple, I didn't want to do more than glance in. It was incredibly strange, because I cried but felt guilty for doing so. These people were unknown to me and I experienced nothing but a quick news flash throughout the genocide. I couldn't look the lady who led us round in the eye, as she lived through all this. What right did I have to cry?

You are allowed to take pictures of the memorial, but to be honest I don't think Pete and I need them to remind us of what we saw and it is not fair to inflict them on other people. If anyone feels that they want to visit the site, I recommend that you do, but clearly this kind of thing is not for everyone. Whilst there we came across a couple of Canadian ladies. We got talking to them and they recommended that we go and see a pplay about the genocide that was touring Rwanda. Although we were planning to head straight to Kigali, we altered our plans and headed to Butare.

Butare is the unvieristy town of Rwanda and notably the place where the massacres began. It was thought that by 'getting rid of' the academics first, the mass majority wouldn't be able to fight against the murders that took place. The play itself was showing at the university theatre and was to be performed in Kinyarwandan (the local language). Clearly not knowing a word of it, we had to guess a lot of what was going on! However we managed to grasp the basic plot and the lead actor was absolutely superb, so we would definitly see a performance in English should we get the chance. One sad thing that we did notice about the performance, is that the audience was mainly comprised of men. The five women who were there were all Western. This was brought up by the director of the play after the performance, who addressed the question of 'why' to the men in attendence. Their answers were pittiful. One man answered that 'women were shy in nature' and that's why they didn't socialise much and another suggested that it was 'because women weren't really interested in changing things, whereas men were'. To Pete and I, their answers were unbelievible and seemed to mirror 1950s Britain, where the men retired to the smoking room for some 'serious' conversation! On a serious note, throughout much of Africa we have found the same. Women stay at home with their often overspilling house full of children. Men go out, drink and have a good time. Women work the fields, lugging huge weights on their backs in the midday sun. Men shelter in groups in the shade with a nice cool drink. No one seems to question or fight against this, which seems outrageous considering how men and women are treated equally where we come from.

Back on track, we made our way to Kigali, where we extended our stay once more to see another play exploring the theme of genocide (both were part of an arts festival). An added bonus, this play was performed in English -or Canadian- and explored one young man's journey to come to terms with his grandparent's suffering during the Holocaust. I think going to see the two plays helped to answer a few of our questions, yet probably posed a few more.

Having had our 'cultural fix' we decided to 'get down with the youth' (haha) of Rwanda and hunted down a little RnB club. We were unsure of whether we would be welcomed or not, but the locals were more than happy to have a couple of token white people on the dance floor. We had a fantastic night, but had to get up early to catch our flight which would take us to our next destination: Malawi.

We learnt a lot in Rwanda and whilst the story of what happened there is incredibly sad, it is important to look at it to see how we can prevent things like this happening in the future. It was easy to see how treating people badly just because they are different, is not the way forward. It can only cause problems. Perhaps we can all learn soemthing from what happened in Rwanda in 1994?

Uganda, as a country, is not particularly well-known to tourists and most likely conjures up few images in most of your heads. Certainly I had no idea what kind of country Uganda was and wasn't planning to travel there until I met some other traveler's who recommended it.

Although it was before your (and mine for that matter) time, Uganda's main news coverage in the twentieth century has focused on crimes against humanity. A notorious leader of the country Idi Amin is famed for terrorizing and persecuting many people living in Uganda during his rule.

Reassured that Uganda is now a safe country to travel in we hopped on a bus that would take us across the border. At the border crossing you have to show your passport and pay money to enter the country. Everything went smoothly until, having organised our entry, we returned to our coach to find that it had gone! After a frantic panic we crossed the border on foot to find the bus parked about 500 meters down the road. I could have killed the driver!

When we finally arrive in Kampala (Uganda's capital) we discover that there have been some riots. It turns out that the president of Uganda had prevented the Bugandan tribe's king from visiting the city and subsequently the angered tribes people had taken to the streets in protest. Several cars were burned by some of the more extreme protesters and the police wee reportedly firing aimlessly into the crowds! Fortunately we were unaffected by the riots, but the local people wee happy to share their thoughts and feelings on the situation. Freedom of speech however has clearly not caught on here, as several broadcasters were kidnapped for their reporting on the events! I think I'll stop writing there, as I am still in the country and value my life!

Uganda is one of only three countries in the world where mountain gorillas exist in the wild. In order to visit the gorillas you must obtain one of only forty or so permits issued a day and therefore those who really want to see the gorillas tend to book months in advance to ensure they get one. As we had no plans to come to Uganda, we hadn't tried to get hold of a permit, so first thing on Monday morning we visited the Uganda Wildlife Office in the hope that we might get a permit within the next month. The stars must have been shining down on us, as the lady in the office said we could go, but would in three days time be o.k? Dumbstruck, I had to double check what she said, but sure enough, two days later, we headed to the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest.

Gorilla tracking itself is no easy business. Bwindi (which translates as impenetrable) certainly lives up to it's name. The rainforest covers the treacherously steep slopes of the mountains and is dense with brambles and nettles. As it is a rainforest, the slopes are muddy and extremely slippery. I think the trek down the muddy mountainside was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I honestly feared for my life and dug the walking pole we were given into the slopes with every last ounce of my energy. If it had been raining I do not thing I would have made it down. After two hours a clinging onto brambles for my life, we finally spotted the gorillas. We were visiting the Ngoringo family of gorillas made up of about 27 members. Before we left we had been given a safety briefing where we were warned not to get to close. However, once down there, our guides had no issues with us being about two meters away from the gorillas.

Amazingly the family we visited was home to eighteen month old gorilla twins! To watch them play together and cuddle up to their mother was unbelievable. The entire experience was incredible and such a privilege to see. Every now and then a gorilla would do something that was so human-like. We took hundreds of pictures and, whilst I wish I could put them all on here, I have tried to whittle them down to just a few.

When we finally arrived back at camp we were exhausted! After a freezing cold bush shower (a bucket in a tree that you shower from by pulling a rope!) and some hot dinner we headed to bed aiming to get a good night's sleep. Our plan for the following day was to lie-in then go chimpanzee tracking. This is not nearly as strenuous as Gorilla tracking and therefore we thought it would give us a well-deserved break. However, our driver had other ideas. Having mentioned that we 'might' want to climb Mount Mgahinga (the second largest mountain in Uganda at around 4775meters) he had taken it upon himself to book us to climb it the next day! Unable to cancel the booking without being charged we resigned ourselves to having a go, despite the fact that our legs were killing from trying not to fall down the mountainside when gorilla tracking.

We woke at six the following morning and managed to squeeze in some breakfast (although a felt pretty sick) before making our way to the bottom of the mountain for our seven-thirty start. On the way, I happened to be stupid enough to ask how hard it was. The answer I got was "very" and to top it all, from about halfway up onwards you had to climb rotting wooden ladders of the sheer drop volcanic sides of the mountain. Two things I really hate are heights and ladders!

However, not wanting to be a complete let down I had a go and made it up to about 3,000 meters. Both Pete and I were absolutely shattered and really struggled with the steep incline. I decided to pack it in, but determined to make it to the top and not phased at all be the ladders Pete continued. Whilst I climbed back do9wn the maintain and than took the two hour walk (or slight jog if my porter had anything to do with it) back to camp, Pete continued up making it to the top in good time. However, having injured his knee in the past, he could hardly walk and it took much longer for him to slowly and painfully make his way back down the mountain. By the time he arrived back at camp (having been driven along terrible roads on the back of a motorbike) there was no way we could consider chimpanzee tracking the next day. So, we decided to head to Lake Byongi for a much needed rest.

Lake Byongyi is set within a mountain range and looks like something out of the hobbit. The scenery there was absolutely beautiful and we managed to find somewhere to stay that was really well set up for back-packers. After doing absolutely nothing for a day we decide to venture out on the lake in a dugout canoe for a bit of island hopping. This is far easier said that done. Dugout canoes, whilst they may resemble a normal canoe, seem to follow none of the normal rules. The locals, having watched many a mzungu attempt to paddle out in one, have invented a name for the lack of control we possess over them. They call this the Mzungu corkscrew!

Now, even if I do say so myself, I think we were pretty good in our dugout canoe and only went round in circles about seven times during our whole adventure. We made it over to a nearby island, with only a little bickering. Here they had a bar and restaurant, so we stopped for a drink. Our plan was to then paddle to the next island where we hoped to have lunch. We got over there.... eventually, only to find that it was deserted. Our own fellow inhabitants were some awesome-looking birds and even cooler dragonflies. So we tried the next island. We wondered to a building on the opposite side of the island, but there was no-one there. Starving by now we began to make our way back. About halfway across the island we began to hear whining and barking noises. It seems this island was inhabitated after all and the dogs (presumably there to scare stupid tourists like us away) were halfway between us and our only way out: the canoe. Sneaking around the island we could find no other path, so we armed ourselves with sticks and edged down the path. We could hear the dog's barking as we frantically paddled, or corkscrewed, away!

On our first day at the lake we met a man who worked at a local orphanage. The children there were mainly orphaned because their parents had contracted and died of the aids virus. On our final day he brought a group of children down to the camp. At first I had reservations about these orphans dancing for us. It somehow seemed a bit wrong. However they were going to perform whether I watched or not and when they started I couldn't help but walk over to look. To be honest all of the children looked really happy singing and dancing and some of them had some fantastic moves. One little boy of about six or seven could actually body pop! Having seen these children first hand, I felt a bit less cynical and realised that actually this was a way that the children could relax, express themselves and have fun together.

Reluctantly we left Lake Byongi and headed to the Sesse Islands (described as Uganda's equivalent of the Mediterranean in our guide book)! Getting to the island was an absolute nightmare. We got up early to catch the bus at eight. However, in true Ugandan style, the bus did not leave until every single seat was taken. So, an hour and a half later, we left. We then had to get a matatu to the ferry point, but we had missed the last one. Desperate we had little choice but to squash into a car which was already full beyond the recommended safety limit. (Please, please, please do not try this at home, or ever for that matter)! With Pete and I wedged in the front seat and I don't know how many Ugandans in the back we set off. About half an hour into the journey, the car stopped and I too was told to squeeze into the back. I was sat on someone I have never met before's lap and didn't really know why. We soon found out. We passed a police block who flagged us down. Spotting a mzungu in the front they came to knock on the window and demanded that Pete hand over our camera! He said he had seen us taking a picture of him (an act forbidden in this country) yet our camera was at the bottom of our rucksack. Fortunately he didn't persist and, when we were passed the checkpoint, I was freed from the back and allowed to sit in the marginally more comfortable front seat.

In true domino style, we missed the ferry. So we hopped into a small wooden fishing boat. The fact that two locals donned life-jackets was a little worrying, but perhaps they couldn't swim. Expecting to be dropped off a fifteen minute walk from the tourist area, we turned down offers of a taxi or boda-boda ride. However, as we started walking with our big rucksacks we were stopped by some well-meaning locals who insisted that the place we wanted was 22 miles away! It was now dusk and our transportation options had left. We had no choice but to walk. Through the forest. In the dark.

Our saviors were a pair of Ugandan footballers who were playing in the island the following day. They were sharing a boda-boda and insisted that we hop on the back. Now even the locals don't travel four people to a boda-boda and we had our rucksacks. But, sure enough, with our rucksacks strapped to the back, the driver sat on the tank and three of us sat behind, that is how we traveled. It was not a comfortable ride. Sitting up hurt my back, but leaning back killed Pete's legs so we grimaced our way there. We even lost our bags a couple of times, but at least my bag now had that worn look of a serious traveler.

When we finally arrived in town it was dark and so we accepted the accommodation without proper inspection. It turned out to be the worst place we have stayed yet. It was basically a really badly build shed with holes between the floor boards that opened onto the ground below and provided a convenient entrance for cockroaches! Scared to open my bag, we headed out to see if there was any food available. It turned out the owner didn't have enough money to buy meat or vegetables, so we took up the offer of a kind American man to drive us to a nearby hotel. The American man was living on the island and friendly with the hotel owner. As there is no cinema on the island and very few televisions he brought his laptop, a projector and a film round every week. After tying up an old sheet to project onto, we settled down to watch the Titanic. The film was great after not watching it for so many years, but what was even better was the comments from the old lady who owned the hotel. I don't think she quite got the plot, but seemed to enjoy herself anyway!

I slept with all my clothes on that night of fear of the cockroaches crawling on me. We woke expecting glorious (Mediterranean) sunshine: it was pouring with rain! Determined to find somewhere nicer to stay we put on our raincoats and braved the weather. After sludging through mud for an hour and a half accompanied by a rather friendly dog the whole way, we finally found somewhere to stay that was ten times nicer than where we were. We decided to stick it out for one more night in the hope the weather might improve.

A hot-shower and a good night's sleep later, everything seemed brighter and it was. The sun was shining and we were able to explore the island. We went for a long walk and hopelessly tried to snap the monkeys who seem to be everywhere.
We even made it to the beach, although seeing the green slime in the water we didn't venture further than up to our knees. Back at our accommodation, we were looked after really well by one of the staff and didn't mind at all that the only food on offer was fish!

Our next stop was Jinga -the source of the River Nile. It is here that they have some of the best white water rapids. We signed up to do a full days white water rafting and half a days river-boarding. We were grouped in a team of nine. There are three levels at which you can brave the rapids. The first is mild (no chance), the second is wild and the third is extreme. As a group we had to choose and, although a couple of people wanted to do extreme, we settled for wild. The rapids are grade five and no matter which level you chose to raft at you still have to go over the same rapids. The basic difference is that if you chose mild, they won't flip you; if you choose wild -you might flip a bit and if you chose extreme they try to flip you at every opportunity. Our guide Jeffery was an absolute madman and took great pleasure in ensuring that no matter how well we worked as a team, we flipped on over half the rapids. Our first suspicions started when we flipped on a grade two! Jeffery 'had no idea' how it happened and just kept saying "wicked cool -enjoy the ride!"

Flipping in practice, is not as bad as you think it's going to be. We were told to try and hold on to the rope around the edge of the raft and that way you should end up either outside the raft holding on to the rope (brilliant), or inside the raft holding on to the rope (dark, scary and definitely not so brilliant)! There were a few hairy moments where I was sucked under for what seemed like for ever, but a bit of aimless thrashing for my life and I was soon to the top. Clearly on grade five rapids we didn't take our own camera, but Pete would have loved to have caught the sheer terror on my face as I emerged from the water after a flip!

The company themselves did have a camera and there are some fantastic pictures, although I feel none of them quite do justice to how scary the experience actually was! There is one where we weren't expecting to flip, but everyone was thrown miles away form the boat. Even Jeffery didn't manage to hold on, but in the picture you can see me gripping determinedly to the rope until the last possible moment!

That night they showed the video of the days rafting in the bar. For some reason just watching the day play back made me start shaking -I think it was the adrenaline! At that point I began to feel terrified at the idea of river-boarding down the same rapids. In the video you could see the raft half-submerged under water and I kept thinking "that's going to be the whole of me!" It is one thing being in a raft on top of the water, but going down grade five rapids with only a body board seemed like an absolutely stupid idea! I managed to get so worked up that I convinced myself I did not want to do it. Pete tried his best to persuade me otherwise, but I swear I was practically in tears at the thought of it!

Anyway the next day we woke up and I... still didn't want to it! We spoke to the guy to check if Pete could still go if he was the only person (other people weren't stupid enough to sign up for it)! He was and they said that if I gave it a go and didn't like it I could ride in the safety boat instead. So I decided to give it a chance. The guy who took us went over some basics like rolling 360. when a big wave hits you and trying to surf by swimming backwards on the crest of a wave. This was fine, but unfortunately the first rapid that was 'boardable' was a grade five and you had to jump into it from the edge. I sat it out! Pete was brave enough to have a go and I have to say it looked terrifying! The next rapid was a grade three so I was happy to have a go on that one. It was actually really fun and build my confidence enough to ride through the rest of the rapids. The final rapid before lunch was the second grade five. By now I was feeling like a bit of a pro so decided to face my fears. I have to say it was so so so much fun going down it. The waves (although you look submerged actually form an air-pocket over your head -I guess surfers know this- so you can breath fine). I managed to hold on through a massive wave and had a few seconds of feeling smug, but when a second came straight after it whipped the board from my hands and I went under. I'm not going to lie it was bloody scary, but before I knew it the safety kayaks were on me and I got to lie back and be carried down river!

I think one of the best things about river-boarding was the disbelief of the people on the rafts that we were actually going to down the same rapids with just a giant float! If anyone gets the chance to have a go themselves I would definitely recommend it. It looks far scarier than it is, is actually extremely safe and probably one of the funnest things I have ever done.

As a fair amount of time had past since our safari in Kenya -we headed to Murchison Falls. The trip was organised by a cheap backpackers 'Red Chilli' and so whilst we had to spend a couple of nights in dorms, the fact that they had Marmite and HEINZ tommy-k more than made up for it! On arriving our first exploration was to climb to the top of the falls. We were told this walk take over an hour and were pleased that we were going to get some exercise. However the walk took all of fifteen minutes an the rest of the time was for taking photos -what a let down! The following day we went on a safari through the park. I guess we saw many of the same things we saw in the Masai Mara, and our 'oh yeah another lion' attitude only proves how lucky we have been in this trip so far. By far the best thing about this park was the elephants. We had seen a couple of elephants from far away in the Masai, but here there were herds of about sixty just stood there, blocking the road and minding their own business. I know I keep saying this about everything, but it was absolutely amazing!

After that we went on a cruise through crocs and hippos to the bottom of the falls. We spent the entire journey trying to capture a hippo with it's mouth open and failed miserably. We had a couple of Italians in our group with us and the general guidelines were to try to make as little noise as possible near the animals so that we could watch them without scaring them away. No such luck!!! The Italians found it absolutely impossible to control the volume, but luckily they were very nice so we were more amused than annoyed by their enthusiasm!

The next day we went rhino tracking. The rhino population in Uganda is in extreme danger of dying out -their horns are just too much temptation for poachers to resist. As a result a sanctuary had been set up to try to help protect and increase the population. After a hurried lunch (yet another impatient driver) we began our drive along the muddy tracks. I swear that, although my driving is appalling, even I could have done a better job than our driver. Faced with a particularly muddy patch, he hurtled in and upon getting stuck decided that putting his foot down and revving was a great idea! Somewhat predictably we got stuck and the son of the manager had to come and pick us up in his jeep. He said that the Red Chilli drivers get stuck in the mud practically every week! Anyway there was room for us, but our tracker had to sit on the back. I would love to say I was surprised., but I am slowly become blase' about 'usual' safety standards! Once near the rhinos, we jumped out of the jeep and walked through the forest to where they were. It was brilliant standing right there near an animal that could potentially do you a lot of harm, but the experience lasted no more than fifteen minutes before we were 'herded' back to our mini-van which had fortunately managed to come unstuck!

After spending an entire three weeks in a country we hadn't planned to visit, we decided to move on and our next stop is Rwanda.

So from 'Finding Nemo' to 'The Lion King' we head to Kenya to go on safari (which, as my year eight geographers will tell you, is Swahili for journey). We fly into Kenya's notorious capital city Nairobi (or Nairobbery as some prefer to call it)! Nairobi is a big, scary city and this is where I had the pleasure of spending my birthday.

We arrive at our hostel at four o'clock in the morning and are greeted at the gates by our guard who alarmingly is carrying a large club with him that could definitely do some damage! I'm not sure whether to feel comforted or petrified by this. It turns out that this club is the chosen fashion accessory of almost all security guards around the city. It is further explained when we realise that our guard belongs to the Masai tribe, who have carried such clubs for centuries to use in self-defense. We were led to our room, which had barred windows -complete with broken glass and three bolt on the door. Needless to say the little sleep I had that night was of the nervous kind. I awoke the following morning to the most amazing birthday breakfast -weetabix! Seriously, we had not had cereal for three weeks at this point and, although the milk was warm and nothing like that we get in Guernsey, it went down very well.

We then bravely ventured down the street to the Nairobi museum. I say bravely because when we suggested walking to the lady on reception she looked at us like we had a death wish and we were later to read in a friend's guidebook that the road leading from our hostel to the museum is one of the most dangerous in the city. However it was daytime and we put on our best 'don't mess with us' looks. It must have worked -the most we encountered was a "Hey white-man -whatsup?" It is quite usual to call people 'white-man' or 'mzungu' in many parts of Africa. The comments are not racist: white people are rare sight and therefore are greeted with fascination.

Nairobi museum has lots of information on tribal culture, animal adaptations and is also home to some of the oldest human remains ever discovered. These remains are really quite important, as they suggest to scientists that the entire human population of the world can be traced back to Africa.

That night we went to carnivore, which is famous for the enormous amounts of bbq'd meats they bring around on spits. If any of you have ever been to Latinos -it is like that, but on a much bigger scale. One of the meats they had was ostrich. We tried some and it was actually very tasty, although I did feel a little guilty when I saw a magnificent ostrich whilst on safari! Luckily, despite it being my birthday, I managed to persuade Pete that I did not want to be serenaded by the waiters! However it was fun to watch those who were and the infectious "Jambo bwana" song (literally meaning 'hello mister') keeps popping into my head even now.

The next day we visited a center for baby orphaned elephants. I was surprised how little they were considering how big they grow eventually. The elephants were all rescued from the wild and the aim of the center is to rehabilitate them back into the wild once they reach an age where they can cope independently. In the mean time the elephants have to be fed from a bottle every few hours (much like a human baby) and therefore the men who work at the center have to take it turns to spend the night sleeping next to each elephant! We also visited a giraffe sanctuary, where they breed giraffes to ensure the species survives. This was amazing! You actually get to feed the giraffes small pellets which they happily take from the palm of your hand. I think I may have been more excited than most of the children there!

After that we thought we would head out to the Masai Mara' to get a close-up view of some 'real' wild animals. The whole experience was fantastic. Within the first two hours of our safari drive we had seen cheetah, lions, hippos, crocs, giraffes, elephants, zebra, antelope, warthog, ostrich, wildebeest and -breathe- hyenas. I was a little suspicious when the cheetah we saw just inside the park gates was lying on the same rock we found him on at the end of the day. Although perhaps he was just having a chilled out day. We were fortunate enough to be accompanied by the son of a Masai chief, who came along free of charge and was excellent at spotting the animals.

Back at camp our cook rustled up some really nice food and entertained us with stories of his life. He had quite an interesting past, but had converted to Christianity and preached in his own church. He began talking to us about witchcraft within some of the tribal villages. It was really interesting to hear how some Africans still believe in voo-doo and curses today. Perhaps the most funny moment though was when he said he had read about a school of witchcraft and wizardry in the UK. Pete and I both took one look at each other and burst into laughter. Through giggles we managed to ask whether that school was called 'Hogwarts' and if the book he had read was called 'Harry Potter'. I still believe that this is the case and, if so, JK Rowling has a great deal to answer for in Africa!

As part of our trip to the Masai Mara we were able to visit a Masai village, where local tribesmen demonstrated some of their ways of life. This was especially interesting, as I had looked at the Masai tribe with my year eights last year. Seeing everything first hand helped to put everything into perspective. The huts (built out of wood, mud and cow dung) really are quite tiny and the fire used to cook inside makes the hot extremely smoky. Some of the Masai women performed a dance, which I was invited to join in. Despite feeling silly, I did and I have to say that I definitely did not have their amazing sense of rhythm! It paid off though when I got to watch Pete attempt the famous Masai jumping! For those who are looking at the Masai tribe this year, I recommend looking at some of the photos, which will hopefully help you to see what life is like within their tribal villages.

In desperate need of some relaxation, we headed to the Kenyan coast. Here we met up with two of my friends who had spent their summer traveling through Africa. They were staying in Watamu, a beautiful place, where we just chilled out for a couple of days. There was a really good craft market their, where the locals sold their carved goods, so we managed to pick up a couple of reminders of our time in Kenya. Along with Emma and Fern, we next headed to Malindi another beach location. We took at matatu there (which is like a public minibus). Matatus are often painted in bright colours and blast out reggae music. It is not unusual to cram more than the legally restricted number of passengers on and so journeys often involve sitting on someone's lap, crouching in the aisle or sharing your floor space with two or three sqwuarking chickens! However, most worrying of all is that all matatu drivers only seem happy when they are narrowly missing pedestrians, cyclists and the bumpers of other vechicles. I have found that the easiest way to 'get through' a matatu journey is to close your eyes and hum a little tune in your head! So it is by this particularly risky form of transport that we made our way down to Malindi, a town where the Italians have certainly made their mark. So, in order to sample some of the cultural delicacies we headed to "I Love Pizza!". The lasagna and pizza that we ate was very much appreciated after eating chewy, fried goat meat for the last week!

Not wanting to waste my newly-acquired diving skills, we decided to do a dive in Malindi National Marine Park. We saw four turtles on our first dive and one on our second. One of the turtles was HUGE and just settled on the rock without a care in the world as we swam around him. We also saw crocodile fish (which we saw in Dahab), but one in particular as hiding in a rock and when we swam down to peer in, he showed a set of teeth that could do some serious damage! We were fortunate enough to see a giant barracuda, but sadly no white-tipped sharks on this occasion (PHEW!).

Our next stop was a small island in the North of Kenya called Lamu. There are no vehicles in Lamu so your transport options are walking, dhow boat sailing or donkey (which I hate to disappoint you in saying that I didn't jump at the chance of a donkey ride)! The streets are narrow and are like a maze, but there is always an over-helpful local happy to literally drag you in the right direction! So you can imagine it was what Sark is to Britain and had a 'olde worlde' vibe and the friendliest people we have come across so far.

Lamu has a Swahili culture. Swahili refers to the Asian influence in this part of Africa. As Lamu is a coastal island, they would have done a lot of trade with countries such as India and, as a result, have adopted many of their traditional customs. One of the biggest influences is that the majority of people living in Lamu are Muslim and therefore women are often fully covered and you can buy delicious Indian food like samosas on the street for about 10p!

On our first night we were invited to eat at a local's house, which was a lovely experience. The family included a teenage daughter who spoke excellent English and who was extremely sociable, a twelve year old boy and the cutest three year old who wouldn't stop stroking my hair! It was surprising how similar the teenage girl was to many of you back home. Whilst, on the surface, her life was very different to yours and mine, her ambition was to become a fashion designer! Unfortunately she couldn't afford to go to college, so was working to save up the money to do so. We were joined by a group of university students who had spent the summer teaching in Uganda is our next stop. After dinner the young boy went out and borrowed his friend's keram board. Keram is a similar to pool or subbuteo, but you flick a white disk to putt either your red or black disks. The other resounding difference is that their seem to be very few rules and cheating is as much a part of the game as trying to win through your own skill! Because it is Ramadan at the moment the local boys all try to amuse themselves during their fasting hours by playing Keram and so the sides of the streets were lined with young boys sat in huddles around boards with the occasion old man offering his experienced guidance! Needless to say after two games I was still completely rubbish at keram, so I am tempted to get a board made that I can bring in to school and practice my skills on!

Lamu also has some of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. Many are on their own paradise islands and so can only be reached by dhow boats. We decided to book a day trip on a dhow which would take us out to catch our own fish, to a secluded beach to barbecue our catch and then on to explore some old ruins. We were led to believe that the boat would take just us two and the three uni students we had met, but as you have probably guessed we arrived on the morning in question to find six other explorers aboard 'our' boat! It was definitely a tight squeeze and as we were sailing our relaxation was interrupted with frequent dashes to the other side of the boat to prevent us capsizing!! The fishing was a let down -not one of us caught anything, although I have to admit the effort I put in was pretty pathetic! So we were left contemplating what the shrimps we were using as bait would taste like barbecued! Luckily our captain 'Captain Hussein' had brought along enough fish for everyone. After a surprisingly yummy lunch we were then given the decision of whether we REALLY wanted to go to the ruins or not. We soon realised that this wasn't really a choice -they just didn't want to have to use their engine sailing against the current and burn petrol, so we resigned ourselves to a leisurely sail back to the main island.

As we has some interesting little mites sharing our bed in our Lamu hotel, we decided to check out some classier options. One hotel we came across has a swimming pool AND hot water, but the prices were out of our league. They did however offer the option of a day by their pool for about 1.50GBP (no pound sign on keyboard) so we took that gratefully and endured our creepy-crawly friends for one more night. Eek!

Sad, to leave the idyllic and friendly island of Lamu, we headed to Mombasa. There really wasn't a great deal to do here so we made our stop as short as possible. The city is quite dirty and the beggars are pretty hands-on (some of the children literally grab at your pockets). Understandably the concept of 'personal space' means very little to people who sadly have no privacy themselves. We visited the one main tourist attraction 'Fort Jesus' where the 800 shilling entry prompted us to pretend that I was under eighteen! It worked, but I think they thought that Pete was my dad!

With our Kenyan travels nearly up we then headed towards Kisumu -a uninspiring town. We made our final Kenyan trip to the Kakamega rainforest, which is the only surviving rainforest in Kenya. We did a four hour guided trek through the forest which is home to many different species of monkey. However the monkeys were quite shy so getting a picture was a bit of a challenge! One of the walks led us to a look-out with magnificant view over the rainforest canopy. Another took us to a small, but pretty waterfall. It is shocking to think that much of Kenya was once covered in such lush rainforests, but desperation and lack of knowledge about the good that rainforests do, has led to much of it being destroyed.

Having had an amazing time in Kenya, we headed across the boarder into Uganda where our next adventure was due to begin.

Whilst the details of traveling are most often boring and not worth writing about, I feel our journey from Cairo airport to our hostel gives an interesting first insight into Egypt. We arrived in Cairo at about midnight where we encountered our first challenge: trying to get a taxi. Not that there weren't any taxis. Rather we were bombarded with offers, but none that were under ten times what it said we should pay in our guide book. After battling for about twenty minutes, we finally gave up and paid the going rate just to get us to our hostel safely.

Now if you haven't been to Egypt and you imagine Egyptian roads to be similar to ours -you're wrong. Traffic lights, road markings and general common sense don't seem to have caught on in the Egyptian driving scene. We held on for our lives as our driver weaved in and out of traffic, using only his horn as a means a traffic control!

As we neared our hostel, we thought we were through the worst of it and were just thankful we had made it there alive. However we were greeted with a building that would make the best piece of descriptive writing ever! There was an old, abandoned lift, broken windows, piles of rubbish and even a homeless person sleeping in the corridor! I think that it was such a culture shock that I was too overwhelmed to moan or cry and when I woke the following morning, albeit to a chorus of car horns, I felt much better about the place. If I could cope with this then I can cope with traveling!

Our first stop was the Egyptian Museum, which is crammed with artifacts recovered from the tombs of Ancient Egyptian Kings and Queens. Within the museum there is even a room that holds the mummified corpses, which believe me are horrible looking! However, by far the best room in the museum is that which contains the treasure found by Howard Carter in the tomb of Tutankhamen. I think everyone is familiar with the famous gold mask from primary school lessons on The Egyptians and seeing this first hand was amazing.

The following day we decided to do a bit of tomb-raiding ourselves and so headed out of the city to explore the Ancient Pyramids. TWe visited the first pyramid ever attempted by the Egyptians, which is called 'bent pyramid'. You can imagine what the problem is here -the Egyptians could have done with some help from the maths department when working with angles,as they hadn't quite got this one right! However, they didn't let this first failure stop them and soon after they build 'red pyramid', the first successfully completed pyramid in Egypt. If you look carefully at the pictures you can see how rough the pyramids look. This is where early tomb-raiders chipped off the outer layer of the pyramids to try to find the entrance way that would lead them to the treasure. Originally these pyramids would have been perfectly smooth and not stepped like in the pictures.

Tourists are allowed to enter red pyramid and, although I have to admit to being a tiny bit scared about going down this steep, dark tunnel to the centre of the pyramid, I took a deep breath and ventured inside. The tunnel leads down to a central room which is where all of the things the Pharaoh needed for the after life were kept. Beyond this there is another small room which is where the mummified body would have originally been placed. Being in that room felt a bit creepy, so I made a hasty exit through the tunnel we entered.

The most famous and well-visited pyramids in Egypt are the Giza Pyramids, otherwise known as 'The Great Pyramids'. Visiting these after the first two pyramids highlighted how much progress the Ancient Egyptians had made. It is here that the world famous Sphinx can be found. The sphinx combines the body of a lion with the head of a human being, which represents strength and intelligence. It was used to suggest that the Pharaohs of the time were not to be messed with as they were strong, intelligent leaders.

As well as visiting the pyramids, we also visited many temples which were built to celebrate the lives of Egyptian Pharaohs. I have included some pictures so that you can get a sense of how grand these were. I think it is important to remember that whilst the pyramids, temples and statues in Egypt are huge, the ancient Egyptians had none of the technological advances we would find on a modern building site. It is incredible what the Egyptians achieved. One of the temples we visited was called Philae Temple and there is an interesting story that explains why the temple was built. This is the story of Osiris and it can be found easily if you google his name.

After a week crammed full of temples and pyramids, I have to admit that even I (a teacher) stopped paying attention to our guides! So, in order to get a well-deserved break, we headed down to the Red Sea. However my hopes of lying on the beach relaxing were shattered when I was persuaded to sign up for an open water diving course. As I have already admitted in this blog I am a bit of a coward, so the mere thought of being eighteen metres underwater, relying solely on a single tank of air to stay alive petrified me! To add even more pressure, the two people who would be learning to dive with me were leaving in three days time, so we had to learn to dive and pass all of our exams, yes exams, by then! A five-hundred or so page book (now I know how it feels guys) and a few mouthfuls of Red Sea water later, I completed the course. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it, so the following day I went out for my first 'proper', qualified dive.

Diving in the Red Sea is an unbelievable experience. There are so many different species of fish and some are really quite odd looking! The crocodile fish (yes a fish that looks like a crocodile) and the lion fish (you guessed it -it looks like a lion) were two of my favourites. However, every time I saw a little orange fish with white stripes (the anemone fish), I'd shout "Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemooooo" under the water, much to the embarrassment of Pete. I would definitely recommend diving to all of you as there are some extraordinary creatures lurking underwater!

After that I felt I had definitely earned my break so we spent a few more days relaxing before undertaking our next adventure.

Feeling quite proud of how brave I had been so far, I decided to go quad biking in the desert. The trip itself was supposed to coincide with the sun setting over the sand dunes, which I am sure would have been a beautiful sight. By the time our guide, who was not blessed with the best organisational skills, was ready to leave the sun had long set and we therefore we presented with challenge of quad-biking in the dark! As I had never been on a quad bike before tour guide had the ingenious idea that I go at the front of the group and that (despite the sign warning you not to carry passengers as it can make you over-balance) he would sit on the side! So with our guide on the back and me not able to see more than two metres in front -we set off. Three minutes later we had lost a local girl who crashed badly, so my lack of confidence was more than justified! After a hair-raising forty-five minutes we made it to our destination: a Bedouin camp. The Bedouin tribes are native to this part of Egypt and the locals who greeted us served us their specialty 'Bedouin tea', which is like tea with twigs in it, and entertained us with some local songs. The other group members (all Egyptian) sang along with a man playing bongos. From their laughter I am certain the song was extremely funny and I felt a little suspicious, as the only two foreigners, that the laughs may have been at our expense. However, we clapped along regardless!

Our final challenge in Egypt was to climb Mount Sinai, otherwise known as the mountain where Moses gave his famous ten commandments. This mountain is extremely special to Christians and many make a pilgrimage (a long journey to a religious sight) to the mountain in order to follow the journey that Moses took. Fortunately this is only a little mountain and it took only three hours of trekking to get to the top. We climbed in the dark and, although my legs ached a little by the end, it was worth the effort to watch the sunrise from the top of the mountain. Many of the Christian and Muslim pilgrims who made the journey sang hymns when they reached the summit and this created a really special atmosphere. After watching the sunrise and taking many, many photographs, we began are descent down the 3.750 crumbling steps.

As we were flying out of Cairo airport, we made are way back up to the capital. We passed some time here visiting the Islamic part of the city, which we visited a mosque. In order to remain respectful, I wore a makeshift 'hijab' (which covered my arms and hair) and was careful to avoid making eye-contact with the men who were there to pray to Allah. This also made quite an amusing picture, which I have included here. I think traveling independently in Egypt is quite rare. Many people who visit the pyramids stay in big hotels and don't really venture into the city centre. Therefore, as some of the only white, Western-looking people there, we attracted much attention. Perhaps the best example of this is when a group of young girls dressed in traditional Islamic clothing stopped me to ask if they could have their photos taken with me! Whilst I didn't feel completely comfortable with this, I agreed, after all I had captured some pictures of Muslim ladies myself over the past few weeks.

One extremely scary taxi ride later we were in Cairo airport, ready to begin our next adventure in Kenya.