Zambia Favorite Pictures

I've been promising since forever that I would share my pictures from Zambia...now that I've had two trips, I'm posting here some of my favorite pictures from each of the trips:

Roadside Mango Sales:


Victoria Falls:


Toad in the Hand:


Kids:


Girl with wheelbarrow:


Girls spinning troupe:




I wish I knew what kind of flower this is:


Leopard rug:


Tiny Praying mantis:


Giraffe:


Me on Safari game drive:


Elephant

Hooters China: A Post LONG Overdue

So Moglie did such a good job these past few months writing about our trip to China last November, that I felt little need to blog about my experiences there, or my trips to London and Zambia that followed. She's been reminding me that I still need blog about the trip, and at the very least post about our trip to Hooters in Shanghai.

So, what would motivate us to visit a beacon of American "culture and cuisine" in the megalopolis of modernity Far East?

One word: MarfDirt (Hi Marf!).

Knowing that he is a big fan of Hooters Restaurants in the US, we wanted to send him something special from our trip to China, we thought we'd get him a Hooters Passport stamp and t-shirt.

Well, finding this place wasn't exactly easy. Even though it opened in late 2004, it seemed like many people didn't really know that it was there at all. It's quite a long walk from the train station, and you really have to know where you're going. The restaurant is located inside a pretty big shopping mall. It took us a while to figure out how to get to the restaurant, but along the way we found Dairy Queen, and took the opportunity to each have a cone for our efforts. It must've done the trick, because it wasn't long before we found the place!



I've since read articles that say you need a reservation to get a table if you plan on coming in before 10pm. I guess that now that it'd been 4 years since the opening, it's no longer the case-- we walked into a sleepy restaurant practically overstaffed with tiny, scantily-clad Chinese girls in tiny orange running shorts, and flesh-toned pantyhose (those things must be a nightmare in the summer!).

We were ushered to a table almost immediately by the seriously friendly waitresses. We peruse the menu, and really it's pretty Hooters-standard, and we know why everyone goes to Hooters in the first place: WINGS! That was exactly what I wanted to eat, buffalo wings and a coke.

While we were eating, we noticed that there was one other person in the restaurant. The waitresses started serenading him with the repertoire of "hooters favorites." I managed to catch them on film, so check it out.



When they saw that I was recording their song to another patron, they quickly filed over to serenade Moglie and I with one of my favorite old-time songs:



China's Hooters girls really love their jobs! And while they may not "measure up" to your typical American Hooters Girl, these girls bring the dedication and pride in their work that the Chinese are known for...you just don't find that among many Americans in the service industry anymore. In one article I read , the waitresses really enjoy what they do, and look at it as an opportunity to practice their English, meet people, and earn tips when normally tip-making is not allowed. When the restaurant first opened, 80 of 1,000 applicants were selected. Apparently Hooters China prides itself on finding beautiful, open-minded Chinese girls to put in their tiny tanks and shorts. At first, many people were concerned about the dress code, arguing that it was too scant for Chinese taste. Although looking out onto the streets and in the clubs of Shanghai, you'll see many more women wearing even less than the Hooters girls in Shanghai.

When we finished our meal there, I took a picture with a few the girls before buying Adam's t-shirt. I think that finding this restaurant was really one of my favorite (and surprising!) parts of Shanghai (besides the pearls, and the hostel, and the shopping, and everything else I liked about it), really it just adds to the list of reasons why Shanghai was one of my favorites.

Mosi-oa-Tunya: The Smoke Which Thunders

As many of you know, and many more of you don't, I was in Zambia in December. I wrote my first blog from Zambia while I was there, and then completely fell off the map! Sorry about that... It was Christmas, and then New Year's, and then where did all of January and half of February go? It's now nearly Valentine's Day and I haven't written a blog in months, as Andrea writes blog after blog of our adventures in China. Even though she has been also using some of my snaps (and giving me credit - Hi Moglie!), I have been sadly delinquent in my blogging duties. Thank goodness for Andrea who has been keeping our blog alive while I've been concentrating on doing a whole lot of nothing instead. Anyway, I digress. I'm going to let my first post in 2 months be about Zambia nestled along the Zambezi River, but completely landlocked in Southern Africa with Zimbabwe and Mozambique to the South, Malawi and Tanzania to the East, DR Congo to the North, and Angola to the West. Zambia is a very peaceful country despite some of the strife that we find in the news lately about its neighbors (Zimbabwe anyone?), and it was a FANTASTIC introduction to Africa, its culture, food, and people.

I spent a lot of my time there travelling between the capital city and several of the regions there. The most difficult of the trips by far was the one from Lusaka (the Capital) to Livingstone. We were on the road for about eight hours, leaving Lusaka early in the morning, and heading to the home of Victoria Falls, and Zambia's crown jewel of tourism. In the local language (there are 72 of them, so please don't ask me to specify which one), the name is Mosi-oa-Tunya: The Smoke which Thunders. When I say it that way, I hear a BIG voice in my head like a movie announcer...THE SMOKE WHICH THUNDERS! Being that Vic Falls is one of the largest waterfalls in the world, it just seems more appropriate that way.
So the trip to Livingstone was LOOOOOONG. Like, really long. But at least my team and I were in a minibus, and there were no problems with flat tires, although that certainly would have been a possibility given the state of the roads. The scenery along the way was magnificent, with green, lush rolling hills, and dark, red earth against a soft, blue sky. The contrast in colors was striking. The road most of the way was decent, with not many potholes. But as we were about 100km outside of our destination, the quality of the road changed. The story goes that the road was originally built from donor funds (as is just about everything), and it used to be wonderfully paved and flat. As the years go by, there were no additional donor funds to maintain the road. With heavy rains every year and no restrictions on the weight of the trucks allowed to travel the roads, potholes form; and I mean BIG potholes:
Add that to having no lines, and everyone driving on the wrong side of the road-- scratch that-- everyone driving all over the road and it makes for a very scary driving situation. Thankfully, our driver was Zambian and quite skilled in navigating the potholes in the road without problems, and we covered the last 100km in about 4 hours.

The Falls are aptly named as 'The Smoke which Thunders' since you can see the falls from miles and miles away, even though all you're actually seeing is the mist rising through the air. This was my first glimpse of it:

When we got into Livingstone, we drove into the area near the entrance of the falls. There seemed to be some trees that were "slightly" larger and a different species than all the others. I asked about them, and found out they're not trees at all! In fact, they were actually radio antennae!

I took quite a few pictures of the falls, but I must apologize in advance for the poor quality of my pictures here. I discovered that with the increased moisture in the air, I had a hard time getting well-focused shots. This was the entrance to the falls, and I think that if you didn't know it was there, you just might almost miss it!

After you pay the inflated "foreigner price" of $10USD (not payable in local currency!!!!) they take down your passport information and let you in. The pathways are all made of small, slippery stones that are constantly wet from the moisture. I was terrified that I would slip and fall at any moment. As you can see, there were lots of rails for me to steady myself in case I felt I would fall. All the fear I had of falling on these pathways went out of my head when I saw my first glimpse of the falls themselves:

Gorgeous, isn't it? When it's at full capacity just after the rainy season, Vic Falls is the largest waterfall in the world. I must be careful when I say that though, because it is by far NOT the tallest. That titles belongs to Angel Falls in Venezuela, and Victoria here doesn't even make the top 10 of the world's tallest. But these falls are the BIGgest in that they are the widest with a width of 1 mile and a height of 360ft, they form the largest sheet of falling water on the planet. The whole of the falls is viewable straight on, and at the end of the rainy season, all the rocks you see in this picture are covered with massive amounts of gushing water from the runoff of all the other rivers in Zambia/Zimbabwe.

Here are a few more pictures that I took while I was walking around the falls trying not to slip:

The slipperiest bridge in the world....

Bridge between Zambia and Zimbabwe

Muli bwanji from Zambia: The Airport Cha-Cha

On Friday night, I boarded an overnight flight to London. The flight to London was really easy for me. Almost immediately after take-off, I put on my eyemask and ear plugs, took a valerian root cap and was dead to the world. I even missed dinner on the flight, and didn't wake up until I felt the plane start its decent into Heathrow. I felt pretty rested, and was definitely ready to move.

My plan for the day was to meet K at Paddington station, where we would shove off for a whirlwind tour of the key things to see in the city. With her advice, I boarded the Heathrow express, and it was sound. At Paddington station, I quickly found the statue of Paddington Bear as he is remembered for being "found" there by his family. Once K and I found each other, we rushed to the Tube and headed for the Theames where we saw Big Ben and the Tower, and the London Eye, which is just a giant Ferris Wheel. Considering my great fear of Ferris Wheels, I was more than happy to keep my distance.

Next Stop: Westminster Abbey

The line here was so long, that there was no way we'd be able to take a tour. I snapped a few shots of the architecture and details, thankful for my college gen eds-- ART 101 which helped me to identify the stylings, etc. From there, it was on to Buckinghap Palace as we chattered away about how unimpressive and stoic it felt. Actually, the building looked remarkably like every other government building in DC: Stone, neo-classical columns, and security out front. K mentioned that it's a great spot to people watch, and once again her tip didn't disappoint as we watched the tourists' lack of respect for the memorials, climbing all over them!!!

From there, we headed to Trafalgar Square and saw Nelson's Column, a memorial of a battle from a long time ago that remains in the in the English modern memory...ewkay. From there, we rushed around to find food, with almost no luck, missing the English "lunch hour" at all the pubs, so my hopes for a real eeeeenglish Fish and Chips lunch were dashed temporarily. We ended up at the Texas Embassy (yes it's a real place!) for some pretty respectable tex-mex offerings. K told me that normally in the UK you'd get Doritos and tomato sauce, and they'd call it chips and salsa. These were nothing like doritos and the salsa was quite respectable with a kick that I figured was probalby really hot to the English palette.

Unfortunately, after lunch, I was about 30 minutes behind schedule. We rushed back to the Tube, and luckily I managed to get the train I needed back to Paddington quickly. But I was nearly dashed when the Heathrow express train I was on was delayed outside the airport by about 20 minutes. If you're doing the math, that means I was nearly 1 hour later than I scheduled myself to be....I was making contingency plans in my head, and praying fiercely...Once at the airport train station I ran (yes RAN!) with my backpack on and laptop in hand all the way to security without stopping. Hey, a girl's gotta get her exercise, eh?! Thankfully, security was no problem for a vetran like me as I slipped out of my shoes, took off my jackets, and breezed through with no problems. It also helps that I didn't have to take my laptop out of the bag. Thank goodness the English security xrays don't have a problem with laptop bags like TSA in the States does. I got to my gate (nearly the very last on in Terminal 1) just as they started boarding....whew!

The flight to Johannesburg (Joburg) was 11 hours and I probably got 5 hours of sleep give or take. I decided I was going to like South African Airways when I found socks, an eyemask, and a toothbrush in a pack on my seat with a heavy blanket and pillow. After my toes nearly froze off on the flight to London, I was thankful. Little did I know that would be the last cold I would feel for a while. The flight was quite hot, but I wasn't complaining, despite having spent the second day in a row in the same clothes...I watched a movie and continued reading my book (Eclipse)

The Airport in Joburg was interesting...it was my third airport in as many days. I traveled for 36 hours in all before getting to Lusaka, and I was amused by the fact that the music at the airports was not your usual muzak like you'd find in an elevator. Nooooo, this was american hip hop music...and as I treked through the airport with my hand luggage I was practially dancing to the cha-cha slide, and laughing at myself for doing it, but I was amused!

By the time i got to Lusaka I was pretty well cooked. It was hot...really hot and I was in long sleeves and pants standing out like a sore thumb compared to all the tourists in their linen and sandals. It's hot here...but I'm thankful for a breeze that flows almost constantly. The people are friendly, and when I went to Mass last night, I don't think I've ever heard singing that was so beautiful in my life. The voices...the VOICES! That's all I can really say, since i have no other words for it...what a blessing it was to have been able to hear them, I can't wait until next Sunday!

It's late here and I"m going to sign off for now since I have to be at our office early tomorrow morning. I hope to be able to share some more pictures than the two I've posted here very soon...wish me luck with a faster Internet connection.

Goodnight, and love to you all.

Old Rag Mountain Hike

It's been WAY too long since our last post, and even longer since I've posted one. Frankly, I haven't had a whole lot to write about, even though I've been diligently going to the Farmer's Market, and even tried a few first time recipes as well! This summer was busy, and this fall is going to prove to be even busier with lots of international travel that will keep me crossing time zones and jet lagged until Christmas. But....I digress.

As many of you know, I am a HUGE advocate for supporting our National Parks. They are grossly underfunded, mistreated, theived, poached, littered upon, and in need of some massive attention and repair. I cannot express enough what a treasure we have in our National Park System. I strongly encourage you to visit as many of your local national parks as possible, and even to become a member!

Last Saturday, I went with the Young Adult group of the Arch-Diocese of Washington (ADW) on a day trip to Shanendoah National Park. Our mission was to hike Old Rag mountain. "why is it called Old Rag, you say?" Well, the name is derived from the original "Old Ragged Top" or "Old Ragged Mountain" which references the mountain's ragged, rocky appearance. It has since been shortened to simply "old rag."

I had no idea that hiking Old Rag would be so strenuous. Considering it was a group of young adults from ADW, I figured (without doing any research) that the hike was going to be more of a nature walk like Catoctin Mountain (Maryland), and less of a real rock climbing kind of hike. You see, the nearly 9 mile trek up Old Rag Mountain consists largely of granite rocks. There are ginormous boulders dotting and precariously teetering all around, and the last mile to the summit is a scramble that is sure to test the physical mettle of any novice hiker or enthusiast. It certainly tested me, and my calves still haven't recovered!


Once nearing the top, you start to see a change in the flora. I realized that I hadn't seen a proper pine cone in months if not years, so I couldn't resist snapping a "texural shot" of these bad boys.


I also noticed that winter seems a lot more imminent when you're up at the top. It was also amazing to me that the plants that grew out of the cracks in the granite rock face could even thrive as much as they did. And in some cases, the plants were even capable of bearing fruit!

The summit of Old Rag Mountain is 3291'. It's best to do it with a friend who has hiked the trail before. As a side note, if you ever want to spontaneously join a hike, you should be at the Vienna metro (orange line) North entrance at 8am any Saturday morning in OCtober. You're sure to find a group and a carpool. :)

Please enjoy the rest of these pictures, taken with my Sony DSC-W70 (7.2MP) camera

Be on the lookout in the next month for posts from China and Zambia.

Let's Go Local!

What is that? You might ask...baby lavender? Baby rosemary? Nope. Both of those are actually wrong. This morning I went to the farmer's market near my house. I found lots of WONDERFUL things to look at, smell, and taste. The above photo is of a dwarf plant that I discovered and just HAD to bring home. I'll tell you more about it below.

I don't have to work at the theatre until later tonight. So I feel like I have an entire day to myself where I otherwise might not. I got up at a decent hour this morning, and headed over to the farmers market in Silver Spring, MD. It's not a big market, with only about 10 vendors, but I would still consider it to be a good local market; at least I don't have to go all he way down to the Eastern Market area of the city.

I started out with just browsing, wandering through the vendors just to see who is offering what, and for what price. One of the first things I noticed were all of the fresh salads and strawberries. Not that I didn't already know, but perhaps I'd just never really noticed since I live pretty removed from "the land." But the first harvest of the spring brings more than just strawberries . There are also various lettuces, kale, spring onions, sugar snap peas, and more. The market was awash in shades of red, orange, yellow, and green this morning. There were vendors with freshly cut and potted HHHHerbs (cause there's an H in it!) and flowers of every color, as well as baby squashes (with flowers!) everywhere. And to top it all off, I even got to join in with a one man band (a guy playing a Bass, tamborine, and harmonica all at the same time) while he sang I've been working on the railroad and Dinah blow your horn. I felt like a kid again! Below are my pictures, why don't you take a tour with me of the sights and sounds of the Silver Spring market?









Even though there's a salmonella scare in the US because of tomatoes, not all tomatoes are tainted. Tomatoes from Virginia have been cleared. And these heirloom tomatoes look delicious!


That first picture? Well this is the zoomed out version. If you guessed that the aforementioned photo was dwarf curry, you'd be right! After rubbing this plant and having visions of various curried meats and vegetables stewing in my kitchen, I just had to bring one of these home!

And finally, I thought I'd share a quick clip of the guy who didn't mind that I was singing children's songs along with him:

EarthWorks! Art Studio

When I was doing pre-trip research on Barbados, I learned that native "Barbadians" call themselves Bajan. They also speak a language by the same name, that to my American ears sounded almost completely intelligible. Basically, it's a mixture of African expressions, idioms, and syntax mixed with Scouse English of Liverpool. After talking to a few people, I learned that Bajan, is actually the accented and shortened form of the official word, Barbadians. I've read that it's comparable to Jamaican Patois, but more like Creole. I learn something new every day.

Since it was Valentine's Day, and we wanted to do something fun, Brian and I went on a tour led by Johnson's Tours of Barbados. They operate lots of tours, but this one is their "100% Bajan" tour, where we get to experience the crafts of several places close to the Bajan heart. We began our day with a long drive through endless sugar cane fields to head to a pottery and art studio called Earthworks.


We didn't have a tour of the studio, but I enjoyed that they gave us time to wander freely and watch the workers mold clay on the wheel, glaze, and fire their works, as well as having the opportunity to speak to each of the artists as they create their works.
This woman was molding a vase on the wheel. Below is an unfired clay carving of a head that I spotted on one of the many shelves of seemingly endless creations.
Outside the studio, I heard a rooster crowing, and I decided to follow my ears. Once I was outside, I saw a pretty impressive looking rooster walking around piles of broken pot shards.
I looked around outside for a while spooking and chasing the chicken in the grass. What can I say, I'm a kid at heart. I was thinking about all of that broken pottery, and what on earth they could possibly do to recycle it somehow. then I wandered around the studio some more and found this:
I thought it was pretty cool, all of the shards held together in what looked and felt like terracotta. These pieces were probably cracked, broken, or otherwise imperfect before they were put into the wall here. I think the effect is awesome. When I finally made my way into the studio-shop, I found this:



The finished products are quite pretty with swirling colors in shades of blues, greens, and yellows. Then I looked at the price tags. Each of these vases cost upwards of $60US. The smallest thing I found, and ice cream bowl that was much to tiny to serve my cravings was almost $15US (EACH!). In the end, I couldn't bring myself to buy any of it for the prices they were offering no matter how pretty or cool some of this stuff looked. Maybe someday in the future, I'll be more willing to drop hundreds of dollars on pottery like this.