I believe that the animated series aladdin gave me unrealistic expectations about Egypt. 

So I'm done with Africa.

I've had a little too much to drink, but that's normal, it would seem, to facilitate that which I’ve always wished to express and always found myself unable to do so.

I'm done with Africa, and I've come to detest the continent with a vile passion. I expected it to be full of the broken hearted, but instead I've found it full of the, for lack of a better word, slothful.

My dreams are no longer plagued with the 'Why' and the resolution of conventional help I once believed to be possible, but with a seeming intrinsic knowledge [I know why now, and my disillusionment clashes] of a realization that the solution I once sought is but a question.

And, with a heavy, unclean heart [my dreams of absolution dissipate at this point entirely], I regret to myself, that my work here, is just beginning.

But maybe, perhaps, nay, definitively… That was my dream all along.

I can’t recall the reference, but some dude, once asked – What will become of the great generals once there are no battles left to fight?

The message, I was trying to convey in my last post (as it seems it was somewhat ambiguous to
the casual reader) is that I am in two minds about the finale of my trip. I'll miss the
people on the trip, but not so much the trip itself, but I'm also really looking forward to
coming home and dealing with all the usual things one has to deal with in a day-to-day
western lifestyle.

i.e: The central topic of today won't be "Was it appropriate that Ben sang a song about the
12 year old homeless kids dying early of a preventable disease" or "Should I do my washing that I haven't done in two months" but "How am I going to pay my mortgage payment on time whilst affording to get drunk every night to deal with the stress of not being able to pay my mortgage payment on time".

But anyway, yes, I am in two minds about the end of the trip. But that's cool. As the great Susan Ivanova once said; We all have our cross to bear.

As a side note, the last thing I said to anyone tonight was “Do you mind if I steal a beer from your bar”, and the guy at the bar said, “Why not take two”, before heading off to bed and leaving the access codes to his computer.

Why not take two indeed.

So this is probably going to be one of my last entries…

Kind of depressing, really. Kathy pointed out today how sad it was, and it kind of like, hit me, yeah, it is sad. I've traveled with these people, like, every day, for five months straight. *sob*

But anyway... I escaped from Zimbabwe fine after uncle bob decided he won the election, and bungee jumped off the bridge at Victoria Falls on the way out(which was *max* awesome). We've poodled out of South Africa and into Swaziland, and from there to Mozambique, where I am at the moment, which has really cool beaches.

It's like theres this giant impending doom about going back home, but I'm kind of getting bored with Africa and camping. Hell, the most intellectually engaging thing I've done in the past week is get stuck into the Golden Compass Trilogy, which totally kicks ass.

I can't really think of anything else to say at the moment, aside from I'm really looking forward to getting a job... So I guess I'll let someone else say it for me, in something that I've had stuck in my head for the past two or three weeks:

At times I almost dream
I too have spent a life the sages' way,
And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance
I perished in an arrogant self-reliance
Ages ago; and in that act a prayer
For one more chance went up so earnest, so
Instinct with better light let in by death,
That life was blotted out -- not so completely
But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,
Dim memories, as now, when once more seems
The goal in sight again.
-Robert Browning.

So about a week ago I was at South Lauanga national park, camping & contending with hippos & elephants right outside my tent, going on game drives starting at ruddy stupid hours (5AM!), visiting a textiles factory and a really awesome village.

The visit to the textiles factory was cool and for the first time, I’ve stopped and thought, hey, I could like, have this factory. This factory could be mine. I was poking around all clandestine like with my camera, taking pictures and making mental notes.

And I started thinking, wow, look how the African has come and made this really cool factory, and then I bump in the one of the managers of the factory, a white European, just like all the other managers. I ask a few questions, and she eventually goes, oh, how would you like a tour?

The village project in the local area was also really cool. You could actually talk the villagers without them asking for money, everything was clean (well, as clean as mud huts can get) and I had a good old chat with one of the guys there who was around my age about the differences in our culture. Very enlightening.

Four days ago I was canoing down the Zambezi (Runs along the Zim-Zambia border, one side of the river is Zimbabwe & the other is Zambia), yet again contending with hippos & elephants, except the hippos were allot more of a dangeresque. This was really, really cool fun, paddling about, covering about 25km a day and camping on islands in the middle of the river.

There was a little incident with an elephant wandering right up to our camp (Elephants are a crapload more scary when you're 4 meters away from them on foot, not in like, a car 10 meters away from them) and poking around whilst we were all crouched down by canoes trying to decide if we'd chance it with the hippos if the elephant charged.

And now I'm sitting in a cafe` at Livingstone, crossing into Zim this afternoon. Sitting in the bus this morning, I felt a little pang of excitement reading the newly posted information sheet up the front, Zimbabwe, Population: 15 Million, Land Area: 370 Million Square KM, Head Of State: Robert Mugabe.

I saw the headline of a paper the other day which said something akin to "Problem? What Problem. Extortion, Murders & Still No Results, Robert Says There Is No Problem". Our cook (from Zim) says that there’s secret police EVERYWHERE, and we're not to talk about anything political or else we will get arrested.

But other than that, I'm thinking about bungee jumping off Victoria Falls & really looking forward to Zim. And as always, I hope all is well in the world of everyone else,

-Benjamin

I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Stone Town at the moment, having spent the past four days partying on Zanzibar.

Yes, I said partying. There was fun to be found. We met a bunch of people from another truck (A bright yellow Toucan Travel truck that only accepts 18 - 35 year olds) in Dar, and they ended up staying in the same beach resort we were.

The first night over here we checked out a bar called Mercury’s, so called because Freddy Mercury was born here. Following what seems to be the trend here, the band started off really slow, totally not interested and paying more attention to the football on TV than the music they were playing.

Then a few hours into their second set around 10PM it all totally changed and Zanzbarian Ray Charles (Who looked just like normal Ray Charles and we're pretty sure was also blind, or just a real try hard wearing sunnies inside after dark) started jumping up and down singing Queen Cover songs.

The day after we trekked up to a resort on the Northern half of the island where we spent 3 days. Our hotel was right on the beach, all the restaurants are right on the beach and so were all the bars.

There's this one bar called "Cholos" that’s set up like a bit of a ship, half beached on the beach. The first time we walked past it seemed pretty dead so we headed to a dodgy looking local joint. The guy there, evidently the owner or bar manager asks if we want some snacks, and brings us some dodgy looking fish and chips which no one eats.

Twenty minutes later he comes back and demands payment for them, $45 USD, ten times what it should be. So we get into a bit of an altercation and several power cuts happen, making things alot more edgy, but we get out of it all right agreeing to pay $10USD and make our way back along the beach, and stop at the first bar we come across, Cholos.

So we're sitting around drinking some beer, and then suddenly, around midnight, the music gets turned up, everywhere else shuts and converges on Cholos and the place totally goes off. I didn't make it into bed until 6AM that night (and 4/3AM on the two subsequent nights) totally saturated & exhausted after alternating between swimming and dancing on the bar all night.

I love this island.

*yawn*

I'm out of Kenya now, and into Tanzania. Currently in Da Es Salam, crossing over to Zanzibar tomorrow, for several days.

We changed trucks at Nairobi, and the new one totally kicks ass. Tons bigger & there's less people. I also had a nice little break (where I was attacked by a baby elephant) in Nairobi, which was nice. There's a lack of Fun Nazi's on the truck which is also nice.

As suspected, everything is getting more cleaner, more western and more expensive. Internet cafes are still few and far between, hence my lack of updates.

Coming back from the Serengeti the other day (in jeeps, we weren't allowed to bring the truck in for some reason or another) I was thinking, wow, it's going to be really good to get back to the truck. And then I realized that I was thinking of the truck as I'd think of my home.

The Serengeti, by the way, was pretty cool. I've seen all of the so "Big 5" - Lion, Elephant, Buffalo, Leopard & Rhino several times. We also went to some Ngorogoro crater, which was like a self contained eco system as it's totally cut off from everything else and was totally amazing.

The village visits we've conducted have also been really, really cool. There's very little begging and you can have actual conversations with natives. I was speaking to some Masi the other day who told me there's over 5 million of them still living traditionally.

My head is kinda wishy washy on account of an evening of debauchery with the owner of a lodge we stayed at. Seriously, who the hell lets someone like me behind the bar and says "Right, go for it!". The two of us, and his two guards burnt through some several hundred dollars worth of Alcohol, which is a hell of alot in the 3rd world.

Urgh. Saw a beach for the first time since the start of the trip. Camping right on one, which is really awesome. Apparently we've got huts also on the beach when we go to Zanzibar. There's also a billion different flavours of ice-cream.

Anywho, must dash, it's getting late and if you're white and caught outside after dark, the city gets all Dusk Till Dawn on your ass.

I haven’t written anything in what seems like ages despite the face I keep on meaning to. I suggested the other day we change the trucks name from Maggie to Virgil and given my recent apathetic attitude to writing (which may have something to do with my aliments – But I’m feeling better now, woo!), I’m thinking the road to hell is just really paved with intentions, good or otherwise.

We crossed into Kenya a few days ago and the left the Rift without incident. The Omo Valley (in the Rift) was a touch disappointing, namely, I think, on account of something the books have termed “Ferengi Fever”.

Ferengi fever (Ferengi is Ethiopian for foreigner) would best be described as begging extreme. Tens upon tens of people not only all shout “You You You!” they also manhandle you and demand payment for everything .Easily worse than Egypt and totally not pleasant.

Also whilst in the Rift, outside a Hammer tribe village, where I met a serial killer ,I placed an very cheap bottle of local gin in the fridge. James & Jordan then happened upon said bottle of gin after several beers. Later, around 4AM, after waking up several people with inane shouting, James vomited all over his tent mates (Jo) hair & sleeping gear, with the water not coming on until 7AM.

It’s all good tho – It’s totally detracted from my so called “Obnoxious Behavior” and “Gratuitous use of a certain 4 letter word” when Henrick and I finished off the first two bottles of gin. It’s the opinion of a few truckers (leaders included) that a majority of the truck are fun nazis.

But anyway, the serial killer I met was a legit tribal warrior. Apparently these tribes that live near each other in the rift have been giving each other hell for the past 3,000 years, and every so often it escalates into a full on brawl. For every kill, a warrior makes a line of notches on his body, and the guy I was talking to had 9 lines.

I asked the head man why the government didn’t do anything to stop them fighting and he informed me in a very matter of a fact way that they have more guns and fighting men than the government. Also I can have his marry his daughter for 150 cows.

Wayne walked up to a group of us the day before yesterday and told us that Henrick, known for his pedantic cleaning habits was in their bathroom mopping up traces of muddy footprints left from wayne checking their hot water system.

So we all have a bit of a chuckle and I get stuck with a rather humorous idea – Go make it dirty again. With pockets full of dirty & Wayne’s permission I make my way up the hill to their room.

Henrick is sitting out the front and I ask him if this was Wayne’s room as if to feign an errand. I enter and he shouts after me “Don’t make it dirty!” and I just about explode trying to stifle a laugh.

Wayne finds me some time later and I am informed that Henrick is now convinced that monkeys broke in through the window and spread dirt everywhere.

I had a fairly interesting chat with the owner of the newly constructed hotel, Jackamov, we were staying in about the building process and how his 30 room hotel, include restaurant, cost him just under USD$200,000 to construct.

Marty bought back the niece, Helena, of our local guide who helped her with some shopping yesterday. She happened upon Henrick and myself who had spent the better part of the afternoon working our way through a bottle of local gin procured for 40 burr ($5AUD).

Long story short, somewhere along the line Henrick has her braiding my hair, local stylez. Much hilarity was had but the rest of the night is a touch fuzzy as Henrick decided to buy us another bottle.

The looks I received today from the locals were more hilarious than usual, they’re totally fascinated by white legs. I took them out a few hours ago (it took a very, very long time) and all my hair like, fizzed out in an amusing manner.

Which brings me to now, laying in bed, finishing the entry I started several hours ago in the dark as there is no power on the cusp of a storm. Jackamov wouldn’t let me kill a dangerous spider yesterday. Said I was in the spiders village.

It would appear I’m in the midst of something of a paradigm shift at the moment. I was, or rather, am, in a seemingly inexplicable foul mood. But I’ve thought about it and reached a conclusion.

All of the reasons I had for coming to Africa have effectively been fulfilled, leaving me in some form of travel limbo with no clearly defined sense of purpose, or any sense of purpose what so ever. Traveling for the sake of traveling is all well and good but it is a concept that I’m having trouble grasping.

I’m in the Bale Mountains at the moment, hanging out at around 3,000m, with a little over a week left before we get into Kenya. We’ve been here for three days and its been a nice change not to pack twice a day and spend several hours on a truck.

There’s basic facilities here and we’ve been staying in dorms, another welcome change from tents/camping. The wildlife here consists mainly of warthogs and deer, surprisingly tame and not totally spooked by people. Oh, yes, there’s a sauna here which is really, really awesome, especially given the cold temperatures and insane amount of dust round these parts.

I read a guide book for a country I’m yet to visit for the first time today. My reasons three, for coming here, were by the way…

To conduct an incursion into foreign soil, thereby becoming less hesitant to leave home soil in the future, expanding my ‘mental lexicon’, if you will.

To meet and explore the third world labour market.

To have a break from westernised life in general; or moreso; my life in general.

But I guess I always know that this time would come. It’s difficult to foresee how things will play out two months into the future, but I’m here now and I’m not going to leave.

So maybe there is a fourth reason for coming to Africa, one I haven’t quite grasped, or even defined yet.

Something my seasoned companions seem to carry intrinsically. Something to do with an appreciation for the transitory. Something to do with an appreciation for the world.

I'm starting to get a tad... Irate with this continent. I've been sick again, and everything that I would have just accepted and maybe even found a touch amusing, or at least, interesting (such as being told that there is no black (or as they call it here, turkish) coffee, just coffee with milk, which if ordered, comes like a normal coffee, and a small pot of milk on the side) has been irritating me to all hell.

Being ill is totally crap. Everyone else has been out partying until the wee hours and I’ve been going to bed at 9PM. We're in Addis, the capital of Ethiopia at the moment, leaving tomorrow for the so called "Wilderness" and a few weeks of solid camping... So I finally seceded to popular opinion and went to see an actual doctor yesterday, which was quite an experience.

Juanita, a nurse from Victoria, who has been really awesome, offered to come along and make sure they didn't try and inject me with aids whilst selling it to me as antibiotics, but I declined, deciding it would be more of an adventure if I went on my own. After failing to find the place (I didn't really put in that much of an effort), I jumped in a taxi.

After going through two security checkpoints, I finally reach reception, they find someone that speaks English for me and I pay 60 burr ($6.60 USD) to see a doctor. He seems pretty cool, we have a bit of a chat, he pokes me a bit, tells me that I need to have some tests done, gives me a form, scribbles on it and tells me to go pay more money.

So I pay 80 burr ($8.80 USD), go to the lab in the same building, some dude takes my blood, and to my utter surprise his name isn't Yarnie, gives me a jar and tells me to go fill it, pointing me to a small room. I return the jar, and go sit down.

Twenty minutes later, the lab-man tells me the tests are ready, and to tell the nurse. I do so and go sit down, somewhat confused about what to do next. Five minutes later, the doctor calls me back into his office, and says the most hilarious thing. Once I’ve taken my seat, he looks at his watch, shakes his head a little and says … "A white man in Africa shouldn't have to wait". I'm somewhat taken back, explain that if everyone else has to wait, so do I, and then he demands to know why people in Australia don't all speak French.

It's all in jest (I think), and he eventually says there’s nothing major wrong, gives me a script for some antibiotics and sends me on my merry way. I taxi back, and go to sleep.

That was yesterday, and I’m starting to feel better now. My nose, which has been blocked since Aswan, Egypt has become unblocked. The downside of which, is of course, that everything in this forsaken continent smells... Kinda funky.

A couple of people are leaving the trip, as the second stage, Sudan & Ethiopian Highlands came to a close today, which is a bit sad, but the way things work, I guess.

All that said, now I’ve had a bit of a rant about being sick, here and several times on IRC, I do feel a bit better and find myself looking forward to the next league of the trip, Tribes & Wildlife of The Rift.

I tire of dusty roads. Of sad faces, of filthy squalor.
I grow wear of disgusting smells & sights. Unsanitary practices& unhygenic locals.
I scorn illiteracy & those who are so, paralleled with a definitive lack of pride & independence.
There is a foul taste in my mouth; And the taste, is Africa.

First off, I just wanted to say a thanks to everyone that’s commented or emailed me thus far, your well-wishes are really appreciated :)

Second off, today, I had the best day I’ve had in Africa so far. Whilst expressing my indecision about staying in bed today or visiting another church I was informed by fellow trucker Jo that visiting stone churches here, in this particular town, was the reason for her coming on the entire trip.

The churches were, pretty awesome. Cut totally, totally out of the stone, just like, right down, into the rock. Really earthy and textured. Plus I was feeling better.

I met some guy, and got a talking to him, and it turns out he runs a local orphanage/school. There used to be a huge big problem with begging in this town, but then he bought in his orphanage/school and got the begging out of their system, so they don’t end up as professional beggars. I had an awesome chat with him, then he showed me his school/orphanage, and didn’t ask me for anything.

I manage to find some internet, a seeminly impossible task, it's not impossibily slow, I get to respond to some emails & post two entires i'd had typed out but not posted.

I was sitting on the floor in one of the stone churches, and the guide (he had some funny psudo-french name, Michael I think) says that I can sit on the chair if I like. I say to him that I like sitting on the floor, it gives me a perspective on things (all the wall/roof is painted). I have a bit of a chat with him, and he eventually tells me all about the preservation process he’s choreographing to take care of all the churches, as hes like the head main guy in charge of everything.

Eventually when we leave, he says goodbye, and tells me I should stop by and say hello next time I’m here, and he’ll get me into a tour group/tour for free.

Then that night, we’re sitting down for tea, and I get this grilled fish, that is the best fish I’ve tasted in 45 days. It actually tastes like fish and isn’t burnt.

What a brilliant day, hooray.

So I’ve been sick again, but no real surprises there – I’ve decided that I’m allergic to 3rd world countries. After all, I was fine with the 12 hours I was in Singapore.

It hasn’t been so bad, really, I guess. I’ve had the attention of both a doctor and a nurse who have delivered invaluable assistance in knocking what would be my 4th bout of food poisoning on the head, Some fo the advice is unwelcome (but adhered to), like no alcohol/coffee/anything but bland foodstuffs for the next 5 days.

It’s the general consensus that I’m also suffering from altitude sickness (but 1/3rd of the group seems to be getting it to some degree. Apparently the younger you are, the harder it hits.

Seen a couple of things recently, bar the past few days, having slept constantly the past four excluding transit times on truck.

About, a week ago now, we went up to the palace of the queen of Sheba & the compound housing the Ark of The Covenant. The only person allowed to see it, however, is the single caretaker priest who spends his entire life in this 600sqm church.

Not even the head of the church, the Ethiopian pope guy is allowed in, who, incidentally, I saw a few days later at a hotel in Mekele and who also, incidentally, looked rather hilarious, covered in bling and having people stopping in front of him to kiss one of his oversized golden chains and/or feet.
We’ve visited a few rock churches which seem predominant throughout Ethiopia, which are pretty cool – Substantially sized buildings just carved into the side of some rock mountain.

The incidents of begging are becoming less and less surreptitious with many resorting to “Hello” “MONEY!” or “PEN!”, or going forgoing the formalities and just demanding, right off the bat, “GIVE ME A PEN!”

I’m yet to have a conversation with an Ethopian not in my employ that hasn’t ended with “Oh can you do me a favor and buy me a text book” (so that I can sell back to the shop keeper because we’re all in on it).

I had something of a day off today. There was a choice, as there always seems to be nowadays, of visiting an ancient monastery perched on some obscure mountain, but the prospect of driving six hours on a dusty road wasn’t all that appealing.

So the most difficult thing I had accomplished today, aside from checking my email (which took close to two hours to login and respond to two messages) was constructing a margarita. You might laught, but in a third world country it was a total mission and a half, taking me close to 45 minutes and costing the daily wages of the average Ethiopian.

If theres any manor grip I’ve got with this country (and sudan for that matter) it’s the distinct unavailability of orange juice that tastes anything remotely like orange juice. And today, whilst in the kitchen of the local expensive western hotel (I’m not staying there, it’s far too uppity for us overlanders) on my margarita mission, I discovered why – The African idea of orange juice (or lime/lemon juice) is a single orange & 500ml of water, blended together, rind and all.

I made one, in the end, and spent the day lounging around a pool, took a took-took (It’s kind of like a half-motorbike half car, with two seats on the back) across town to a hotel on a mountain, waiting for some fellow travelers to show up for some sundowners.

The view here is pretty unreal, overlooking some real obelisks, a pretty cool mountain, a fairly cool town, whats shaping up to be a kickass sunsunet & the church (allegedly) holding the Ark Of The Covenant.

Looks like they just showed up, bai!

My pen is dead. I don't think it was particularly fond of the altitude. I'm in the Simian Mountains at the moment hanging out at around 10,000 feet and baboons keep on walking into camp.

I almost didn't come up here, given my poor condition at the gateway town into the national park, Debark. The flu thing is still lingering in my system and that combined with some food poisoning I picked up in Gondor made me contemplate hauling up in a hotel for a few days but my feel wouldn't let me come all the way here and then stay at the bottom of a bloody great big mountain.

Which I guess, would have been all well and good except for the fact I got altitude sickness on the way up, something my pen and I have in common.

Thankfully, before I vomited the first time I'd just pulled a plastic bag out of my pack. I was also seated in front, so jumping off the bus didn't take too long. And then I was told by the nice and caring trip leaders that I'd have to keep drinking water, even if we had to stop every five minutes for me to bring it back up… Otherwise I'd die.

Dun, Dun, DUNNNN!

All that can be put aside, however, because the very worst thing about the entire experience is that no one took a picture, saying it was all inappropriate. Sad :(

Everything seemed to level off once we reached camp and my champion tentmate James mixed up some rehydration salts and gave me some paracetmol. Since we'd stopped moving I felt a heck of a lot better.

Later that evening whilst sitting around the campfire, a fellow trucker Robyn asked how much I'd managed to drink, followed by asking if I'd peed yet. A congratulations followed by a round of applause from the ten or so people coveting the warmth of the fire.

I'm glad now I did come up here and not stay at Debark, especially after the encounter with baboons yesterday & getting unreally close. And where we camped is rather unreal too. As I said to someone yesterday, there are worse places in the world to be sick.

Last night a few of us went to this restaurant called Papa Costas, an Italian place. A couple of us went there the day before yesterday on account of someone taking off for six weeks (“personal reasons” – I don’t think they liked the group given that there’s four of us under 40 years old, they’re coming back in Nairobi, Kenya) and the food/service was cool, and they had a pretty cool band.

Then when we went there last night, the service was crap and all the food orders were wrong… Another table waited 2 hours to actually be served before walking about. After two hours of waiting for our 4th members food, we decided to just leave, and asked for the bill, saying we were going in 10 minutes time. Half an hour later, after asking for the bill another two times, we just got a menu, added up what we owed, left the money on the table and left.

The guy then chases us up the street saying we didn’t pay the tax, and the 4th member tells him to go jump, given that we overpaid anyway (none of us had change) so if anything we were only a few dollars short on a ~$50 bill. We continue walking, and think its done.

About five minutes later, we hear a police horn honk, and after a “Dude, are we going to get arrested?” a policeman comes running up after us. We explain what’s going on to him and we’re joined by another two policemen and the manager from the restaurant, who starts swearing at us saying we should respect the laws of the country (which include, by the way, not swearing or yelling in public).

We’re eventually taken back to the restaurant by the policemen and sort out the bill, pay the 12 pound we owed and walk back to camp. Just another day in Africa :D

That night, however, I had a really sound sleep. The person who left lent me her mattress until Nairobi, where I should be able to pick one up (given it’s a port of call, a home away from home, for diplomats, hustlers, entrepreneurs and wanderers) there. Provided they’re not still beating each other up, of course.

Heading off to Ethiopia tomorrow, about four days left in Sudan. The campsite we’ve been staying in is right on the White Nile River, which has been nice. I’m starting to get accustomed to those retarded squat toilets now… But it doesn’t mean I like them.

The first night we went to Papa Costas they had a cool live band, that played jazzed up versions of wedding songs… So the songs were kind of familiar, but not quite, and playing “name that song” was rather enjoyable. We also went to an Indian restaurant four or five days ago. And I’ve got to say, the surrealness of being served by an asian waiter in an Indian restaurant in the middle of Sudan was rather… Surreal.

There’s a sect of Islam called the “Sufi” Muslims that believe worship of god comes through song and dance and stuff, and we went to one of their ‘services’ yesterday afternoon, which was really cool. All their music and chanting was really deep.

I had a bit of a chat with some Sudanese people that turned out to be my age there too, which was really cool. We talked about how much they didn’t hate America, the rap bands they were into (Snoop Dog and Eminem), where I could find a beer in Khartoum and because Sudan is so big, the north south east and west parts of it are like little countries of their own – Like for example in the north everyone is Arab and wives are paid for with money, where as in the south everyone is Nubian and wives are paid for with cows.

So NEE, The Nile & The Western Deserts Of Egypt – The first section of my trip has drawn to a close, we've left Sudan, entered Ethiopia and EHS, The Ethiopian Highlands has Begun.

Ethopia is pretty cool thus far The landscape is a total world away from Sudan, really mountainous with windy roads and a definitive lack of plastic bags littering the place. I'm wondering however, if that is on account of the altitude and they've all just blown down to the lower areas.

I'm in Gondor at the moment, staying in a hotel with hot water that isn't hot at all and a bed which isn't so much a bed as much as it's a bit of foam on some planks of wood… But it's nice after two weeks straight camping. I believe I am becoming accustomed to tenting it, a process greatly helped by my recent mattress acquisition.

I'm feeling a touch under the weather at the moment thanks to the absurd amount of beer imbued last night. So much, in fact, I gave Ethiopian "Shoulder Dancing" a burl. Shoulder dancing by the way, is kind of like how one would imagine an epileptic goth raving.

The local bar we went to had local music consisting of a violin type thing with one string and no bridge, some form of drums made from goat and an attractive singer (in the very broad sense of the term… It was more of a screeching) who shoulder danced about the room inciting others to join her. I did try and wander home at some point but got lost and headed back to the bar.

We saw a bit of an altercation later in the night involving a mass of some twenty people after which the mood seemed quite dampened. The few locals we were with from the hotel (Oh, I'm using the term hotel very loosely too) took us to a local club that's about 1/3rd the size of my lounge room back home which was rather hilarious, especially when the Bob Marley started.

We left at 2.30AM to the sounds of Buffalo Soldiers and being accosted by Ethiopian Prostitutes outside.

So I’m back in Khartoum and I think whatever I’ve got is subsiding. I’ve been given some Advil by a fellow trucker - in all my wisdom I chose to leave my cold & flu medicine @ at home on account of there being no chance of me getting a cold/flu in Africa, and some cough tablets which might just be facilitating the illusion I’m getting better…

We’re going to find an Indian place in a little bit and I’m going to have a vindaloo to try and burn this fuxing flu out.

Found a stationary shop which I’m going to visit tomorrow and hopefully pick up a Visual Diary… With all the awesome things to draw, I’m kinda going nuts without one.

Also going to stop by an internet café tomorrow and provided they have a free terminal, post the previous few entires and maybe some photos if its not too slow (took ~1 hour to upload those other ten =()

And I’ve got to try and find a pharmacy too so I can get my own supply of drugs.

Incidentally I’ve been told (when I questioned why everyone was leaving at Nairobi) that the attendees get younger, most of the campsites have bars and everything ‘degrades’ (depending on your Point Of View I guess) into a party.

BBL, Indian, Yay.

I almost wrote down something earlier today but thought better of it when the first line that popped into my head was “I fuxking hate this continent”. The reason for my foul mood was the worsening of whatever the hell I’ve got, perhaps coupled with breakfast duties requiring me to get up ¾ of an hour before everyone else. Oh, and Sudan is totally dry.

After some investigation I’ve concluded that I’ve had three different bugs consecutive, some stupid 36 hour thing followed b a few day thing (the so called “man flu” that’s been going around the truck only affecting the men [needless to say, I got it the worst] followed by this fuxking thing I’ve got now that’s making my nose drip and eyes water on an almost constant basis that I’ve had for the last 3 days. Woah, look now shitty I’ve made myself just walking about it. Fuxk, This, Continent.

The further down we go to the darker the people get and the more interesting “sites” we see – It’s awesome to go see things and be the only person within earshot. That said tho , I am getting a little tired of old rubble.

We’re heading to Khartoum tomorrow (Sudan’s Capital) for two or three days which should give me a chance to get some post cards off (maybe, navigating with this flu is not much fun) and post these updates… Plus it will be good to get some respite from pulling a tent down twice a day/setting up bedding.

The Scott, Irishman & American in front of me having a discussion about the pronunciation of parmesan and fuxk, I’d really like a glass of red right now – even one that Ross has purchased costing less than a feigned toilet break at work. Oh to the das of lazy Sundays nursing hangovers with wine and cheese. And showers. But I guess it’s not so bad. Even enjoyable, really. A decadence of filth, perhaps.