A Fascinating Uzbekistan Trek

Hey friends! I just got back from an epic adventure through Uzbekistan, and I have some stories to share. The first thing that struck me about Uzbekistan isn't just its rich history or stunning architecture – it's how the country seems to exist in multiple periods at once.

Let's start with some wild observations: EVERYONE here drives a Chevy. I'm not exaggerating – it's like General Motors won a monopoly game in real life. All Uzbeks we talked to were more than willing to tell us, with groans and eyes rolled, that the government owned half a stake in the Chevy plant in the country, which encouraged the government to levy extra taxes on any other brand of imported car. That said, there was also a shocking number of electric cars in the country (apparently, they are free of extra taxes). I wasn't expecting so many electric cars, but it makes sense - the country struggles with having enough gas that people can afford.

The journey took us from Nukus to Khiva, Bukhara, and Samarkand. The drives between cities were wild - particularly in the western area. Our driver from the Aral Sea deserved a standing ovation for navigating what I can only loosely describe as "roads." At one point, we saw Turkmenistan on the other side of the Amu Darya River. The drivers told us how a lot of people come to Uzbekistan from Turkmenistan to have more freedoms from their oppressive leadership, and Uzbeks have to steathfully travel in the country to get their cheaper rugs. Border countries are complicated, huh?

Speaking of which, there's something remarkable about how Soviet influence lingers here. The older generation's nostalgia for Soviet times reflects this. However, anyone under 35 years was strongly against Russia/Putin/Soviet interests. Cultural rift, I guess.

Here's something else that'll blow your mind: we saw FLAMINGOES. In Central Asia! In some reedy area! And, because of who I am, I must mention that seated toilets were considered for the handicapped, and TP was for purchase only at public restrooms. At least they had public restrooms, though some were just holes. Beggars-choosers, right?

Random but important observation: everything was SO blue. I loved it. And speaking of love, the older folks here have this interesting nostalgia for Soviet days, while the whole place is simultaneously racing toward rapid development. It's like seeing multiple centuries existing at once.

The cultural experiences here are rich, though sometimes challenging for Western palates. The food situation was... interesting. While incorporating interesting ingredients like green noodles and various yogurt-based dishes, the food was subtle in flavor – perhaps too subtle for those used to more aggressive seasoning. What surprised me most was finding vinegar spicy by local standards, which put the local palette into perspective. I think we'll be avoiding dill for a while.

The "plov experience" (which is their way of saying rice pilaf) everyone talked about was underwhelming. Though I have to say, the bread-making process was cool – I got to check out their traditional ovens and everything.

Another wild observation: Every "lemonade" here was a lie. I tried something called Tarhun (tarragon soda) that was labeled as lemonade, and let me tell you, my taste buds are still filing complaints. On the other end of beverage surprises, we tried fermented camel's milk while in the Nukus desert, and it was fizzier than I had expected and super tangy.

Okay, now that we got the weird stuff out of the way, let's talk about the journey.

We started in Tashkent for a day, where I took a vegan food tour in the city's oldest bazaar. I saw how clearly traditional customs remain strong, particularly around tea rituals, and the people maintain their historically peaceful nature. This feels especially meaningful given the region's complex history and equally complex present-day border situations. Unbeknownst to me, the food in the bazaar would be the tastiest food on the trip. I also ambled around a little bit to see how much the architecture is still very Soviet but punctured with Persian influence.

NUKUS - ARAL SEA

Moving through the country from west to east, each city reveals a different facet of Uzbekistan's identity. 

We took a small plane to Nukus the next day to start our journey. The city served better as a gateway to other destinations than a destination itself. The drive from there offered my first real glimpse into the country's landscape. This scene remarkably resembled parts of Africa, with its colorful dresses dotting the dusty roads, women walking in groups and sweeping with sticks, and half-built homes standing testament to rapid development.

We were there to see the remnants of the old Aral Sea. It was the most sobering part of the trip. It's heartbreaking. For those who don't know the history, the Aral Sea was the second-largest inland freshwater lake in the world. In the 1960s, the Soviets decided to drain the lake to start growing cotton, and the lake started to disappear (as did its bustling fish canning industry and tourism).

Standing there, you can almost feel the wind searching for the waters that once were. It's a stark reminder of the environmental impact of the old Soviet era, made even more poignant by the visible effects of drought and desertification across the region. We drove on the old, empty seabed for hours to get to a cozy yurt camp at the little remnants of sea north of the country. It was dry and quiet, and we felt like we were on the edge of the earth. 

It was clear on our trip that the country didn't have the same reverence for archeological preservation and conservation as others. There were several instances where they brought us to ancient sites that were neat, but we shouldn't have been there. Such as a hauntingly beautiful 14th-century Kazakh burial ground, where ancient tombstones tell stories through their shapes – circles for women, forks for men. And an old Mongol fortress. We really, really shouldn't have been there, traipsing around. But we were. It was also uncomfortable to drive around in the middle of nowhere on an old seabed- which clearly had never been made for cars to drive around on. I swear, several times in our 2-day drive, it looked like the car was going to give up a tire, and we would die in the open with our driver and no one else in sight. Not even a camel.

In the end, we could still see the cotton fields that people were still picking from because they were, I guess, stuck in a capitalistic loop. The drivers offered us to go outside and take pictures with some cotton pickers, which Alex and I vehemently declined....for multiple reasons.

XIVA

The cities grew more magnificent as you head east. Khiva was a gorgeous preserved piece of history, its ancient walls hiding an ingenious architectural trick. The city remains wonderfully quiet despite the growing number of European tourists (particularly Italians - so many retired Italians) discovering its charms. Way back in the day when there was conflict, the residents cleverly built fake tombs outside the walls to trick enemies, which I thought was very cool.

We got pulled into a small fledgling silk museum with very persuasive ladies. There, they let us try our hand at silk processing and weaving (which we weren't good at) before they coaxed us to buy some silk.

We stayed inside the walled city and saw so much beautiful blue architecture. It was lovely to walk around at dusk, with fewer tourists, and enjoy the quiet echoes of the streets while seeing ancient mosques and towers that loomed overhead.

After a few days in Khiva, we hired a car to drive us to Bukhara on some empty, straight roads.

BUXARA

Bukhara - a major stop on the Silk Road - presented itself as more commercialized yet maintains authentic pockets of daily life. The lovely, quiet mosques there were still being used, and they were more strict with people entering with modesty (and many tourists protested needlessly). We often walked around to see tombs, go to museums, and look at the artwork plastered throughout the city. We even bought two beautiful carpets there because we are adults. We also wandered around old water storage areas (an active construction site no one was at) and admired the old buildings. We also walked through a very nice park that was large and green.

Though small, the city's Jewish quarter adds another layer to the region's rich cultural tapestry. The city's non-touristy areas offer a glimpse into real Uzbek life, where the past and present coexist in fascinating ways. Perhaps Uzbekistan is like the United States but a thousand years ahead in its development. It's a place where ancient wisdom meets modern challenges, cultural preservation battles with progress, and the future remains as uncertain as it is promising.

There, I did have what may have been the most disgusting soup I've ever tried. It was intentionally cold and felt like a five-year-old put things into a pot and called it soup - potatoes, cream, vinegar, dill, and seltzer. I didn't eat it after a few bites. It's called okroshka, and apparently, it's an acquired taste I didn't have.

We then took another train to Samarkand, further east.

SAMARKAND & SHAHRISABZ

Samarkand, Central Asia's crown jewel and oldest town, felt more like Paris than Central Asia. The Russian influence is stronger here, with imposing buildings and grandiose architecture that commands attention. The city's monuments are now enhanced by modern light shows, creating an interesting juxtaposition of ancient and contemporary that somehow works perfectly. 

Samarkand was more used to tourists and had some ornate and beautiful tourist sites. At night, they lit up the old college with a fun light show for an hour. We saw a fun old observatory on a hill. We also went to see some old and breathtaking tombs, but I found it strange that so many people were posing for pictures in front of them. 

We took a day tour to Shihrisabz, a once-important city where Timur was born that was razed by a leader in recent history. It was a kind of desolate area, but impressive. Apparently, the palace was ginormous - like, toweringly huge - but most of the palace materials were repurposed when they pulled the city down. What remained was the lower fortress gates, which were still astonishing even if dwarfed by the original gate height. We also went to see the empty tomb of Amor Timur there, which was underground and very simple, and finished th small visit in an enormous bazaar.

We stopped at a site with some pretty stone outcroppings on our way back. Apparently, it was a popular tourist site among Europeans. We discovered this because the Germans filmed a US Western film called Apache in the 1970s. If that doesn't hurt your brain, nothing will.

Afterward, we took our final train ride back to Tashkent to catch our flight home. Our last meal was a NYC-style pizza at a place called "Little Italy" in Tashkent during a power outage. It was a nice way to close the trip - a mixture of cultures and oddities.

Final thoughts: This place is fascinating—it's peaceful and historic. However, I could have used more flavorful food and, you know, a functioning stomach (yes, we got food poisoning at some point). I also wish I had prepared better for intense sun and minimal shade.

New Zealand Road Trip

This is 6 months late, but...better late than never!

In August and September 2023, I spent time with my partner in New Zealand (also called more commonly there as Aotearea). In the first week, I worked with a client in Auckland, and we extended my trip by 11 days to explore the North and South Islands. We moved around for this trip - we were practically in a new town daily! Overall, we had a nice time on this trip! New Zealand is beautiful and full of lush rolling hills and rocky mountains that can be dramatic. But it wasn't our favorite trip to date, partly because we overcommitted ourselves and planned on driving a lot, and it wasn't as whimsical as our previous trips because we had a lot of distance to cover.

Overall Reflections

We had some impressions of things worth sharing before getting into some details.

• A Mix of Aussie and Brit: When experiencing the culture in New Zealand, we determined that the country was between the laid-back vibes of Australians and the pressure for proper systems of Brits. This is not surprising, as it is part of the Commonwealth and has a Pacific Island culture similar to that of Australian Aboriginals. What this also meant was that there were a lot of meal pies, slow speeds, and quiet places.
• Sparsely Populated: It seemed to us that the country was largely not populated even though some cities exist. There's just a lot of land and people living remotely in the country. Partly this was due to many farms with lambs and cattle, but there was also a lot of quiet land otherwise.
• Seasons Matter: We came in its off-season, which was a bit out of our control because I was there primarily for work, but it made our trip very cold, wet, and windy. We were either always cold or hot, which made us come down with some colds. We have agreed that we should come back sometime in the summer, which is also peak tourist season - we now understand why.
• Driving Wasn't Fun: We were also in the car a lot because New Zealand is larger than we expected, and the roads are much windier than anticipated! Much of our driving was for hours weaving around mountains and hilly terrain, making it not terribly relaxing to have a road trip across the country. It also meant we had to forgo places we were interested in seeing because we needed more time. For example, we wish we had seen more of the northeast of the South Island. Ultimately, we agree we should have planned to see less and probably focus on one island for our trip.
• Animals Everywhere: We saw a lot of animals on our travels, from keas harassing us for food on the South Island to other birds everywhere. New Zealand's native animals are all birds, many of which are flightless, like the little endangered kiwis. We also saw a lot of roadkill on our trip.
• Quirky Accommodations: On our drive, we stayed at many different kinds of lodging - all of them slightly quirky! From a trout lodge to a shipping container and a BnB in a Slavic-cum-American-cum-Kiwi household.
• Beautiful Public Toilets: The country seems to pride itself on having good, reliable access to public toilets. Even in less-populated areas, we can always find a clean, functioning, and nice-smelling toilet building. Many are decorated with whacky art and designs, which appeal to toilet nerds like me.

Travel Notes

Auckland

During the first five days in the country, I was bound to Auckland, facilitating workshops. I really liked it - the weather was pleasant there, and we enjoyed a quiet lake outside the city in Mount Wellington. We went into the city for a night and enjoyed a lovely meal at the pier. The pier in Auckland is peaceful and has a fun park that includes an installation of old silos that are now art. I was surprised to see a public swimming area in the heart of the city, as well.

Queenstown & Milford Sound

We then flew to Queenstown, marveling at the snowy mountains below us. We then drove down to the Milford Sound for a few nights. The drive showed us just how winding the roads are...and how dramatic the South Island's landscape really is. We enjoyed the Sound in the lodge there, though it was constantly raining while we were there. We took a treacherous boat tour of the sound's fjords - it was windy and rainy - and while the visibility wasn't all that great, we saw many waterfalls pummelling water down the fjord cliffs. We also saw a few penguins from far off, enjoying some rocky shelter. At the lodge, a baby kea kept coming over to us to look (and sound) pathetic and hungry, but we followed directions and didn't give the poor guy anything to eat.

On the day we were going to leave, the weather cleared up in the morning for a few hours so we could walk to the port and see the fjords in all their majesty. It didn't last long, though, and we had to leave early because they announced they were shutting down the area for a few days due to an incoming snowstorm. We drove out a few hours before the full closure started, and the snow started falling on us slightly. The idea of driving on snow on those winding roads terrified me.

We returned to Queenstown and stayed at an old dairy warehouse before continuing our drive north. We enjoyed hopping around the downtown area and strolling through its parks, even with the chilly breeze getting to my bones a bit. We also spent some time in the Kiwi Park to see some kiwis in person, but they shouted at our tour group when we entered the dark room. I could have spent more time there, though I'm not big on skiing or heights, including the other major tourist attraction - a funicular.

Lake Tekapo

We drove towards the central part of the South Island, and it was surprising how much the landscape changed from craggy mountains to a browner range of large hills covered in brush and distant mountains. We then paused at the badlands - Putangirua Pinnacles - and looked at the surreal structures. I felt a bit nervous, and my gut warned me of something I didn't like, so we bounced. We also saw beautiful blue reservoirs along our drive.

Once we got to Lake Tekapo, we were hit with a brutal cold wind that made us feel freezing! And the town looked half unmade. It was as if the town had been built a week before we arrived - our hotel was made of shipping containers. We had three restaurants to get into for dinner with a slew of confused-looking foreigners from tourist bus groups. Fortunately, we accomplished our goal of visiting the lake - we took a late-night stargazing tour and looked up at a really incredible starscape that almost seemed impossible. This area held many of the country's observatories because of its clear skies and limited light pollution.

Christchurch

We drove to Christchurch for our final visit to the South Island. It was an interesting city but not a place we felt like staying. It hasn't fully recovered from the 2011 earthquake, and the city felt silent and empty...and tired compared to the other areas we had visited. It almost felt like a Kiwi version of Cleveland. It was pleasant enough, though, and we saw some pretty waterways. The old university was rebuilt after the earthquake to become a town recreational area.

Wellington

The next day, we flew to Wellington, the bottom of the North Island. Our flight got delayed, and we learned it would be a bumpy hour. A Kiwi from the area told us to gear up to be jostled around like never before, and we all started talking about things. His name was Justin, and he invited us (after a windy landing) to lunch at his favorite spot near the airport. It was pretty tasty! He then gave us a quick tour of Wellington in our rental car before we dropped him off. We also dropped off our luggage at the hotel so we could start cleaning our laundry.

Our trip north changed slightly, as we found disappointing news that our big planned adventure—visiting Kapiti Island to have a night tour of kiwis in their natural habitat—had been canceled due to the weather. We're sad about this but made the best of it and toured Wellington more than planned. That town is really windy, and that's normal!

We walked around a lot, and saw some fun things like the lobster toilets that Lonely Planet made famous years ago. We also visited Te Papa, the national museum that shared the country's history and interactive areas about its nature that had Maori influence. It was lovely - probably one of the best museums I've visited - and we stayed warm there for a bit. After, I ate some delicious fish pie and pavlova at an old local restaurant, and we ate dinner with a colleague friend who lived in the area.

Before we continued our journey north, we also visited the nature reserve - Zealandia - but had to cut it short because the sky opened up on us in the middle of our visit.

Turangi & Rotarua

We first drove to Turangi, which didn't have much there. It was a trout fishing mecca popular with octogenarians, and I ran into them while walking around town and past the river. And our lodge was covered in trout art. But the river was peaceful, and the quiet was a nice break.

The next day, we continued our drive north towards Rotorua. Our first stop was Wairitomo Glowworm Caves to see the glowworm caves. We really enjoyed this! The first part of the tour included a visit to the stalagmites that resembled a cathedral, and then the guides cornered us into the back, turned off the lights, and showed us all of the blue, glowing worms hanging in the back of the cavern! We then got into a boat and floated around the glowworm caves in darkness for a few minutes before heading back out - all very pleasing to the eyes.

In Rotarua, we stayed at an odd little BnB that was more like a guestroom in a heavily populated family house—not our favorite, but it was just for a night. At night, we agreed to go to Te Pa Tu, a Maori village that they transformed into a dining experience. There, we learned about Maori games, snacks, and old house setups. They performed songs before bringing us to dinner in a pretty dining hall.

The next day, we also visited Te Puia, where we saw active geysers in a park with Maori artists building big pieces of art before heading out again.

Driving to Auckland

We stopped at the Big Dog/Big Sheep buildings on our trip back to Auckland. I was so pleased to see that they were public toilets! These buildings on the side of the street were shaped with corrugated metal like a dog and sheep. They have since added another building that looks like a ram. This stop was right before we headed to a farming town for dinner.

Our dinner was at Hobbiton. I know, people complain about how over-commercialized it is there, but we were really pleasantly surprised!! We started with a slow walk through the Hobbit movie set area, with the tour guides sharing detailed and interesting stories. We ended up in the tavern, where they fitted the tables with a hobbit's food feast for all of us. Honestly? It was really delicious! Probably one of the best meals we had while in New Zealand.

They also apologized to us for some construction work they were doing and gave us free hobbit mugs, but honestly, I barely noticed it because they do such a good job keeping the magic there, even with the construction.

Afterward, we drove for a few hours, and we stayed in an apartment complex that perplexed me tremendously for about an hour before we found the entrance.

Beyond Auckland

For our last night in the country, we drove up from Auckland to Ruakaka for my sake. There are a lot of cool public toilets further north around there, and I was determined to see them. The first one was in a small town with beautiful, artistic toilets that looked like the hulls of fishing boats. The next stop was at Ruakaka, where we could see the Hundertwasser toilets. These toilets were some of the first famous public toilets in the country, and apparently, the government used them as inspiration to make other pretty toilets, like the others we saw along our road trip. The town had also put in a newer model of the toilets nearby to house a library, art center, and RV showers for the transitory guests they see regularly.

We stayed in a community halfway between there and Auckland, at a quiet couple's house that wasn't near much but had a lovely sunset view next to the water. Once we woke up, we returned to Auckland to grab some curry pies and visit the Botanic Gardens before our evening flight home.

Chilling in Zanzibar

Zanzibar really does look like the pictures.

On Boxing Day, Mr. CT Lawyer and I took a 1.5-hour flight in a prop plane from Nairobi to Zanzibar, circling Kilimanjaro en route. When we landed and exited the plane, we found ourselves in a hot and humid tropical environment in Zanzibar, different from the crisp and warm temperature of Nairobi.

We went through customs in a one-room, lo-fi airport – the type of stereotypical developing country airport I used to encounter before they all started upgrading.  Afterward, we drove to our resort at the bottom western coast of the main island, zig-zagging through more potholes along the way.

Our resort was in a quiet southern fishing and beach town called Kizimkazi, and we were floored by how beautiful the beach was there. Everyone talks about how pristine and blue the waters are in Zanzibar, but I wasn’t convinced that it was going to be that impressive. I was wrong. During low tide, the beach seems to go on for a mile, and the shallow depths spot the coast with different blues and greens, depending on where you are. Dhows speckle the beach’s bay and stick to the compacted sand until the tide comes back in.

We later learned that our beach remained somewhat hidden and not quite touristy compared to a lot of the other beaches across the island. For example, we heard the northern beaches are for partying, and the southeast side of the island was riddled with resorts and activities on the beach. Having learned that, I feel that we really lucked out with our quiet and peaceful (if short) beach that was only shared with one other resort.

We lazed around the resort for the first day, relishing the quiet breeze of a small bay with little else but boats and trees along the beach.

On our second day in Zanzibar, we went on a famous spice tour. We drove an hour north and found ourselves in a spice farm called Maganga, which looked more like a forest. We were greeted by a community member who walked us through their spice farm for a few hours, tasting and learning about the different spices they grow in the mess of forest plants – cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, lemongrass, and vanilla. We also got to sample some fresh coconut from a guy who crawled up a coconut tree and dropped us a nut. While we walked around another guy wove for us beautiful, but sorta silly looking (on us) hats and necklaces out of the flowers and palms that we walked by in our tour. We finished the tour with an amazingly spiced pilau.

For our third day, we drove up to the main port on the island and UNESCO World Heritage Site – Stone Town. Our driver got pulled over by a cop along the way for some unknown infraction, which Mr. CT Lawyer was thrilled about because he had a fantasy about getting a driving-related story while in Africa.

Once in Stone Town, we hopped on a small boat that pulled us through choppy waves to get to Chengu Island – aka Prison Island (though the prison was only ever used for yellow fever quarantines). We wanted to get to this island not to view the prison ruins, but to feed tortoises at the island’s tortoise sanctuary. There were dozens of tortoises crawling through the sanctuary, some as old as 190 years…and hundreds of tourists chasing them down, waving cabbage leaves at them. We joined the masses and stepped around tortoise manure to hope a tortoise would accept our meager cabbage offering. They would skeptically eye the cabbage leaves before quickly grabbing and crunching away on them. It was a real treat.

Once through the choppy waters and back to Stone Town, we walked through the labyrinthine streets of the town to get to Emerson’s Tea House for a lunch reservation. We climbed up about 5 flights of stairs, breathlessly, to get to the airy rooftop restaurant. The view of the city below was really awesome, and we enjoyed the soft hum of mosque singing nearby while sitting cross-legged on thick carpets and plush pillows, waiting for our lunch. We ordered the fancy seafood meal and were blown away by it. The seafood was super fresh and perfectly spiced. I’m still thinking about the calamari.

Afterward, we meandered around the town, checking out the spice market, walking past Freddie Mercury’s childhood house, and quietly visiting the sobering Slave Chambers exhibit. We got lost while walking around a lot, appreciating the ornate doors that are quintessential to the town’s identity.
We stuck around Stone Town until sundown. While exhausted, I was keen for us to see the Night Market at the Forodhani Food Stalls by the port. Once we arrived after the sunset, the place was teeming with people – locals and tourists. I got a tasty and local sour soup called urojo, and we both sipped on refreshing sugar cane juice as we contemplated the Zanzibar Pizza (much like a crepe sandwich).

We wanted to see the fuss about other local beaches on our last full day, so we went to Jambiani on the southeast side of the island. There, we saw all of the tourism and hawking that happens on the beaches outside of where we were staying, and we quietly hid from much of the beach hustling in a quiet restaurant.

Our final dinner reservation was at The Rock Restaurant. It was a neat place – the restaurant is perched on top of an outcropping of rock and corral. That meant that when we arrived for dinner when the tide was out, we walked up to the restaurant’s staircase; when we left, the tide was in and we had to take a boat to get back to the beach. The food was fine, but we were really there for the views and the uniqueness of the location.

We decided to leave Zanzibar a few hours earlier than initially planned – it’s a gorgeous place, but we felt we had our fill and wanted to get back to Kenya before it was too late.

After leaving, I reflected on the island and its country a little bit. For one, I was fascinated with the Arabic influences felt in Zanzibar’s world. You can clearly tell – especially in Stone Town – that the culture is at the crossroads of Sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East, and I think it has given it a unique flavor. I’ve heard there are similar vibes on the Kenyan coast. Additionally, if Zanzibar is a fair representative of Tanzania as a country despite its semi-autonomy, then it’s clear that Tanzania is a bit further behind Kenya in terms of development (infrastructure, capacity, etc.). I find it interesting that, despite being such close neighbors, their development rates don’t seem to be in lockstep with each other. But I’m sure I need to see mainland/Tanganyika to make a better assessment of the country.

Kenyan Xmas Adventures

If given the chance, giraffes will headbutt you.

I was so pleased when Mr. CT Lawyer agreed to visit me in East Africa for the Xmas holidays – this meant I would be able to avoid being cold over the holidays as well as introduce him to Africa (as an entire continent, of course), all while exploring some of the extremely beautiful places of the area I hadn’t yet seen.

We ended up having a fancy trip through East Africa, and it was magical and luxurious. We had an absolute blast together.

*We ended up spending time in Kenya and Tanzania. For the sake of organizing my thoughts, I have separated the countries in two blog posts.*

Our Kenya adventures revolved around animal safaris; so, once he arrived, we rented a giant SUV. I was anxious about him driving while here, as I’ve found driving around in Kenya to be frustrating and harrowing – and I’m just an Uber passenger! Drivers here appear to be a bit erratic in their following of road rules, in particular, the matatus (who may be suicidal, based on their crazy driving). What’s more, the roads are covered in potholes! Roads that aren’t riddled with holes probably have random speed bumps every hundred meters or so - roads and highways alike – and may or may not have street lights to illuminate where exactly the roads are at night. This means that there is a lot of swerving, near misses, knuckle-whitening, and ample swearing (from me the passenger). Luckily, though we encountered these things on our road trips, he is a great driver and the car (and humans) came out fine.

But I’m ahead of myself a bit.

Our first adventure included a four-hour drive north to a nature conservancy called Ol Pejeta, known for holding the last two Northern White Rhinos in the world. We fought off matatus and slow-going trucks up and down windy roads until we got there.

On our drive, we noticed that each roadside town seemed to each specializes in particular products that the community would sell at stalls to ongoing traffic. We started to name the towns based on their products: MangoTown, ChairTown, MaizeTown, BananaTown, PotatoTown, FlourTown…you get the point.

Once we registered our vehicle with the conservancy and got our accommodations sorted, we started meandering through the park….and almost immediately started running into animals while we drove around! About a few minutes into the conservancy we had to pause for a herd of zebras to cross the road, and an elephant was munching on a tree 150 meters away from us. It was magical – we didn’t need to look for animals at all; we only had to ride a few minutes past one animal before we approached another group of animals. We didn’t see leopards or cheetahs on our trip, but we saw most the other animals available in the conservancy: buffalo, antelope, gazelle, elephant, giraffe, zebra, bush pig, rhino, baboon, chimpanzee, warthog, and loads of cool birds. Ol Pejeta was quiet, too; we didn’t see many people, which was more than fine for us.

We met a lot of helmeted guineafowl on the park roads who would stupidly panic and stumble in front of our car on the road for a few minutes instead of getting out of our way, causing a lot of abrupt stops on our end. I, stupidly, couldn’t think of the appropriate bird type and started to call them bush turkeys, singing a bastardized version Roy Orbison’s famous song: “Bush turkey, walking down the street….”

We went on a Night Game Drive with the conservancy, where we ran into a bachelor group of lions lounging on our path, and a little way off a pride of female lions who resented their need to share the road. We also ran into some jackals, hyenas, and a herd of elephants with babies.

The next morning, we met the two last Northern White Rhinos one-on-one with a ranger, feeding them while safely stowed in the SUV. The first one (Najin) used our SUV as a scratching post for a few minutes, aggressively rocking the car (and us) back and forth; the second one (Fatu) happily took carrots out of our hands from the car windows.

We also drove around the outskirts of the conservancy and got quite lost (there are no street signs in nature). We eventually hightailed it back to the main area of the conservancy after escaping an angry elephant threatened to trample us if we didn’t leave her family alone.

Our last morning at Ol Pejeta, on Xmas day, started early with a bushwalk. We drove to the starting place right when the sun was coming up. We drove slowly through thick fog and eventually saw a spectacular view of Mount Kenya painted with a rainbow of sorbet colors in the sunrise. Once we met the ranger, we walked through the boggy bush to see some animals up close. We had to silently (and quickly) retreat from our walk once we got too close to a lone buffalo and rhino.

While at Ol Pejeta, we stayed at their Stables. It was simple, friendly, and quiet accommodations for us, and we ended up staying in a roundhouse like a yurt with its own bathroom. The Stables had “lights out” at 11pm quite literally, as the generator shut off until the morning.

We nearly hit a lamb on the road just outside of the conservancy when we were returning to Nairobi. It baa’ed resentfully at us.

The next day we flew to Zanzibar to beach bum for a while, but that’s a different story.

When we returned to Nairobi on New Year’s Eve, at the end of his visit, we continued our animal adventures.

We visited the Sheldrick Trust, where a group rehabilitates baby elephant orphans and releases them back into the wild. They currently have 15 elephant orphans under 5 years old. We went in the morning to watch the little elephants flop around and feed on giant bottles full of baby formula. Unfortunately, it was a cramped spectacle full of tourists and screaming children, and I felt stressed out for the elephants. I proposed we leave early and surprised my Mr. CT Lawyer with his Xmas present – I adopted an elephant orphan for him, who he was to meet more personally in the evening.

We then visited the nearby Giraffe Center. Each visitor got a coconut shell of pellets to feed the goofy giraffes, who greedily stuck out their blue tongues for more food over and over again, headbutting clueless visitors not fast enough with their treats. We also got to feed a few baby giraffes – 3 months old! –timidly sticking out and wiggling their tongues for treats and wobbling their furry head cones between gulps. There were some curious baby warthogs behind the giraffes, as well – they didn’t get very close, but watched while the giraffes poked around tourists for pellets.

In the evening, we went back to the Sheldrick Trust for an hour to meet his adopted elephant, Nabulu. Though there were still quite a few people there who wanted to meet their adopted elephants, it was a much quieter and intimate experience than the morning visit. We got to watch the elephants run past to their pens with dinner waiting there. We also followed the elephants to their rooms to watch them chew on a few leafy tree branches. Nabulu used her trunk to get some water from her trough in front of us and blew bubbles into it before sucking up some water. The water sounded like a toilet flushing when it emptied out of her trunk and into her mouth.  We also met the other elephants there, petting a few and admiring the rest as they went through their evening rituals of eating, farting, and chilling.

We took it easy and spent the rest our Nairobi jaunts included fancy restaurants in the upscale suburb of Karen and malls in the nice eastern parts of the city. In my defense, I couldn’t think of city-specific adventures for us while he visited, and we were tired from the rest of the adventures. Some of the places we went to made us both feel more like we were in Europe than Africa, but we still had a lovely time. Some fast notes about those places (in case you need some ideas for future trips to Kenya).

• Dusit2 is an amazing and fancy 5-star hotel that will pamper you in the heart of Nairobi. But a heads up – it’s a resort, and it’s easy to feel like staying put there forever, with its food and pool and phenomenal service. Also, their PB&J Sundae is really addictive.
• Boho Eatery is an outdoor restaurant in Karen, and we had really tasty bowls of not-regional foods while the restaurant’s cat cuddled with us.
• We had our NYE dinner at Talisman in Karen. We had a really delicious meal with gluten-free bread and divine fish curry. He got a snapper bao bun that he is still talking about.
• We visited Cultiva Farms in Karen for a meal at some point. The ride getting there was wild and bumpy, but the food was really fresh and delightful to eat.

A Holiday in Jordan

Quintessential Jordan picture:
Petra's Treasury

I just got back from a wonderful 8-day trip through Jordan. I had originally just planned on going for a 3-day conference about water management, but I decided to road trip across my first Arab (and Middle Eastern) country. I ended up having a really interesting and peaceful week.

I didn't see all of the popular spots in Jordan, like Aqaba or the Baptism site, and I didn't walk through Jaresh (I drove by it), but I do feel like my trip was perfect for me.

I hired a Jordanian company called Dry Ver Jo to drive me around the country while I was there. It was one of the best decisions I made because I never worried about how I was getting anywhere, and my driver(s) showed me around the country's back roads and took care of me when I got my typical trip's food poisoning. My main driver was Abdullah; he was fantastic and made me feel like I had a best friend in Jordan driving me around and even brought me out for dinner on my last night.

Days 1-2: Dead Sea
I started my trip near the Dead Sea, for the conference. It's a hot and humid place, which isn't surprising as it's one of the lowest points on Earth you can visit without getting into the ocean AND has heaps of salt on the surface of both soil and water.

The first thing I did after arriving was to make my way to the Dead Sea, a 7-minute walk from the hotel I was staying. I could see clearly the lake's recession as the hotel's path to the water was riddled with derelict beach areas when the water was once much closer to the building; I found this very sad. The sea is receding about a meter annually because its tributary (the Jordan River) has been diverted too much by countries further upstream (which has also led to a lot of sinkholes in the dregs of the dying sea).

The sea is definitely saline, and when I finally made it to the waters, I floated like a rubber ducky and made the mistake of putting some of the water far too close to my lips (it tasted like nasty salt).

For the rest of my stay in the area, I was mostly in a conference room listening to academics talk about the history of water reuse. It was a fine conference, albeit small and a bit "aged". I was very jetlagged during the conference, but I forged through it and met some interesting water historians.

Days 3-4: Wadi Mujib & Petra
Part of the conference included a day trip to Petra to look at ancient water systems. We piled into a tour bus and drove three hours south to visit the famous site.

I have to explain something: I have never liked being part of tour groups. I find them too restrictive when exploring. This day trip reminded me how much I don't enjoy being part of groups - much of the conference attendees were slow to move and were interested in capturing pictures while a guide patiently tried to usher us from the Petra Museum (with a lovely exhibit describing the culture of the people who built Petra - the Nabateans) and through the Siq. About two hours into the tour, I grew impatient and asked to break away at a faster speed so I wouldn't miss out on seeing the rest of the site (at their speed, we'd only get to the Treasury and would have no time to see the rest of the place).

Petra is beautiful and fascinating; there's a reason why people flock to see this archeological location. The buildings were expertly carved out of the canyon's soft sandstone for different purposes - an amphitheater, tombs, monasteries, homes, etc. It was hot when we were visiting and Petra doesn't have a lot of shade, but I pushed forward and was awed when I got to the Treasury. It's the most famous (and photogenic) aspect of Petra, and with good reason; the carvings are still very much defined, and it's a brilliant view when you reach it from the Siq.

I also walked down the main thoroughfare and saw the panoramic sights of the city of Petra, with the smaller carved-out houses in the rock (and donkeys inside to seek shade), the tombs and church further up flights of precarious steps, and through the sandy old road. I was due to meet the tour group shortly after I broke away, so I didn't have time to climb up to see some of the tombs or monastery up close, but I didn't mind (I liked looking from afar just as much).

One of the incredible things about Petra and the Nabateans is their sophisticated water management systems from such an early time. Jordan has always had water quantity challenges, but they had perfect water piping systems and cisterns that stored and reused water within their habitats. Some of those systems could probably be adopted in parts of the world still. So neat!

A bummer of Petra (for me) was seeing the sad animals being overworked. The donkeys drag carriages up and down the rocky hills of the Siq. These donkeys are prodded to go fast and trip across cobblestones until they are heaving and clearly distressed. It was really sad to see them zoom back and forth in the site and even sadder how many people were willing to pay for their use. A suggestion: don't use the donkeys in Petra.

The tour group drove back to the Dead Sea for the night. The next day I made my way back.

Along the way, we stopped at Wadi Mujib. Before I showed up, I didn't know much about Wadi Mujib other than it was supposed to be a beautiful place in a canyon and a fun side adventure while in Jordan...so I got there and asked the admission's fee. The entrance guy looked at me in my linen pants and politely asked me if I was ready to swim, climb, and crawl through the canyon. Clearly not sure what I was getting myself into, I changed into some more "athletic" gear and headed into the canyon with a tour guide.

Wadi Mujib's adventure is a great and safe experience, but it's also hard. I found myself in a canyon with a stream-cum-rapid that I was wading through to get to the big waterfall at the end of the 2-hour hike. The further along you are, the deeper and faster the water gets. My guide made the trecking a lot easier; we'd watch people in front of us struggle and he'd respond by showing me a much simpler method to get past a rapid that saved me time and energy (thank god I paid extra to have him join me!). It was still a tough course to get through, though, and there were moments where I slammed into rocks or had to drag myself up a pile of rocks with a rope and felt myself pull one of many muscles along the way. I also accidentally got a lot of water in my nose and mouth at different parts of the journey, which I suspect gave me the sickness I had a day later. Sadly, my fear of heights kicked in strongly about 2/3 into the trek, and I made my guide turn around after forcefully shouting at him "NO!" in Arabic (rather, "La!" / "!لا").

I'm glad I did it, but I felt the pain from that adventure for a few days after.

En route to my next stop, Abdullah brought me to a tea shop on a cliff in the mountains near the Dead Sea. I got some sugary tea and enjoyed a gorgeous backdrop of rolling hills and distant views of Palestine. An old man was sitting at the tea spot and started talking to my driver about me. The old man informed us that he was a fan of Trump (much to my dismay and Abdullah's confusion) and was a proud veteran of the Jordanian Army. He pulled out of his wallet a medallion from his service and asked me to wear it for one of my pictures. I was touched and honored that he shared such an important thing with me for a few minutes.

After that adventure, we drove on to Wadi Musa, where I had arranged to stay at a Bedouin camp for a few nights. The camp I stayed at was in the middle of an empty desert area near Little Petra, so it was beautifully quiet. At night, they lit a campfire to warm up tea and one of the nearby rock formations lit up with twinkling bags of light they had placed in its crags.

Day 5: Little Petra
The next day I woke up feeling like I was in an otherworldly place - the camp felt like it was some outpost on the moon!

I had decided to spend most of the day reading quietly and relaxing - it was my vacation, after all. Before sundown, though, I wanted to walk 30 minutes over to Little Petra for a while. Way back in the day, Little Petra was likely the suburb of the popular Petra, and important people I think would "park" their camels and caravans at this place.

Honestly, I liked Little Petra a little bit more than the other one. It was quieter (most tourists don't bother visiting), it was shaded, it had some preserved ceiling art, and I could more realistically envision people coming into this area and living there.

One of my favorite parts of visiting ancient sites is visualizing people back in the day living there normally - it makes the place feel more real to me.

A younger shopowner at Little Petra showed me around the area, and I happily followed him knowing I'd pay him afterward. With my Wadi Mujib injuries, he helped me safely climb up and down steps in the area and showed me places I wouldn't have bothered looking into if he weren't with me. He was concerned about my limp and showed me a local tree that apparently people use to help soothe muscles. He then invited me to apply it on my leg in his cave a few minutes' away.

For the record, this man lived in a cave. The cave had carved out pillars and was clearly old (with some new carpets and mattresses lining the floor). Essentially, he appeared to live in a Nabatean-built cave and modernized the place a little bit. I was floored! Apparently, much of the Nabatean caves that were part of the Petra civilization are not completely what the tourists see, and some people are still using these caves to live (and others probably have still yet to be fully discovered).

I put on my homemade ointment (that may have helped a little bit) and hobbled my way back to my camp for the night.

Day 6: Wadi Rum

Early the next day I got picked up to drive even further south to the UNESCO-protected desert in Jordan - Wadi Rum. This was the place they filmed The Martian and Lawrence of Arabia. I got to the desert village a little after midday and my bedouin camp in the desert picked me up for my five-hour Jeep tour through the protected area.

The Jeep tour was incredible - it was as if we were driving through Mars for much of the trip. The Bedouin man who was driving me around showed me some breathtaking sights and took me all over. We started in an area that had prehistoric petroglyphs carved into the stone walls, climbed a number of red rock formations so I could hover over a natural arch, then he drove me far away from any other living beings, in absolute silence and desolation. He showed me how the desert has two regions: red and white. The red region is where the camps are and is better traveled by tourists; the white region is furthest from any road and is not allowed to have any camps built in it. There were camels hanging out all across the desert; some had tourists on their back, some were just hanging out as if life was mellow and they were just along for the ride. My guide drove around the desert as if there were well-marked streets through the barrenness of the desert that I just couldn't see for some reason. I'm still baffled.

The camp where I was staying for the night was the last camp in the desert and the closest to the white desert and without any internet or connectivity. I also happened to be the only person there for the night. They asked me if I wanted to change my camp to be with other people, but I was excited about having a very quiet and alone evening in the middle of nowhere. I had the whole night to myself (and three guys running the camp) with the dunes and starlit sky. One of the camp staff brought out an oud and played some traditional music just for me. We sat and talked quietly over a small campfire, and I watched shooting stars.

I was very much alone in a lot of ways that night, and I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed being the only person using the bathrooms and the silence echoing in the stillness of the desert. What I did not enjoy was a night in and out of the bathroom with some medium-level food poisoning (most useful in Arabic during my stay - "Ana murad"/"انا مريض"/"I'm sick"). The camp staff guys were concerned about me and, with limited ability to speak with each other, helped me decide that the next day I'd go see a doctor in Amman while I started taking some Cipro I had carried with me "just in case".

Day 7 - 8: Amman (and North)

The next day my driver friend picked me up early at a nearby tourist rest stop and drove me (slowly, at my request) from Wadi Rum to Amman. One of the local women at the conference had helped me find a GI doctor and I had booked an appointment for early in the afternoon to make sure I hadn't picked up those irritating parasites (that I'm prone to getting while overseas).

The GI doctor was very helpful and well-informed. He checked out my gut, got me to leave behind a sample for testing, and instructed me to get a second opinion about some of the treatments I am taking for other more chronic GI issues. With his visit and the lab tests he ran, the tab ended up being $100...without any insurance. In the US, that bill would have been the same WITH insurance. And the healthcare in Jordan felt more personal and less like a factory. If you ever get sick in Jordan, rest assure there is really great, affordable care out there.

My hotel in Amman was fine. The hotel manager had very limited English but tried to talk to me anyway about things that strangers shouldn't ask guests in their hotel. I kept to myself and avoided him as much as I could.

The next day I went for a tourist jaunt across the city. It was a jarring experience - not just because I had just spent the last 3 or 4 days in very quiet, secluded areas of the country and I was accosted by the noises of urbanity suddenly, but also because the people I encountered were less kind and less helpful. It was a helpful reminder that people in cities are not good reflections of the rest of the country I'm in. I mean, I knew this already - I'm a New Yorker, after all.

I started the day at the Amman Citadel. It resembles a Roman ruin but dates back much further than that. I slowly walked around the fort and admired some of the ancient water storage sites they had built so long ago.

After I was finished, I made a mistake. I agreed to let the first taxi driver I met to drive me around the city for two hours. The guy was a creep and talked to me all about his taste in women and asking me all about my weight management (ugh). He ended up stealing about $20 from me on top of what I had originally agreed to pay him, and he pissed me off a lot. It was my fault, I know, but it was another reminder that city people are not always the best people in the world. That's what I'll say about him.

I visited the Amphitheater and its two museum exhibits about traditional cultures in Jordan. They were interesting to see and I do recommend people to visit at least for a little bit.  The remains are quite well preserved and are neat to walk through, as well.

The creep taxi man also made me go to the King Abdullah Mosque in the city. It's not a particularly old mosque - it's not quite 40 years old yet, and I was honestly unimpressed by it. Don't get me wrong, it was nice; it was just like going to any other modern building in use with stained glass windows, which I was not interested in. There was also a tourist shop under the mosque that I was pushed to visit and I decided to at least make the stop useful to finish up my Xmas shopping, so I spent too much on some nice souvenirs. Much of it was soap (spoiler alert?).

I also went downtown to buy 1.5 kilos of spices (za'atar and sumac) and ditched the creepy cabbie to get some lunch. I stopped at the famous Al Quds for lunch and ordered some delicious mansaf, which is a rice dish with a tangy yogurt sauce, nuts, and chicken. I also sacrificed my glutenfree health to give knafeh a try (a popular local dessert with unsalted cheese and a honeyed pastry top)...and it was very much delicious and probably worth the pain I will deal with for the next few weeks.

By this time it was sunny and 95F/35C out, but I wasn't ready to quit my tourism quite yet. I walked uphill for about an hour to see Rainbow Street, which is apparently a popular and swanky tourist spot. Much of the uphill walk was a multi-story staircase that felt like it was going up forever; I trudged my way up and took my sweet time, panting and sweating bullets. By the time I got to Rainbow Street, I was far too hot to enjoy it and opted to double fist iced sodas for a few hours at a local shop before I made my way to my evening dinner.

I had booked my dinner plans as a cooking class at Beit Sitti (Grandmother's Kitchen). The place is a great cause - they hire older women who are refugees from local countries to teach tourists common Arabic dishes for a few hours. The class was lovely and in a small house with a beautiful balcony for us to enjoy our class's output. We cooked a one-pot rice dish called maglubah and some eggplant dish like baba ghanoush. 

The next day was a searing 100F/38C, so I decided to change my trip plans with Abdullah. We were scheduled to visit Jerash (a well-preserved Roman city) in the north for the day; instead, we agreed to drive around it a few times in the airconditioned car and eat more knafeh at the gorgeous Ajloun Nature Reserve. I gazed down over a balcony at the reserve center at a sea of oak trees before we hopped back in the car and got dinner in Amman.

For my final dinner in the country, Abdullah brought me out to a local restaurant that specialized in more generally "Gulf country" food. I got fish, rice, and a bowl of delicious lentil soup that I plan on trying to cook for myself sometime. It was a wonderful send-off from a friend before I passed out in my airport hotel for an early morning flight back to NYC.

Last Thoughts
My trip was rejuvenating and fascinating. As usual, here are some overarching things I wanted to mention about the trip.

• Deserts are Surreal: Drying through the country meant mostly being in a desert. I found it unreal driving through it because the color palette of the region was monochromatic and meant that everywhere I went was very hot and super dry. This isn't particularly poignant, but it was a new experience for me and I felt it very differently compared to most other experiences I've had. I'm not sure if I liked it or not.
• Jordanian Hospitality is Awesome: Barring a few unpleasant encounters in Amman, everyone I met in Jordan was extremely nice and hospitable. People were eager to help me get oriented, travel, eat good food, and feel better after my bout of diarrhea. Sometimes I was shocked at how people didn't often seem interested in taking money for helping me, which made me feel even more awe for their compassion and kindness to a stranger. It humbled me.
• Solo Traveling is Safe: Most people I met (especially other tourists) were particularly concerned about me being alone and going through Jordan mostly solo. People kept asking me if I was safe or if it was "wise" to go to XYZ area alone...but I found being alone was a super way to really experience the area without having to manage others and their expectations in my travels. The one day I toured with others reminded me how my pace is so different from others, and Jordan people's kindness and interest in my well-being made it okay for me to be alone. Even being completely at the mercy of the camp staff in the desert with no communication with the outside world felt completely normal and secure. I don't feel this way at home, usually.
• Arabs Have Opinions about Arabs: Jordanians have a lot of opinions about other Arabs, which surprised me especially given their hospitality and generosity. Some Jordanians I met warned me about Syrians, others felt very poorly towards Saudis, and some went on about the corruption of all Egyptians. And so on. I was slightly sad to hear that Arabs apparently fiercely judge against each other, especially while the rest of the world judges them at least as harshly.

A Ghanaian Funeral

I didn't go to this funeral.

I was just in Ghana for a few weeks working in the field on a project. During my stay, I was asked to join my team to attend a funeral for one of our colleagues who had passed away, over the weekend. Of course, I agreed to join....but it was clear during the experience that I was wildly unprepared and still prone to culture shock.

According to my Ghanaian colleagues, weekends are for funerals. You attend lots of funerals, here - for people you know or people you knew of from others - so that eventually you'll have a sizable gathering for your own funeral. Because in Ghana, funerals are big deals - much bigger than weddings.  I mean, they're big enough to the point that some think they can be a bit excessive.

Perhaps you've seen on social media one or two videos from a Ghanaian funeral? You know, one of the pallbearers dancing with a coffin bouncing on their shoulders?

I find it almost impossible to explain the Ghanaian funeral I attended by comparing it to anything we have in the US...but I found myself comparing it a bit to Indian weddings. It had a lot of pomps and circumstances (like an Indian wedding) and it was long. And apparently, by Ghanaian scale, this funeral was a very small one.

But I'm ahead of myself.

The funeral was in the Central Region - about a five-/six-hour drive from Accra. My 60 Ghanaian colleagues and I sleepily piled into a VIP bus at 2am (!) on Saturday and started our journey. If you've ever driven down Ghanaian roads, you may recall that speeds are managed via ample speed bumps and potholes (every mile or so?). Sleeping on the bus was difficult.

A few towns before we reached the funeral, we stopped at a guesthouse to dress for the service. Ghanaian funerals are formal events - no jeans or sneakers! The standard colors are black and red (with a few exceptions for those in church groups with costumes - yes, costumes - and etc.). Women wear tailored outfits with a flared blouse paired with a mermaid skirt, while men wear smart kente shirts or elaborate "togas". Apparently, in the Ashanti region, funeral attire is so strict that one can be refused entrance if the outfit isn't up to code. Luckily for me, we weren't in Ashanti and I was allowed to wear simple black pants and a modest shirt.

When we arrived, we had to line up and start a procession to the funeral (women in the back, of course) and around the corpse of our late colleague before sitting down.

Okay, so this is when the culture shock for me started during the funeral. There much to unpack in my culture shock, so I will explain the uniqueness in my favorite format - a list:

• The (dressed) corpse was laid out in full view on a table in a clear tent. I was not expecting the body to be on display as fully as it was. In Western funerals, *if* the body is on display, it's only from the torso up. This body, however, was not covered at all - I saw the rigid legs leading to the stiff upper body of someone who has been moved into position after Rigor mortis set in. There was no way to deny death at this funeral, for his body was so clearly visible to all who attended at all vantage points.
  
• The corpse was a month old. In a country that is hot and so very near the equator, I was baffled to see the body in such a well-preserved state...and that they had taken so long to bury the body. My colleagues explained to me that burial customs in Ghana sometimes prohibit bodies from being buried for quite a long time, which means families and morgues will do what they can keep bodies on ice if there are delays.
  Why would there be delays? One example I heard was that if a local royal died before your loved one, you can't bury them until the royal is. And, since funerals are such big deals in Ghana, funerary ceremonies for royals can last weeks/months/years! Which means you just have to wait to mourn your loss until the royals are buried. I'm not entirely sure why this funeral was a month late, but it was - and that was not abnormal to anyone but me.
• There were hundreds of people at this "small funeral". In the West, a large funeral may have 100 people or so; in Ghana, large funerals have more like a few thousand. I was in awe that so many people turned up at the funeral, but was even more surprised when I was told that it was a tiny funeral. The reason why thousands of people didn't show up was that my colleague died rather young and before his parents - in Ghana, burying a child requires a smaller, not-very-spectacular funeral.
  
• The service had lots of emotions expressed. I'm used to funerals being somber, sad events. Ghanaian funerals have (potentially professional?) wailers and sobbing/moaning family members, of course, but there was also a lot of singing and dancing. The church that ran the service brought the chorus. They banged tambourines, sang joyfully to songs about Jesus (I think? It was in Twi, but "Jesus" sounded the same...), and danced in a parade around the center of the funeral grounds - sometimes even around the body. At some point during the funeral, the corpse was moved discreetly into a coffin, which was then placed in the middle of the compound, and more dancing circled it. Some periods of the funeral had rowdy songs juxtaposed with people crying loudly. I didn't really know how to process the information during this service because I felt overwhelmed with emotions at the moment, but I think I was glad to have some levity in what normally is a dark event...even if the contrast was so stark.


• The service was quite long. In my world, funerals are for about two hours. Max. We ended up staying at this funeral for six hours before hopping back in the bus to return to Accra...and we had left early! Once again, funerals can last a long time, and apparently, I only got a taste of all that would be included in the ceremonies. To me, it was extremely long; understanding only a smattering of words - mostly being "Jesus" - probably made it feel even longer.
  
• We had to go through a lot of formalities. So much of the funeral included people moving around, shaking hands of everyone else attending the funeral. And much else of the funeral were different people making speeches (again, in Twi) in what appeared to have been normal standard operating procedures. I'm not sure most of what happened, but there seemed to have been some kind of formula to go through for the event. We did a lot of standing and sitting for songs and other parts that I didn't understand, as well.
  There was one part of the ceremony that was in English: the eulogies. And it was heartbreaking to listen to several people read out their written eulogies in between sobs.

After the initial religious part of the ceremony and people moved around the coffin a few times, it was time for the pallbearers to lead the hundreds of attendees to the burial. We were in a rural community, so everyone piled onto the road and slowly walked to the cemetery off on the shoulder of the road, at the end of the village.

Did I mention that it was hot out in rural Ghana? It was probably 100F/37.8C outside and as the sun climbed the sky, all of my colleagues and I started to pour sweat (I won't lie...I was comforted to see that I wasn't the only one sweating). There was a point during the day where I wasn't sure my clothing would ever come off again from my sweaty body. I wasn't sure if I'd ever know what it felt like to be cold again, either. There was some cooling wind...but not much.

At some point after the burial, I realized I had an urgent need to urinate. A few of my lady colleagues helped me find a village toilet, which was harder than it sounds as Ghana is known in my sector as having low sanitation coverage. Anyway, somebody showed us to a roofless structure with walls that wrapped around like a spiral and told me to have at it. I walked cautiously through the spiral to find a stained floor and a small hole in the side of the wall that outputted into a divet near someone's home. This was the only toilet in the community apparently, so I took off my pants and squatted...and proceeded to urinate openly and indiscriminately. It was so hot out I couldn't tell where my urine was going, but I would be lying if I said I didn't get any of it on my person. Oh well.

The happenings continued.

Our organization wanted to donate some money to the bereaved family, which meant the formalities continued for us. All 60 of us were ushered into a family compound where we sat and waited for the bereaved family members to greet us. My understanding is that we first had the widow's family leaders come to greet us and asked us our intentions, to which someone on our team represented us and stated our intention to donate money. The widow's family left, satisfied. Afterward, we waited for a while until the bereaved blood family joined us and we went through the same formalities again. Each time a new group or family came to go through this process with us, there was handshaking. Everyone had to give each other handshakes. Which meant I shook a lot of people's hands that day. Many of them seemed quite pleased to have shaken the hand of a foreigner at the funeral - it appears I added some prestige to the funeral and showed that our colleague had had an international network.

Once the handshaking ended, we then had to do the process all over again, this time in public at the official ceremony where donations were publically announced. Again, someone had to state our intentions to give money to the family, and we had to shake hands. The difference with this version was that afterward our team had to dance around the altar that replaced the coffin before we were able to leave the funeral and head home. 

We finally got back to Accra around 9pm - about 20 hours after our days started. But, of course, not without me peeing on myself one last time (this time at a gas station) while we headed back.

Overall, it was a fascinating experience. I wish I had thought to have read up more in what a Ghanaian funeral would entail, and I wish I had prepared myself better to deal with an overwhelming cultural experience in blistering heat. But it is still a memory that I will not forget and is giving me food for thought about my own future funerary experiences and last wishes. I'm sure I got some of the details mixed up or misunderstood, but based on my understanding of what happened that day, the Ghanaians hold their deceased in the highest of esteem and respect.

One last note: I found this article about how some of the funeral calls in Ghana can be quite comedic - enjoy!