It's something unpredictable...

Bit of an epic this, I've chosen to more focus on the big events than the smaller day-to-day stuff which can be as exciting for us but maybe less interesting for you...

Seemingly ages ago now we left the village of Yamba behind, as I'm sure you appreciate from the pictures we have finally uploaded, it's a truly amazing place. The pictures from the party are particularly special because that was to thank us for the work we've done whilst out here. It's hard to reflect so soon after just what the experiences mean to us, we spent the right amount of time there to really immerse ourselves in village life but still to have time to explore more of Tanzania, and the world. I guess my current thoughts on the matter are also the only line I really remember from my little leaving speech; something about the selfishness of being a volunteer there, whatever you give one takes far more from Yamba than you could ever hope toimpart.

It sounds like I'm rushing this blog post, I am I guess, but the internet is a whole pound an hour use, mental. Anyway, after a party and goodbye dinner, a final football game and a chance to teach the kids 'the sprinkler' (see pics) we left. It was as simple as that really, of course you promise to return, to send letters but in reality it's probably the last time I'll ever see those guys again - a tough reality, but a reality all the same.

So how to follow an experience like that, sure enough Tanzania threw up more - we travelled to an amazing resort on the beach, still with the guys from our charity, and stayed there for two nights. This place was out of this world, it was called 'Peponi' which (apparently) is the Swahili word for 'Paradise,' well in this case the hyperbole is justified, white beaches, blue ocean and cheap beer. We camped maybe 15 or so meters from the ocean and set about relaxing, some of the other volunteers teach kids Monday - Thursday with class sizes ranging from 10 - 80 so for them the time is absolutely necessary to 'switch off.' I'd happily rave about the food for a paragraph but that might be too much, the prawns were the size of my hand and caught by the fishermen who reside about 150m down the beach. BBQed with Fresh Tuna with Rice. That'll do.

Saturday was a perfect day. We took out a boat, 8 of us manned by 3 Tanzanian crew, with coolboxes containing lunch and drink and headed for a 'sand island' in the middle of the ocean. On the way we were to stop for snorkling and (according to the guy trying to sell it) see amazing coral reefs only 10ft down. I was sceptical but again proved wrong, it was like something out of Finding Nemo (So I'm told - I've never seen it), the colours were so stark, so vivid. There were fish, entire schools of them just under our feet as well as large fish of blues and yellows just milling around the coral. I dived the 10 or so meters under the water just to be in this habitat for a short time, it's hard to explain, even harder without pictures, how cool the starfish were and how ridiculously pointy the sea-urchins must be. Of course this experience has a downside, diving is an expensive hobby and now it's an absolute priority of mine to learn.

We assumed, again incorrectly, that the sand island couldn't, wouldn't, match up. Naturally, it did, it was like something out of those ridiculous commercials with Jamie Redknapp and his missus in, about 50m long - nothing but sand and a few shells scattered about the place. There's not much else to say about it, but that's why it's so extraordinary. There we had lunch, a few beers and laid in the ocean almost entirely discussing just how much England sucks compared to this...

There was one downside to the resort, it had no TV, now I've had absolutely no cravings for anything from home apart from live sport so to know England v France was happening and we had no way of watching it sucked pretty hard. So when we were sat around at dinner and the resort owner asked us if there were any rugby fans at the table he got a pretty muted 'Yeah' as we thought about smashing the Frenchies all over Twickenham. Dennis stepped up to the plate in a way we couldn't have forseen "You guyssshh (that's how he spoke) like rugby, cool, we have it on ion the house if you fancy coming in." I've never eaten as fast, a shame looking back because the food was great, and eventually 9 of us crammed onto this guys living room floor to watch the game (get in.)

All good things do indeed come to an end so, again, we said our goodbyes and headed for town. Later that day the charity guys left and all of a sudden we were alone. In Africa. With a bus to a random, large, town called Arusha booked for the following morning (0600. Brilliant.) For me that's what the idea of travelling is about, that uncertainty and slight trepidation as you move from place to place. Of course I hate not being in control I mean why the bus needed to stop in a random town for half an hour I've no idea. But so we moved on.

That'll do for now but do have a gander at the pictures, of this stuff and our safari and I think I'll be writing about that later this week. Also do get in touch with us, it's always good to catch up.

Laters

J

PS: No spell check and a rubbish keyboard could lead to some horrendus (deliberate) typos. Soz.

Hi everyone!

Sorry about this taking so long, well I say sorry - really you should blame every internet cafe in Tanga which seemed to simultaneously break or have a power-cut at the same time (well the two I could be bothered to try anyway...) This is from a couple of weeks ago where I was super organised and had pre-written it to save time, I'll update everyone on the last fortnight soon but it's far too hot and the pool's far too tempting to do that now.

Hope you're all well etc etc...

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Another hectic fortnight, seemingly with experiences 'du jour' has left us feeling we're well worth our rest in Tanga, to this end I now write at 2 in the afternoon hiding from the afternoon heat that has made such a mess of my nose.

With no grove to spend our Saturday nights we found ourselves invited to the next best thing - live African music. Thinking it as a great way for us to meet new people and soak up the atmosphere (as well as have a few 70p beers) five of us went and, well, it was different. We were literally the only 'mzungus' (white people) in the place - an enclosed area of plastic tables and chairs, so when the five-piece band with the 8ft amps began a rendition of 'hark now hear the angles sing' I assumed it was for our benefit. Somewhat inevitably - we ended up dancing, a harrowing experiences but another of those 'glad I did it but never again' moments that epitomise our trip thus far. This really was a genuine Saturday night out in an African town and for people watching alone it was well worth going - certain aspects were just so similar, the too drunk, too excitable, too creepy and with invites to a nearby club heavily rejected we turned in for the night, ready for that already infamous journey up the mountain.

With all the excitement going on I realise I've totally neglected to tell you about building (after all it's the reason we're here) so I think I might try that now. Again though all the interesting aspects are those of the people themselves; Cosmos - the only one who speaks English pouring water on brickwork 9ft above concrete wearing flip-flops, Paulo, short and constantly giggling away to himself even when bricklaying in 40 degree heat and, of course, Sylveste who somehow gets away with doing absolutely fuck all. We've finished a kitchen that was started on our second day so it\s been satisfying to watch that develop and the guys are good, really good, at what they do which I guess makes it altogether more tragic that these most skilled and highly paid members of the community earn 2500 TSH a day. 112p.

Indeed, one of the most poignant times since I last wrote was inviting Cosmos (his quote of the night 'Jay provokes me') to dinner as our fellow builder, Steve, was leaving for home (Wolverhampton, Northern Joe will be glad to hear) After a veritable feast with a 330ml can of beer and a chicken donated by a villager who was eating with us it became known that meat was so rare a treat that even wealthy villagers enjoy it 3 - 4 times a year. So for Shekki to give us one (before he knew he was invited), without a second's thought, goes further to epitomise the culture in the village than words ever could. Another reminder of our privileged position came when we tried to explain our student loans would mean we owed around 50 million shillings, many times what someone here could hope to earn in a lifetime; working 8 - 5, Monday - Saturday.

If that wasn't depressing enough Sunday - the only day the villagers don't work and when we were due to be playing football for the village - came with the news a three-month-old child had dies and the funeral was to be held that afternoon, a funeral we were invited, even encouraged, to attend. It was a whole village occasion, a show of solidarity, hundreds came from literally miles around and they sung, spoke and sat solemnly. Throwing dirt into a hole no longer than my arm will certainly live long in the memory but the vague look of familarity on the faces of the older villagers and the swift dispersal of the crowd back to normality were perhaps even more harrowing.

There's loads more to write about, a walk that took us to seeing the plains of Africa, parties for us leaving, parties in other villages but it will have to wait, we leave Tanga for Arusha on Monday (at 0445!) and will be on Safari so hopefully there will be loads more to talk about. In the meantime, keep in touch...

Africa. Woah.

It seems like years since I sat in the same internet cafe at pretty much the same computer updating this blog. In reality, however, it has just been a fortnight... scary.

So much as happened I actually have to sit here with my diary so I can try not to miss out anything important and I hope I can at give you at least a small taste of what it's been like. This entry maybe a bit of a long one so please bear with me if it rambles.

I guess all big experiences start with a journey, and this one was epic; the 3 hour ride was in our charity 4x4 and after 10 minutes of roads it was dirt track all the way. We started nicely enough with a few games to pass the time but the further we got away from the city the more uncomfortable everything became, inside and outside the car. Cramping was bad enough but poverty really began to hit home as we passed half finished mudhuts housing seemingly endless amounts of children, I don't know enough about their situation to comment but it certainly seemed they were on a similar level to the villagers in Yamba we had yet to meet.

As we hit the mountains the scenery became just unbelievable, sheer rockfaces on either side occasionally gave way to rural villages with just a generator or two providing power. I sort of assumed Westernisation would begin to dissipate as we moved literally hours away from the nearest TV and town but Coke and football adverts still lined the streets.

Edmundi, our driver, began to traverse unbelievable terrain as we approached the foot of 'our' particular mountain. The roads could have come straight out of a 4x4 experience centre back home and several times it felt like we were pushing the car pretty close to the edge. (I've just done the reverse journey to get back here and I can safely say it doesn't get any easier.) After about 2 hours we hit Millingano, and with it the roads managed to get worse.

The garage is about a 45 minute uphill trek away from Yamba, the village our charity works from, and the journey I will certainly take again. The welcome, however, I may wait a lifetime for. Perhaps a hundred people waited for us to arrive and when we did, wow. Singing and dancing and children and colour and smiles. This was a fortnight ago but it seems so much longer, not because the memories have faded but the experience was just so intense you can't hope to replicate it in your mind. The only way I can really explain it is to refer to those Comic Relief welcomes where lovely Fearne Cotton gets out of a car and everything looks hugely staged, it isn't - it's just how Africans are.

The trip up the mountain was a mission and a half, it was still about 30 degrees and the first 20 minutes seem you seem to just rise vertically but the views are perfect. I ended up a few minutes ahead of the group as I was chatting to one of the villagers (I say chatting, really he was just laughing at my KiiSamba) and this meant I got to be the primary receiver of all the greetings from every hut on the way up. The enthusiasm and joy of the villagers goes so close to hiding just how close to the poverty line they are but seeing children with 1 t-shirt and no shoes really does affect you - especially when you find out these are literally their worldly possessions.

As I rose further the going became flatter and more steady, entirely necessary to keep me plodding along as this is no winter Dartmoor. Finally, the top. I thought the experience might begin to subside but if anything it intensified - pictures were being taken left right and centre (I'll try to upload some this weekend) and the singing and dancing continued rising to a climax of surely 100 people. (Tom's just moaned that I'm taking too long so I better hurry up) We finished the day with our first meal, and perhaps this is a good time for me to cover food as a topic. It's nice, but there are only so many rounds of lentils, pasta, potatoes, salad, cabbage and chips you can endure before it gets boring and that's all we eat. Every day. (Steak tonight, and perhaps a beer or two)

Sunday came and with it church and football. Church was well, church - mindnumbingly boring but for the introductions to the villagers and the dancing. I can safely say I will not be returning anytime soon, I guess I'm glad I went because though because it was one of those things you just have to do.

Football, well I have two footballing anecdotes so I may well just shove them together here even though they take place on consecutive Sundays. The pitch is hilarious, for those of you who've seen uplyme's you still have no idea; it probably drops by about 15 feet from one goal to the other and bar one goalmouth it is full of small ridges and potholes. It doesn't stop the villagers though as they run about in second, third and fourth hand football boots absolutely loving it.

The first Sunday was just an inter-yamba match where all the male volunteers played, it was pretty lethal - they certainly don't pull their punches but really good fun. My extra foot of height definitely contributed to a hat-trick in a 6 - 3 win which included an open goal and a penalty miss (I promise it was bounce related...) I was truly happy with that experience of African football and was promised a spectacle the following weekend when Yamba (in their donated full football strip) played against another village. Yes, a spectacle.

Well as I know it, spectacles (I promise that's the last time I use that word) don't actually involve you playing yet don't ask me how, but one other volunteer and I were conned into agreeing to play for Yamba - us thinking the other team hadn't turned up.

So there I was, all 6ft 1' of me, stood in a line shaking hands with an African village team who had walked 3 hours to get here towering at least 5 inches over all of them - I literally felt like Crouchy. I mentioned that last week's match was keenly contested, but this was a whole different ball game (awful pun). In front of a crowd of 120ish people all singing and dancing we tried to push home our downhill and home advantage as challenges flew in left, right and centre. We went 1 - 0 up before half time when the ball fell to me somewhere in what would be a box if white paint existed in Yamba and I skewed it into the corner. I had been told the place went mental when Yamba scored but it literally erupted. The 120 people I talked about before all ran onto the pitch, women, children, even some men all wanting to shake hands with an utterly bemused westerner who somehow hacked a ball inbetween 2 bamboo sticks.

I missed a good chance before half time so when we began the long slog uphill I wanted to make amends... A chance came in strange fashion, they don't really know the offside rule in Tanzania so when I had the ball thrown to me about 20 yards out I think most people thought the game would stop. This thought had occured to me so i chested the ball and hit it as hard as I could into the corner of the goal. But no. It stood. And the invasion began all over again.

(I'm getting pretty conscious this is a ridiculously long entry and I still have to talk about building, what we actually came here to do and pooing into a 30ft drop. nice.)

So yeah, 2 - 0 swiftly became 2 - 1 when this tiny African midfielder absolutely spanked a freekick into the top corner but we saw out the game, signalling a bigger party than either of the goals had.

It felt surreal, the whole thing, but it was really the emotion of the occasion that hit me. These guys work upto 12 hour days, 6 days a week so Sunday afternoon football is a real highlight. For them to let me into the game, without a second's thought, then to be treated as an equal and a player was really. really special...

Building was a real experience too, but I promise to write about that more as we finish the projects ( a house and a kitchen) that we have started. It's amazing how quickly life in Yamba becomes normal though, showers consist of a bowl, a hot bucket and a cold bucket and toilets are, as I said, a 30ft hole covered by concrete. But you know what, this is fine - it's no longer weird to see insects and lizards on the ground, up there we have scorpions, spiders and snakes and that's fine. The children seem to know about 3 phrases of English, the people welcome you into their houses no matter what time of day - you'd think it might get frustrating, tiresome. It doesn't.

England seems a world away, we worked out we're only an 8th of the way through our time abroad and we still have so much to look forward to but it's nice to read your comments and have a good facebook stalk once a fortnight. If you've read this all the way through and not just skipped to the bottom then thanks, I appreciate it was a lot but I really wanted to try and keep everyone in the loop.

Keep in touch...

J

(We hit 40 degrees here in the week, hope it's warm in the UK too...)

Hey everyone, Hope you're all well...

I'm sure to you it barely seems like 5 minutes since we left but it has been such a massive few days, we've swam in the Indian Ocean, I managed to break my camera, finally we've arrived in a small town 3 hours away from the Village we are working...

This might be a rather small post, not through lack of interesting things, but the fact when I finish we are heading to a rather nice 4* hotel to enjoy their pool facilities and grab some lunch!

Journey was a bit of a nightmare, due to Mum having some function to go to in London I was abandoned at the airport about 3 hours early with my father so we set about a good deal of people watching, BA certainly don't struggle for airport staff. Finally we left, all emotional speeches aside it was a pretty smooth transition, well, until Tom got "Randomly" security screened in one of those new 'naked xray" machines... It was probably more embarrassing for me than for him as I burst out laughing in the middle of a busy London airport.

Once the Security staff had ascertained Tom was not a terrorist (I still have my doubts) we moved through into the hub of Terminal 5... just unbelievably big... It was a pretty good selection of shops, Harrods, Burberry etc, but from a sunglasses outlet I managed to persuade myself I needed a pair of Oakleys and got those for only 50 pounds... Bargain.

The flight was just awful, one of those small Boeing aircrafts that mean you have no space meaning sleeping was just not practicable but we arrived in Dar Es Saalam slightly early after some wonderful lush green views from the aircraft. (slightly odd seeing as this is Africa - more of that later)

For some reason our Visas were the last to be processed which was a slight drama for a while, but finally we got through and headed to the hotel...

The journey was a blog post in itself, long straight highways leading to a small ferry that we waited for nearly an hour for in the rising mid-morning heat... The ferry costs just 5p for someone to walk onto which gives you an idea of how cheap everything is.

We arrived at the beach resort, and well, it was just perfect; endless white sand leading to a deep blue ocean with waves big enough to enjoy, but small enough not to drown you, A small bar and restaurant area with local beers (surprisingly ok) and local food (My fish curry had tentacles in, but they tasted pretty good... Tentacles of what however? That I couldn't tell you). The accommodation itself was unlike anything I've ever seen, small double beach huts, built by the locals, with only a fan and a mozzie net.

There we met the other volunteers (I thought this was meant to be a short post? Bear with me there's still the odd interesting story to tell) who are literally all really nice, we have a great group dynamic and even when the staff say we can split up we still all eat and hang out together. I'm sure there will be time to come where I can tell you about them in greater detail.

Yesterday, we caught a local bus for the 5.5 hour trip. Really weird, this one, because it was constant rolling landscapes of lush green fields and small mountains in the background. The scenery would have been more at home in the Lake District than in Sub-Saharan Africa. The temperature however, was definitely african and when we arrived at the hostel (Catholic owned - Sorry Iain, it's cheap...) we needed a shower and time to chill...You might think this was the weirdest thing I've seen so far, no, that would be an Emile HEskey shirt at some small village along the way...Oh and my camera broke.

Ok, everyone's getting ready to go... Pool time.

Feel free to shower me with messages I will endeavour to reply as soon as possible. (and subscribe!)

J

This leads us

I've met many people who've travelled and their view on blogging varies as widely as the countries they've visited, to some it is an invaluable tool in keeping their family and friends (as well as the casual observer) informed of their progress and to others it is an unnecessary by-product of the digital age. Clearly, I don't know yet where I stand but with the countries we're visiting and the limited amount of time and opportunity to communicate with the people back home I think it will be a useful device to keep us in touch.

We were also told by the local charities who supported us (the now dissolved Axminster Millennium Trust and the Pain Trust) that they would be interested in being kept up-to-date with our progress and I strongly advise any male aged 11-21, residing in East Devon who is looking at adventurous pursuits to see if they qualify for a grant.

I've been asked countless times where we're going and what we're doing so it might be useful to actually write it down, although I think every time i describe it something changes so this list is by no means exhaustive...

In Tanzania (East Africa) we are working with a charity called 'Village Africa' and will be assisting local tradesmen on projects in the village. 'After hours' we will also be teaching extra-cirricularly and engaging with the community. Whilst we are in the village of Yamba we will only be working 4 days per week which leaves us time to visit the other charity projects locally and points of interest in the area. Once every two weeks we will head to the town of Yamba (with Electricity!) and will hopefully be able to update this blog.

That work lasts for 7 weeks and at the conclusion of that project we will travel across Tanzania to the Northern Serengeti region and plan to Safari for 2 - 5 days depending on how far our money takes us.

After returning to Dar (The capital of Tanzania) and spending a day or two relaxing and looking around the city we move onto Nepal, Asia.

For me, Nepal is the most exciting part of the trip because in a four week period we will be trekking the Annapurna circuit, white-water rafting, jumping the Third Biggest Bungee Jump in the World... Not a bad way to spend March...(Tom claims he won't do the bungee jump no matter what, please help me change his mind...)

We then move on to Thailand, where we arrive 3 days before the biggest festival of their year, Thai New Year. Which, as far as I can tell, consists of a city-wide water fight and a party that goes on well into the early hours. Yes. From Thailand we have three months to basically do, see, and live how we want whilst taking in the sights of Cambodia, Laos and 'Nam but I can't tell you our plans because I don't yet know them myself.

That's it then, a preview of what is to come. Of course I couldn't possibly know how often this will be updated, or how good the spellcheck will be, but do look back occasionally (after 8th January) and keep upto date with what we're doing. And it would be lovely to hear from you all...

J