This is the third installment of our Africa update from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. We've stretched this out so that we'd have an excuse to get in this air conditioned room three days running... We'll update Tanzania and Kenya at a later date because we're off tomorrow morning for Moshi to climb Kilimanjaro (or at least TRY to before altitude sickness beats us back down the volcano), Arusha to go to the Serengetti, Oldovai and Ngorogoro...and then to Kenya to see if we can get two weeks on the island of Lamu in the Indian Ocean before our flight to Cairo and on to Rome and the anticipated shock of 1st world life.

Malawi, Africa is marketed as "The Heart of Africa," and like Lonely Planet says, "For once the marketing is true." We absolutely loved Malawi; it was a heck of a lot more lush and greener than Zambia and Zimbabwe, covered in beautiful hills and mountain ranges, and then of course you have the lake: Lake Malawi is a breathtaking fresh water lake about the size of the entire California Valley - it's HUGE. Our goal from the moment we crossed into Malawi was to spend the majority of our time on, around and in the lake.

We began in Lilongwe - staying in a nice lodge trying to get used to the beautiful landscaping around the city and the clean and well kept streets and buildings. This was very unlike the cities we visited in Zambia and Zimbabwe. The concept of landscaping is something we first worlders have taken for granted, and after being without it for ahwile, you definitely notice it when it's around. It's very strange how something like landscaping can extract homesick/comforting emotions out of you...

Everywhere we go, we are able to find somewhat nice accomodations for about $3-$9 a night for the both of us combined. Meals usually go for about $1-$3 for more than can be eaten in one sitting. The African staple appears to be boiled corn meal resembling cooled Cream of Wheat (in Malawi they call it Nsima, in Zimbabwe it was Sadza, etc.) and served with chicken or fish and sauce. You roll the Nsima in a ball and dip it into the sauce. It's good, but not for every meal every day of the year. Outside of this selection, it can be very difficult to find additional choices to eat unless you're cooking yourself.

After getting our bearings and making a plan, we hooked up with two Canadians at our lodge who had just quit their jobs and were going to spend a year in the bush building and starting a private girls high school - and we decided to share a taxi to Monkey Bay (at the base of Lake Malawi) to save on costs. Paige wore the poor taxi driver down and got him to drive the four of us for about $19/per person (it was an eight hour drive), but that much money is probably more than most taxi drivers would make in a month. Before we took off, he had to stop by his house to let his wife know he would be gone all night...he drove through a bunch of dirt roads finally stopping in the middle of this one area and dashed off between the houses leaving four white people crammed in the back seat of this compact car with an entire 3rd world neighborhood of Africans to consider this new development in their community. We were the most exciting thing to happen in ages - all the kids came crowded around the car to stare and shyly laugh and hide when we smiled and talked to them. These are the moments that make everything about this trip worthwhile.

Back on the road - more African potholes alternating with dirt and gravel stretches, finally reaching Monkey Bay at 8pm. We were beseiged by locals trying to be our personal guide to help us with all our needs - it can be disconcerting even though you do soon realize that most do not have any ulterior motives except to help you. We tried 2 resthouses blaring loud music with beer flowing - but no room. We started to get worried, but sacked up and finally found another one down the road - one room left, did we want it? Definitely! The four of us crammed into this tiny prison cell with two sagging twin beds, the walls streaked with dried blood and other foreign substances...and we gladly paid the 20 Kwacha (about 48 cents total) divided by four. With our savings, we went out and bought enough beer to knock us out all night so the various screams, drunken sobs, loud music and Christian bellowing wouldn't keep us awake.

After that under our belts, we broke off from the Canadians and boarded the Ilala: a World War I boat still in commission that is the only passanger boat to travel up and back across Lake Malawi. We spent two days on the boat to finally get to Likoma Island near the boarder of Mozambique. Note to other travellers: bypass the cabins and only purchase first class tickets. The cabins are absolutely roach infested - every time we opened our door we saw no less than HUNDREDS of those not-so-little buggers scurrying for cover. They were even dropping from the ceiling on the beds. At one point in the night, we were both so shell shocked and afraid that we'd end up like that scene in Creepshow where the roaches overtake that guy, I woke with a start feeling something on my foot. I kicked out thinking I'd knock it off, then looked down...only to see that it wasn't a small roach on my foot, it was the 4 inch long antennaes of a giant roach feeling around for it's next victim. We spent the majority of time on the upper deck escaping these pitfalls, drinking some cold drinks and staying out of the relentless heat of the cabins. Also, eat the food from below deck - it's much better than the meals they serve for exorbitant amounts. OK, sorry, on with the rest of the story...

"African time" was again in play, and as a result our intended arrival time of 3pm Saturday afternoon was delayed to 2:30am Sunday morning. JOY. We were further enthralled when we realized that there was no "dock," no lights whatsoever, and we had no idea where to go. We battled our way past mamas and their babies to get onto shore, then threw down our packs in the sand and waited until sunrise. Once daylight broke, we walked about 40 minutes to the other side of the island to our beacon: Kaya Mawa. The name translates as "maybe tomorrow".

Kaya Mawa is a "resort" run by two British guys (25 and 29 years old) who have put it all together themselves. It's located on a private stretch of white sand beach - very tropical - with mango trees and huge boulders bordering the cove, and the unbelieveable aqua blue water as far as the eye can see. They have grass huts right on the beach for $7 a night with a bed and the sand as your floor. In the middle of the beach is their homemade bar underneath a massave mango tree with every kind of drink available and fantastic food three times a day. Likoma island is inhabited by about 6000 locals - no cars at all on the island, no doctor, and most importantly: no crime whatsoever. It really is paradise. We spent 2 weeks relaxing and reenergizing our souls, and spent a combined total average of about $20 a day - and believe me, you could easily do it a lot cheaper if you camped and cooked your own food. The only drawback for travellers is that the two Brits are very anal about you cooking your own food - they don't like it because then they can't make money off you - and they threaten the locals who sell travellers bread, eggs and fish. It can be ugly, but don't let it ruin your stay (so many people we met there were furious), be discrete and find ways around the problem.

We unfortunately came down with horrible sicknesses our first week there - initially we thought we both had contracted amoebic dissentry - but in our post analsis we have determined that Paige had a bad flu that was going around the island and I had contracted Giardia. Paige thinks hers was possibly giardia but it doesn't really matter when you have puked every ounce of fluid from 5 a.m to midnight and then have diarrhea again the next morning. We both took antiobitics to kill anything living in our systems, including all the good bacteria as well. We laid low for the week after to make sure we didn't pick up any new bugs since our immune systems had been flushed.

[Paige, here now.] Chris has done a great job with the linear but I have to ramble on in a more chaotic description of the events, smells, happenings, tramas. Africa is not a linear place. It's anything but. On my way over here to this air-conditioned haven/bubble, I absorbed the streets thinking, what should I tell my friends and family about a place that is so different from home. The radically funny juxtapositions of first world cast-offs: such as the donated American t-shirts people fashion from The Philadelphia Boys Club or Seattle Mariners or The Ann Arbor Soccer Club or the Japanese made minibuses with kanji characters and smiley faces from a Japanese elementary school that now serves hundreds of sweaty bodies commuting to the cities from their grass hut suburb villages. Only a very small part of the African populations live in cities. Women with huge baskets on their heads wearing a cheap Western silk shirt, wrapped by a beautiful African swatch of fabric as a skirt and possibly flip flops for shoes. Shoeless is the norm, even in the capitals. The smiles and greetings are gentle and curious, sometimes, scary. The bus touts are usually the only agressive salesmen. It's fun haggling over the fruits and vegetables or random items. Chris laughs every time he sees me diligently discussing the price of a piece of fruit and fighting tooth and nail over the equivalent of 5 cents. But they enjoy it as much as I. I am learning patience because African time is painful if you fight it. I seem to be fine when it's a 18 hours on a bus or 12-hour boat delay or 7 hour-train but long waits with a hungry stomach are grueling. Once we waited an hour and a half for a breakfast we ordered and then they told us the delay was because they had lost the electricity.

I think that'll have to do for now because I don't want our tales just to be a long description of dots on a map that mean nothing to you. From A to B to C. They are so far from just "dots on a map" to Chris and I so perhaps these emails are just condensed memory notations for ourselves.

From the traveling duo, Grizd and Fajita, aka Chris & Paige