Monthly Archives: April 2011

Moyale, in Kenya and in Ethiopia (KE/ET)

The call for prayer that we have been hearing pretty much since we entered Tanzania a while back was unusually early in the past mornings, around 4.40am. Sunrise is at 6. I have always enjoyed it though so this is not a complaint and often it coincides with my call of nature anyway.

Yesterday’s drive to Moyale, wich is the border town between Kenya and Ethiopia, was another draining 15 hour drive over gravel through the Dida Galgalu Desert with an armed escort. It’s a black shattered lava field with the occasional thorn tree. Surprisingly every once in a while we passed four to five huts and I wondered why people would pick this spot to live in, especially if they keep cattle. There was nothing green in sight.

Why do people choose to live here?

We arrived at 10 pm, much later than anticipated because the roads were so bad. I remember reading about this bit in “Dark Star Safari” and I wish I hadn’t given the book away.
Camp was set up for ‘a small donation’ (for some reason the campground wanted $15 per person) inside the police compound. We skipped dinner and I also skipped the toilets as they had at least 30 huge cockroaches crawling inside. At this point it’s second nature to me to hang my bare butt into the wilderness.

Toilets are hit and miss here anyway. In South Africa toilets were in good conditions but almost everywhere lacked locks. After 4 weeks there I gave up on even bothering locking them if I could. Traveling up we get locks but usually no toilet paper so we bring our own. In Malawi we came across great clean Western style toilets with paper and door locks but no running water for flushes or sinks. In Tanzania we encountered the first drop and squat toilets, usually a mix with western style toilets though. In Kenya it’s mostly the squat type or no toilet at all. At the border I got a key – for a squat toilet. Anyway, sanitizing spray becomes a good companion as there is usually no water to even wash your hands, and even then we will sanitize because it’s probably rain water.

Leaving the Kenyan side was fun, a posh and not crowded border post with plush seats and very friendly immigration guys. Unfortunately I wasn’t so lucky on the Ethiopian side. My visa is in the old passport and the immigration officer absolutely didn’t want to let me into the country no matter how much I argued that the Ethiopian embassy in Washington had ok-ed this beforehand. He was of the not listening after having asked a question kind and he just talked over me, the entire logic of still having matching documents with corresponding dates went out of the window, and the fact that all my personal details are the same in both passports and even my pictures pretty much look alike didn’t help.
Cat, our tour leader, tried everything but he wouldn’t have it. We sat down and let him process all other group members while coming up with alternatives between us. There was really only one: I would have to catch an overcrowded local bus back to Marsabit across the horrible desert road, and from there make my way to Nairobi. I could apply for a visa there (and just recently they changed the rules so they would send my passport to Germany for it which means I would be stuck in Nairobi for at least 2 weeks) or catch a flight to Addis Ababa in Ethiopia and hope that I get a visa directly at the airport. I was in no way keen on this option, days of traveling by myself on bad roads at additional cost, plus I had just changed all my Kenyan shillings into Ethiopian birr. I couldn’t just buy another visa right there either.
So we prepared to offer a bribe, call various embassies for help and even prepared sad scenarios that would trigger tears in case I would have to play the helpless vulnerable sweet girl that I am.
There was another officer in the room who was much more understanding and didn’t seem to have any interest in being an asshole but unfortunately he wasn’t the one in the uniform. Our problem officer waved blank pages of paper at us proclaiming that a visa on this paper wouldn’t be valid just because my name was written on it. Fair point but it didn’t get us anywhere.
After 2 hours Cat sent me out of the room and played the tour leader with responsibility for a female passenger card. She must have given one hell of a show. I just heard her yelling and then I saw the immigration guy frowning into a cell phone from which some official probably told him the same. In the end the friendly guy stamped me through, all smiles and welcomes, while the other one was seriously pissed at the situation. Evidently Cat had previously insulted them with the bribe offer.

So here I am, Ethiopia, with no idea if I will make it into the Sudan in 5 weeks. We will apply for the Sudanese visa in Addis Ababa and the passport situation could be a problem again. At least then I would have seen this country and I can take a tarmac road back to the next airport and fly to Egypt directly.


Due to the delay at the border the rest of the day didn’t quite go as expected. Instead of a lunch break we pulled right into the first and only city for miles to go shopping. However the supermarket was closed and we only got a bit of fruit at the market. We sat down at a local restaurant though and asked what they offered. The waiter asked what we wanted but since we didn’t know what was on the menu we just said yes to the first thing which turned out to be injera (the sour flat dough that is the basis for all meals. It looks like a huge pancake and can often be mistaken for the napkin. Having said that I haven’t seen napkins since I left Germany three months ago. Anyway, you tear off little pieces of injera and use it to pick up the rest of the food that is sitting on top of it) – with spaghetti on top. The group after us got goat and the one after that got chicken, all with the same order. They had run out of food with each order.
It was a messy meal given that you can only eat with your right hand and no utensils. We also had an audience though they got bored quickly.

After this very late lunch we only had 100km to go on gravel road and we managed to need 6 hours for it because we overshot by 60km. It was quite amazing that we missed the only right turn there was for miles considering that there was absolutely nothing to distract us. On the way back we asked some locals (usually shepards) where our destination, Konso, was and nobody seemed to know – or didn’t understand. Luckily we found it in the end and we were rewarded with a brand new hotel, 7 days old, our own rooms with western style bathrooms (still no toilet paper), power outlets to charge our cameras and ipods, and a bar that was still open. So my first impressions of Ethiopia… a very different place. Amazing how quickly things change when you cross the border. For one we now drive on the right side of the road again, the first time in 3 months. There are plenty of camels around. People no longer speak Swahili or English but Amharic which is both difficult to read or pronounce or even pick up basic expressions. It makes it hard to identify exactly what kind of shop you are looking at as all looks the same and it’s even stranger to communicate with anyone. People definitely see walking dollar signs in us, we attract a crowd wherever we go and the kids don’t wave and smile but yell “you you you” and “give me money” with outstretched hands and an attitude. We also heard the occasional “fuck off” already and I wonder if they learned that from white people who just had enough of the aggressive begging.
People also look different, they generally have hair in various styles (until now we’ve mostly seen shaved heads, definitely on all men) and it shows that the country is muslim. Many men wear the what we refer to as the ‘naughty nighty’ with skull caps and some women are covered head to toe. Obviously the hand me down from other countries tshirts are still omnipresent, according to his tshirt our local guide Dasta was a finalist in the Nashville women’s soccer league in 2004, and the waiter last night proclaimed in German that ‘sex makes you thin… come on, let’s get super skinny together’ (“Sex macht schlank…komm, lass uns knueppelduenn werden”).

More than ever we see men holding hands or walking around arm in arm which is ironic considering that in Ethiopia homosexuality is not only illegal but also gets prosecuted. Supposedly if people even suspect that someone may be gay there can be consequences; tourists have been thrown out of hotels for requesting a double bed etc.

The clock is different here, we are 7 calendar years behind and 6 am is midnight for the Ethiopians, 6 pm is noon.

We are heading into the Omo valley, a very remote place with absolutely no chance of internet or phone reception. Many different tribes live here and Dasta is determined to take us to cultural villages that are not mobbed by tourists. Already the tribes charge for having their picture taken.


The road to Marsabit (KE)

I was in the cook group today and it was a hectic start to a long day. The Chinese/American lady who is so helpful at everything turned out to be a disastrous event planner but she still insisted on taking the lead on directing us what to do. Unfortunately she also doesn’t listen to the questions you ask her and interrupts half way through to answer something completely unrelated. We were 30 minutes late, had some weird breakfast display and were completely unprepared for lunch on the bumpy road for which the idea was to have packed sandwiches.


We picked up two armed policemen as escorts for the long drive to Marsabit. The distance is only 150km but the road conditions are so bad (basically there is no road) that it took 8 hours. We could not stop for lunch and we had the guards because this is dangerous territory; bandits from Somalia are known to rob trucks or shoot at them.

Nothing that exciting happened today, but the drive was draining. It was so bumpy that we couldn’t do anything other than listen to ipods and be amazed by the landscape again. Nothing but rocks, red sand, thorn trees and blue sky again. We passed a total of 9 people, four of them kids who demanded our money or more specifically ‘2 pens’. Three trucks with cows at the bottom and too many people sitting on top drove by as well. By midday we came across what we thought was a fresh kill but turned out to be three discarded cows from the trucks, the cows probably died during the transport and were now skinned and half eaten by the 50 or so vultures plus a few jackals. A burning tire from a truck was nearby.

Vultures feasting on dead cows


When we finally arrived in Marsabit we had to go shopping first. Nobody knew of a supermarket although this is a reasonably big city so we wandered from market stall to market stall in search of bread, some fruit and vegetables. Of course we were once more the main attraction here although this place is much more modern than the Samburu cultural village of course. Some people even had motorbikes though I’m not sure where they would be going on these roads.

Marsabit shopping mile

We are staying at the JeyJey hotel which has the charme of a concentration camp. It’s basically a two story building with the most basic rooms you can imagine. It is advertised as “decent accommodation” as its main selling point. There is a “strictly prostitution not allowed” sign in each room. The city has had a power outage for over a month and no running water so during certain hours they get power via a generator and they catch rain water for boiling. When I took my shower an employee brought me a bucket of hot water and the sponge/rinse process worked pretty well. However there is only a total of one squat toilet for the entire hotel.


As I am catching up writing this blog with the remaining battery power I hear crawly things all around me. I just had a guy thoroughly check my room based on my fear of being locked in with a scorpion, something our guide recently went through. As soon as the guy disappeared empty handed I found a ginormous dung beetle in my bed. I screamed loud enough to have three guys come running. It was a bit embarrassing but dung beetles are seriously big and not a familiar sight in bedding.

Samburu National Park (KE)

Breakfast (our own food) among the villagers was a little less hectic as by now we were old news. Still, we had pretty much everyone watching us like zoo animals.
We took off early though with all the kids waving and running behind the truck for a bit, and then entered the beautiful Samburu National Park not far away.

Samburu is much smaller than other parks but the landscape is stunning. Red sand, rocks, thorn trees, blue sky, white clouds, the brown river…even some palm trees like proper oases. Our campsite was a bush camp, i.e. not fenced off. When we made lunch we watched an elephant stomp by on the other side of the river. By now the sight of this is normal to me…

My tent – and an elephant on the other side of the river

The truck was locked up apart from one window and sure enough a baboon helped himself to some food – a random collection: he took a bite out of a large avocado, stole macadamia nuts and an entire bag of wrapped mints. No interest in the apples, bananas or marshmallows right next to it evidently…


At the hot lunch hour we went to the only lodge in the park, a posh overpriced place that wanted to charge us 850 shillings per person for using the pool and the showers. We tried to cut a deal but couldn’t. Instead I paid 400 shillings to have my ipod and my camera charged, both had conveniently died when I needed them most of course. Later when I picked them up the place had had a power outage and I had to leave the stuff there overnight.

Our evening game drive was exciting because we followed three lionesses on the hunt. Surprisingly they didn’t let themselves be distracted by our truck. They patiently followed various impala around and later on zeroed in on a limping zebra. We were sure that we would see a live kill right here but the zebra got the word of danger from the birds (literally, they started chirping the minute the lions were close) and fled just as the first lioness started to run. I watched this from the roof seat of the truck (beer in hand) and it was like the Discovery channel in 3D.


Samburu has no rhinos, but plenty of the other animals, and even a different type of zebra, “Grevy’s zebra”. Their stripes are all vertical, narrower and go all the way down their legs. They have shorter necks, smaller bums, no pot bellies but rounder ears. Very cute.

Grevy’s zebra

Samburu also has the gerenuk antilope which looks like Bambi with a long neck. We first spotted their white bellies- they reach high into the trees for food and it looks like they just hang there from their mouths.
At night we saw a genet which looks like a cross between a house cat and a racoon. It’s small (cat size), slender, with a very long bushy tail and a cute face with mascara eyes.

It seemed quite tame…then again we were sitting in complete darkness apart from the fire, and the nocturnal animals could care less about people.

The genet is also the first pair of ‘eyes’ I encountered as I went for a quick pee at night. Pretty creepy when the eyes come closer and you haven’t seen the animal attached to it yet.

The by far creepiest animal was the sun spider. Three of them ran across the campsite in quick succession and everyone in the group put on their closed shoes. We first thought they were scorpions as they are pretty big and sturdy. Cat (our tour leader) ended up with one in her tent that night. I was having the creeps until late after that episode.


The entire time we were at the campsite we had two armed guides with us. We were not sure what for to be honest as they left us at night when protection is probably more crucial. We think these were self created jobs for tips. One of the guides, half my size, walked me to the lodge but sans gun. It would have been interesting to see him try to protect me from anything with his slingshot though I have no doubt that he could. I asked him if he would make scary faces at animals if he missed but his English wasn’t good enough so he just said yes without knowing why.

Samburu (KE)

In Samburu everything looks exactly like I expected Africa to look. The various movies like ‘Out of Africa’, ‘the Constant Gardener’ and ‘the English Patient’ come to mind.

We spent that day in a local village of the most basic kind. When we arrived the women who all wore traditional quilts and lots of jewellery danced and sang for us. Instantly hundreds of kids surrounded us and pulled us in all directions. The men are warriors and they wore red blankets and carried long sharp spears or clubs.

The village consisted of tiny straw huts, partially insulated by old clothes, and pens for goats and chickens that were made of the thorn bushes so common around here. Only 25-30 families live in each village, 6-8 people per hut, and the village is named after the chief. The village is in a round shape and it is protected by thorn bushes with openings for the bathroom trips – the bathroom obviously being the plain open field right behind them. I never saw a local use the bathroom and I didn’t see any toilet paper on the ground so I’m not sure what is used, if anything.

After the opening ceremony, i.e. bombardment of kids hanging from our necks, dancing women who put their heavy jewellery on us like Hawaiian leis
and the general amazement of our arrival in a place where apparently no white person has ever been before we were introduced to the warriors, i.e. the men in blankets and spears. One of them had studied English and tourism and he gave us the lowdown of their culture. We learnt a lot about donkey poop, for example how to make fire with it. The people in Samburu are herders primarily, they go out on the fields with their goats from an early age on. Like the massai the boys become warriors when they know how to make fire and they get circumcised in a bigger ceremony, however they can only get married at age 30 (girls at 16) and only to a girl from another clan in another village. Once a village is at capacity they can simply start a new village elsewhere. Most people in a village are related.

We were told that we could wash ourselves at the village and by that they meant a bath in the muddy Samburu river nearby. Men and women use separate river banks, just far enough from each other so that they can’t see details. As women we got to hang out with the kids here and there were plenty of them running around in the shallow brown water buttnaked and without any problems about the mzungus taking their pictures. There were a handful of semi-naked women of all ages washing themselves and a lot of clothes as well.

We were very welcome and it would have been impolite not to go into the water with them despite its murkiness. The women didn’t stare but the kids had a field day. The women however dove right into direct questions, i.e. do we have kids, why not, what’s wrong with us etc. I had met the main warriors mother earlier (“My name is Mary, you won’t forget me, will you?” – as in: …when you tip me tomorrow) and she proudly told me that she was lucky because had seven kids and definitely needs more. She looked like 50 but could have easily been younger given her track record. Her youngest daughter, age 7, adopted me from the second I arrived and for most of the day I walked hand in hand with her (not by my own initiative of course) and got smiled at adoringly every time I looked down. Nobody else had such a dedicated fan, kids really seem to know who’s the coolest person…

We spent about an hour at the river, the people there probably half a day given that there was not much else to do. From what I heard the boys in our group were challenged to naked mud wrestling which they declined but then had to watch the warriors doing it instead. As straight white men are everyone apart from the oldest person in our group was uncomfortable watching other men behave like kids and naked on top of that. Something about the old stereotype of black genitalia as well 🙂
Anyway, they all (but one, old folks have no shame) seemed really glad when they could leave the river bank again.


After we were now dirtier than when we arrived general chaos broke out because we unloaded the truck and tried to set up our tents. First there was the big kerfuffle where to put the tents. Not sure what that was about as there was only really one option but it somehow required input from the entire massai group. Then it got worse as some of them wanted to set the tents up for us and didn’t know how but also didn’t want to accept directions or polite advice. It was a major clusterfuck that should have been filmed for a documentary about culture clashes and general miscommunication. It didn’t help that at the time a dark cloud had settled right above us and suddenly dumped gallons of water onto us but only for the 15 minutes the tent setup needed.


The boys then challenged the kids to a game of soccer, 3 mzungus versus 100 kids…the outcome were a torn football and ripped pants, both victims to the thorny trees that seem to be the only vegetation that grows on this dry land. (We asked a massai why they didn’t set up their villages on more fertile land, answer: “Well, that’s just not our way”). The village women were selling the large jewellery and other stuff, the elders were watching, and every kid wanted their picture taken and shown to on the display. Our tour leader turned on the truck stereo and started a huge party with the official FIFA World Cup song by Shakira (“Waka waka… something”) that all the kids could sing even without the music. Suddenly everyone was dancing and there was even some grinding going on, some of the smallest kids knew all the moves.


When the sun went down a fire was made and we got a dance performance by the warriors that consisted of them jumping up and down and yelling a monotonous melody – frightening and fascinating at the same time. Soon the women came out and instructed us girls to join in – our move was to make the big necklaces rattle by shaking our cleavage. Each person got grabbed by a warrior and we jumped and skipped around the fire holding hands, regardless of man or woman. Then we turned towards each other, made unbroken eye contact and had the warriors continue their jumping and ‘singing’ with an additional head jerk towards us while we shook our cleavage in swift forward movements. More dancing around the fire…the whole thing may have lasted 10 minutes or so but we were sweaty and dizzy afterwards, it was very intense.

Jumping in progress


Dinner was prepared for us, someone who owned a motorbike (not all villagers are warriors) had to get the meat for it somewhere first. It consisted of spaghetti (!), beef stew, potatoes and onions, cole slaw and chipati (sp?) which is a flatbread.
It was pitch black outside and apart from the mzungus with their headlamps nobody had a light of any kind. It’s amazing how well people got around in the darkness for all the things familiar to them, however when it came to the dinner setup and the cleaning process they were completely helpless, obviously because they didn’t know how we wanted things to be done or what everything was that we handed them. Still, we can’t walk around barefoot because of scorpions or those nasty thorns and the locals do it all day and nothing happens.

We went to bed early as we do pretty much every day because once it’s dark there is really not much to do, and there’s no motivation to read or type etc. The village was dead at 8 which was probably late for them. People grabbed their kids and the baby animals and disappeared in their huts and we went into the tents. There were no interruptions at night. Each village has 6 people walking guard shifts at night to shoo off wild animals – with clubs and sticks, not even guns. It was my first night not using the bathroom so I never met them.

Easter Monday at the caves (KE)

Since we’re not actually climbing Mount Kenya and the horseriding or fishing options seemed a bit insignificant a bunch of us took a 7 km walk to ‘the caves’. The caves turned out to be one leftover crater of sorts with modern grafitti on its walls and a picturesque waterfall next to it which should really be the main attraction. The caves had been bombed by the British after World War 2, though the guide didn’t really explain why.

The most interesting part of the walk was talking to a bunch of Kenyans who came with us as part of their long weekend vacation away from Nairobi. While we mzungus were overequipped with backpacks full of rain gear, lunch and first aid kits these guys simply wore their regular jeans, flip flops and didn’t even bring water along.

We came across an elephant on the way, our guide had mentioned that sometimes the walk cannot be continued because the bush elephants are extremely aggressive. This elephant had enormous tusks but didn’t seem to be too bothered by us.

Mount Kenya (KE)

We crossed the Equator about 8 times today on the way to Naru Moru by Mount Kenya. The weren’t big plaques or pompous street signs to announce this, only small rusty plates, and we didn’t even stop to take pictures. The road went along the Equator line, hence the frequent crossings.

Along the road we had nice views of the Rift Valley which stretches from Mozambique up to Egypt. We stopped for some pictures and a bathroom break but were soon hassled by vendors who set up their stalls right by the best viewpoints and who won’t take no for an answer. You can have a very determined walk towards the drop toilet nearby and yet they act as if your sole purpose on this fast march is to buy an ivory chess set or three,  and you specifically sought out the vendor closest to the bog. They will follow you back to the truck and hold their items up so you can still buy them from the stairs or through the closed window since surely that was your intention all along.


Naru Moru is the base point for climbing Mount Kenya which we won’t do. We climbed the miniature mold of it instead.

It was Easter Sunday and there was a celebration of sorts going on on the lawn behind the lodge and campground where we set up. In hopes to kill a few hours Kris and I headed over only to be greeted by Michael Bolton’s Greatest Hits over the speakers. It seemed to fit, especially when the Christmas song came on. There were a bunch of Kenyan families spread out over the lawn and when I say spread out I mean they couldn’t be further away from each other. All kids were well behaved, none of them were playing, running around or even making a peep. The families seemed to just sit there and drink a beer or eat something from the restaurant but there was absolutely no atmosphere to speak of. It should have been like in a park, but it was just silent apart from the music. There was also a lake in which you could reportedly fish or take a boat tour, but it was more of a pond and the boat tour couldn’t have taken more than 3 minutes to get around once. For this you needed to ‘hire a pilot’.
There were two rusty merry-go-rounds that were not engine-operated, a small kid sat in the bigger version and a lodge employee grabbed a seat and ran around in a circle to make the thing turn. You could do 10 minute ‘adventure horserides’ which involved someone slowly dragging a reluctant pony across the lawn among the families. A suited man walked around with a digital camera and a handwritten sign “instant picture – 5 minutes” but found no customers. It was all very entertaining but even with a beer we could only kill thirty minutes and we left when the second christmas song came on.


Our dinner, another gourmet gem, was chicken with sesame peanut sauce and a chicken broth we made from scratch beforehand – bless the Chinese cuisine and even more so the Chinese passenger. At least now I can get fat in style.


We went to bed to the sound of screaming baboons. They had already been annoying us all day by appearing the second food appeared and they conveniently helped themselves to Annie’s toiletries and her binoculars for which they opened her tent when nobody was looking. A lodge employee on a horse ran after them for an hour to get the stuff back.
We also heard elephants trumpeting and hyenas making their whooping sound all night.

Nakuru National Park (KE)

Last night we arrived at Nakuru, Kenya’s 4th biggest city. We will stay at the campsite on a farm for two nights. Our previous cook, Mash, lives here and visited us along with two other cooks Dragoman uses. They whipped up a traditional dinner for us while grinding to cheesy lovesongs by Enrique Iglesias and Celine Dion. All African cooks seem to love those awful songs, and not even with a hint of irony.

Cooks grinding to Bob Marley

Mash had contracted malaria on the last night of our previous tour which brings the sick passenger count up to four. I heard they had another patient on the next tour on the first day already, and Dave is still waiting for his test results from Nairobi hospital after now 2 weeks. Unbelievable.

I was feeling a bit under the weather that night as well, I started freezing and I actually used the thermals I brought. Aside from my meds they were the last things I hadn’t used yet, yay! Nothing packed that I didn’t need, and nothing forgotten either. Some Pepto Bismol and Alka Seltzer came handy the following day and whatever it was that got me down was beaten promptly over the course of the next day.

Every campsite has a minimum of two dogs, this one had at least five, and one of them was a Great Dane named Obelix. He was a beautiful Harlequin almost as tall as Reykjavik and he became my best friend after I gave him the belly rub of his lifetime (and parts of my dinner). He made the entire stay there even better.

On Saturday we took jeeps to Nakuru National Park for an all day game drive. I hadn’t eaten breakfast and I only brought one sandwich and an apple in case I could eat later but some vervet monkeys relieved me of that as well when I was using the bathroom and my jeepmates didn’t close the door behind them. Great scene, I came back to an open backpack with pieces of carrots and cucumbers smeared on my seat, other than that no sign of food – or unlawful entry for that matter. Luckily the Chinese lady who loves to just think for everyone and do all the work if you don’t stop her had brought an extra sandwich just in case.

The game drive was successful as usual, however as passengers our jeep must have felt pretty comatose to the driver. All the members from the old group were in it and we had all already been on multiple game drives so we didn’t feel the need to have our eyes peeled or get excited about zebras in the distance. It was definitely not a waste of time though even if we saw nothing we hadn’t seen before. Actually we did stop at the lake where huge flocks of pelicans and flamingos were taking up the entire shore. Those pelicans were big, and it was fun to watch them fly and land in the water among the others – clumsily but also with precision if that makes sense.


The park is Africa’s best place to spot rhinos and we saw 7, both black and white rhinos, and even a baby. We also came across two male lions – supposedly a first in the park (as in they exist but are never seen). There were plenty of warthogs, baboons, zebra, giraffes, gazelles, hippos, impala, reedbucks, marabous, guinea fowl, etc. It’s pretty cool when you can say that these are practically part of your daily sightings. Clearly I’ve forgotten that I’m on a vacation with an end date.

In the evening our driver and a passenger cooked again (from now on it’s supposed to be the passengers who cook), we had grilled goat and a mango-chili salad, and again it became obvious that on this trip we will eat better and healthier than on the previous leg. Who says British men can’t cook?