Updates from Uganda: month two - magic figs

The dry season is squeezing the life out of everything here. The Mugiri River has turned into nothing more than a trickle, soon it will be a purposeless sand filled channel. The trees have shed their leaves and carelessly laid an extensive brittle brown carpet at their feet. Crunchy leaf litter completely conceals the forest floor and fills our gumboots as we wade through it. It’s impossible to hear over the loud crunch and crackle of our footsteps on the trail. The dusty paths, once well worn, appear now to be vacant of activity and are easily misplaced under the piles of dried foliage. And it seems that not a single tree or shrub is producing fruit. There is absolutely nothing to eat in the entire forest, that is, except for some well hidden, magic fig trees. 

Sweet, ripe, juicy figs, who doesn’t love them? In a famished forest lacking a reliable food supply, a fruiting fig is a miraculous discovery. I’ve never understood how fig trees work; they seem to produce only when they feel up to it. Every other fruiting tree has their season but figs are finicky and unpredictable, but that typically means at least one is always fruiting. I spent the last month seeking out fabled places where endless supplies of round sticky fruits are plentiful, even in the driest of times (and it wasn’t all that difficult, most of the figs were already mapped in my gps unit…). It seemed like my best plan of attack and the key to finding hungry chimps. I gazed up into the huge yellow barked trees and begged them to produce a crop. I stared at tiny young fruits and willed them to grow big and pleaded with them to pack themselves full of nutrients. I parked myself patiently under many figs and just waited for hours, day after day, but no one else ever came to join me. Until finally one day I found a solitary, hardworking fig tree, standing high on the escarpment. It was alone, there were no other figs around, but it wasn’t all that lonely. It was quite popular; its branches full of life. This was a completely different scene from the dry dusty forest below; in fact, it was a paradise for those lucky creatures who stumbled upon it. I found baboons bouncing around with mouths overflowing, noisy black and white hornbills chasing each other with their casqued bills full, three different kinds and colors of turacos darting around eating plump green figs, and blue monkeys so high in the branches I nearly overlooked them. The part that caught my attention immediately though, was the village of nests surrounding the fig. 

Chimpanzees make nightly nests. They sleep high above the ground in a pile of leaves carefully formed into a bed. They lace and weave branches together to build a platform and place soft leaves and twigs on top to make a mattress. It’s a technique that they are taught by their mothers. Young chimps sleep in the same nest as their mom until they are old enough to start building one of their own. I’ve seen a handful of adult sized nests accompanied by teeny tiny ones no more than an arm’s reach away. I imagine they were the attempts at nest making by some toddler. Maybe someday I’ll get a chance to observe chimps in action assembling their nightly nests, but for now I just gaze up into the empty beds and try to imagine how many nights ago they were occupied.

For being really nothing more than a pile of sticks and leaves the nests are sturdy and structurally sound, many with a triangle shaped base made from bent branches. It’s not a bed I am going to tuck into but a couple of years ago one researcher in Senegal actually spent multiple nights sleeping in nests that were constructed by chimpanzees. She was equipped with data-logging thermometers strapped to her and a tape recorder in hand to record her thoughts in the middle of the night, and she even counted the insect bites she acquired. She then compared her nights high in the trees to those spent unprotected on the ground. She was trying to answer that same old question: why? The commonly accepted theories include: thermoregulation, predator avoidance, anti-parasitism, and sleep quality. She found that they all probably held some weight.

In a half circle surrounding the fig were more than a dozen nests, the most I have ever seen in one place. All but two appeared to have been constructed in the past few days, some even the previous evening. It took us the rest of that day to take all the necessary measurements and data, but no hungry chimps returned to feed. Early the next morning we were on our way back. I could barely contain my excitement. Would they be there? How could they resist? Unfortunately, we had a long strenuous climb up the escarpment to reach our destination. My enthusiasm slightly dissipated as I thought about the sweat soaked trek ahead of us. It would take us nearly two hours to reach our target: the magic fig full of apes. 

Sure enough, they were there, that was obvious immediately. How many, I wasn’t sure. Our vantage point was hardly worth the trouble. The only way for us to approach the tree was from below, it was precipitously perched high on a steep crumbly slope and we were on a trail in a valley some 50 meters below. I managed to count five females and some offspring, at least one infant and a juvenile. But within a few minutes they were all gone. Clearly, they didn’t appreciate our presence. They left the fig one by one, plopping down to the ground, travelling in a single file line up the escarpment. They moved along a chimp trail too steep for their bipedal cousins so we reluctantly tried to follow along on the trail below. Eventually we reached a point where their trail crossed ours and we waited. Unbeknownst to us, they stopped in the cover of some shrubbery and lost us. We continued huffing and puffing up the hill and they doubled back to the fig to stuff their faces some more. Bamboozled and oblivious we sat for some time. When our impatience finally got the better of us we returned to the sight of all the action. The group hung around for another 10 minutes or so, but the entire time they had their eyes on us. I felt the untrusting glare of a wary pregnant female, her belly stretched to fit the baby chimp inside and her nipples swollen ready to nurse it when it emerged. She kept her gaze fixed on me, but still never skipped a beat packing tasty figs into her cheeks. When they’d had enough, they headed up the hill where they were swallowed up by the savanna. 

The next morning we made the same trek back to the mecca fig. This time we found two chimps, a lone female and her tiny infant. They too didn’t stay for long. The hours of observations I dreamt about were not going to happen this month. Females with young are difficult to follow I’m learning. While the female turned her back to us and groomed herself, the unattended little chimp bounced around along the giant zigzagged arms of the tree. Those few minutes made the four hour roundtrip hike worth all the trouble. 

Since then I’ve found two more magic figs, side by side along the virtually nonexistent river. It seems my words of encouragement are helping and their massive clumps of green fruits are ripening to sweet pink clusters. The hornbills have started to arrive; I'm just waiting for the chimps now.

Cheers from the forest,

Corey

Updates from Uganda: month one – chimps 1, chimpers 0

The chimps successfully evaded me nearly all month. In my first week I managed to locate a handful of them and spent about an hour patiently watching their backsides as they rested and groomed in a dense thicket. Then, without warning, they silently disappeared…for the remainder of the month. On a couple of other occasions I momentarily encountered a lone male or a female with a young infant but they didn’t share my excitement in locating them and bolted. Even so, every morning I get up before the sun and head off into the forest for another hopeful day of searching and hiking in the jungle. It’s sort of like waking up and going on a nature walk, only with elephants and an armed guard.

I’m accompanied on my adventures by the Uganda Wildlife Authority ranger assigned to Mugiri Camp for the week. Some of the rangers are very helpful, know the trails, and have helped researchers here or in Kibale. Other rangers believe they are present only to protect me, but when they hide behind me as we watch a herd of buffalo cross the trail ahead and when I know the forest better after only being here for a few weeks I start to wonder who’s protecting who. I spend each day walking the trails on the lookout for the large dark-haired apes I’ve been charged with studying, collecting their dung, describing their nests, tracking their knuckle prints, and listening to their pant hoots, all with the hope that it will lead me to them eventually. It’s hard to believe that an animal that is nearly the same size as me can go undetected, but believe me they can, they’ve walked right by me and I had no clue.

I was completely doubled over, right hand in a plastic bag about to grab a fresh steamy pile of chimp poo, left hand on the GPS trying to figure out where exactly we were, when it happened. A female with an infant riding on her back and a juvenile in tow walked up the trail and just before making the bend and running right into us, they saw us, changed trajectory, and vanished into the undergrowth. I completely missed the entire event and would never have known except that Shem, the ranger, who wasn’t digging in excrement, watched it unfold. It happened so fast that by the time he formed the words to tell me all I could do was stand there holding up my poop prize and look at him dumbfounded.

The other wildlife in the forest have been doing an outstanding job of compensating for the lack of chimp sightings though. There have been leopard prints at our river crossings, genets quarrelling outside my tent at night, gerbils living in the outhouse, baboons playing and frolicking near my porch, and creatures I never knew existed, like Alexander’s cusimanse, surprising us in the forest. And I nearly stepped on a young Ugandan kob my first time walking through the savanna. The kob are striking, golden colored ungulates that are finally making a comeback in the reserve after being poached heavily during the years of Idi Amin in the 70’s, the Ugandan-Tanzanian war in 1978 and 1979, as well as after and presently. In the 60’s their population flourished and it’s estimated that there were 20,000 in this 550 square kilometer protected area, but after all the conflict and rampant poaching pressure the population had dropped to a disheartening 2000 individuals. Those same events completely wiped out the Jackson’s hartebeest here as well. Luckily for the kob, the reserve and their population were not past saving and in the early 90’s the Uganda Wildlife Authority made a commitment to do so. They are now thriving.

Uganda kob in the reserve

Walking through the savanna’s tall grass can be daunting, the angry equatorial sun scorches into you, patches of vegetation swallow up your lower body, unseen creatures rustle and scurry away underfoot, and the vast open landscape can leave you feeling vulnerable and exposed. Every time we emerge from the dark dense cloak of the forest into the blinding heat of the savanna I want to turn and slink right back in. There is a constant loop of terror that plays in my mind: big snakes, lions, hyenas, buffalo, elephants, fear, fear, fear, I am going to be eaten, trampled, bitten, big snakes... I can understand why the chimps seem so nervous when they are encountered in this habitat, there’s nowhere to escape to. So when the ferocious, caramel-colored beast sprung up from where I was about to place my foot, naturally I screamed at the top of my lungs in absolute horror expecting it was about to rip me to shreds. When I realized it was a fuzzy, harmless, young antelope and it was probably thinking the same thing about the evil, bipedal monster about to obliterate it with big rubber soles I was slightly embarrassed.

I was given quite an introduction to the more destructive and dangerous members of the Semliki forest community on my very first day of work. Unlike the chimps, the elephants have a difficult time moving through the forest undetected; they leave a very obvious trail of mini craters in their wake, colossal mountains of dung, as well as broken limbs and lifeless trampled trees, and they destroy our bridges – they appear to strategically smack our carefully placed handrails down and demolish the sticks that hold them in place seemingly out of spite.

Elephant crater

We could hear them on the other side of the river on our way out to the escarpment so we paused on the trail and watched the trees rattle, shake, crack, and break and finally an enormous forest elephant came into the clearing. It was exhilarating; I’ve seen elephants before but usually from the perceived safety of an automobile, not on foot. The river was between us, we were quiet, and they didn’t seem to notice us but still my heart was racing. We left them and their prehensile trunks behind stripping bark from trees at the river and continued on our way up the escarpment to search for the chimps. My heart was soon pounding again but this time it was due to the strenuous climb up the steep sides of the valley. Finding nothing but a few nests we turned around and were headed back by early afternoon. Unbeknownst to us, the herd of elephants had made their way across the river while we were gone and were wreaking havoc in the forest just off the trail we were coming down. We didn’t hear the first one until we passed it and at that point realized we had inadvertently walked right into the middle of the group. We suddenly noticed there were multiple mammoth figures immediately to our left.  Just then, an enormous elephant came out onto the trail about 15 meters in front of us and turned its tusked head to look in our direction. That one look did it for me; I want to stay far away from the elephants. We scrambled through some vegetation as fast as we could, jumped the river, and left them to their destructive foraging. I managed to regain my composure as we continued the walk back to camp, but only just in time for us to spook a buffalo alongside the trail. At that point I nearly fainted.

We ran into the elephants over the next few days and were forced to reroute our travel but since then haven’t seen or heard much from them, which is fine by me. After that first day I was wondering how I would survive six months of being bullied and harassed by impatient and irritable pachyderms. But the bullies have moved on for now.

Cheers from the forest,

Corey

Updates from Uganda: A new year, a new job, and a new primate

Last year I celebrated New Year’s Eve on the island of Zanzibar in Tanzania amongst a great group of friends. We enjoyed a delicious dinner, some drinks, good company, and celebrated the passing of 2011 and coming of 2012 from the rooftop of our hotel in Stonetown. This New Years, I was back on the same continent, just a few countries to the north. The New Year found me waiting in line for a visa to gain entry into Uganda. But before I get too far let me rewind and provide a backstory about how I came to find myself in that visa line.

Three and a half years ago I was contacted about a chimpanzee project in Uganda. Working with chimps has always been something I have dreamed of doing. At the time I had recently returned from working on the blue monkey project Kenya. I decided that if I was going to do it, it would be best to return to Africa before too much time had passed and before I completely re-assimilated into a life with refrigeration, reliably fast internet, and instant gratification. In the end, a German woman who studied bonobos in Congo wound up getting the job and I didn’t. Such is life. 

A few months later Jake and I met somewhere out in the Mojave Desert and I quickly forgot about chimpanzees and the jungles of Uganda. My life went in a direction I never thought it would; I left the Midwest for the Southwest, traded primates and jungles for tortoises and deserts, and found the perfect partner to join in my crazy adventures. Well, six months ago the same job found me once again, this time in a different place, both in life and location. They needed someone to join the project immediately for a period of six months. At one point in my life I was able to just drop everything and run off to live in another country without much thought or planning. Unfortunately, it’s not so easy anymore; I suppose that means I’m an adult now. Jake and I were about to purchase a house, I had work commitments lined up for the fall, and was to be the maid of honor in my best friend’s wedding that September. I knew I had to say no, but I couldn’t stop thinking about chimps, living in Africa again, being able to do it over, this time with Jake. So that’s how I got here, the seed was planted, sat dormant for years, and recently it started to grow. We decided that with enough prior notice we could make it work. So this fall Jake and I signed on to the chimp project for six months set to begin in early 2013. I blazed the trail and arrived just minutes before the New Year, while Jake is set join me and the chimps in Uganda this March.

When 2013 hit I had just passed my passport off to the immigration official and without changing tone or looking up at me he said with one breath, “how long will you be in the country, happy New Year.” I never understand why, no matter where you are the people behind the visa counter are always unnecessarily unfriendly. I smiled and replied; he stamped it and placed it back on the counter without once looking up. 

The rest of Entebbe and Kampala made up for the immigration department’s lack of enthusiasm for the New Year. The streets were packed with people. My taxi driver had to dodge drunkards left and right on the way to the hotel. When we finally reached my hotel in downtown Kampala at 1:30 am the party on the streets was still going strong. It continued all night long. I was directly off the street and even my ear plugs couldn’t stop the celebrations. Early the next morning when I emerged from the hotel everyone had disappeared. The entire city was a ghost town. Not a single shop on the street was open. I passed only two people on what would normally be a very busy street. I knew it was a holiday but where could all those people possibly have gone so quickly? They were just here, outside my window, screaming and yelling. I kind of felt lonely and longed to be surrounded by those people who just hours ago I was cursing. The lack of open businesses did not stop me from accomplishing the one thing I needed to do though: find a quiet and quaint guesthouse and get some sleep. Shortly thereafter, I checked into my new room and slept for the next 15 hours. When I woke up the following morning the sun was shining, exotic birds were singing, and I was just in time for breakfast.

Before proceeding to the reserve and the chimps, I had to meet with the director of monitoring and research at the Ugandan Wildlife Authority. Still a bit shaken from being transplanted in a new country I was nervous and uneasy. They had the final say as to whether or not I would be allowed to stay in Uganda and work as a researcher. We contacted them beforehand, submitted all the necessary paperwork, but never received a response, which is pretty typical. As soon as I introduced myself my letter was produced, I paid my fees (which were a bit higher than expected), and was on my way. I couldn’t help but wonder if they ever reject anyone after they have arrived. That would really suck. I quickly shook that thought from my mind. 

The very next morning I made the arduous but necessary bus journey from Kampala to Fort Portal. We passed a bus along the way and at the time it was right side up but I could tell from all the broken windows and looks of horror on my fellow passengers faces that shortly beforehand it was not. At that point I, along with many other people, double checked to make sure my seat belt was fastened securely. Six hours later I was met in Fort Portal by a short smiling Ugandan man wearing an Indiana University t-shirt. Moses has been working on the project for years and he is currently the camp manager, cook, and staff comedian. My bus arrived a few hours late and we were running short on time so we did a whirlwind shopping tour, sorted out some insurance business for the car we hope to pick up next time we make it to town, and headed for the reserve.

It was 9:30 pm by the time we reached the guest lodge in the reserve. I had dozed off and completely missed the entire 70 some km drive, except for the moment the car swerved and jerked to avoid the giant Nile monitor lizard stretched across the road. At the lodge Moses frantically searched for one of the staff to let us in so we could store our freshly butchered meat in the fridge. Knowing that our camp wasn't equipped with such frivolous appliances, I was kind of wondering what we were going to do with 7 kg of raw meat when we bought it in the market, but I just went with it. A fridge in the bush in Africa is hard to come by, but for a lodge that charges over $400 a night for a single room it is a necessity. Someone was finally roused from the staff quarters and they opened the door and gave us access to the fridge. The staff, who have been having a grand time poking fun at the chimp camp for lacking a vehicle, reveled in informing us that our puny insignificant taxi wasn’t going to make it the final 3 km to camp and then begrudgingly offered to give us and our load a lift. Apparently, the road was a mess due to recent rains. My overweight bags and all of our shopping minus the meat were unloaded and reloaded into the lodge’s open safari vehicle and we took off down the muddy track to camp in the dark. We were slipping and sliding, smacking the tall grass as we went, and flushing nightjars along the way. One of the birds flew up from the side of the vehicle and hit me right in the arm. Everyone got a good laugh out of that. I’m taking it as a good luck sign and am hoping that the bird, like me, was not injured.

Upon arrival at Mugiri camp I was thrown directly into the work of chimping. The first few days were spent battling jet lag, learning the trails, getting to know the staff, unsuccessfully searching for chimps, avoiding elephants in the forest, and mainly figuring things out on the fly because the researcher I was scheduled to replace quit the project back in October. The amount of emotions I have felt since arriving have left my body exhausted and my mind confused! There is so much going on, so much to learn and absorb, so many things to be cognizant of and avoid, and months of records to go over and data to enter from the interim in researchers. It’s all very exciting and terrifying and soon it will just be normal day to day life for me. That’s what I love about life here, you are quickly and forcefully thrown out of your comfort zone and once you accept that you end up surprising yourself and enjoying every minute of it. 

Hopefully soon there will actually be stories of chimps to share! 

By the way, National Geographic named Uganda as one of the top tourism destinations for 2013 and we happen to have room for visitors at Mugiri camp...

Happy New Year from the Pearl of Africa,

Corey

Updates from Africa: Turkey via Nairobi

This update is long overdue, jet lag and the joy of being home got in the way. Really, I was going to skip it but my mom assures me that you are all out there eagerly awaiting my final installment of our African adventure. So here it is:

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The day we flew out of Madagascar there was an overwhelming amount of excitement buzzing around the airport in Tana. The exiled ex-president’s wife, Lalao Ravolomanana, was planning on returning to Madagascar from South Africa. The ex-president, Marc Ravolomanana, and his wife were denied entry into the country earlier that month when the South African Airways flight they were aboard was forced to turnaround midair and return to mainland Africa. All major airports in Madagascar were shut down by the current president and the plane couldn't land. Marc Ravolomanana's presidency was overthrown in 2009 and he fled to Swaziland. He was later sentenced in absentia to life in prison and hard labor for the killing of 30 protesters by his guards after they stormed his office in Tana earlier that year. He hasn't been allowed back since. 

When we arrived at the airport on February 4th there were mobs of supporters with flowers and signs displaying the former first lady's picture waiting to welcome her home. Airport security was on high alert checking every car and requesting proof of tickets to enter the parking lot. Luckily, our flight left for Nairobi long before hers was due to land and we escaped without conflict. In the end, it turns out they forbid her from boarding plane in Johannesburg by orders from the Transport Ministry of Madagascar. 

We had a few days in Nairobi before leaving Africa behind. It was a relief to be back in an English speaking country, we could successfully communicate with people once again! We spent our last few days in Kenya feasting on my favorite local foods - sukuma wiki, ugali, and goat meat - and we made a couple more visits to my favorite Ethiopian restaurant. When we were in Kakamega back in December Jake became fast friends with Evans and Titus, the bird researchers working on the banding study. When he's not in the field Titus works at the Nairobi National Museum and we were able to meet up with him. He picked us up in his brother's vintage Toyota Landcruiser and we toured Nairobi National Park. We saw eight different black rhinos in the span of a couple hours. Black rhinos are critically endangered and difficult if not impossible to see in many other parks, but Nairobi NP houses a high density of these enormous prehistoric folivores. The next day we visited Titus at the Nairobi National Museum and got a behind the scenes tour of the immense bird collection and even a caught glimpse of some of the type specimens that were used to describe species we saw while on safari. The strong smell of the chemicals used for preservation seeped into our sinuses and made our heads pound; we fought as long as we could stand it but an hour and a half and probably a few brain cells later we gave in and left.

Before returning to the land of malaria free mosquitoes and parasite free people I thought it would be a good idea to visit an expert for a checkup. Conveniently, there was a tropical medicine specialist down the road from our guesthouse. I had an infection on my leg that needed attention and a mild case of food poisoning but as far as they could tell I am parasite free and good to go! The doctor also recommended that I eat more beef and goat...Jake was shocked and somewhat disappointed that he wasn't handed that prescription. Then that night we waved goodbye to Africa and boarded a flight to Istanbul, Turkey.

The country of Turkey straddles two different continents, Europe and Asia. Obviously, Africa isn't one of those, but if we hadn't gone to Africa we would have never ended up in Turkey (on this trip anyway). We threw in this part of the trip without much thought while booking our flight on Turkish Airlines; for an extra $20 we were able to extend our layover from 2 hours to 6 days. What the heck, why not? And if you know my mom, you know that it didn’t take much to convince her to meet us there. 

Arriving in snow covered Istanbul in a sleep deprived trance after two months’ time in African was surreal enough, being greeted by my mom at the door of the hostel was too much to handle. Traveling can be so strange sometimes; you can completely loose sense of time, place, and even self. This transition was definitely strange. A couple of cappuccinos and bean bags in a hookah lounge somehow seemed to help. Soon after, the three of us layered on our jackets and explored Istanbul’s Sultanahmet district.

Istanbul is an enormous city and one of two bi-continental cities in Turkey. We based ourselves on the European side. Asian Istanbul is only a hop, skip, and a jump across the Bosphorus Strait. It was so cold the week we were there that we didn't stray too far from our hostel much less venture to Asia, even if it was just a boat ride away. Luckily, our hostel was centrally located and we didn’t have to stray far for history, hand woven carpets, and hot tasty food. The Sultan Ahmed Mosque, more popularly known as the Blue Mosque, and the Hagia Sohpia were right out our back door. We literally had to pass between them both to get anywhere. The Blue Mosque is named for the blue tiles that line its interior walls. It is said the Sultan actually forbid the sale of blue tiles to anyone while the mosque was under construction from 1609 to 1616. He wanted them all for himself. The mosque is an incredible building (the architect aimed for overwhelming size and achieved it), as is its nearby rival, the Hagia Sophia.

Just beyond both buildings lies a street we came to call baklava alley. Shop after shop offers the sweet sticky honey soaked desserts and strange marshmallow like candies called Turkish delights. We never passed without trying a few. Silence usually ensued after we left those shops, our molars were glued together temporarily with sweet sugary sap. Beyond baklava alley are rows of kebab shops and restaurants that lead the way to the bustling Grand Bazaar. The Grand Bazaar is one of the oldest and largest covered markets in the world and it’s unbelievably overwhelming and easy to get lost within. Fifty-eight covered streets that can be accessed from 22 different entrances wind their way around more than 4000 shops all offering more or less the same things. Turkish men yell at you in the language they perceive you speak, people herd you into shops and smother you with scarfs, everyone thinks they have just want you need. You can spend your Turkish lira on  hand woven carpets, whirling dervish decorations, olive bowls, Turkish tea sets, costume jewelry, or scarfs not approved by CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora). Shatoosh scarfs are made from the soft wool of the endangered chiru or Tibetan antelope. These alpine steppe dwelling animals cannot be domesticated and are hunted in order to harvest their highly prized wool. Their numbers have drastically decreased because of the demand for the fine precious hair used to weave these scarfs. Every scarf store has a pile of these tucked away and will pull them out upon request. They are exquisite and beautiful but I’m certain the chiru themselves are more majestic than a scarf could ever be.

My mom and I decided to partake in a hamam or Tukish bath experience; Jake took this as his opportunity to get out of town and go on a birding excursion with a local guide. Due the lack of clothing inside the hamam, the baths are separated into male and female sections. The inner portion of the bathhouse is one large marble room with many spigots that pour out scolding water. These taps are placed at intervals around the walls and topless Turkish ladies sit next to them and pour water over themselves. There is a sauna room and a very cold deep pool on opposite sides of the bathhouse. We visited a traditional hamam instead of the spa like tourist baths near the Grand Bazar and from the very beginning we were lost. No one spoke English or provided instructions so we sat in the sauna until we could no longer breathe, then we just lingered near the spigots and poured warm water on ourselves in an attempt to imitate the Turkish patrons. Eventually, I guess it was our turn and we were taken to the giant raised soap slathered marble slap and had our skin rubbed raw by a Turkish woman wearing really nothing more than the blue jean like mitten she used for scrubbing. Next we were drenched in bubbles, massaged and scrubbed clean. It was an interesting experience and maybe if I didn’t have stinging soap in my eyes the whole time I would have enjoyed it a bit more.

The bitter cold winds blown off the Sea of Marmara and the wet snow didn’t stop us from having a good time in Istanbul. We returned multiple times for the warm comfort of those cappuccinos and beanbags in the hookah lounge where we gathered ourselves that first day. We soaked in some history, my mom bought a hand woven carpet purse, and we consumed delicious hot food for six straight days. Nine weeks, six countries, and three continents later we returned home. We are still trying to process the incredible, overwhelming, nearly problem free (one stolen wallet, some food poisoning, etc), one in a lifetime adventure we just lived and experienced.

Happy trails from home,

Corey and Jake

Updates from Africa: Madagascar part 2, Tana to Toilara

Antananarivo (Tana for short), the capital city of Madagascar, straddles a dozen or so hills high on the central plateau. Colorful houses dot the hillside and antique Renaults serving as taxis clog up the narrow roads with noise and exhaust. The reconstructed Queen's palace (it was destroyed by an act of arson in 1995) sits high on a hill commanding absolute attention and overseeing all the activity. Comically obnoxious Hollywood-esque letters advertise the city's name on the steep slope side below. There are zebu-carts running down dirt roads and green rice paddies farmed by families who live on less than $2 a day. All this is within walking distance of luxurious hotels where well dressed businesspeople drink and enjoy fancy French cuisine.

Starting from Tana the well traveled and popular Route Nationale 7 starts heading south along the central plateau. It winds its way through the highlands eventually turning southwest and dropping down before ending in the coastal town of Toliara. The whole trip is 799 km one way without side trips. Jake and I made the roundtrip journey in a silver station wagon with a Malagasy man named Lalah behind the wheel.

Eight hours south of Tana, halfway down RN7, there's a turnoff that takes you east to a town and national park both named Ranomafana. As popular and well studied as the park is today you would think it was the reason for the town's existence, but it wasn't actually even created until 1991. Ranomafana means hot water in Malagasy and it was these waters that drew visitors to this area in the days of colonization. Today the park trumps the water thanks to many amazing and fairly recent discoveries.

Upon arrival in Ranomafana we were met by our guide to devise the program for our visit. There was some confusion as we thought we were meeting a man named Emile and Lalah was convinced our guide's name was Rajeri. Emile Rajeriarison (Rajeri for short) turned out to be one person and an incredibly knowledgable guide. He has worked with many international researchers in the park, including American primatologist Patricia Wright, who with the help of Emile discovered the golden bamboo lemur in 1986, and German herpetologist Miguel Vences, along with whom he discovered multiple new species of frog. He has a very impressive resume and a great sense of humor. We were lucky he was free and were happy to pay his hefty guide fee in order to experience the forest with a true local expert for a few days. First thing, he introduced us to a group of golden bamboo lemurs. This endangered lemur subsists mainly on leaves and shoots of giant bamboo. These shoots have such high levels of cyanide that if other mammals consumed similar amounts it would be lethal. Incredibly high levels of cyanide have been found in their feces, and there is actually a species of dung beetle that specifically forages on their ultra-toxic poo. It's this strange and specific diet that allows them to live sympatrically with two other species of bamboo lemurs at Ranomafana.

Emile showed us all three bamboo lemurs and five other lemurs without even breaking a sweat. Although his real interest and expertise showed when he would disappear momentarily, reappear with a closed fist, and plop a beautiful little frog down in front of us along with more natural history than we could swallow. Names and facts came whizzing at us like mosquitos after nightfall, only unlike mosquitos there were no itchy welts left as reminders. Luckily there is a book for all that (and Emile had a hand in its existence). We didn't have nearly as much luck with the birds in the rainforest but luckily the primates made up for it. It rained on us every day and night, on the plus side the leeches were not nearly as bad as expected.

After Ranomafana we made our way back to RN7 and continued south. We passed an enjoyable afternoon in the small community run Anja Park surrounded by meowing ring-tailed lemurs. We spent a day at Isalo National Park climbing up sacred sandstone formations, hiking into slot canyons covered with hanging gardens, and diving into cool picturesque pools with plunging waterfalls. We made a quick visit to the small fragmented Zombitse National Park where we had an up close and personal performance by a young Verreaux's sifaka and found a squat Zombitse sportive lemur who somehow shoved himself in a tree hole half his size. We passed villages with bright red houses made with bricks from the blood red earth. We got stuck behind herds of zebu cattle driven by young men on foot, making their way from the south to the east where they can get a better price for their product. We saw Malagasy women with loads of produce on their heads walking to sell their wares at market day, each with a clean colorful hat made of raffia in their hand for when they arrive. In the highlands there were people selling plums and grapes, near Ranomafana it was eels and crayfish, and in Fianarantsoa where we were hoping for vanilla someone tried to sell us a Pachypodium, a native plant the locals call elephant's foot. As RN7 turned westward enormous centuries old baobab trees sprung up like beacons from the unnaturally barren landscape. Much of the native spiny forest has been cleared away for charcoal and the accompanying Verreaux's sifakas hunted. Only the highly saturated baobab is left, its water content too high to be of any use as fuelwood.

Eventually we reached the end of RN7 and were welcomed to the city of Toliara by high winds and sporadic downpours, the effects of a cyclone from the neighboring Mozambique Channel. We spent a few days in Toliara and the nearby coastal village of Mangily, 25 kilometers along a sandy road to the north. We visited a private protected patch of spiny forest and were presented with two more species of lemur, a magnificent long-tailed groundroller, a furtive subdesert mesite, and a timid little hedgehog tenrec. We didn't stay long at the beach as the cyclone mucked up the water and flung buckets of sand in our direction; nonetheless, Jake was quite pleased with the bonus seabirds that were blown in on the winds from the channel.

We are now back in Tana where we started. It took three long days retracing our steps on RN7 in that silver station wagon. Our memory cards are overloaded, our clothes are filthy, and our minds are spinning from all we experienced these past few weeks. In the end we tracked down about a quarter of the lemurs and 3/4 of the endemic birds of Madagascar. We couldn't check them all off this trip; we decided we'd better leave something for next time.

The lemur I longed to see the most, the aye-aye, truly is an elusive character and successfully eluded us this entire trip. Yesterday we made a visit to the zoo with hopes of finally catching a glimpse of one. The zoo houses six of these googly-eyed creatures of the night, but alas, the nocturnal lemur house is closed for repair for the next year. Aye aye aye, maybe next time.

Tomorrow we fly back to Nairobi and on Monday we are off to Istanbul. There we will meet up with my mother of the year to spend a week on the frigid shores of the Sea of Marmara. Luckily, she's bringing us both coats, I hear it's cold this time of year.

All the best from Antananarivo,
Corey & Jake

Updates from Africa: Madagascar part 1

Madagascar makes me tired. This place is an overload for the senses. Every crevice contains creatures beyond my imagination. Leaping lemurs, bizarre birds, peculiar plants, and the most colorful chameleons in every shape and size one could think up. It feels like we are in a world dreamt up by the likes of Dr. Seuss and Jim Henson. It is mind blowing and incredibly exhausting. We can't sleep at night for fear we'll miss something amazing!

Actually we spend most nights shining our flashlights into trees with hopes of finding eyes looking back at us. During the day diurnal lemurs feed and play, then after nightfall an entirely different group materializes from deep within tree holes and vine tangles to work the nightshift. The only chance you have at seeing these nocturnal lemurs is on their schedule. After searching the dark forest at night, we are usually up with the sun and spend the whole day out chasing birds and lemurs on the dayshift. It's not really your typical vacation, but with over 100 species and subspecies of lemur and 105 species of endemic birds on an island almost twice the size of Arizona, there's a lot of ground to cover and so much to see. Unfortunately, it's now the rainy season here. An already poor road system that becomes worse and completely impassible in places, plus insanely expensive domestic flights mean our options are limited. On the other hand it's the low tourist season and besides a handful of French out of season vacationers we have the parks, hotels, and restaurants all to ourselves. I guess it's a pretty good trade off.

Meaghan joined Jake and I on the first ten days of our Malagasy adventure. The three of us visited two popular and easily reachable (by Malagasy standards- no 4x4, boat, or plane required) national parks: Andasibe-Mantadia and Ankarafantsika.

Our visit to Andasibe-Mantadia was the perfect introduction to Madagascar. The rainforest effortlessly produced eight species of diurnal ad nocturnal lemur, including the diademed sifaka, one of the most beautiful, and the indri, the largest of all living lemurs. The indri is an absurd looking animal with big bug eyes, a stub for a tail, and huge muscular thighs used for literally leaping like a frog up to 10 meters from trunk to trunk. We saw multiple species of groundrollers and vangas, two bird families found only in Madagascar, and they politely posed for our pictures. Thanks to the rain flashy frogs, chameleons, and snakes were all abundant on the park's many trails. Each night we fell asleep with images of captivating creatures seen that day running through our minds and we dreamt about unobtainable rare species like the elusive aye-aye. In the morning we awoke to the distinctive call of the indri in the forest behind our bungalow, hungry for breakfast and more of Madagascar.

Our four day visit to Parc National d'Ankarafantsika was full of new and amazing animals but was exceptionally hot and sticky. Relief only came when it rained, which thankfully was a daily occurrence. This park protects one of the last remaining large tracts of tropical deciduous forest in Madagascar and is home to many rare species. A pair of Madagascar fish eagles, a species of which less than 200 remain, frequents the nearby lake. The ripe mango trees in the Ampijaroa forest station attract bright white Coquerel's sifakas and rare mongoose lemurs, providing excellent viewing opportunities. White-breasted mesite and Madagascar crested ibis, two large and strange looking birds, dart in and out of the undergrowth along the flat sandy trails.

The Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust, founded by the late naturalist and author Gerald Durrell, runs a research center and captive breeding program in the park. All of Madagascar's tortoise and turtle species are critically endangered due to the pet trade and poaching. The Durrell group is working hard to ensure their survival through education, surveys, breeding programs, and reintroduction. Our visit overlapped with a visit by the Durrell staff and some of their partners from the Turtle Conservancy. We heard firsthand about the work being done to save these endangered species and caught a glimpse at some of the tortoises including the mighty ploughshare and the stunning radiated tortoise.

After our visit to Ankarafantsika we made our way back to the capital city, Antananarivo or Tana for short, for Meaghan's flight. As she started the long journey home, Jake and I took a day off from lemur and bird watching and caught a taxi-brousse into the city center to meet up with one of his childhood friends. Jake's friend Brian first came to Madagascar with the PeaceCorps in 2005 and has been living and working for a conservation organization here since then. Jake and Brian caught up over Malagasy food and beer while people pedaled souvenirs, vegetables, and phone cards at the market across the street. We got a few pointers and phone numbers from Brian and promised to meet up again before we set off. The following morning Jake and I started the long journey southwest along one of the best roads in the country, National Route 7, in search of more Malagasy treasures.

There's much more to come from Madagascar.
Cheers from the 8th continent,
Corey & Jake

Updates from Africa: Tanzania

The perfect climate for growing a plethora of spices ensures that eating on the coast of East Africa will be a mouthwatering adventure. After a week of fried potatoes, beef and hardboiled eggs in the highlands of Rwanda I was more than ready for some coastal flavor. Stonetown in Zanzibar did not disappoint. Readily available spices are added to everything. Lifeless rice is transformed into a masterpiece of flavor with cloves and cardamom. Ginger, curry, hot peppers, and coconut milk smother fresh seafood and vegetables burning the lips while tastebuds dance and sing for more. Freshly squeezed juices and homemade jam with local vanilla refresh, rejuvenate, and are served with every breakfast. Tasty tandoori chicken, spicy fried mashed potato balls, and grilled lobster on a stick can be purchased on nearly every street corner. The spices aren't just for eating either, spas have massages with lemongrass oil, clove body scrubs and much more on their menus. It's a fantastic, delicious paradise. 

We spent a few days wandering through the narrow windy streets of Stonetown eating, shopping, and people watching. No matter where we started, we always ended up at the nightly food market where hundreds of Zanzibarians gather each night to eat and meet their friends. The market is a maze of tables offering seafood, nyama choma, fried bananas, and fresh squeezed ginger and sugar cane juice served by men in white chef hats. The waves crash down on the rocky shore as people chat and chow down on the flavorful local specialties at this must see (and taste!) nightly event.

There are a few small islands immediately off the coast of Zanzibar that can be reached by boat in about 30 minutes. We snorkeled off the coast of Dawa Island for a couple hours one afternoon. The breeze on the boat and the cool blue water were a perfect break from the stifling heat that radiates off the stone streets of Stonetown. Unfortunately, the break was only temporary and immediately upon disembarking we were soaked with sweat again. The next day we made a trip to another nearby island, Changuu Island. Changuu is home to a population of Aldabra giant tortoises with an interesting history. The Aldabra tortoise is not native to Zanzibar but endemic to the Aldabra Atoll of the Seychelles. In 1919, four tortoises were given to the British resident in Zanzibar by the government of the Seychelles in exchange for a few plant specimens. Frequent theft of their offspring prompted their move from Zanzibar to Changuu Island in the 1920's, where the thefts apparently continued. Now they are protected in a sanctuary and there are well over a hundred individuals living on the island.

The tortoises may not be endemic but Zanzibar does have its share of endemic flora and fauna including the Zanzibar red colobus monkey. Not surprisingly, these primates were high on my list of things to experience. A quick trip to Jozani National Park proved successful and we were able to hang out with a habituated group for a while. A few females nursed their infants, some juveniles played and bounced above our heads, while the rest of the group noisily gnawed on unripe guava fruits.

From Zanzibar we took the ferry to mainland Tanzania and traveled to Selous National Park for another safari. Selous, a park greater in size than the countries of Rwanda and Burundi combined, is the largest national park in all of Africa. Our lodge, Selous Water Lodge was perched high on the banks of the Rufiji River providing great views of fish eagles, hippos, and an impressive sunset. Right behind our tent was a waterhole where four days earlier a fresh lion print was found. We saw multiple lions in the park but didn't have any feline sightings at the lodge.  Our only visitors were bushbabys in the trees around our tent. Every night as the sun goes down these nocturnal primates crawl out of tree holes and start calling. Bushbabys, also called galagos, are closely related to the lemurs of Madagascar and as the name suggests are pretty adorable. 

After the Selous safari our group split up. While everyone else made their way home Jake and I reached the halfway point of our adventure. From Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania we flew southeast to Antananarivo, Madagascar. We will spend the next month exploring the world's fourth largest island; a place incredibly rich with species diversity and endemism yet one of the poorest countries in the world.

Lots of love from the land of the lemurs,
Corey & Jake