It's like you're making soup...

It wouldn't be a proper trip if everything went according to plan. Problems, language barriers, cultural differences - those are the moments when you really learn about yourself. How do you handle it when your bus breaks down in the middle of steamy Cambodia? Are you willing to ask for help reading a map? Are you going to get angry when you realize your server doesn't understand what you're asking for? These are the moments you really take home, this is what stays with you forever. Yes, we have our photographs and fun pants and sarongs and magnets and postcards and far too many earrings, but that doesn't change you on the inside. 

What changes you is knowing there are people living in the countryside making less than $60 a month and supporting families with it. What changes you is listening to little children shout "hello" and "bye bye" as you walk past their simple homes. What changes you is seeing three generations of family live together, barefoot and happy. The overwhelming beauty of Angkor Wat, intricate carvings on stone walls, people eating bugs because that's all they have - that's what changes you, that's what you really take home. 

We are spoiled with air conditioning and perfectly cleaned fruit and spotless restrooms and maintained streets. Stray away from this occasionally. Try a stinky, weird looking fruit. Marvel at something that was made in the 12th century. Walk in the dusty streets, ask your tuk tuk driver to take you to a local restaurant, take in the beauty of a Buddhist temple, learn key phrases in multiple languages.

The gold covering the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh, the music coming from the Buddhist temple Wat Phnom, monkies running around, photos and videos and words just don't do it justice. You need to smell the incense, see the people worshipping, hear the chanting, be there, be in that moment.

Angkor Wat, what a sight. It's amazing what man was able to do without the use of modern construction equipment. Not just Angkor Wat, but the surrounding temples as well. We visited Bayon and the Ta Prohm temple complex and both were breath-taking. Ta Prohm is most well known for Tomb Raider being filmed there, which I've never seen but just walking through there felt as if I was in a movie, or I'd taken a step back in time. 

One night we had dinner at a local families house outside of town. We walked around the village, played with the children and sat on the floor while eating dinner.  The grandmother of the house cooked for us and her daughter showed us how they live. She teaches the neighborhood kids English for free during the week because they can't afford to go to school. They're 5 and 6 years old, already learning a second language.

I rode a quad for the first time in my life (I think) in the fields outside of Siem Reap and it was so much fun! We stopped by a temple and danced with the children who lived there. Some were orphans and others' parents could not currently afford to support them. We did headstands and break danced and jumped around, happy to be happy. We watched the sunset in the rice paddies and tried multiple times to take a group jumping photo, which we almost got here...

I realize I can't speak for everyone, but I know when I return from a trip, something inside of me is different. My view of the world has been widened. I have met new people, explored new places, been in a different culture. It doesn't always have to be life-changing. It might be that I come home and appreciate being able to drink the tap water. I'm reminded how lucky I am to have a home to sleep in. The next time I meet a lost foreigner, I'll spend a little extra time helping them out. The next time I look into the distance and see mountains, I will remember what it's like to see nothing but flat rice paddies for miles.

Why do I travel? It's a gentle reminder that the universe does not revolve around me, as much as I'd sometimes like to think it does. It's how I learn what I am truly capable of, who I really am. It's like you're making soup, and you just keep adding different things to it to make it taste better. But what happens when you take away the comforting taste of speaking the native language, the herbs and spices of people you know, the vegetables that you know and like the taste of? Boil away the make up and the nice clothes and all of society's expectations and are you able to work with what's left? That's your core, and that's what's revealed to you when you leave your comfort zone. 

It's going to be a bumpy ride

Just as I was getting used to the traffic of Southeast Asia, we get on a bus to take us from Phnom Penh to Siem Riep and are spending the first half of our morning on a bumpy, dusty road filled with holes and rocks and no lanes. The country side is filled with rice fields, houses on stilts and fruit stands. Children on their way home from school stare as we raise dust, moving forward. 

We made our way out of Hoi An and took a plane down to Ho Chi Minh City, still known as Saigon to many even though th name changed in the 70's. A commercialized city, it was almost as if we weren't even in Vietnam anymore. There were plenty of western restaurants, Korean grocery stores and tall buildings glowing with bright lights.

A little outside of Ho Chi Minh City are the Cu Chi tunnels that were used during the Vietnam war. They lived essentially underground to protect themselves from gunfire and bombings. The tunnels are now open to the public and we crawled around their homes, which have already been widened twice so that tourists can fit in them without getting stuck. So go ahead, have another doughnut. 

The entrance was larger than the actual tunnel, trust me. 

After we crawled around in the dirt, fired a gun and drank hot tea in the hot heat, we watched a short film about the history of the tunnels. Our guide had actually been a soldier and let us know ahead of time that the film is not quite accurate. It had been filmed after the war and showed soldiers crouching through underground tunnels. This would've been impossible at the time, because the tunnels were so small soldiers had to crawl through them. Only one side was shown during the fighting scenes and the fighting trench shown in the film was not actually used for fighting. It was a bit of a propoganda film, not the first I've seen in Vietnam. To an outsider, it seems so one-sided and untrue, but if it's what you hear all your life, how are you supposed to think otherwise? It made me wonder about our own media coverage back home, and how much is actually hidden and twisted around and repeated until we believe it. How quick are we to judge other countries information and not question our own?

Luck was on our side as we headed to the Hard Rock for some drinks afterwards. My friend Jacqueline was standing on the street corner, trying to figure out where we were when a moped zoomed by her, ripping her purse off the strap and taking it with them. She reached for it, the flap opened and all of her important things fell out as the man zoomed off with a purse containing only sunscreen.  Her eyeglasses and wallet were on the ground and we were so surprised we couldn't even figure out what had happened. They're not kidding when they tell you to hold on to your purses and watch your bags. 

The next day we went to the Mekong Delta, where the Mekong River empties into the sea. Many of the villages and areas are accessed by rivers rather than roads. We took a boat tour around and got to hold a python, try fresh honey, drink coconut wine (not as good as it sounds) and fresh coconut water (tastes even better than it sounds). We saw how chewy coconut candy is made (probably the reason I don't fit in the tunnels) and how coconut milk is made. We ate fresh dragon fruit, cocoa plant, jackfruit and watched musicians perform on local instruments.

A huge jackfruit compared to Dat's head. 

We ate, we drank, we laughed and then it was onto Cambodia. We took another bus from Ho Chi Minh City to Phnom Penh and I fell in love with the country immediately. It has a sad history, but beautiful architecture. We took cyclos around the city when we first got there and were welcomed by rain shortly after leaving the hotel. 

In the morning we visited S-21, a prison from the Khmer Rouge days. Between 1975 and 1979, Cambodia was under the rule of the Khmer Rouge, who forced people to leave their homes, took all their belongings and put them to work in the fields and country sides. The people were treated terribly. They did not have healthcare for when they got sick, they were not fed properly, families were torn apart and thousands of innocent people were killed in executions centers around the country. S-21, a former school, was turned into one of these prisons. Innocent victims were tortured until they made false confessions, resulting in thousands of deaths. 

 Razor wire kept prisoners from escaping or committing suicide. 

This was only 40 years ago. I highly recommend reading the book "Surviving the Killing Fields," a truly moving, heart breaking story of a man who managed to escape into Thailand, but lost everything along the way. He was sent to prison three different times, and the torture he endured is unbelievable. There were two survivors at the prison, the only two still alive. They receive no help from the government and are there to sell their books and share their stories, every single day. 

 One of the "prison cells" of the survivors. 

The Killing Fields were where thousands of people were killed and buried in mass graves. Men, women and children alike were tortured, beaten and killed for no reason. It is now a memorial, with some of their bones preserved in a memorial tower, while others lay undisturbed in their graves. Not only did they suffer greatly, but they did not receive a proper burial. This means their souls were left to wander, lost and without a home. 

It was a heavy day, difficult to grasp how someone can be so full of hate. It was so recent, and yet so few people know about the suffering this small country endured in the 70's. And yet Cambodia is still moving forward, trying to keep up with everyone around it, rebuilding itself and picking up the pieces. 

This is real life.

I wasn't sure what to expect from Vietnam. I knew I would be eating pho multiple times a day (which I have been doing) and that was the extent of my planning. As our time in Hanoi came to an end, I couldn't wait to move on because wherever we went had to be better than that city.

We hopped on a private bus that took us to Halong Bay and I couldn't have been happier. Pulling up to the dock you see small mountains rising out of the water in the distance and they only get more beautiful as you get closer. We spent the night on a boat, anchored in the water, surrounded by some of Mother Natures most beautiful artwork. During the day we were swimming and exploring the largest cave in the Bay. We ate fresh seafood - fish, prawns, squid and crab and marveled at our surroundings. We kayaked and watched floating markets pass by on boats, selling beer and crackers, cigarettes and batteries. What a beautiful change of pace from the busy, loud streets of Hanoi.

How much more beautiful this place would have been if you couldn't see trash floating out in the distance, discarded water bottles and plastic bags. Physical reminders of how many people have been here before us and disrespected the land. Our aina is precious and I hope the people visiting and living here realize that soon, before she disrespects us as we have her. 

An overnight train took us 13 hours south, to the city of Hue. It was my first taste of colourful shopping,  bright lanterns and the beautiful country that is Vietnam. We took a motorbike tour through the city, hopping on the back of a moped/motorcycle hybrid and exploring the countryside. We passed through rice fields and small towns, learned how rice was harvested, visited the tomb of one of Vietnams former emperors and got to see the tallest pagoda in the city, standing at 7 stories tall. We complained about the the heat and welcomed the rain with open arms. We learned about the importance of Feng Shui, ate fresh fruit, drank too much Vietnamese coffee and couldn't wait to see what else the city had to show us. 

We visited the citadel, from which all of Vietnam was ruled from 1804 to 1945. Thirteen kings lived there in total, one of whom was only 7 years old when he began ruling the country. Moats surrounded the Imperial City and the Forbidden City. Once meant to keep out intruders, they are now home to giant lotus flowers and lily pads.

Incense sticks burn in homes, hotels and shops here. We got to see how they are made by hand. I learned that the devil can only go in a straight line and therefore barriers were built in front of the entrances to tombs to keep him out, food and offerings are left for the spirits so they do not enter your home and take from your kitchen and reincarnation is not just for animals and people, but for plants as well. What a beautiful culture. 

Next we came to Hoi An, where I find myself now, sitting on our balcony and trying to figure out how I can spend the rest of my life traveling, learning, meeting new people, exploring new places, understanding how other cultures work.

Perhaps the most eye opening experience of the trip so far was yesterday, when we hopped on rented bikes and got to explore a large island off the coast of Hoi An, where people live simply, work extremely hard and are not used to seeing tourists. For four hours, we bicycled past rice fields, lakes, buffalo, chickens. We were welcomed into people's homes, where we saw how rice noodles are made by hand. The family wakes up at 3 am and works until noon, making fresh noodles and crispy rice cakes. We got to see how rice wine is made in another family's home. They had multiple pigs, a small daughter who was so excited to see us, and a heartbreaking past tracing back to the war. We learned how straw mats are made, from the cutting and drying of the grass to the actual production. Two ladies make 3 to 4 large mats a day, completely by hand in their humble home, with no air conditioning, and they do not complain. This was not a museum, this was not for show, this was real life. And today, as I enjoy technology, my breakfast buffet and my shopping options, they are still making noodles, rice wine and mats.

How lucky are we, to be blessed with jobs that offer steady pay, to live in a home with a bed, electricity and a telephone? How often do we take for granted the fact that someone else does our dirty work and we reap the benefits? Imagine your 9-year old son working in a restaurant, bussing tables. Your 8-year old sister selling lanterns on the street. Your 70-year old grandmother, harvesting rice in the fields. And we think our lives are tough.

"Son, look at those white people"

Sometimes you just have to accept that you are a tourist. Even without the map, we stand out in Hanoi. It's a city jam packed with street vendors, traffic and Asians. Lots of Asians who know how to dodge cars and mopeds in the streets and don't mind eating pho outside in 90+ degree weather and 100% humidity.

I'm spending the rest of June traveling through Southeast Asia with my friend Jacqueline. We met studying abroad three years ago and haven't seen each other since. We met at the airport in Tokyo and flew to Hanoi together, where we were greeted by a torrential downpour and really pushy taxi drivers. 

We got to our hotel late at night, ate dinner at the hotel restaurant for $6, debated drinking the table water, showered after our 24+ hours of traveling and decided we would spend Sunday exploring the city. 

Heading out this morning, it was like we had walked into a steam room. I thought I could handle the heat. I grew up in Vegas, live in Hawaii and spent time jogging around Death Valley in July while my mom ran a race for two days. This is a whole new level of hot, people. While I am thankful there was no rain today, I could literally feel beads of sweat dripping down my body. I was wearing grey pants and could smell my bug spray coming off and my hair sticking to the back of my neck. This was not my main concern, however. My main concern today was learning how to cross the street.

Crosswalks and street signs are few and far between here in Hanoi. And the ones that exist, you know who pays attention to them? Literally no one except for Jacqueline and I, so they didn't do us much good. Actually they do us no good. You know what else doesn't matter? What side of the road you drive on. Or actually whether you drive on the road or not. Sidewalks are cool to drive on, too. And if your moped fits between the street vendors at the night market, go for it. Also, you can fit four people on your moped. I kid you not.

We did do some things besides sweat and try to cross streets today, though. We visited the Temple of Literature and the first National University of Hanoi, which was pretty and extremely calm. There was a graduation happening while we were there and while I wanted to take pictures of the graduates, they wanted to take pictures of us. White people! Sweaty white people! People stared and waved and little kids were confused looking at us and when we responded to peoples "hellos" they fell over in a fit of laughter as if they couldn't believe we actually spoke. 

We continued wandering around the city, trying to unsuccessfully find a pagoda. The streets have absolutely no order and we got stuck at more than one 5 way intersection. There weren't usually sidewalks and when there were, they were filled with mopeds and people eating lunch at plastic kiddie tables.

We found a memorial to president Ho Chi Minh, got iced coffee and sat around a lake while people said hello to us. A group of students came up to us and asked if we had some time to practice English with them, which we did. They were extremely nice and recommended we go to the night market, where I didn't fit into any of the (elastic) pants I liked. 

We sat down to have dinner at the only place where the plastic chairs were not toddler sized (These stools that look like they belong in preschools). Communication was rough but we finally ordered beef pho and veggies with fried noodles. As we continued along, we saw the washing of the dishes was done in kiddie pools and trash was thrown on the street. At the end of the day, we were dirty, not tan.

Not every city you visit is going to be amazing, not every experience is going to be perfect or out of a travel magazine and that's the beauty of traveling. It takes you out of your comfort zone and into something you don't experience every day. And at the end of the day, I'm thankful for that. I'm also thankful our hotel room has air conditioning and a shower.

The Kilimanjaro Adventure

After spending a month in Europe, I packed up a backpack and duffle bag and set off with my mom for a trip that would (hopefully) bring us to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro. I said goodbye to sweet pastries, Nutella breakfasts, days spent wandering through vineyards, churches and castles, 2 a.m. Kasekrainers, creepy hostels, day drinking on boats and I should have given a formal goodbye to the days of blending in with the people around me.

We left Prague and our first stop was in Dubai. We landed around midnight after the most comfortable flight ever. Electrical outlets to charge laptops? USB ports to charge my iPhone that's turned into a lean mean Candy Crush machine? Lamb for dinner? Free movies and games and The Big Bang Theory AND the full Taylor Swift Red album all at my disposal? Shout out to Emirates airlines, you guys rock.

Flying into Dubai at night was beautiful. The city glowed with orange and blue lights. It looked really futuristic and I had no idea what to expect. Literally. You know what I knew about Dubai? “...Isn't this the place with a hotel that looks like a giant sail?”

In my defense, I can now confidently say that yes, Dubai is in fact the place with a hotel that looks like a giant sail and it's called the Burj Al Arab. It's also the first (and only) 7-star hotel in the world. Dubai is also home to the largest shopping mall in the world (and in my opinion, probably also the cleanest) and to the tallest building in the world, the Burj Khalifa. It's 2,722 feet tall and we took one of the fastest elevators in the world (2 floors a second) to get to the viewing platform on the 120th floor.

It's a crazy feeling to be looking down at an entire city, to look down at the top of skyscrapers. Then it's an even crazier feeling to look up at the very tip-top of the building you're on. And by crazy I mean it made my stomach flip and I had to hold on a handrail and look away rather quickly.

Looking down from the 120th floor

It was hard to see past a certain distance because it was dusty, but on a clear day you can see the man made islands in the water, in the shape of palm trees and one series of islands are made to look like a world map.

For a city that is so architecturally advanced and appears to be extremely modern, there were also more traditional aspects that surprised us. We took the subway to get around, and the subway itself was really nice, clean and quick. There were armed guards but we didn't have any problems. There were certain subway carts that were for women and children only, and then others that were for men only. Also, traditional clothing is still very common. This includes a head dress for both men and women and long, dress-like robes (black for women and white for men). It is frowned upon to wear clothes that show your shoulders, chest, too much of your leg, etc, regardless of whether you are foreign or not. Many public places (including the mall, subway, supermarket..etc) have a dress code that requires you to cover up. There are also signs up in the mall that forbid “kissing or overt pubic displays of affection.”

When we checked into our hotel, they held onto our passports and said we would get them back when we checked out (in retrospect, we probably should have questioned this a little more). They also wouldn’t let us leave upon check-out until they had inspected our room. They confirmed we were not walking out with one of their mattresses or lamps in our backpacks and let us go. Onto the next stop!

You know how there are some places that you visit and you wouldn't mind coming back to see again? And sometimes you don't even know that much about the place but you just think it would be an awesome experience? Well, my friends, don't make the same mistake we did and think that Nairobi is the place to go visit, unless you're looking to...

1. Experience the Grand Theft Auto video game in real life
2. Possibly get hit by a car coming from any given direction every time you want to cross the street
3. Possibly hit a pedestrian coming from any given direction any time you're in a car
4. Ignore any and all street lights, signs, lanes, sidewalks and directions (whether you're in a car or walking)
5. Be patted down and scanned with a metal detector before entering a grocery store
6. Not use hot water for a few days
7. Pay four times as much as the locals do
8. Exchange your money at a secret men only casino because it's Sunday and everything is closed
9. Order “coconut fish curry” and just get a whole fish (but thanks to the waiter who kindly gave us silverware while everyone else ate with their hands)

 

Coconut fish curry...

Nairobi was insane. It was a crazy experience and I will be fine with never, ever going back. The airport burned down roughly a week and a half before we arrived, so upon landing we walked across the landing strips and were taken into a large, white, plastic tent where we had to get into one of the six unlabeled lines and hope we were in the right one to get a travel visa. I'm trying to figure out who all the children running around belong to, and my mom's trying to ask the people behind us what hotel they're staying at and if it's nice because we need a place to stay. I am not amused.

We make it out of the tent and are on the street with our bags and are escorted to a travel agent (I use that term very loosely here) that is set up in a tent. He puts together a hotel for us (he says it's a 3-star. I later say I would gladly go back to the creepy hostels in Prague) and arranges us a ride to the hotel and to the bus station that we will be leaving from in a few days. Also, I believe everyone was named John. The guy who took our bags, our driver, probably even the guy who rear ended us in the middle of a 4 lane roundabout on our way to the hotel.

In some places, you drive on the left side of the road. I think Nairobi is supposed to be one of those places, although in my humble opinion I think they drive wherever they want. Left side, right side, sidewalk, one lane, two lane... “Oh, you're all driving in this direction? North? I think I will attempt to drive East, because perpendicular driving is fun and safe!” -our driver

By the time we got to our hotel, I was surprised we made it there alive and not sure if I was supposed to say anything to the two armed guards standing in front of the narrow stairway leading up to “Park Palace Hotel.” I didn't. They had big guns.

The hotel had wifi (surprise!) which broke my phone the second day (not surprised!). We visited the National Museum, watched a bunch of snakes eat and fight over lizards, ate beans and spaghetti for breakfast (“continental breakfast included!”), wondered why our hotel room for the two of us had three beds, weren't really that surprised when our shower had only one knob (cold) and my mom wore a fanny pack.

We also tried to interact with the locals.

At the front desk of our hotel:
“Hi, do you guys have a map we could have?”
“No you must buy it from next door. We are all out. Our maps are for visitors only.”
(Trust me, it was clear we were visitors.)

With one of the taxi cab drivers:
“So, is this your daughter?” (to my mom)
“Yes, she is.”
“Oh, nice, nice. Is she your firstborn?”
“Yes...”
(to me) “Why do you think he asked that?”
“Because he'll get more money when he tries to sell me. Goodbye taxi man!”

Everyone else:
“GIVE ME YOUR MONEY, GET ON MY BUS, HELLO WHITE PEOPLE, DO YOU NEED A RIDE, TAXI, BUY MY CANDY, I'M GOING TO PRETEND I BUMPED INTO YOU ON ACCIDENT BUT IT WAS ON PURPOSE, YOU'RE IN MY WAY, I'M CREEPY, I HOPE I MAKE YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE BY STARING AT YOU.”

In all honestly, the poverty in most of the city was unreal. There were people living on the streets, selling their vegetables, fruits, shoes, candy, magazines on the dirty streets, kids running around all over the place, run down and broken buildings, it was really like out of a movie.

We took a bus from Nairobi to Moshi (Tanzania), where we were staying and meeting everyone else that was part of the Kilimanjaro group we were hiking with. I'm not sure how we made it to the bus station alive. The traffic was worse than I'd ever seen it and I had to close my eyes more than once.

The border between Kenya and Tanzania.

The bus ride was seven and a half hours and was more comfortable than I had expected (that's not saying much, though). We mostly just hoped our bags were still attached to the roof of the van. We did get our first glimpse of Kilimanjaro and I think I finally realized that this was crazy. The mountain was huge, and the cloud cover began HALFWAY UP THE MOUTAIN. The whole top half was still covered in clouds! And I was going to climb it? I had just spent the last month drinking copious amounts of vodka, eating Nutella by the spoonful and the extent of my exercise was running to catch the last subway home. Here goes nothing, it was definitely too late to turn around now.

My first view of Kili, hiding behind the clouds.

We got to the hotel and met most of the group we were climbing with. There was 37 of us total and I was relieved to see that everybody was well, normal. Nobody had secret sherpa experience or had spent the past six months climbing through the Alps, and we weren't the only ones who hadn't brought everything on the supplies list.

We got there and had a few hours before sunset to explore our surroundings. We found a small market and bought bottled water since, naturally, we had no idea where our iodine drops were to sterilize the local tap water. The shop keeper was friendly and charged us entirely too much because we were very clearly foreign. But we also wanted to hydrate, so what can you do.

The next day was a free day, so my mom and I set off with two others into town, wanting to grab a few things from the grocery store and whatnot. It didn't take long before we had someone following us: a skinny, 18-year old local boy wearing Nikes that were too big for him and a Spiderman beanie that was too small. Long story short, we did exactly what the guide books and websites tell you you're not supposed to do and made him our tour guide for the day.

“Oh, you're going to take us to a waterfall and an underground cave? Excellent. All we have to do is follow you onto this crazy van that counts as public transportation here? Let's go!”

So we hop into this mini van, four of us squished in the back and watch in awe as the van fills up with people and starts moving with people hanging off the sides. We were off to a good start.

At least they had public transportation, I guess...

After about 45 minutes we got out and took a short hike to an underground cave that the locals used as a hideout to kill foreigners and enemies. They would use children to guide the enemy into the cave, then after a secret password or sign, the locals would jump out from their hiding spots and kill the enemies with clubs. Excellent.

We continued on and arrived at a hut that served as the starting point for our waterfall hike. We were given hiking sticks and began heading down into the valley, where we ended at a beautiful waterfall and lots of locals who kept asking us to swim with them. We politely declined.

The locals market - much different than the ones shown to tourists.

As we were walking back to the bus stop, we passed through a local market and then happened to run into our new friends mother, who treated us as if we were extremely great friends and we all took photographs together.

Walking back to the bus stop we passed through a banana farm.

We got back to the hotel safely, even though the bus-van had no actual stops. It just picked people up on the side of the road and dropped them off whenever they wanted, I think. We packed up our stuff and went to bed wondering what the next five days were going to be like.

Day 1. We take a mini bus (much nicer than the public one) to the Kilimanjaro National Park, which is where our hike began. After a few hours of signings papers, waiting around, eating our boxed lunches (bread and cheese, chicken, a hard boiled egg and a “muffin”) we finally start! We were taking the Marangu Route and planned to summit and come back down in five days.
  

The beginning of it all

We hiked roughly three to four hours through a rainforest-ish zone and came to the Mandara Camp where we would be sleeping that night. After settling in, drinking tea and eating popcorn, we went on a short acclimatization hike to a crater, helping our bodies get used to the altitude and hopefully preventing altitude sickness.

The camp was nicer than I had expected, it had running water, which was cold, but I'm not complaining. There were toilets, which were just holes in the ground but they flushed, so we were living well.

Dinner was served family style, lots of soup and hot tea, which was nice because the nights were pretty chilly. We had a beautiful view of the stars that night, but then we got cold (my Victoria’s Secret zip up wasn’t cutting it) and went to sleep because we had an early wake up call the next day.

Day 2. We set off early in the morning after filtering our drinking water, eating breakfast and packing peanut butter sandwiches for lunch just incase our boxed lunch was questionable. The hike was pretty steady, not a huge incline but we were definitely gaining altitude. We saw groundsel, a beautiful plant/tree that, if I understood our guides correctly, only grows on Kili. It was still warm for most of the day, but when we stopped for lunch there was a fog rolling in and we ate quickly so that we could keep hiking before we got too cold. 

Here's how day two started...

...and here's how it finished up

 
The people in our group definitely made the day go by quickly, conversation was flowing and everyone was interesting. We got to Horombo Hut where we would be sleeping that night. We were around 12,000 feet, and signs of altitude sickness start around 10,000, so my mom and I made sure to drink enough water and we again went on the acclimatization hike, this time to the Zebra Rocks, which get their name because of the zebra-like print on the rocks.

 

Horombo Hut at 12,340 feet

We were feeling good, drinking enough water and had started layering up because that night was freezing! We were already above the clouds which made for a beautiful (freezing) sunset and there was a stream behind the camp where we used a pump to filter our drinking water. Okay, when I say we, I mean Steve and Joanna brought the pump and were kind enough to share it with us. And I didn't really pump much of anything because it was much harder than it looked. But the good news was that we had found our iodine tablets just in case my mom's arm got tired.

Pumping water behind the camp

The only problem with this whole drinking tons of water and tea thing is you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Every night. And it's cold and dark and you're in a small cabin and have to make your way to the other side of the campground and you have to take your own toilet paper and a wet wipe to wash your hands with and a flashlight so you can see and it's really dark and what if there are animals out there or crazy people hiding in the bushes or what if you get lost on your way back and can't find your cabin and have to sleep on a porch somewhere until the sun comes up? Yeah man, I was doing a quick jog back to our cabin every night.

The fog started rolling in around two or three in the afternoon

Day 3. Rise and shine, somehow we ended up being the last group of our group to leave the camp. We started our third day, heading up to the Kibo Hut at around 15,000 feet. We were gaining about 3,000 feet in altitude a day, with a 4,000 foot altitude increase on summit day.
 

So close, yet so far.

This day of hiking was fairly comfortable, we got extremely lucky with the weather and didn't have to put on warm clothes until after we had stopped for lunch. The guides told us we were moving too quickly and should slow down to make sure our bodies have time to get used to the altitude – I guess we were really excited or we were just immune to the words “pole, pole,” (slowly, slowly) by then.
 

Our "we made it to 15,000 feet" dance!

Plant life had stopped at some point during this days' hike and it turned into a rocky, dusty trail. We no longer had the luxury of hiding behind trees to use the bathroom, but I guess modesty had decreased by this point and I was just fine with a rock or a ditch. I just kept trying to convince the guides they could go ahead and I would catch up, but I guess they didn't trust me. Not like there was really anywhere to run, and I certainly wasn't going to turn back around, but whatever.

Kibo Hut at over 15,000 feet. All smiles!

We got to Kibo Hut and I knew that summit day was going to be tough, but I had no idea how tough. Up until this point, we knew we were going uphill (duh) but summit day was going to be UP. HILL. We were pretty much sleeping at the foot of this huge, steep mountain that had a faint trail zig zagging up it where we would be walking in a matter of hours. We got to camp around 2 or 3 in the afternoon and would be starting our summit at midnight. Again, we had a small acclimatization hike and headed back down to try to get a few hours of sleep before waking up in the middle of the night. Who does this?

This camp no longer had running water and we had passed the “Last Water Point” during that days hike. We also passed a helicopter landing spot in the same area, the highest a helicopter would be able to land in case of emergency. The point is, the guides had to carry up all the water for us to drink, for them to cook with, etc. Absolutely insane.

How do they do this?

The air was getting thinner at this point, which I noticed when I tried to jog down from a rock I had climbed up onto. Poor decision. Also, the bathrooms were slightly downhill from where the huts were, which wasn't a problem when you were going there. But it sure sucks to be out of breath from walking 30 feet from the bathroom because of a teeny incline. I guess it was a taste of what was to come.

Looking down at where we came from. Day three: Kibo Hut.

Our accommodation that night was interesting to say the least. There was no dining hall at this camp, so we had a large table in our 12-person hut that was used for dinner. Unfortunately, we were a bed short, so this was also where one person of our group slept. Not for long though. We got settled in after packing up our stuff around 8 or 9, only to wake up two hours later. We had to sleep with our batteries, cameras, contact solution, etc. in our sleeping bags because of the cold weather. They could freeze if we left them out. We also were told to cut up any snacks we had into small pieces because they would also freeze, and to keep our cameras inside of our jackets.

Day 4. Here goes nothing. We got dressed (I was wearing 7 layers on top and 3 on bottom) and set out. I had developed a really runny nose at some point during this hike, which was now rubbed completely raw. I felt like a trapped sardine in all my clothes, I couldn't really move my hands because I had two pairs of gloves on, I was hungry and tired, it was dark, my scarf was uncomfortable, the list goes on. And then we started. We were literally shuffling along, trying to breathe and making sure we were keeping the water moving in our CamelBaks because otherwise the tube would freeze. I was concentrating too hard on my breathing I guess because it didn't take long before my tube froze. Womp womp womp.

One of the guys in our group had a heart rate monitor with him and that was probably my only source of entertainment during that early morning. Every 15 or so minutes we would check his heart rate, which never got crazy high. Then it froze and we were all miserable again. The stars were beautiful, but if you would try to look up at them you'd lose your footing, because the trail was pretty narrow and we couldn't really see where we were going, even though we had headlamps. If you stopped to look up at the stars, you didn't want to start moving again. If you looked up at the mountain ahead of you, you saw hundreds of little lights zig zagging up, towering over you, climbing into a never-ending darkness and felt completely defeated and not sure how in the world you were going to make it all the way up there. Or was that just me?

Another guy on our trip had this awesome watch thing that would tell you all sorts of cool things, including our pace. He was kind enough to share it with us at one point on that dreadful evening. We were shuffling along at the incredible pace of half-a-mile an hour. We were really making moves.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I had to pee. The mountain we were climbing was made up of all these little tiny rocks that you would slide around on and they'd get in your shoe and it was really great. So when we took a break, I slid around on these rocks, made my way a little away from the group and squatted down. I didn't turn my headlamp on because although I didn't care much at that point, I didn't exactly feel the need to shine a spotlight on myself. I finished, stood up, and promptly realized I had peed all over my boots and the bottoms of my pants. Excellent.

I got back in line and was shuffling along with the group and spent a significant portion of the climb wondering if that was going to freeze or evaporate. It did a little bit of both. (Side note – I did change into a different pair of hiking pants upon returning to the camp.)

Well my friends, the struggle was real. We made it to Gilman's Point, where we watched the sunrise and oh, what I would have given to rest there for more than 10 minutes but we kept moving. I will admit though, that sunrise was absolutely beautiful. We were literally on top of Africa, rising with the sun. We were told this next hour and a half would be easy, we were so close, only another 500ish feet higher in elevation and we would be there.

Sunrise from the top of Africa

Oh, but they lied. It was not easy. It was hard, and we were tired, and the sun was bright and I was still hungry and my nose was still running and I wanted to cry and why was I doing this? I silently kept moving forward, hoping that around every turn in the trail I would see the glorious sign that told me I had made it to Uhuru Peak, the summit. If only you know how many of those turns we made only to see more rocks, more glaciers and a path that just kept going.

Glaciers from the almost-but-not-really top!

Finally, finally! We saw the sign in the distance but it still looked so far away I couldn't even get too excited. I wanted to make it to that sign but at the same time I didn't, because that would mean we have to climb down.

Somehow we got there and it was cold and windy and everyone was taking pictures and I just couldn't believe it. We got our picture, we were above the clouds, above the glaciers, we had climbed the tallest free-standing mountain in Africa!

Once we started heading down, I did my best to encourage others because it really does help, but I was also still trying to breathe and it was tricky to do both at the same time. The worst part about going down, besides going down, was that there were some parts where you would have to go uphill and do a little bit of rock scrambling. This was the pits, man. You would have to make it 10 feet up just to go 10 feet down again, and going up 10 feet had me completely winded. I would climb a rock and want to take a break. What the heck!

Going down this rock scree was not fun. They said it would be easy...oh, these tricky liars. It was awful. I was talking to myself in my head (is that normal?) and these were my exact thoughts.

“This sucks. My legs hurt. I have 1,000 rocks on my shoes. It's hot now. I smell.” (Pause to breathe) “You know, self, when you finish this whole thing and you've had a shower and a good meal and you sleep in a solid bed, you're going to look back at this and think that it wasn't that bad. You're not going to remember how hard this was, you're going to remember the good parts and the fun parts and this will become a blur. Well, remember it. Remember that this part was not fun. It was hard. Don't forget it.”

I didn't forget how hard it was, mostly because I remember having that conversation with myself for about two hours coming down that rock scree. I'm not sure when, exactly, but at some point my mom said, “See ya!” and was down that mountain like a little gazelle. And I was a dusty hippo trudging along.

Then we made it back to Kibo Hut where I changed out of all my clothes (yes, yes, I changed my pants before anything else) and we laid down for a little while before lunch. Oh yes, we made it back down to the camp around 10 or 11 in the afternoon. Isn't that crazy how much you can accomplish when you start at midnight?

Post-summit toes.

We had lunch and then got ready for hike number two of the day. Yes, we were heading back down to the Horombo Hut, since Kibo Hut isn't an ideal place to stay any longer than you have to, due mostly to lack of water and the high altitude. I was really dreading this hike, but in reality, it wasn't that bad. And I really mean it, I had that conversation with myself as well. “Wow, this part really isn't that bad. I'm going to remember it wasn't that bad, and it really wasn't.”

We all passed out pretty quickly that night. My mom and I were in a 20 person hut for the first time, which was quite an experience. Kind of like girl scout camp, but dustier, smellier and with boys.

Day 5. We were heading all the way back down today, and back to our hotel where we were hoping we would have hot water (or just any running water at all). We stopped at our first camp, Mandara, for lunch and then went back through the rainforest and made it back to the park entrance! We signed a guest book, took a group photo and got really antsy as we waited to head back to the hotel. Finally we loaded up onto the bus again and were looking forward to a shower at our hotel.

We did it! Smelly and smiley back at the base

PSYCHE! This is a hotel in Africa, not the United States. That means if you have a reservation for 37 people and they only have room for 30 nobody's going to tell you that until you're in line to get your room key and all of a sudden the front desk lady leaves and there's six of you waiting in the hotel “lobby” trying to figure out what's going on for two hours as everyone else showers and swims in the pool and puts on clean(ish) clothes and I'm just hoping I'll get all the dirt out of my nose soon.

So we eventually get led to a room which is good. What is not good is that the toilet is clearly broken, because the part that you press to flush it not attached to the toilet and there is a lady fixing our shower. We awkwardly stand around waiting for her to finish, but then she leaves without fixing the toilet. Aye aye aye, I mean I know how to pee behind a bush by now but I was hoping that part of the trip was over.

So we get our toilet fixed and now there's water leaking onto the ground. I guess beggars can't be choosers and we spend the rest of the night with everyone else in the bar, drinking overpriced beer/cider and exchanging email addresses.
 

What an amazing, amazing group of people. Really, I'm not just saying that because some of them might read this. Everyone had such a different background and it was so awesome to be surrounded by people who all have that “well this seems like a cool trip, lets go!” mentality. Also, earlier I mentioned that no one seemed to be a secret sherpa or mountain climber but I was wrong, there was one, Ruben. He's climbed all sorts of mountains and done all this amazing stuff and you would never know. He was awesome, and even he said this hike was hard so it made me feel better about my struggle to get up that mountain.

I don't even want to get into how miserable it was to sit at the Nairobi airport for 9 hours waiting for our plane. Again, I can't even call it an airport. We sat in a huge white tent and hoped an airplane wasn't going to run us over. Thankfully we were flying with Emirates again and had another Dubai layover, where things got a little better but mostly I was looking forward to a pedicure and my own bed.

We landed in Prague and were off to the US the next day. We had hit five countries in three days on the way back, resulting in a wallet filled with a jumbled mess of currencies, boarding passes and email addresses.

Shout out to every single person that did this climb, you are awesome. If anyone reading this is thinking about doing it, DO IT! Those glaciers are melting super quick, so get up there before they're gone. Push yourself, it's hard but it's worth it. But I have to warn you, it's addictive and the people you do the hike with? They're going to want to do more crazy things like this. And so are you. So get ready for some more traveling. Life exists outside of your comfort zone. Get there.

Cheers to you, Africa!