2010 NHL Stanley Cup Semi-finals Ultimate Guide...

To humour BTOG's non-hockey fans, I give you this week's photo of note of a young Hamer girl at the Turme market in the Omo valley (Ethiopia) posing for two, two, two Birr. Where did she get those seashells for her necklaces???

I'm not the one who toots his own horn too often but I'll take a moment to point out that I've accumulated an outstanding prediction accuracy rate of .750 through the first two rounds of the 2010 Stanley Cup Playoffs. Not bad for a self professed part-time hockey observer.

I take great pride in predicting the demise of the Boston Bruins and the Penguins of Pittsburgh of all teams. I was a little nervous after the Flyers spotted the Bruins a 3-0 games lead to start that series only to come back from that deficit with a historical 4 game winning streak. I was pretty sure history was to made in that series.

I should get these 3rd round predictions off my chest...

San Jose Sharks vs the Blackhawks of Chicago...

I predict the demise of the Sharks who will finally fold like a house of cards this round. Where have I heard that before?

I'm surprised they are still in the hunt. I'm most surprised by the play of Joe "no longer chillaxin'" Thornton. I've never seen him show such urgency as I did in the series with the Wings. Scary stuff...

Even with Joe Thornton on the warpath, it won't be enough to derail the very talented Blackhawks.

It's going to be a close series though. The only chink in the Blackhawk's armour is their goaltending which seems to be a bit shaky at times.

Hence, my prediction is:

Blackhawks in 7 or much earlier if San Jose folds like a house of cards.

Montreal Canadiens vs Philadelphia Flyers...

Hey look what the cat dragged in...two teams that weren't supposed to be here at this stage of the season.

The Canadiens have been a miracle on ice for the last two rounds, knocking off the Cup favourites (Washington Caps) and then the defending Cup champs (Pittsburgh).

In this round, they are in tough against the Broad Street Bullies. They're bigger and play a much more physical brand of hockey than any team the Habs have dealt with so far.

But in my books, you have to first catch up to a speedy smurf before you can drill him into the boards.

That's the only come back I have...

Keys to the series: the Habs have to shut down Flyers' Richards, Briere, Giroux, and Gagne. Hab's goalie Halak must stand on his head again and again...it's like a broken record, eh?

If the Habs stick with their total team concept, I predict:

Habs in 7 (maybe 6, but Habs win nonetheless).

So there you have it. I predict an All Original Six Stanley Cup Final.

Turme to Arba Minch - Outta da Omo...

Adi posing in front of our sweet ride outta the Omo valley...

Our first encounter with Ethiopian tourists: the girl named Sue (left), her boyfriend Haile (right).

Deep down, everyone's a Farangi.
Farangi Rule of Acquisition #284

This must be at least the sixth ho-house I've had the pleasure of staying in on this trip. Oh how I love the ho-houses. The house music in the adjoining dance hall is blasting and the ho's are lined up on the veranda. What a classic scene. Hi ladies... I'm gonna die if I have to stay another night.

Another long day on the road. Early start in Turme at around 0630. Adi was able to line up a hitch on a landcruiser last night. We just had to share with an Ethiopian couple from Addis: Haile (a very popular name in Ethiopia by the way) and his girlfriend Sue (ok, I forgot her name). It was really interesting traveling with them even if it was for a day. They stopped the vehicle a couple of times to do some shopping right out the window of the landcruiser. Sue bought amongst other things, necklaces made of hundreds of cockroach wings (really cool), brass/copper bracelets (right off the wrist of a Hamer woman - I guess everything was up for grabs for a price...), and fist-sized lumps of black crap which was supposed to be burned as incense ( I thought they were cow patties). Anyway, Haile was an waterworks engineering student at the university in Arba Minch.

Initially, we asked for a ride to Konso but changed our minds when we found out they were going to Arba Minch. So, with one fell swoop, we'd be clear of the Omo. The road was really nice up to Abore, then degraded only to improve dramatically before Konso. Suffice to say, the entire way was a construction project that would see a paved road extending from Konso to Jinka. Adi said it was going to take another 1 to 2 years to lay down the tarmac. Definitely a good/bad news proposition. On one hand the infrastructure improves, but at a huge cost to the indigenous peoples of Omo. Roads bring easier access. Easier access brings more tourists, internal immigration, and, therefore external cultural influences. I personally saw the impact of limited tourism already. Not pretty. Adi expects tribes like the Mursi and their culture to disappear within a decade. Even though he depends on them for his livelihood he seems resigned to the fact that things change (for the worse in this case).

Not sure how I felt about my visit to the Omo. Money, and the thirst of it, tainted the experience somewhat. But then money makes the world go round and these people are the poorest of the poor in the Ethiopia. What would I do in their shoes (or lack thereof) if some fat cat farangi came snooping around? My recommendation is if you want to see what's left of a big chunk of traditional culture in Africa get here before it gone.

Got to Arba Minch before sundown only to find myself booked into a ho-house.

Arba Minch is here: N06 02.020 E037 33.493.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Mar 23/07
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Turme, Omo Valley, Ethiopia, - Nickle and Dimed.

Hamer market in Turme.

Hamer girls... I'm not sure how they get the sea shell necklaces.

Hamer woman.

Hamer guy. You can't see it but he's wearing a skirt. Practical I guess. Bracelets signify that he is in fact a Hamer.

Older Hamer Guy...

Hamer house...

A woman wearing clothes is like a man in the kitchen.
-Farangi Rule of Aquisition #4

Not often in the past 2 weeks have I spent more than one night in the same place. Turme is supposed to be action packed with Hamer activity: a village walk, a mini market, a moon dance show (nothing done in Omo is staged, really), and if you're really lucky you'll see a famous mating ritual involving men contestants hoping over cows. I wasn't lucky enough to see the cow hopping ritual but the mini market was ok. It wasn't the official market day. We seemed to miss those repeatedly. However, on this day a hundred or so Hamer were in attendance.

Appearance-wise, the women are quite striking. Like the Mursi, the women are bare-breasted but they adorn themselves with a lot of bead work, animal furs, feathers, necklaces of seashells, and copper or aluminum (tin?) bracelets. Men and women have shorter than shoulder length hair that have been done up in dreads. The women have gone further by dying their locks red with a combination of read earth and oil, giving their hair a sheen.

The men are quite tall and sinewy. Tough and warrior-like, Adi says they live well into their 80's or 90's. Woman are much slighter in stature, averaging 5 ft in height. They too had hard bodies. Quite noticeable on backs of the women were raised scars or tattoos. Sharp implements are used to break the skin and a substance like charcoal is rubbed into wound for colour.

When it came to photos, like their other Omo brethren, they sure weren't shy about asking for payment. They wanted 2 birr per but I said hell no. The weren't exactly Mursi. Regardless, I was getting tired of paying for photos. I ended up taking 6 or 7 photos. It's like shopping. I hate shopping. I was more interested in looking at some of the goods (agricultural stuff like grains, roots, and tubers) that were up for sale.

Later in the day, we went to a nearby Hamer village for a visit. Surprisingly, not a pleasant experience at all. I was invited to enter a house by a lady. Adi was there to translate but she refused to answer a simple question like how many kids she had. Ok, she has the right to clam up. She was more interested in demanding 5 birr for cleaning her tiny hut before my entering. Yikes...

Then some guy, the gatekeeper I guess, tears a strip off Adi for taking me into the village without paying. Tough to do so when there was no one at the gate to collect. Well, it just left a bad taste in my mouth.

Me and the boys decided not to attend the moon dance that night. Just as well.

I think I need to leave Omo soon.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Mar 22/07
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Jinka - Key Afer - Turme, Omo Valley, Ethiopia - Another one bites the dust...

She can touch your lobes, but never your latinum.
- Farangi Rule of Acquisition #40.

Tariq, the coffee girl...
Another long, tiring, wacky day. They tend to be that way in Omo it seems. Our driver, John, came by at 8 this morning, and we were off to Turme (deep in Hamer territory) via Key Afer. It was not a good night's sleep. In addition to the pounding rain, there must have been a family of rodents in the ceiling above my room. A lot of rustling and scratching noises kept me awake. The saving grace, I guess, was a spectacular sunrise.

We managed to get to Key Afer with no problem. That was not until John suggested we stop for coffee in Key Afer. Passing through town, we got pulled over by a traffic cop because of a broken right signal light. One thing lead to another and John was hauled away for driving with an expired license. Sparing you the details, it took the rest of the morning to sort out the legalities. John couldn't pay the necessary bribe. So, instead he was punished with 10 days in prison, fined 500 birr, and, to top it off, the car was impounded. Pretty tough justice I thought. The only hope we had was to have Adi and Luis hitch back to Jinka and plead with the 4X4's bastard owner for a refund of our money.

Meantime, Antonio and I hunkered down at Tariq's (sp?) cafe in Key Afer. Tariq was one of the girls who developed an obsession with Luis the first time we were in Key Afer. She's a stunner. Very beautiful, eh. Despite her broken english, we managed to communicate. Hanging out with the guys 24/7, I really missed interacting with women. At age 20, Tariq journeyed down from Addis to make a better life. Addis in her eyes was a money hungry place (despite making a healthy profit with her coffee shop). She loved life in Key Afer. We cooked lunch and invited Tariq.

With the frequency of transport in Omo, we thought it would take Adi and Luis a long time to hitch back from Jinka, but they showed up at 4. Not only did they get our money back, they came back with a 4X4 ride with a couple of road construction workers as well. Maybe our luck had turned for the better. We said goodbye to Tariq.

The road to Turme was indeed torturous transecting numerous dried river beds. I can see why travel in rainy season is impossible. The road's only virtue was the constant stream of Hamer people walking along its side. The driver was pretty reckless to say the least. Tired and sore, we arrived in Turme, a sizable town, just after sunset.

Turme is located here: N04 58.189 E36 29.310

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Mar 21/07
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Jinka - Mago - Home of the Mursi, Omo Valley, Ethiopia - Giddy Up and Tsetse Flies.

Opportunity plus instinct equals profit.
- Farangi Rule of Acquisition #9

Every man has his price.
- Farangi Rule of Acquisition #98


Adi overlooking Mago National Park...

flat tire again...

mursi girl...

Serious dudes with serious weapons.

LP women. Size matters. The bigger the LP the bigger the wedding dowry.
A very long and strange day. First, Mago National Park turned out to be a dud in terms of a safari opportunity, except for 4 elephants we spooked, and the mountain lookout over the park. From the high pass Ethiopia was just incredibly beautiful. Acacia covered ridges seemed to go on forever into the horizon.

As for the wildlife, I'm sure they were there somewhere. The brush was just too dense for spotting any animals though. We did spot leopard footprints (well, I think we did). I wasn't sure if the tsetse flies, 2 flat tires, and being stuck in the mud twice was really worth the 70 birr entrance fee and 5 AM wake up call to get here (another "business" dust up occurred with the driver, John, "forgot" the vehicular entrance fee).

Because of the tsetse fly problem (bastard flies have a really nasty bite to them - in fact, I showered everyone with blood when I slammed a particularly blood engorged tsetse fly with my hand against the ceiling of the 4X4) and an aesthetically unpleasant campsite we decided to cancel the park stay, visit the Mursi tribe in the afternoon, and then spend the night back in Jinka.

To get to the Mursi we had to drive through the park using it's treacherous road. First we got a flat then minutes after the repair job we were mired in mud. The latter took the entire crew to solve.

The Mursi actually lived outside Mago. Once out of the park, we drove past quite a few Mursi walking along the road to Jinka (2 days by foot) to the market this weekend. We'd stop once in awhile to talk to them. They'd crowd around the 4X4. Very curious folks but quite serious in demeanor at the same time. The men were tough, warrior-like, carrying AK-47's. The women were no slouches either. Most had disfigured, mangled lower lips, lacking their famous lip plates, and sporting tatoos. Did I mention they were bare breasted? Adi said that the Mursi were the most aggressive of all the tribes in Omo, sometimes fighting with neighbours for no apparent reason and always to the death.

We came to a crossroads to see a small band of Mursi men huddled at the side. This was the gate. After paying the entrance fee, a warrior type climbs into our 4X4. After a few minutes we drove into a compound that resembled a village. The moment the car comes to a stop, I swear a pack of 20 or more Mursi women, decked out with lip plates and body paint, rushed towards us, screaming "PHOTO, PHOTO..." I looked towards Adi for advice. I was kind of stunned, not sure of what to do. I just heard of violent encounters with non-compliant tourists.

Adi calmly said, "Take your time. You have choice. Pick the most beautiful..."

Funny he said that because I didn't find the women with larger protruding lip ornaments particularly attractive. Interesting, but not really attractive.

The Spanish and I then split off, each attracting a crowd of about 15 women. Shit...I'm gonna have to disappoint some people with my choices. It's like picking teams in a game of sandlot football. Someone has to be picked last. So, I chose some LP (lip-plated) ladies, some younger ones (non-LP) and even a couple gun-toting guys. Each photo would result in a demand for money. To be specific, "TWO, TWO, TWO..." Ethiopian birr. Money definitely talks. Some women would clutch my arm hoping for a photo in order to get the equivalent of a sum less than a quarter USD. I thought a fight might break out but never did. The photo session went on for about 15 minutes. I would pack up my camera only to be rushed by the women. "PHOTO, PHOTO!!!" Adi literally had to pull me from the crowd.

"Let's get out, these people are crazy..." said Adi.

We drove on. So much for learning about Mursi culture...

That night in Jinka, I couldn't help but wonder about the authenticity of the Mursi experience. That whole village thing was trumped up. Wasn't it? I've never felt so awkward in Africa. It was so bizarre.

Another weird encounter in Jinka last night. Adi was telling us about intimidation used by a local gang of thugs/guides. Apparently, they were pissed at him about hiring a discounted landcruiser. What the hell...Why do they care" How do they profit from the rental of landcruisers? The only explanation was the local big shot travel agent/hotel owner/car renter felt threatened by the lower price and hired the thugs to deliver Adi the message. As far I was concerned, the tourist trade in Ethiopia was run by the mafia.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Mar 20/07
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Key Afer to Jinka - Omo Valley, Ethiopia, Day 3

Even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit.
- Farangi Rule of Acquisition #162


Bana family...

bana house is just one room. to one side is the "kitchen" - just an open fire. the other side is the sleeping area. everyone sleeps on the same mat.

cooking starts at a young age.

life's a grind. this woman is a newlywed. note the bling on her arms...

dinner's on! guacamole and... an unknown substance. i had a taste of the bean-like dish. mmm...a bit gritty though...

guess what i found in the closet? an assortment of hunting implements. well not really. one of the omo's favourite pastimes is goat theft. this almost always results in conflict. i don't mean shouting matches but warfare. lot's of people die. bana people seem at peace but wouldn't hesitate to duke it out with neighbouring tribes in case of goat rustling. having said that, they pale in nastiness compared to their rivals, the mursi. we'll visit them folks tomorra.

Key Afer turned to be an interesting one-street town whose population is mostly Hamer and Bana peoples. Yesterday, late afternoon we got the chance to walk to a nearby Bana village. It's not as straight forward as you think. First, we had to buy as gifts bags of salt and coffee. Then before being admitted to the village you have to find the "gatekeeper" (tall, lean yet very imposing presence) and present him with the gifts. It's a good idea if you know how to say hello in the bana language at least. And, don't even think about sneaking in because you'll have to deal with the gatekeeper and his battle-tested spear.

Visiting a village was pretty exciting. As we walked along, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. In our particular village we got to visit 3 families. The people were very friendly I thought. We photographed whatever we wanted and paid a handsome fee for the privilege. It was a positive but a strange experience. I mean, if you turn the tables, how would a Westerner react if a group of strangers turned up his/her doorstep, proceeded to inspect his/her house, taste what's cooking on the stove, and to documented it all by taking photos? They'd probably have a shotgun ready and have 911 speed dialed on their cell phones.

I'm still having problems sleeping past 7. It didn't help the cause when the tin roof of the hotel was deluged by an early morning monsoonal rainstorm. At least I rescued the clothes from the drying line.

While I was brushing my teeth out the front door. I met a couple from Israel (the guy looked Spanish to me). They were traveling independently without a guide and were interested in helping out with a 4X4 rental. Excellent until they backed out. C'mon, a hundred bucks USD per day split 5 ways that's a killer deal. The man Adi lined up for the 4X4 this morning also backed out. The man couldn't stomach the 110 USD we were going to spoon feed him. This world is going to hell in a hand basket... Miraculously, a 4X4 came by the hotel and we snagged it for the original amount.

Off we went to Jinka. It felt so good to be in a vehicle smaller than a bus. Ride was so sweet.

Jinka's a pretty big town. A two street town with an airstrip running right up the main street. I spent much of the remaining afternoon trying to get on the internet to email home my whereabouts. I had to wait behind a guy applying for a job on workopolis. He couldn't type worth a damn. I ended up explaining Bob Marley lyrics to people waiting with me for a couple of hours. They were most curious about the line "no woman, no cry". Odd person to explain that line, eh.

Tomorrow: Mago National Park and the vaunted headhunting Mursi.

Key Afer: N5 31.391 E36 44.068 and Jinka: N5 47.072 E036 33.925.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Mar 19/07
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Konso - Weito - Key Afer, Omo Valley, Ethiopia, Day 2

Too much beer last night. We spent about two hours waiting for the bus to arrive/leave for Key Afer. When it did arrive, it was a cat and mouse game with the bus conductor. When he smelled potential farangi customers [ed. note: the term farangi is a term of endearment used to describe foreigners. not to be confused with characters of similar name in the Star Trek series. synonym: mzungu] the price of tickets increased 2 fold for us. I hate that, particularly when it's blatant like that. There's nothing we could do.

We piled into a really crowded bus. As usual the aisles were jammed with barrels of cooking oil.

Again the scenery was stunning. The route took us up and over mountain passes and along razorback ridges and plunged us down into dry, arid valleys. I'm quickly coming to the conclusion that Ethiopia's one of the most beautiful regions in all of Africa.

It was also on this bus where I could see trouble brewing in the future. A man approached Adi about why he was taking farangi on the bus and not using a rented 4X4 (the expensive way that we wanted to avoid). Apparently 90 percent of rentals was controlled by one guy in the Omo Valley and he could be a thorn in the side of Adi for his (our) oversight. Back home, I would have told the man that it was none of his f&%king business how we travel, but here there could be further implications that we might know nothing about.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Mar 18/07
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Yabelo to Konso, Into the Omo Valley, Ethiopia...Day 1

The road to Konso.

"You, you, you..." you actually mean me, me, me.

Konso market...

ethiopia's the burf place of coffee...

muy, muy, muy caliente... luis is purdy poplar wid da women...

you'd think this was a just random pic of some goats, eh. think again. after I took it, the supposed owner of the flock demanded money for the privilege... i said no and he grabbed a hold of my camera. A crowd formed around us. we started playing tug of war with my camera. this was not happening to me, i thought. last time i had to fight for my camera in this manner was in borneo when it was in the clutches of a pack of orangutans. well, i eventually ripped it out of his hands. he takes another lunge at the camera and his buddies hold him back. i started walking away. when i looked back, i saw him laughing. what an idiot.

Adi promptly showed up at 0900. First we went to the town market. Sparsely occupied, I presumed it wasn't market day in Yabelo. However, we were soon chased down by a horde of youngsters screaming, "you, you, you, you..." at us. That was the extent of their knowledge of English. Interesting at first but got such adulation got old really fast. From there we went to a cafe to wait for an Isuzu truck to Konso. Friendly folks at the cafe. The girls were all over the Spanish. The boys were hot, I guess. Everyone thinks they're Israelis. Unfortunately, none of them were interested in the Japanese guy. Pity.

The problem with the Omo is that there is very little public transportation. Adi had to negotiate for us. His first attempt went awry when the driver didn't have a permit. But he did find a proper driver albeit a little late in the day.

The truck ride was hellish for the first hour. The Kenyan-style road did a good job rattling my brain cage for the first couple of hours even though I was lucky enough to ride in the cab. The poor bastards, about 30 Ethiopians, Luis and Adi, were riding in the open box at the back. In the third hour, it was my turn to ride the steel. After 40 minutes my forearms were killing me because of the death grip I had on the railing behind me. The same railing that kept me from being thrown from the box and onto the dirt road.

As we approached the town of Konso (named for the local tribe), the hills showed signs of extensive terracing. The Konso people appear to have developed an agrarian society. Each time we passed a group of pedestrians along the road, people would chase us, waving their farming implements in the air...

Once in Konso, I was just covered in dust. I thought I'd splurge and check into a hotel room with a shower. Believe it or not that's a luxury. Having said that, the shower in my room failed to work. So, it was back to the dependable bucket shower.

Just outside the hotel gate I noticed an Ethiopian woman holding what appeared to be a white baby in her arms. She was the mother. I asked her wassup? The father, a German researcher, abandoned them and went back to Germany. What a bastard, eh?

Out of Canuckistan - A travel blog, Mar 17/07
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Moyale to Yabelo, Ethiopia - My, granny, what green teeth you have...

Adi, our Omo guide. Not often do I hire a guide but in the case of the Omo Valley, but it's necessary to have proper introductions to visit some of the tribes of the area. Otherwise, it's off with our heads.
I desperately wanted out of Moyale. The town itself isn't too bad but the touts give me the heebie jeebies. I had a guy I called Rasta Man (ok, that's a stretch in a place like Ethiopia) follow me around for a long while. He was pretty persistent. He kept sayin' that I didn't trust him. He got that right. The crew from the truck got together for breakfast (real coffee!) complete with our friend Tom. He sneaked across the border under the cover of darkness last night. Brave or dumb? Not sure, myself. Ok, it was dumb. He said he was scared shitless, nearly being caught (or not caught) several times by border patrols. Some kids came by the motel this morning asking for Jeremy. Tom showed up a half hour later. He's a fugitive now. A man on the run. His solution was to travel to Addis to plead for diplomatic leniency and a visa because he entered Ethiopia through Lake Turkana (way out west where there isn't a border post). I'm not sure if his story would jive with the authorities though.

No one at breakfast had a plan going forward... Anna and Jeremy were leaning towards going to Addis. They'll try to expedite their itinerary. The Spanish were leaning towards going to Yabelo and then west to the Omo Valley. Me? My initial plan was to go to Addis immediately and set in motion the request for a Sudanese visa and then come back to Omo. I had second thoughts. 1) the rainy season was coming soon (April). 2) I didn't want to backtrack. Didn't think my body could take the pounding. So, I decided to follow Luis and Antonio to Yabelo. Hopefully, I will team up with them to cut the costs down as well.

Hastily (again), we went to the bank to change money. Afterwards, I watched Anna and Jeremy speed off in their Mercedes. Me and Spanish stayed behind to catch the bus to Yabelo.

The bus ride to Yabelo was better than expected. First, the landscape was really quite striking. Desert scrub on rolling hills and the occasional escarpment. Second, the road was fine. Smoother than a baby's bottom compared to anything in Kenya. Third, the bus was great. Not too crowded. The leg room between seats was meant for short people but I managed. Fourth, most of the passengers were buzzed out by chewing qat - pronounced chat. I saw the stuff first in Kenya. Qat, fresh leaves from a qat tree I guess, gives off a mild stimulant that's suppose to decrease appetite, increase stamina and concentration. Chewing qat is a national obsession amongst men and women alike. The buzzed out guy I sat beside taught me how to pick the best qat leaves off the bunch of stalks he bought at a roadside stand and urged me to try some. I did. No effect. Kind of gross. I felt like a cow chewing it's cud. Anyway, by the end of the trip, the entire floor of the bus was covered with qat byproducts and rejects.

When we rolled into the tiny town of Mega, there was a large group of people at the side of the road. We passed slowly. The focus of people was a yellow mercedes! In the middle, 3 white folks, the usual suspects plus Tom the fugitive! Ha! What the hell... I thought they were gone for good. The bus pulled into a parking compound. It was lunch break. We took off for the car. The town's mercedes mechanic was trying to fix it. Apparently, the tires weren't balanced/aligned correctly resulting in big time grinding/knocking noises that freaked them out. We agreed to meet in Yabelo for brewskies. In fact, that was the last we would see of them. Sad.

We finally got to Yabelo, a 2 street dusty town, just as the sun was setting behind the hills. I had grown tired of talking to semi-conscious qat chewers. As we were fetching our bags from the roof of the bus, we were greeted by a rather articulate young man calling himself Adimasu or Adi. He was a tour guide. Normally, I ignore these types of advances. It's my security program. But the Spanish were hooked in. I wish they hadn't responded. However, I had a good chat with him as he took us around to the few hotels in town. (We checked into a new, rather spartan, but clean pink motel.)

We invited to dinner (pasta and injera) where I grew a little more impressed by him. He showed us pictures of the places he has guided and of his rich white clients. The Spanish were equally impressed. We started talking about our Omo ambitions and later on that night we hired Adi as our Omo guide.

Yabelo is here for all the Google Earth fans out there: N4 53.906 E38 5.351.

Out of Canuckistan, - A travel blog, Mar 16/07
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out of touch...again.

middle: anna on the left and jeremy on the right. mercedes below. africans scattered in the rafters. desert outside marsabit all around.

hello my friends,

it's been awhile since i've been able to log in at all or when it's financially feasible.

let's get started. where did i leave off... yes, in kenya. the big crossing. suffice to say, the trip exceeded all expectations with regards to being bounced around. to summarize, i got to isiolo fine. from there i bumped into friends from nairobi, anna and jeremy. fantastic people. jeremy's from calgary originally. living in the uk now. anna a full blown english girl. their adventure involves driving their unmistakable yellow mercedes from capetown all the way home to london. last i heard from them in nairobi, they were trying to have the car shipped from to moyale on the ethiopian/kenyan border. there's no way the mercedes could have made it.

well, i'm in isiolo, another story in itself, and voila! there's this yellow mercedes in the back of this transport truck. i found anna and jeremy throwing back brewskies in a local watering hole and i ask for a lift.

half hour later, i find myself in the back of the truck riding in the backseat of the merc with 20 or so africans hanging onto the rails

the torture lasted through the night. the ride in the merc didn't help smooth out the jarring potholes. the saving graces were the brilliant starry night, outstanding music selection from jeremy's ipod (it played john lennon singin' imagine. how appropriate, eh?), and bottles of red wine and cheap whiskey to dampen the pain. let's just say everyone in the back was having fun.

i overheard one of the kenyans mention, "traveling's fun..." now that's hilarious.

we reached moyale within 48 hrs.

mursi woman. lip plate is not conducive to good kissing but will fetch alot of cattle for her family when she marries (if that hasn't happened yet).

from moyale, i and a couple of spanish guys, luis and antonio (also on the truck from kenya), headed for the Omo valley in SW ethiopia. the original plan was to head to Addis Ababa immediately, but i nixed that plan because of the anticipated rains. travel in the Omo Valley would have been impossible.

how can i describe Omo in the least no. of words? national geographic. it's a living ethnographic museum of sorts. there are 5 or 6 tribes there that still live traditionally. each having it's own language. in theory, they have the occasional dust up because of rustling each other's cattle, but it was pretty peaceful while i was there.

i can get into the subject of tourism and the effects of it on these and other tribes around the world but that would require me to write some kind of dissertation. but it's safe to say, the traditional ways will not last long in the Omo. the influx of outsiders, africans and tourists, and the bloody road they're building.

oh, i forgot to mention 2 birr for a photo. i would kill the first tourist to offer money for photos.

after 7 days in Omo, i'm in AA. my task is to try to get a sudanese visa. pronto. the canadian embassy is not expediting the process...

if i don't get the visa in a reasonable amount of time, it's plan B.

i have an idea of what plan B should be but i ask my loyal readers for their suggestions...

thanx.

update: anna and jeremy, spur of the moment, decided to marry yesterday. i arrived too late to video tape it. oh well... they hired a coptic monk to perform the ceremony.