For the next leg of the tour, Brent flew in and joined me for a trip into the Amazon Rainforest. Another check off the bucket list:)

We took a two hour boat ride down the Tambopata River to our lodge. Our lodge was beautiful, but rustic – no electricity (we got ready at night by candlelight), and the water coming out of our sink had a brownish color. We also found a baby tarantula in our room one day, which was interesting to try and usher outside our room! Brent and I were ok with all of this, the only downside to our bungalow was that it was set up like a duplex- two couples sharing one bungalow with a separating wall. This would normally not be a problem, but the walls and ceilings did not meet, which is great for air circulation in the heat and humidity, but not so great when you have to use the toilet or when the young couple next door feels amorous at 3 in the afternoon when you are napping.

We spent our days hiking in the rainforest and saw many animals: birds (including toucans and macaws), snakes, tarantulas, monkeys, and capybaras ( a giant rodent). We canoed in a couple lakes and saw an electric eel and fed piranhas! We also learned about a fish the locals call the “pee pee fish”. Apparently it is attracted to the ammonia in human urine and if you pee while in the lake it will swim up your urethra and the only way to get it out is surgery!!! Despite eels, piranhas, and pee pee fish our guide told us he and his friends swim in the lake all the time- they just don’t pee in it!

We also went looking for anacondas. We paddled through some very shallow parts of the lake that were overrun with thick grass. There were paths around 2 feet in width inside the grass that we paddled though. I assumed that these paths had been made from canoes over time, but our guide informed us they were paths made by anacondas- their bodies are just that big and heavy!!!

At night we took boat rides down the river and searched for (and found) caiman. We also took a nighttime hike through the forest and encountered 3 spiders that are more poisonous than the black widow.

Our guide, “Joe”, was really interesting. He had studied for 8 months to become a shaman, but decided the lifestyle was to stifling for him. Because of his training, he had a wealth of knowledge about the jungle and taught us a lot about the plants and their many uses as medicines, dyes, and aphrodisiacs. He also had taught himself English, and started by listening to music in English to learn words and phrases and would write them in a journal. What music did he think was the best for learning English- Bob Marley! He said he sang slower than most artists and was easier to understand.

Joe and I also talked a bit about my choice to be vegetarian. He was curious to learn my reasons, because he was primarily vegetarian himself because of the rainforest land that was being taken up for ranching. He also had concerns about poaching in the rainforest. Unfortunately, we experienced some of Joe’s concerns first hand. On our last hike in the rainforest, we heard gunshots, and the saw shotgun shells in our path on the way out. We were in a protected preservation area, and this is still happening. Really, really scary and sad.

Brent and I really enjoyed our time in the Amazon Basin. The animals, our guide, and the beauty of the nature there is something we will never forget. And all that hiking was good practice for what laid ahead…..

My last week in Caraz flew by in a blur. I facilitated two more workshops (one in Lima and one in Caraz) and visited two teachers’ classrooms to coach them (one a pre-k teacher in a one room school house in the mountains, the other a 1st grade teacher in Caraz).

There seems to be a belief among many ( but not all) of the Education Department here that teachers do not desire these learning opportunities, so why would the Education Department go out of their way to help organize them? I, however, was impressed by the passion and enthusiasm of all the teachers I worked with to improve their practice.

As I have been planning this trip since November, Kelly, the Teach a Teacher coordinator, has been working for months with the local education offices to invite teachers to our workshops, obtain a projector to use, and to reserve a space to hold the workshop.

We soon found we had no projector, no space, or no teachers!

Her sweet neighbor, Anna, informed us the day before the workshop in Caraz was to take place that the teachers at her children’s school never received the invitation from the education offices to the workshop. When she and Kelly visited the school to talk to the director and ask if he would announce the workshop to the staff, he told them that they should invite the teachers themselves. So Kelly, Anna, and I went around the morning of the workshop to each teacher’s classroom to invite them.

When we went to the city offices to get the projector that Kelly had reserved we were told that all the projectors in town were broken.

Kelly is a force and wouldn’t let these setbacks stand in our way. We visited the school in town to see if we could borrow the school projector but the school director said no ( even though we were using it to provide a free training to his teachers). We then went on a wild goose chase through town trying to hunt down a projector and finally found one through a man running for regional president ( he gets my vote).

Kelly and Mac volunteered the hotel/ restaurant they are building on their property for the venue. I prepared drinks and baked scones as refreshments for the teachers. Kelly’s neighbors pitched in too- helping Kelly, Mac, and I carry tables and chairs down from their house to the hotel (And as if things weren’t crazy enough, about 15 minutes before the workshop started our new friends who had gone to retrieve their friend’s body from the mountains returned wanting to say hi rest, and eat). Despite the teachers finding out about the training that morning and all the last minute preparation, we had a nice turnout of around 15 teachers.

One of the many things I found interesting as I got to know some of the teachers better is that there is no formal training process or certification required for teachers including attending college. Basically, many teachers show up to their classrooms the first day and are told to “Go for it!”

When I visited the classroom in Caraz, I looked through the one reading supply for students- workbooks (and each family buys their own child their workbook despite extreme poverty in this area). Within the entire READING workbook there was not one story!!!! Classrooms do not have libraries. It makes sense why many teachers were asking me what to do for students that hate to read.

In the pre-k classroom I visited, students devoted a portion of their morning everyday to marching practice (as in “Attention! Forward March!”) No one has explained the significance of this to me in a way I can understand yet. And while in the classroom there was evidence of learning the alphabet, they were learning the letters and their sounds in isolation, not spending any time showing the students the connection of the sounds of letters to their sounds in words. Side story about driving out to this school – most people don’t have cars, and so people get around town and up and down the mountain in cars and vans driven by people who just pick up people on the side of the road ( kind of like hitch hiking but you pay). To get their money’s worth – and gas is expensive here- they will pick up as many people as possible. On my way down the mountain I hitched a ride in a car about the size of a Honda Accord. At one point I looked around the car and there were ELEVEN people in it. Don’t ask me how. I’m still not sure how that worked.

With all the above taken into consideration, it’s no surprise in many towns there is a low literacy rate. I noticed on my initial bus ride to Caraz there were many of the same small pictures painted on the walls of buildings. The pictures could be of a sun, a letter, even a person. I later learned that these pictures stood for candidates running in elections. Since many citizens cannot read, they vote in elections by picture. Many candidates will hand out bags of rice to people with their picture logo attached at voting venues. They can get the rice by voting for their picture.

All my experiences working in the schools and with teachers over the past two weeks have reminded me of one of my favorite quotes:

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.
Margaret Mead

It’s a small group of teachers who were determined to make it to a training they learned about the morning of after a hard day’s work to learn how to improve their practice. It’s two Americans who have chosen to make Peru their new home and have become involved in changing their community for the better in so many ways. It is generous neighbors who pitch in at the last minute to make sure that over 20 chairs and tables will get moved outside in the heat up a hill. It is one teacher who attended my first training and set up an additional training for me to hold in Lima where over 30 teachers drove in , some from over 9 hours away (managing to get two Ministry of Education members to attend as well- take that Department of Education- teachers do want to grow professionally!). And it is every teacher I encountered in my travels who wishes for more and better for their students and has come to the Teach a Teacher workshops with an open mind and heart.

There is too much at stake in life to base important decisions on a picture and a bag of rice.

Call me corny, but it’s moments like the ones I have experienced recently where you realize God is in the details. And I do think its possible with thought, commitment, education, and compassion we can change the world.

While this may sound like the beginning to a bad joke, it actually was the ending to my camping trip this past weekend. It’s pretty amazing how traveling brings people together. Being out of your comfort zone, away from your native tongue, food, customs, and close friends and family can be difficult, but it can also make you more open to reaching out to others. It’s a great way to not only see humans at their kindest and sometimes most vulnerable, but also to make lasting friendships.

Kelly, Mac, Ricardo (our trusty cab driver who takes us everywhere), and I headed up to Mount Huascaran National Park on Saturday for a couple days of camping and hiking. It is about an hour and half drive to the park up winding and twisting mountains passes. About a mile away from the park entrance, two boys, probably in their early 20s waved us down asking if we were in an open taxi that could take them back down to Caraz. Ricardo told them no, because originally he planned on camping with us. When we got to the entrance to the park, we were told by the park ranger that 2 Germans had found the body of a climber who had fallen attempting to climb the mountain Piramide. Kelly, making the connection it was probably the 2 Germans we passed on the road, sent Ricardo back down to get the boys and take them to town so they could contact the proper authorities. Ricardo would pick us up the following day at 3pm to take us back to Caraz. With this done, we went on our way.

The hiking in the Cordillera Blanca was the absolute most beautiful hiking I have ever done! We walked past snow capped peaks surrounded by beautiful flowers and trees in the valley and around a glacial lake that was the deepest turquoise I had ever seen! We hiked probably 2 1/2 hours and then set up camp before going on another short hike.

Around 3pm, for the first time on my trip, altitude sickness hit me – hard. We were hiking around 13,000 feet up (a little over 2 miles above sea level) and my head started to ache badly. The world works in mysterious ways, however, because it started to rain and this forced us in our tent. Normally this would ruin a camping trip, but as all I wanted to do was lay down with my headache, I was able to take a nap. The rain continued into the night, and so luckily I was able to sleep off my headache. The bad part about this, for Mac and Kelly, was they were not able to light our stove to cook dinner, and they were hungry.

At one point Mac joke to me, “Well, besides the freezing rain, your terrible headache, and no dinner, how’s the camping trip???”

But since I wanted to lay down, I had no appetite (another effect of altitude), and I had gone on the most beautiful hike of my life earlier, I was fantastic just where I was!!!

At one point in the night, I got up to use the restroom, and saw a group of men, all dressed in red heading towards Mount Piramide. I told Kelly and Mac, and they assumed they were the rescue team going to get the body, but thought the clothing they were wearing was strange.

The next day I woke up feeling fantastic, and so Kelly and I went on another 3 hour hike higher up into the mountains. Around 12:30 we started our 2 hour hike out of the park. On our way we encountered the Germans again, this time with the police, who were questioning them about the body they found – where the body was, if they suspected foul play, what items they found in the tent, etc. The problem was, the Germans spoke no Spanish, and the police spoke only Spanish, and they were having difficulty communicating.

Fortunately, Kelly was able to translate, and we discovered that these poor Germans had been on a wild goose chase! Upon being picked up by Ricardo yesterday, and telling him about the body, Ricardo got on the phone and began calling lots of people, all in Spanish, so the Germans had no idea what was transpiring. He drove them to the local fire department in Caraz, where Ricardo was a fireman (who knew?). Originally, Ricardo told them they could stay the night in the firehouse, but then the police called and said they needed the Germans back for questioning. The fire department (who was in no way equipped to do a search and rescue for a body) drove the Germans back up the mountain in an ambulance/firetruck, and went up the mountains to begin the search. The Germans had to stay the night on the porch of National Park Center with only a blanket (and it was so cold the night we camped that the rain froze on our tent).

When we arrived at the entrance to the park our ride, Ricardo, was nowhere to be found because he was out in the mountains searching for the body. After about 2 hours of questioning the Germans, the firemen returned with no body, and the police were finished with their investigation. All of us piled into the back of the ambulance to go back down the mountain, and Kelly and Mac offered to let the Germans stay the night at their house and have a home cooked meal, as all of their belongings were in Huaraz in a hostel about 2 hours away from Caraz.

On our way down the mountain, in the back of an ambulance (and let me stress that you NEVER want to be picked up by a Peruvian ambulance; the Germans looked through the supply cabinet on the way down – lots of needles, nothing to use with the needles????) there were two taxis stopped ahead of us blocking the road, with several white men outside the taxis talking. Kelly got out to translate, and discovered the three men were coming up the mountain to look for their friend, who was supposed to meet up with them in Huaraz, and never arrived – the climber who had died. While they suspected their friend was not alive, it was not confirmed until they spoke with the Germans. It was starting to get dark at this point, and so trying to go into the park to climb and retrieve the body was futile. Kelly suggested they all come back with us to their house and rest and eat properly and prepare for the climb the next day. And so, now the eight of us (and several Peruvian firefighters) headed back in an ambulance and a taxi to Mac and Kelly’s place.

That evening, as we sat around eating lasagna together at the table, we discovered that one of the three men climbing up to retrieve the body was actually a young man from the U.K. He had heard about the missing Canadian on the mountain and without knowing him, had just volunteered to climb up and help the other two. The next day, the Germans volunteered to go back up the mountain with the Canadians to show them where the body was and to help retrieve and bring it back down.

As they all waved goodbye to head up the mountain again, I told Mac how kind and generous he and Kelly were for welcoming all these strangers into their home and feeding them and he replied, “Well, it was the right thing to do.”

It was a reminder to me of how many times each day we have the choice (whether big or small) to do the “right thing”. Sometimes doing the right thing is simple, and sometimes doing the right thing can be difficult, but it can make the biggest difference in someone’s life when we simply choose to be kind.

Ok, so this post will not be on mountains or hiking or climbing, but I am going to camp and hike in the mountains tomorrow, and it is the fourth of July, and I could not resist this title.

On Wednesday morning I got up at 4:30 in the morning to drive to Huaraz (a neighboring town) and facilitate a workshop on balanced literacy for teachers at a private school there.

The school itself was absolutely beautiful! It was located in a gated community with many amenities – they had a computer and projector and speakers for me to present with. Almost all the teachers at the workshop spoke impeccable English. I became worried as I began to present that the teachers would not find my material helpful, they were beyond the concepts I was presenting. Kelly, the volunteer who coordinated my visit assured me that it would not, and she was right!

Their reading instruction primarily consists of the whole class reading from a workbook and then answering questions independently on a worksheet. Teachers do not read aloud daily to their students, don’t utilize graphic organizers, and had never heard of guided reading. Kelly told me that as long as the teachers can walk away learning one thing, then my visit was worth it. Likewise, Mac told me if I could walk away learning just one thing from the Peruvian teachers, then we had accomplished so much more.

At the completion of the workshop, a teacher approached me and gave me a hug. She thanked me because she had never realized that she needed to model for her students how she uses reading strategies. It was a real break through for her. It also was a real break through for me!

I had modeled for teachers completing a read aloud for your students and we focused on character analysis using the book (in Spanish) A Bad Case of Stripes. For those who have not read this fantastic book, basically a girl is so worried about what others think of her, and she will not be true to herself. She literally wakes up one morning covered in rainbow stripes form head to toe. If a person calls her a color or shape, she morphs to match it. In the end she realizes the only cure, of course, is to be herself!

Quechua is the native language of many people in Peru, however, the school system is moving to all Spanish. One teacher made the profound connection with the text to many of her students whose native tongue is Quechua feeling the need to deny their culture and speak Spanish only. I read this book aloud to my students almost every year, and not once had I made that connection with my English Language Learners. I guess I had to travel to a completely different continent to make the connection:)

That afternoon I presented in a small town in a community center for a group of about 35 teachers who came from many different local schools. I was humbled by the efforts of these women to travel many miles to attend a training. In my school system, unless you are paying them, most teachers will never attend a professional development session!

About halfway through the training the electricity was cut off. Apparently this happens every so often in the area for various reasons. (Like the citizens of the city are protesting, so they shut off the electricity….to punish themselves???? I’m still scratching my head on this one) And unlike the electricity going off in the states, there is no back up generator, no street lights outside – there is just NO light!! Fortunately I had packed my headlamp, which helped, but finishing the training was simply impossible. It was pitch black!!!

The following evening as we were throwing together a delicious feast from freshly picked vegetables from Kelly and Mac’s organic garden, the electricity cut out again. Unphased, Kelly and Mac lit candles, and we prepared and ate dinner by candlelight. It was a lovely ending, to a lovely day. Taking the time to appreciate all we have, and not letting little things spoil all the beauty around us.

Saludos!

One of my favorite parts of traveling, especially to places very different than my own home, is how much you can learn from other cultures. 24 hours in Peru and I already had been blessed with so many learning experiences. Some big, some small, some silly – all meaningful in their own way:

Driving:
My mom was extremely worried about her daughter traveling across Peru on her own to a small rural village. Specifically nervous about me navigating from the airport in Lima to the bus station on my own (I would say she’s being dramatic, but on another solo trip to Costa Rica in my horrible Spanish I somehow managed to get the cab driver to drive me to the border of Nicaragua before I realized my directions were terribly wrong). Anyway, I found my taxi driver to be sweet, funny, and courteous. He has children attending college in the United States and was so worried about me getting on the right bus he escorted me and my many bags into the station and talked to the lady in the office to ensure I got the right ticket ( I must emanate directionally challenged).

However, I smugly sat in my seat in the very front of the bus thinking to myself what a travel pro I was as the bus left the outskirts of Lima. “My mom is so overprotective. I don’t know what she was worried about. This is perfectly sa-What the $#%&!!!!!! Mr. Bus Driver, is passing on a curve, with a car headed in the opposite direction STRAIGHT AT US, with light rain, ON A CLIFF necessary?????”

Apparently, yes, yes it was. Because this type of driving continued to happen for the rest of the 9 hour bus ride. And happens every day in Peru. Who needs blinkers, breaks, or sanity when you have a horn and a need for speed? My gracious hosts in Caraz don’t own a car and after 3 days here I can understand the fear. Random road trip fact – growing up in Texas I always saw a plethora of road kill, however I never saw a llama as road kill before last Monday.

Altitude:
As I’ve mentioned, I’m staying in Caraz, a small town in the mountains in the Ancash region of Peru. It is located in the Cordillera Blanca, famous in Peru for absolutely gorgeous mountains to hike, including the highest mountain in Peru Mount Huascaran and the mountain voted most beautiful in the world, Mount Alpamayo. I never realized what an affect altitude can have on, well, everything! It turns baking into a science experiment, and can cause headaches, loss of appetite (something I unfortunately have not experienced), and apparently your digestive system. This can cause people to have constant gas. And speaking of restroom issues – when in Peru always carry toilet paper in your purse, because NO BATHROOM HAS IT. Unfortunately, I found this out the hard way.

Water:
The water bill here in Caraz is $2 a month for unlimited water. Many homes do not have indoor plumbing, so they have an outside water source that they live on literally nonstop.

I Should Have Listened to My Mom:
I should have listened to my mom and majored in Spanish in college. When I tested out of 15 hours of Spanish in college and didn’t need any more hours, I thought why would I take more Spanish? When would I ever need to speak Spanish. Hmmmmm…..how about EVERY DAY OF MY JOB???? And it would be real nice here too. I hate not being fluent. I also hate when I make a communication error like meaning to say the word “feedback” but instead use some word that means “retro food”.

Different Countries, Different Schools, Same Problems:
We walked to a school in the town and spoke with the teacher about the challenges she faced in the classroom. Beyond the obvious (she was in a 1 room school with limited supplies and no technology), we faced many of the same problems. The teacher only had 8 students, but they ranged in age from 5-10 years old. Hearing her speak of her difficulties differentiating for students reminded me of my classroom – some students are reading on a kindergarten level, and others on a 6th grade level. As different as our situations are, we totally can connect on the challenges all teachers across this world face on a daily basis.

Sometimes You Gotta Change Your Perspective:
My first night I arrived I was exhausted. After 8 hours of flying and 9 hours of perilous bus riding, I was ready to hit the hay. Kelly and Mac (my awesome hosts) walked me to my apartment. Being nowhere near a large city or lights it is pitch black outside, and I was staring at the ground trying to avoid tripping, and all I could think was how badly I needed a shower and a bed to sleep in (instead of a bus seat or a plane seat). As I’m unloading my bags in the apartment, Mac calls me outside to look at the Southern Cross in the sky. Begrudgingly, I shuffled my tired body outside…and then look up. I see stars. I see thousands, probably millions of stars. The last time I remember seeing so many stars was when I camped on the Serengeti. I see constellations. I see Mars. I see that sometimes it’s worth it to stop and appreciate the special moments in life even when we feel we don’t have the time or energy. This gorgeous sky was right above my head the whole time as I just plodded on underneath, not thinking to look up. It makes me question how many more acts, sights, or wonders of beauty I might see if I just decided to look for them?

A wise woman from Ethiopia at the beginning of our journey told me, “Africa is everything you see on TV and it is not everything you see on TV.” Throughout my weeks here, the meaning of those words has slowly come to fruition. It seemed to me prior to this trip that most descriptions of Africa on TV portray two things – extreme beauty and extreme poverty.

It is true, Africa is full of these images. But the beauty is more vivid than you could ever capture on a camera. The poverty more palpable in person than it could ever be through the picture on a screen.

The beauty transcends color, texture, and shape. It is a beauty felt deep within in your heart. Its splendor is wonder recaptured that was once lost in childhood. The beauty resounds in the snowy peak of the elusive Kilimanjaro, the glint of sun radiating off the rows of majestic sunflowers in the morning sun, and in the twitch of the cheetah’s tail as she patiently cowers in the grass stalking the wary swala. The spirit of the people – the sound of the children’s laughter and song, the smiles of men and women as they dance to the rhythm of the djembes, and the excited cheers of soccer fans uniting for team Ghana to be victorious in the World Cup – inspires my soul.

Poverty has never seemed more real. One cannot click the button on a remote and change the scene of a hungry child on the street when they are sitting in front of you looking into your eyes. When you are standing in a place that at one time seemed a world away, your universe suddenly becomes so much smaller. The interconnectivity of the human race hits me like a thousand bricks. I am simultaneously struck by the beauty and power of the human spirit as well as the pain. When one small soul is hurting, so are we all.

Largely what makes this world that we live in so amazing is its many different people. We can choose to live our lives in the ordinary, or we can choose to be capable of feats of great strength and vision. What could we accomplish if we all reached out of our comfort zone? If we all took a moment to realize how much we all have, and how much more we all have to give? It can be easy to forget how miraculous life can be when we become steeped in our everyday lives. In the eyes of the children I met, I saw those miracles I had forgotten existed.

To think more deeply, critically, and globally, to live my life with more compassion, to not give up the fight for others simply because my life is so easy, to learn more about this world and the lives of people in it beyond my own sphere, to realize what a small but important part I play in this grand universe – these are lessons I humbly take with me from this adventure.

When we hear the word safari we typically think of a person traveling to Africa dressed in their khakis and vest, armed with binoculars ready to snap shots of rhinos and lions. In Swahili, however, “Habari za safari?” literally translates into “How is the journey?”

To answer my own question – I think my journey has just begun….

Our last day in Tanzania we visited an orphanage. Many of us donated some or all of the clothes that we brought with us on the trip (after all, I had bought myself practically a whole new African wardrobe!). The orphanage housed about 15 children, but around 38 children spend time at the center in order to receive food and companionship.

The children, as always, were warm and welcoming. Immediately after stepping off the bus, a small girl was in my arms, eager to hold my hand, play with my hair, and hug me. The staff told us they were in desperate need of food, and struggled weekly to feed all of the children. At one time, the facility was sponsored by a generous donor, but because of mismanagement, the donor pulled their support. Now, sometimes children receive one meal that is supposed to keep them nourished for the whole day. At one time, there was no adult staying with the children overnight at the orphanage.

The children put on an acrobatic performance to show their appreciation for our visit and donations that day. They had phenomenal talent – from contortionists to accomplished gymnasts it was hard to believe all the skill they possessed was self -taught. The vitality and energy of the children melted my heart. I found myself again in tears when it was time to leave. It is so incredibly unfair. I was born into a family were all my basic needs were always met. I always had food in my belly, a roof over my head, clothes on my back. Most importantly , I had parents who loved me and gave me all the emotional support I needed. How are so many of us given so much, while others are given so little?

Oh Lord, please help me to remember how blessed I truly am. Please help me to not take so many things for granted anymore. Please help me to have a more giving and serving spirit.

These children deserve more from our world.

I think my most treasured memory on this trip was interacting with the children and visiting their schools. However, this day might be a close 2nd. Zanzibar is also known as the Spice Islands, and we started off our day with a spice tour.

In route to the spice tour we stopped off at one of the Sultan’s palaces. Most of the palace had been burned down in a fire, but you were able to walk through the ruins. This palace had been used by the sultan for his concubines. It was filled with toilets, hot baths, and rooms for massage.

The spice tour was just amazing! We saw cardamom, cloves, lemongrass, cinnamon (did you know cinnamon root smells just like Vick‘s Vapor Rub?), curry tree, pepper vine (apparently all varieties of pepper are from the same plant, but are harvested and prepared differently), jack fruit, bread fruit, yummy star fruit, nutmeg, some plant that the leaves are used to make lipstick locally, among many others! Throughout the tour our guides showed amazing dexterity and skill, creating bracelets, rings, neck ties, and frogs for us – all out of banana leaves! At the end of the tour, we got to try a bunch of different kinds of fruits, many of which we do not have in the U.S.A. including custard apple, a fruit that looked just like litchi fruit, but was not litchi, HUGE grapefruit (and the best tasting grapefruit I have ever had), some kind of fruit that tasted sort of like a cross between a banana and a pineapple, and several others.

That afternoon we took an excursion out on a Dhow boat (small wooden boat) to snorkel in the Indian Ocean on a coral reef. It was beautiful. There were many vibrant colors of coral. We saw giant clams, clown fish, brain coral, and countless other sea creatures I don’t know the names for!

After snorkeling, we boated out to Prison Island. This island was originally used as a quarantine center. It now hosts a beautiful hotel. The hotel was currently closed and under renovation, but our guide, Mohammed, told us that there were giant tortoises on the island to see. In my head I pictured a few tortoises roaming around. We would stand from a distance and snap a few photos – boy was I wrong! Not only were the tortoises HUGE (some on the island were over 100 years old!), there were tons of them, and they were friendly to people. We were able to hand feed them – and they love it! As soon as you walked over with a leafy green in your hand, the tortoises would race (ok, maybe more like waddle) towards you, eager for a treat. They let you pet them, and were really quite cute in a scaly, cold-blooded type way. We literally had six or seven tortoises surrounding each of us patiently waiting to be fed. Too cute!!!

After feeding the tortoises, we wandered through the hotel grounds, reading about the history of the island. We watched the sunset on the beach, with the clear blue waters tickling our toes as they dug in to the white sand.

As we set sail on the boat ride home, with the sun sinking behind the horizon, and the lights of Stone Town coming in to view, I had one of the quiet, peaceful moments were all feels right in the world. I knew I was having the moment of a lifetime, and I hope I will be able to hold on to the feeling of that memory forever.

The morning before we left we visited the Jozani Forest. We went to the forest to see the Red Colobus monkeys. Zanzibar is the only place in the whole world where they can be found! The monkeys were absolutely adorable, and very fun to watch. The most amazing part, was how completely unaffected they were by our presence. I would be literally no more than one foot from a monkey taking a picture while she would nonchalantly chew on her food and scavenge the ground looking for more to eat.

All in all, I found Zanzibar to be a stunning, fascinating, and exotic place. Momma Moshi always jokes each year with her students that she has to hire extra security to make sure all her students leave the island – and I can see why! Luckily for me, whenever I close my eyes, I can hear the busy sounds of cars, street vendors, and children playing in Stone Town, I can taste the sweet fruits and spices of the spice tour, and feel the sun warming my back and wind racing through my hair on the Dhow – these all are the best souvenirs anyone can ask for.

The next day we visited a primary and secondary school and had lunch with the Ministry of Education. Our guide that took us around to the different schools was one of the most amazing women I have ever met. Dr. Sira runs a center for women and children. Her center offers programs that benefit women and children, and she does many outreach programs, such as voter training classes (and we attended one!). Representatives from different villages met and were trained on the election process, and why voting is important. They then went back to their communities to help officiate the process there. Our meeting with Dr. Sira at the women’s center was taped, and we ended up on the evening news in Zanzibar that night!

The schools we visited were very similar to many we had seen in Tanzania with one large exception – there was a one student to textbook ratio. The Minister of Education said this was a large priority for him. Our group was curious how Zanzibar had managed to pull off this feat, when schools on the mainland had 20 students to one textbook. This school year the government had also made kindergarten mandatory. The funding for this program is still lacking considering that the kindergarten class at the primary school we visited had no chairs for the students to sit on.

The principal at the primary school was desperate for teachers. They were extremely understaffed, with several teachers working at the school on a volunteer basis. It twisted my heart, as we left he grabbed each of our hands, looked imploringly into our eyes and asked us if we would be willing to come back and teach. The school had a Peace Corp volunteer the past two years who had set up their computer lab. The principal was an adorable older man, with salt and pepper hair and eyes that glittered with kindness when he smiled, which was often. “ I love Americans!” he excitedly cried, “When we had the gentleman from the Peace Corp here, we became really great friends. If you came here too, I would be good friends with you too!” Dr. Sira even offered us a home she had near the school for anyone who came to teach to live in for free.

I left the school that day feeling what I had felt so many other days in Africa, lucky for all that I had, sad that I could not do more, inspired by the efforts of the children, community members, and teachers.

Whenever I first heard we were going to Zanzibar it conjured up visions in my head of palaces, clear blue seas, cloves, and Arabic music. Zanzibar did not disappoint. From the moment we stepped off the ferry ride from Dar, we entered a new world. The Arabic influence is easily seen throughout the island, and the scenery was nothing like anything else we had seen so far in Tanzania.

For those who don’t know, Zanzibar is a group of small island in the Indian ocean off the coast of Tanzania. It is a part of the Republic of Tanzania, but at one time was independent. It has its own government system (including a president) and the capital is located on the biggest island of Zanzibar, Unguja, in Stone Town, a World Historic Site.

Walking down the street in Stone Town, I felt like I was in a movie. The buildings are built extremely close together, creating a maze of alley ways so tight that many cars cannot drive through the streets there. The buildings have a mixture of Arab, Persian, Indian, and African architecture. Many of the doors to the building are huge with dark wood and ornate carvings.

In Stone Town we visited the market place, which was a very interesting experiences. We wound through streets and alleys full of people hawking their fruits, vegetables, spices, chickens, meat (VERY freshly slaughtered), and seafood. Let’s just say after that venture I am pretty sure returning to vegetarianism is in my future (and I might be cutting out seafood too).

While there, we also got to see the famous Durian, more commonly known as “stink fruit”. Also seen on Bizarre Foods, this fruit gets its name from the very distinct sewage – like smell the fruit emits when cut open. The smell is so pungent, that the fruit is not allowed in some public places like buses or public buildings. Despite the strong stench, the fruit apparently has a great taste. This leads me to wonder, what conversation transpired the first time this fruit was tried?

Man 1: What is this strange fruit?

Man 2: I don’t know, but when I cut it open it smells awful – just like feces!

Man 1: Oh, well we should definitely try it then.

Man 2:: Your right, with the smell of raw sewage, it must taste really good.

What????????????????????????????????????

We also visited the House of Wonders. This building was built in the late 1800s by a sultan. It was meant to be a ceremonial palace and reception hall and showcased modern conveniences like electricity. It now is a museum and culture center. We also visited the Sultan’s palace, which was the home to several sultans before being turned in to a museum where visitors can walk through and see how the sultan lived.

Zanzibar was once an important slave trade site for Eastern Africa. The slave trade was controlled by the Omani Sultans, who later closed the trade due to pressure from Europe. We visited the slave underground holdings, which is where slaves where kept while they were waiting to be auctioned off. Over 70 men, women, and children were stuffed into a tiny cramped room with little ventilation and no food or water. There was a large trench dug into the bottom of the cell for the tide to come in and wash away the sewage that collected.

Slaves were taken from these small cells to a whipping post where they were whipped publicly. Slaves who cried or yelled out sold for a lower price. After they were auctioned off, they were forced on to ships and sent overseas. Even after the slave trade was declared illegal, it continued for many years on Zanzibar.

Several of the churches played a part in trying to abolish slavery on Zanzibar, and so it seems oddly appropriate that the Anglican church was built over where slave auctions where held. There is a small red circle at the altar at the front of the church that denotes where the whipping post used to stand.

That night we attended the Zanzibar International Film Festival which happened to be going on the week we were in Zanzibar. The night’s festivities were held outside in an old fort. The president’s wife attended the screening and we got to see her speak (in Swahili). The film that happened to be showing when we arrived, was actually a film from the United States called No Woman, No Cry. The president of Zanzibar saw the film and insisted it be showed at the film festival. The film explores reproductive health options for women going in to labor in four very different parts of the world, including one woman in Tanzania. I definitely recommend the film if you have not seen it.

After the film festival we headed home to our beach bungalow and fell asleep to the sounds of the Indian ocean crashing on the beach.