The amount of distance that needed to be covered in the South was intimidating! We had to haul some ass and get this trip on the move! Getting out of Goa we headed out into Karnataka. All this time Nick’s thumb was hurting, especially over the combination speed bumps…7 speed breakers in a row?  What’s the point??? That little thumb of Nick’s felt every jolt and bump…my soundtrack for the ride was one of pained Oooo’s, Aaaaahhh’s, and Ouches!  Our first stop was the temple of Halebid which is still in use.  The carvings and designs on the pillars and ceilings of the temples are incredibly ornate and detailed, we were really blown away.  We could see that the architecture of the Hindu temples in Indonesia, Vietnam, Cambodia etc were greatly influenced from the south.   Belur is a second site that was less interesting but still worth a visit.   Feeling optimistic about seeing as much as possible we stopped for an early dosa dinner in Sravanabelagola and took some pics of the amazing monolithic statue of the Jain holy figure, Gometeshvara.  The area is also worth exploring since there are some interesting granite rock formations.

We were feeling strapped for time (a recurring theme for our trip in the south but this time since it was getting dark) and felt Mysore was within range.  Many people told us we had to visit the Vrindavan Gardens, especially in the evening since there’s beautiful lighting.  Getting there a little after dusk, we rode straight for the gardens into hordes of police who were guarding the gate of the gardens. Apparently the gardens are right next to an important dam which controls the water in the Cauvery River which has always struck feuds between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu.  A little bummed, we found a place for the night where we could hear sounds of people protesting the whole dam issue.  The next morning we met up Santhosh, he invented the world’s smallest electric bike! We knew he’d be the best guy who could help us with a few electrical issues like the loss of power to our front cockpit area that charged our phone,GPS etc!   We were worried we might have to replace the Touratech relay which is decently expensive.  Fortunately we didn’t have to do any of that and we were successful in finding the culprit, a cut wire…rock thrown by some Ethiopian kid?  Who knows.  Afterwards we met some of Santhosh’s friends including a reporter for the Deccan Herald who did an article on us.  It was great fun to hang out!  Santhosh and his friends (fellow bike enthusiasts and rally nuts) were nothing but amazingly nice.  We also got a chance to visit the colorful market full of flowers, fruits, veggies, basically anything and everything.  Visiting the royal palace was high on our list of things to see and it did not disappoint.  The amount of detail was outstanding, my favorite being the marriage hall with the turquoise columns and colorful stained glass ceiling. Unfortunately pictures are not allowed in the palace or you can be sure we would’ve gone crazy!  All this time Nick’s thumb wasn’t feeling any better and finally Nick caved to having an x-ray done.  And yes, he broke it…..  Luckily the doctor suggested a finger cot (like a metal splint) and some tape which is what we expected. A few people suggested a renowned haddi-wala (haddi meaning bone in Punjabi) that could definitely fix Nick’s thumb.  Succumbing to some peer pressure, the next morning Manju took us out to the miracle worker and we found ourselves being welcomed by massive haars of flowers by the villagers and we were swiftly escorted ahead of a line of people that had probably been waiting since 5am.  We sat and met the haddi-wala and his son who began to talk bikes.  Apparently the son has 10 imported bikes…wow…  The miracle doctor looked at Nick’s x-ray (upside down and backwards) and before we knew it he popped Nick’s bone out and then back in.  A chubby Aunty sat on the floor obviously getting ready for her back-healing exercise and exclaiming that this guy was a miracle worker and our lives would never be the same again.  Nick was writhing in pain and his eyes filled with tears.  The crowd that greeted us held out their cell phones and took video and pics of the whole ordeal…awkward!  I couldn’t believe it, why take a video of this man in pain? Who are you going to show?  Attempting to console Nick was weird in front of all these people.  I hadn’t seen Nick in that much pain for a long time and I don’t want to see that again.  In the end we have to be thankful that’s the only thing that was broken.  The haddi wala asked to see Nick’s knee and we quickly said no. Over my dead body.

After sweating it out in Mysore, we were looking forward to some cooler temps!  Nick soldiered on after the traumatic encounter and we hit the Buddhist monastery in Bylakuppe.  We had started off our trip from Ladakh and Nepal and walking around the monastery was like being greeted by old friends.  The intricacy and symbolism in the decoration of the monasteries and the myriad of bodhisattvas are always mindblowing.  Bylakuppe is a town that was allotted to refugee Tibetans in Karnataka.  We were excited to ride through Coorg or the Kodagu region since we had heard so many great things about it.  It was a bit cloudy but we were surrounded by green hills and the white blossoms of coffee plants.  The route took us through villages, Waynad Natl Park, as well as Bandipur Natl Park.  The parks are real finicky about taking pics, I think it’s because of locals that bother the animals.  We saw a few groups of ch**tias that had parked their scooters and ventured out into the forests only to come running back with an Elephant chasing them.  Frankly, the park guards need to be more worried about locals that don’t know how to act as opposed to ‘foreigners’.  I think in result of people messing with the wild animals, the animals have become more aggressive.  Wouldn’t you if you were senselessly abused? Imagine if someone poked and prodded you without reason (oh wait, this happens anyways when you walk in crowds).  We saw many elephants, some deer, and monkeys as we rode through the parks.  There are some OK homestays around the Coorg area that we felt were a bit overpriced for what they were offering so we pushed on and ended up spending our Valentine’s Day in the crap city of Virajpet.  But we did happen upon a little bakery that had some half-decent pastries and things.  After feasting on our Valentine’s Day delights we fell into a deep sugar-induced coma.  The next day we stopped over in the city of Snooty Ooty.  I think Ooty has to be one of the most popular hill stations in all of India but honestly it was nothing much to look at.  The lake is shabby and there’s not much charm like there is in other hill stations where you have a Mall Road with old British style architecture and nice places to walk.  We ended up spending some time to catch up on things.  No doubt that Ooty is popular, there are hordes upon hordes of Indian tourists coming by bus.  Although people (including us at times) get annoyed with the crowds, I do see it as a positive thing for Indians to be touring their own country…not only to make a person more aware of how other people in your country live and their culture but also the fact that it takes a little extra money on the side in saving for the traveling to happen.  It’s a good thing.  There are a few hill stations (Kotagiri, Coonoor) around the area, but we decided to go to Munnar.  The thought of going down to the plains to face the heat was unbearable.  Munnar was smaller than Ooty and doesn’t have a lake but definitely has the prettiest tea gardens that we’ve seen so far (and that means it’s up there with  Africa and Malaysia).  Lush green tea plants are grown in every corner and the estates are lined with red poinsettias.  There were even clearings where families gathered for picnics. There are a few British-era houses and churches but the feel of the city was much more friendly and cozy than Ooty.  Weirdly enough we ran into a group of Singaporeans who had rented a bunch of Enfields!  Reminded us of our travels in Malaysia  Someone, somewhere (not goin to name names) rated the riding from Coorg  to Munnar as the best in the world (and we’re talking the tarmac route), it was okay… but most definitely not the best in the world. Out of the 500 odd km’s only 20 km before and 20km after Munnar was nice. Rest was complete crap as it was just a normal road between any two big cities in India. World’s best ride is a lofty title. Obviously these people have never ridden anywhere else in the world or they are corporate bit**es that have given this title just to get a sponsored ride out of it. To illustrate my point, the ride Manali-Leh- Srinagar is 10 times better than Coorg- Munnar and this is just within India , forget about the rest of world. I don’t even wanna get started.

Although we didn’t want to get back to the hot and humid, we needed to push on. But we had heard great things about Kochi so we made it a point to go there.  Everyone told us that this was ‘winter’ in the South but wow…it’s been pretty damn hot and humid.  If this is winter…summer must be an oven!  Heat makes riding for long periods difficult, after a while you become pushed into a sleepy lull by the hot air.   We usually break for something cold to drink and skip lunch so we don’t feel too sleepy and heavy on the bike!  So far the traffic in the south was a few degrees less intense in terms of aggressiveness and volume of traffic.  Don’t get me wrong, this is still India.  Drivers are still aggressive and the traffic is still endless…we’re comparing in terms of India here!  When we got to Kochi our first order of business was to find a place to stay…but everything was a bit out of our budget.  There are some beautiful guest houses that are more like homestays really.  We randomly bumped into some Russian travelers that recommended us a cheaper, clean place to stay.  We checked in just in time to get ready to catch a Kathakali performance at the Kerala Kathakali Centre.  It’s obviously a performance set up for tourists but it’s decently informative.  They hand you a synopsis of the background story for the dances, you get to listen to live music and singing, see the make-up process, and one of the artists explains the hand movements, facial expressions etc of the dancers.  The theatre itself is a bit cramped and the acoustics are not the greatest but we still had a good time (even Nick!).  In the ally before the theatre, there is a Tibetan restaurant with really awesome momos and other dishes…we pigged out!  It rained at night and well into the morning and we questioned whether we should head out or not.  The rain stopped for a bit and we decided to push on out towards Alleppey which is the town where most of the backwater tours start.  We passed through beautiful, quiet villages on small roads (don’t like to take the main roads) and enjoyed observing life in Kerala.  It really is a beautiful, green place. On the way we realized we got a puncture, seems like we ran over a nail!  We were actually pushing it on our TKC’s, the front and rear were both pretty flat and worn.  We had a set of TKC’s sitting in Sangrur and the original street tires in Chandigarh, but what was the point of changing them now?  Luckily we were in Aleppey, we stopped at a Michelin shop just in case we needed to take the tire off.  With the requisite crowd surrounding us, we started to fix the puncture.  Since Nick had broken his thumb he couldn’t use pressure to shave the remaining sticky stub after we close up the hole with the plug.  You could just hear the gasp when I got down on my knees to shave the rest.  How could this be?  How can she possibly know what to do and how to do it?  Get the f*** over it people.  After patching up and thanking the friendly Michelin guys, we found a nice, clean little place down a small side street.  We thought we could do a day of backwaters but found out the next two days were going to be a no go due to a national labor bandh (strike)!  We couldn’t see ourselves sitting around for 3 nights for the boat ride so we decided to take a 2 hour ride that afternoon.   It was a shikara type boat like those in Srinagar but a bit bigger.  We sat at the front of boat and it was definitely relaxing.  Life along the backwaters is interesting and definitely worth exploring.  But I was surprised with the amount of house boats.  There were literally house boat traffic jams in the bigger channels with full on truck horns!  I’d like to try the house boat thing since it’s different from the stationary ones of Srinagar.  I do wonder about the environmental effects all this boat traffic must be having.  After our boat ride we thought we’d catch a festival going on at the Mahadevar Temple in Ettumanoor which was a bit of a ride out.  It was mad crowded at the temple and we couldn’t leave the bike alone in the sea of people and small bikes so Nick had to stay with the bike and I went to explore on my own.  It was a full on mela with all kinds of vendors selling chaat, peanuts, chili pakoras, candy, cheap toys that light up, fly and probably break after 5 minutes of use.  I got to the entrance and it was a sea of chappals (sandals/flip flops)…I thought that if I leave my shoes (my Merrils) here, I may never see them again.  I saw a police office  where I thought I could leave my shoes…so I asked the officer if I could leave my shoes inside, he looked at me reluctantly, esp since I was wearing a jacket, riding pants and had a huge DSLR camera on my shoulder, but agreed.  The shoe situation was crazy to the point of people hiding their shoes under signs or literally tying their chappals with rope to the pillars of the mandir (you know that ain’t right).  Working my way through inside of the temple was a task.  The interesting thing for me about the temple was the design.   The outside of the temple is made up of ‘boxes’ that each house a diya that is lit on the night of the festival.  That is what I wanted to see but I guess the festival was running on some major IST (Indian Standard Time).  The floor of the mandir was strewn with wheat and rice especially around a few huge scales where people offered their weight in rice, wheat, or sugar etc.  It was interesting but we were pooped.

When we can’t go through the hills, we like to take the coastal route…and if there’s neither hills or coast then we feel bummed!  We passed through village after village, sometimes on rocky-sandy roads and at times tarmac.  We thought we’d hit Kovalam Beach, but we’re so happy we didn’t!  I had marked Varkala Beach on BaseCamp (the Garmin software we use to mark points of interest and map our route) and we were pleasantly surprised.  The guest houses and shops are on top of a cliff facing the amazing view of the beach.  It’s something out of Thailand or even southern Cali.  We were instantly in love…I had been dying for some beach action and hopefully I’d get my fix here!  It’s kind of a mix of foreign hippies-yuppies- and a dash of Indian holiday makers.  There are tons of places to stay but we settled on a very purple homestay run by a family.  It was simple, clean, and in our price range and with a great balcony and beautiful view of the ocean!  We ended up spending 2 nights here!  As for the beach, the waves were super crazy…I mean huge and the underpull was pretty powerful!  For kids, I’d be careful but if you’re an adult and can swim, it’s too much fun!  There’s lifeguards that regulate the kids and creepsters.  We struggled to leave Varkala and since we spent an extra day, decided we needed to haul some major ass!  (Trying to get to Udaipur remember?)

This blog contains adult language, please read at your own risk. Sorry to those that may be offended. This is not our everyday language but this blog is best understood using a certain kind of language. Before we begin this chapter of our journey we would like to give a crash course on the definition of a “CHOOT”.  It’s a slang term to describe, well, to put it lightly, a despicable person…a jerk…an a**hole.  Ch**tness is prevalent the world over on varying levels.  Ch**tias come in all colors, religions and cultures.  Ch**tism holds no bar.  We have encountered all kinds of ch**tness all over the world and each time it irks us.  But, my friends, it’s the Indian brand of ch**tness that really gets us…I guess because we’re Indian and we as Indians are fed up with Indian ch**tias not only giving us a bad name outside the country but also, too much time and energy is spent by the average Indian on dealing with ch**ts inside the country.  If the meaning of a ch**t is still misunderstood, we will be using frequent examples to show how this “breed” of people has plagued this nation.  We have tried varying techniques to deal with these ch**ts ( including reason which simply does not work) and suggestions are welcome.  One great suggestion I got a long time back is to form a new regiment in the Indian Army, the thappar Regiment.  All ch**ts should be lined up single file and slapped open-handed by the officer with the largest hand. This would be a great service done for not only the nation, but humanity at large.  But you may ask, how do you get a ch**t to stand single file? I mean after all, he is a ch**t.  We’re still trying to figure that one out.  While the definition is fresh in our minds, let’s start with our journey back to the Motherland.

Getting on the flight to India was a surreal moment…were we really heading to India? Can’t wait to see friends and family but the stress of riding in India traffic and stopping surrounded by crowds was too much the last time, will we be able to handle it better this time? Is this the right decision route wise? We had good expectations for Ethiopian Airlines, but as soon as we got on the plane, the stench was unbearable.  We knew the bathrooms were pretty rank in Ethiopia but on the airplane?  To make matters worse, we were sandwiched between the bathrooms and yes, 15 Indian creeps that we will describe as the Rainbow Squad as they were each wearing a sparkly sweater vest of different colors that all decided to take their shoes off and amplify the disgusting smell.  Ok fine, I’ll hide my face in my perfumed scarf…Nick…sorry man you’re n your own.  But sh*t really started to hit the fan when the drink cart came around.  One guy literally cleared out the wine bottles and beer. For the next 3 hours the Rainbow Squad drank the wine like shots, in one big gulp.  They would also mix the wine and beer.  Well after dinner service was done the Rainbow Squad continued being loud, harassing the air hostesses, and asking for more booze.  These air hostesses would not stop giving them the booze! Not sure why they couldn’t say no.  Nick and another man told them to quiet down but that didn’t stop them.  Nick stopped the Hostess and kindly told her, “If you give them one more drink, I don’t care if you have an air Marshall on this flight, I’m going to punch these guys out.” Finally she cut them off but it was too late, several managed to puke on the carpet.  Just great.

We managed to shut our eyes for 30 minutes to take a power nap.   Our biker friend Harsh Rastogi that we had met on a tour in Cambodia (through Indimotard) let us stay with him in Mumbai.  He sent his driver to pick us up, and as we rolled through the traffic-less streets in the early morning, we couldn’t stop smiling…we’re back! We were still optimistic.

Our flight got in at around 5am and after meeting Harsh and having a quick breakfast we couldn’t wait any longer…the bike had been here for a day already and we didn’t want to get into any of the storage fee business, they can really burn you with that!  It took hours of running from office to office and making copies and getting nonsense letters sorted before we could get any where close to the bike.  No matter what, India customs definitely loves to make a fool out of you and enjoys seeing you run around like a dog, especially if there is no exchange of money.  The amount of redundancy that goes on in the form-filling and language of the paperwork and  the signing and stamping of paperwork is evidence enough of the inadequacy of the system and the people filling the positions.  The customs officials really have no idea what they should be doing and do everything by simply copying and pasting from old forms and not fully understanding their jobs (unfortunately not the only country that has done this).  Thinking it was close to 5pm, (although they come in at 11am) and seeing customs officials change out of their uniforms we thought we had neared the end and wouldn’t see the bike in the same day.  A security officer took us to one last office in the literal a** crack of the cargo terminal. Piles and piles of files were stuffed in every corner possible! Couldn’t help but think, our huge file was going to end up in one of these black holes!  Eventually we got the bike but the offices closed so we had to assemble the parts we had taken off in the very public front area.  It didn’t take us too long and we were on our way!  Felt great to have the bike in our possession!

We had heard India Bike Week was going to start in Goa.  It was the first IBW held and to be honest, Nick and I had never been to a biker event (that wasn’t competitive) in the US or India.  It took us a good 10 hours to get to Vagator Beach where we met up Anand and Josh.  Last time we saw Anand was in Cambodia, so it was great to meet up!  The actual  event was put together by Harley Davidson and it was obvious right from the “Harley only” parking lot down to the Bikini bike wash, that this was going to be ummm…interesting…! The event was huge, full of booths selling anything motorcycle related, there was a bike build off with custom bike makers, bands, dj’s, stunters, food, I mean it was big!  We parked our bike with Anand’s BMW 1150GS at the IndiMotard booth.  The next couple of days we answered thousands of questions and entertained the occasional Harley douche bag who would quickly glance over our bike trying to figure out  if it was a  new model of Harley. And ask ” how much?” We’d answer , “30 lakh” Douche bag answer: “Oh! Only that much?”  Unfortunately people who actually like to take their bikes out of their garages and ride them, those who enjoy working on their bikes and don’t mind getting a bit dirty, and those without bloated egos were not welcome at this event.  It was all about image, ESP the Harley image.   They should just call it what it is, Harley Bike Week, an Indian wannabe Sturgis.  Does India really need another thing to be image-conscious about? Guys came riding from all parts of the country on their Bullets, Pulsars, Activas (!), to be a part of the event and see something new, but I’m not sure they got what they wanted or felt any sort of biker camaraderie.  The Harley guys did but others were left in the dust, which translates to everyday life, so what does it matter, right? Later we learned many Harley guys put their bikes in huge trucks and took flights home, true blue bikers right? And you can imagine that guy who rode down from Delhi on his Bullet and then rode it back up, just to make it in time for work…all for the love of the ride.

Fortunately we were able to talk to tons of people (we lost our voices at the end!) and our message to people was this:

#1 You don’t need a big fancy bike to do a big trip. For the load and going 2-up this was our go to bike in the US. Most guys or gals are going solo, if it was up to Nick and if he was in India, doing it on a Pulsar or a duke or an Apache  is most definitely  an option! We have met travelers in Africa on Bullets, people doing Asia on scooters…options are endless, the choice is yours.

#2 You don’t need loads of money to do the trip.  Being on the road is cheaper than you think! You learn to live on little. Stay local, eat local.  After 17 months on the road, we have barely spent one fourth of our initial budget!

#3 You don’t need to plan like crazy and have everything top of the line.  It’s a learning process the entire way.  Half of our gear we have gotten along the way.  You’ll find you don’t need most of the stuff you packed anyway!

#4 Get over your fears!!! This is the most important.  You’ll find a job, you can make money on the road.  Your friends and family will get over it.  People are nice, don’t be scared.  You’ll find help when you need it the most! The world is good! What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger!

I hope it was inspiring to the people we met.  Some people were flabbergasted and felt as if we had helped them reach an epiphany…it’s possible for Indians to do this? Why the hell not? We need more Indians to travel and learn things and expose themselves to what’s out there.  It can only help the country and open minds.  A few TV channels and magazines interviewed us, whether they get broadcasted or published, we don’t know…but…our sole purpose of doing these interviews is to plant a seed in someone’s mind, especially the young generation.  Cheesy, but true.

We met tons of people, old friends and new.  We got a chance to try some great seafood…prawns and different types of fish smothered in a spicy, sweet red masala or even rava soaked and fried.  The fish curries were awesome and the beer was nice and cold.  We had met some new friends Deepak and Hem from Vasco de Gama at IBW and met them up again in Vasco.  We had a great time hanging out with their families, getting to know Goa, and eating great food.  Deepak also has a BMW 1200 GS so Nick, Deepak, and Hem were busy looking at mods.  Nick managed to smash his thumb into a sliding glass door and break it (his thumb, not the door)!  He was planning to do the Desert storm rally and there it went out of the window in a second. I could tell , he was pissed. He’s been wanting to do Desert storm for a long time but things never worked out due to work etc. He tried to take the big bike for a spin but it was hurting and he said there is no point to go there and suffer . So that was that .

After a couple of days we headed out, we are on a very tight schedule since we will be meeting my parents in Udaipur in the second week of March.  We tried to take coastal roads weaving through coconut groves, Portuguese style churches, old Goan estates, and glimpses of the blue ocean.  We hit Agonda Beach which is a nice stretch of beach with lots of beach huts and plenty of touristy spots.   At the end of the beach there was a patch full of overlander trucks and believe it or not an Indian overlander truck!  We kinda wanted to have a proper bathroom etc and found a place for Rs.350.   We still had not had a chance to take a dip in the water but figured we’d hit the coast again…still have a long way to go in India…The everyday ch**tias were hooting, hollering and chasing us on every side. We kept dodging them as best as we could  and kept our patience. You need lot of it when you travel on a bike like this in India!

It was a big relief to finish the “Road to hell” in one piece. It was mentally and physically challenging, stressful, and just pure survival. Nick was super relieved especially travelling with a wife for obvious reasons of abduction, looting and even murder. 2 days later a British guy was shot dead travelling in a Land Rover and robbed and later 8 people were killed in tribal clashes. Glad we were done with the road!  Border crossing on both Kenya and Ethiopia was easy…you could see a little bit of shady-ness kicking in…what a difference a border makes! On either side of the border, you will get bombarded by money changers, dodgy dudes wasted on khat trying to “help” you amongst other characters.  One guy did help us find our guest house when we got to Moyale but continued to follow us the next day where we had to get rude with him so he would bugger off! After the immigration and customs formalities we were in desperate need of a coffee.  Luckily we found a nice place with beautiful coffee!  Coffee is huge in Ethiopia, especially Arabica beans which originated there.  The coffee is roasted in front of you and comes black served from a clay kettle into tiny cups and saucers on a tray covered with green leaves and accompanied with a small cup of burning frankincense…just wow!

The road was broken tarmac and then turned to gravel again on the way towards Addis Ababa but we noticed the amount of people on the street in Ethiopia…absolutely crazy!  Population is definitely a problem in the country and yes, there is a lot of poverty.  Sometime in the early evening, we saw a couple of big bikes heading towards us from the opposite direction.  Turns out it was Omar and Abdullah…Omar from Egypt on an Africa Twin and Abdullah on a BMW 800GS from the UAE.  They were on their way to Cape Town.  They convinced us to come and camp with them at the Arab Camp! Basically the Arab camp was a bunch of Egyptian engineers that have been contracted to work on the highway.   We were welcomed with open arms and fed till we had no room!  We were served tea like it was water and were given proper rooms to sleep in.  It was great to meet some fellow “brown” riders! We talked till late and exchanged information, sim cards, maps etc and ofcourse discussed the conditions of “the road to hell”.

Our next stop was going to be one of the lakes close to Addis,  we decided on Lake Langano.  We found a beautiful camp along the shores of the lake.  The lake water has a pinkish color, not because it’s dirty but due to the minerals.  It’s really the only lake in Ethiopia that you can swim in because there’s no crocs!  The backdrop of the little inhabited mountains on the other side of the lake created a beautiful backdrop for the sunset.  We followed the edge of the shoreline to get to the only restaurant at a nice hotel, we treated ourselves to Italian food and ice cream! On the way back we found ourselves lost in the pitch dark, desert-like terrain and found some villagers that guided us back to our campsite.  Good thing we had our headlight but if it wasn’t for the villagers we would have been doing circles the whole night!

The next day we go to Addis Ababa and stayed at Wim’s Holland.  We timed it so we would be able to go to the Sudan embassy.  Little did we know what we were in for! We arrived at the embassy and walked up to the counter and again, found a frowning, grumpy man In a suit.  He asked for our passports and before we could explain anything, he literally tossed them back at us and said “No visa for you.  Go online.” Okay….go online and do what? “Get visa from Khartoum!” He was basically yelling at his point. In Nick’s mid sentence he tried to close his window shut and Nick having enough presence of mind caught the window and said “I’m talking to you sir!” The official grabbed Nick’s arm and Nick tried to get him to let go and there began the pushing and shoving.  We couldn’t believe this was happening…in an embassy??? The pushing and yelling went on for a couple of minutes, we were physically pushed out of the embassy, it was surreal.  They slammed the gates behind us and locked the door and basically shut down the embassy.  We weren’t alone though, there were about 40 some Eritreans that were pushed out of the gate but we had noticed before the Sudanese were mistreating them as soon as they walked in.  We figured this was a lost cause.  We tried the Iran embassy which was also a no go and our other option of going to Djibouti then on to Yemen also looked to be an impossibility visa wise.  Now what? We decided to get a few shipping quotes to air freight the bike out.  If we can’t go through Sudan we’re basically locked! After getting some quotes we decided to head out of Addis to see the rest of the country and have a think over our next step.

We moved on to Bahir Dar which is a town situated close to a lake and is full of Christian monasteries.  I would say the country is about half Muslim and have Christian.  In the early mornings you are awakened to the chanting and drums from the church and shortly thereafter Namaz is blaring over the loudspeaker. It’s not that bad though as others claim it is! We ended up staying a couple of days along the lake and took an overpriced boat ride to the overpriced monasteries.  Basically the monasteries are more like churches.  The churches were built between the 1200s-1300s.  There’s tons of colorful murals inside. But the maintenance was terrible.  Obviously the priests are eating the money!  We happened to be there during the Epiphany or Timkat which celebrates the baptism of Jesus.  The main streets (even highways) were closed down because people had laid out red carpets and were dusting the ground before the big priests feet.  People were lined up along the carpets singing, playing drums, dancing, and sounding horns.  The ladies all had their hair done in traditional braids and both men and women were wearing the traditional white cotton dress.  It was a really great time to be there but it was horrible on the roads.  Ethiopians love to walk and congregate on the roads…seems like everyone is out with not a damn thing to do! Kids throw rocks, jump in the middle of the road demanding money and dancing until you almost hit them….and sorry…at one point we really wanted to.  Water and simple hygiene are both limited and poverty is staggering.  There’s tons of farming going on, especially wheat.  People live in houses made of long wooden sticks or planks then covered with dung.  I’ve never seen such large dung and stick structures! Some people had mansions! But from what I understand nobody owns anything…the government owns all the land! The plight of the farmer continues in the world…

We decided to head to Gondar which was the “Camelot” of Ethiopia.  There are ruins of castles and forts from the 1300s!  But before we got there we had to dodge more stones and….shit. Yes, shit.  A crazy man prancing around singing and obviously reaching his own state of epiphany, lobbed a softball size glob of dung which conveniently plopped on The top of Nick’s helmet Awesome.  I saw a couple of ladies with eyes open wide and mouth agape watching the dung flying in the air and headed for Nick’s ill-fated head.  Immediately they yelled at the man probably worried that this faranj was going to go crazy.  I have to give Nick props as he was totally unphased. (Nick says this is everyday life in India, you never know what you’re going to get)  I would be screaming if I knew there was shit on my helmet.  But being the dutiful wife( I couldn’t stop laughing) I took out my tissues and wet wipes and attempted to scrape off the already sunbaked dung off the helmet and some residue on the windshield.  We ended up meeting the Germans on Enfields and we had full on venting sessions, especially on the rock throwing which actually caused them injury.  We went for some food and oh! Forgot to tell you about Ethiopian food! So it’s a lot like Indian food…you have injera which is made out of fermented wheat and is soft and a bit spongy, like the underside of a dosa.  It has a slightly sour taste and can be a little gray in color which one of our South African biker friends suggested, it look like a washcloth! But we were fine with it.  With injera you get different kinds of lentils or shiro, which is a thick kind of curry made out of ground chickpeas I think.  Shiro can also have meat, usually beef.  Their meat dishes are also great but many times I took the fasting platter ( call it a thali because it is literally that!) which was usually all veg! They usually have berbere powder which is a red pepper mixture which can give up some heat! I am in love with that stuff! It tastes amazing on anything…even lasagna! And that’s another thing! Ethiopia was not colonized but for about 5 years during WW2, the Italians came in.  Anywhere you go you can usually find a decently done spaghetti bolognese and a macchiato!   The food is important to mention because it’s the first African country we hit with a distinct culinary scene. But sorry no pic, we were too busy eating

Our next stop was Lalibela where the 12th-13th century stone-hewn churches are.   All along the way we had really amazing scenery…golden wheat covered hills, water-carved canyons, mountains..and more rock-wielding kids.  Early in the morning we were minding our business when a couple of kids had rocks ready, took aim and hit the bike.  Immediately something happened to where the bike stopped and the electrics that were supplying charge to our GPS and cell phone was immediately cut.  Nick having had enough chased after the kids, the kids ran off.  I guess that’s what they want, a reaction, so I’m pretty sure they’ll do it over and over again.  Unfortunately people have really marred our image of Ethiopia.  There are good ones and then there are all these kids and adults that crowd around no matter where you stop and say “Give me money…give me pen…GIVE ME GIVE ME!!!” You could be grabbing a sip of water…looking at a map…taking a piss in the bushes….somebody will pop out of somewhere! And the kids come screaming towards you and touch everything.  And I mean everything…you can feel little hands digging into your pant’s pockets!  I used to think it was all curiosity…until they start throwing rocks at you for not giving them money.  There’s no shame, no pride…maybe in the older generation.  We noticed a few grandmothers and grandfathers scolding the kids for even approaching us.  I guess generations living with aid tend to have little sense of nationality or pride in providing for yourself and family.  Some people say all of Africa is like this, I’d say out of the countries we travelled, Ethiopia takes the cake.

Anyways… Lalibela! We got there in the afternoon and made the effort to see two of the three church sites.  In hindsight I would recommend getting a guide so they can point out the smaller details!  The outside of the churches are impressive in their size and the fact that they were chiseled out of the rock…pretty amazing feat!  You have to take your shoes off to go inside the church and the steps can be pretty slippery since the rock has been worn down.  There were many elderly that were having problems because of the steps, it almost felt like climbing at some points! The inside of the churches have inner sanctums where the “holiest of holy” is kept and of course you don’t get to see that! Other than that, there’s old murals on hides or canvas and some painting and carving on the roofs etc.  To be honest, they charge foreigners $50 per person and it’s obvious the priests are eating the money.  No care has been taken to keep the place fresh or clean.  Although the churches are active, I was hoping to see candles, incense, beautiful relics and all things gorgeously Ethiopian Orthdox but that was not the case.  But Lalibela is great to see in terms of human feat.  There are no tar roads getting into and out of Lalibela and the road we ended up choosing to get out was Raid-de-Himalaya worthy! Rocky, uphill and narrow hairpins were difficult to maneuver but the scenery was just wow! There was a considerable drop in rock-throwing kids and it was replaced by more waving and smiling  After 65kms, the road was nice and windy and greatly enjoyable! We didn’t get back to Addis in one go, but once we did, we knew we had a situation on our hands!

We were landlocked.  What now? Sudan..a no go…that blocks off Egypt.  What about shipping to Egypt? But once you get to Egypt, take ferry to Turkey.  But weather is cold and wet and the whole ordeal is super expensive.  Ship to Italy? Again, weather and cost.  Djibouti then on to Yemen? No visa! UAE? But then what? Mumbai? ……..weather is decent, get to make use of Pakistani visa, see the parents, see friends, tour the south….cheaper….!  We were in the need of a morale boost and some TLC.  All the negativity from the rejection of visas and just traveling for the past year and a half made us long for something familiar and we felt the need to quell our blah vibe with the love and comfort of friends, family, lassi, pav bhaji, dosas, samosas, ladoos, chaat, and vadas.  (No we are not stress eaters )

We got an extremely good rate for air freighting the bike with Ethiopian Airlines to Mumbai.  We couldn’t believe our ears and we checked with them multiple times…you sure for a motorcycle? And you’re sure it’s the dangerous goods rate? With all answers positive we moved on to figuring out the crate situation.  We had to build it ourself.  Freight forwarders like Packtra (the most popular) charge close to $1000 to make a flimsy palate (learned we don’t have to do a full crate!).  We decided we could do better and cheaper.  Our friend Omar, the Egyptian biker, got us in touch with a carpenter that could help us.  All the wood, material etc and labor came out to $110.  Rachet straps to compress the bike down (since it usually flies on volume rather than weight) were impossible to find.  There are big truck straps you can get but not for the bike.  We were able to buy two off of Flavio who works on KTMs.  After packing the bike on the pallet, wrapping the windscreen etc in newspapers (no bubble wrap in Ethiopia!), we had to get a dangerous goods certificate.  And the Packtra bastards were the only people who could do it.  Two hundred f***ing dollars for a paper basically saying  we disconnected the battery, took the air out of the tires, and drained the petrol….ugh.  Once we did all the chasing around of customs and all the necessary clearance…the bike was stamped out of Ethiopia, had the dangerous goods certificate etc only then did the airlines issue us the airway bill.  And guess what they did? Increased the cost of shipping. . After two days of living at the cargo terminal and after the bike was completely stamped out…WTF?  We managed to negotiate the cost after raising hell.  We literally had to whoop ass and take names.  After all the bullshit, the bike actually made it on to the booked flight and made it to India.  Our friend Harsh in Mumbai actually got a call from Ethiopian Airlines that the cargo had arrived.  We hate been jerks but unfortunately things don’t get down sometimes.

People say a lot of things about Africa, I guess I have too in these blogs…but I encourage everyone to go there and make your own opinion.  People in Africa, whether black, brown, white, are all really great people with an amazing sense of humor.  In many countries in Africa, if I accidentally tipped over my cup of coffee, if we fell off the bike…people would come to our rescue exclaiming, “Sorry sorry sorry!!!”, as if they were apologetic you encountered a mishap in their country.  Where else do you see that?  As a woman, I felt safe traveling. Africans have a great sense of humor and a smile, laugh transcends any border.   People also would ask, “How do you like my country? How does it compare?”  Mature Africans do have a sense of pride about their country.  If only this could be the case for the younger generations growing up surrounded by aid flowing in.  I want them to know that the Western world or the Faranj (foreigner) is not going to be your salvation, you got to do it on your own.  And we as foreigners have to understand that these are not poor, helpless Africans.  I think if you have a skill that you would to share with others it’s great to teach others to fish for themselves or to open minds…but please whatever you do, don’t bring pens and stickers to handout.  The continent needs thinkers AND doers not to be incapacitated due to our ignorance.

Thank you Africa for being extremely good to us!  And a huge thanks to all our friends we met along the way! Africa, we miss you already! But as our friend Chenthil said….on we move from the frying pan to the fire.” Incredible India” awaits…Let the chootness begin. Yes, we said it… apologies, but this word will be used very freely and frequently in the next few blogs, as we travel through India!

Again, easy border crossing  into Kenya. Instead of going the Kisumu way, we decided on going to Eldoret. It was chilly and started to rain decently hard as we rolled in. Eldoret is kind of a messy city. The roads were a bit tight and bad and with water and silt it was not pretty. We rode around the whole town trying to find a place that was cheap with good parking and we found nothing. As we were riding around we saw the Nishan Sahib of the Gurudwara. Thank you God!  Again we were welcomed with open arms by the Bhai Sahib and his family. Interesting thing about the Gurudwaras in East Africa, they all have great accommodation. With a small donation or around 500 kenyan Shillings, you can stay in a safe environment where your bike is parked safely. In many  Gurudwaras such as those in Kisumu and Eldoret, many families including non-Sikhs as well as pandits  from the mandirs sought refuge in the Gurudwaras during the 2006 riots during the elections. In East Africa, a Sikh is known as a Singha or Kalasingha and they are greatly respected completely different from anyone else. People have a tendency to ask what are you? When we said we were Kalasinghas, people’s demeanor changed.

The next day we headed out towards Nairobi and found ourselves running low on gas…but unfortunately in Eldoret and surrounding areas we were out of luck…no petrol. Finally we lost our patience and  got some petrol on the black market. We bought about 5L for about $2/Liter…the guy who sold it to us assured us it was pure, but we also used coffee filters to catch any particulate. We said a prayer and set off! Luckily, the guy’s word was good and we got to Nakuru where we were able to fill up. Seems petrol was tough to find because of Christmas…no tanker drivers working! Second time we had trouble finding gas, first was in Malawi.  Eventually we got to Nairobi and set up camp at Jungle Junction (the overlander place to be I guess) where 4x4s and bikers traveling through Africa meet. We got stuck camping and drowning in water. It rained continuously for a couple of days and we had a backload of laundry to do. Our Redverz tent had never had to sustain constant rain but it did pretty well and we didn’t have any leakages.  In the meantime we got to know some of the other travelers.  Including bikers from Germany on diesel powered Royal Enfields and South Africans on BMWs to name a few.

We had to get a Sudan visa in order to move on towards Egypt. Under much persuasion (took the entire day) for the rude embassy guy to take our application. On top of that we had to go and ask the American Embassy to write a letter on our behalf stating that we are citizens wanting to travel to Sudan for tourist purposes. John at the embassy told us that the US Embassy does not issue such letters and the Sudanese know that. He offered to call the Sudan embassy to talk to them but he couldn’t get through at first. But when he did, he was hung up on twice. The guy ( bald headed guy who always looks pissed off) who took our application and told us it may take 3-4 days since they needed to send “it” to Khartoum. What “it” was…we’re not sure! Because after much follow-up every other day, we found our application sitting in his drawer at the embassy 10 days later. After demanding to see the high commissioner and having a supposedly earnest conversation with him, they handed us our applications back saying our applications have been rejected…although the rejection box on our application was not check marked and the reason for rejection or the embassy officials signature was not completed (of course). We told the guy if he didn’t want to give us a visa (or if the country of Sudan does not want to) then sign your name on it and formally reject it. But of course, these guys, of these “certain” countries have no good reasoning and can’t look you in the eye either so it’s basically like reasoning with a 2 year old. What ticked us off was the lying. To keep us hanging in Nairobi for days, killing our patience and wasting our money was far from cool.

In the meantime, we rang in 2013 at JJ’s  with a BBQ with our fellow travelers. The weather, staying in non-ideal conditions, and the visa disappointment had us a little mentally, physically, and emotionally spent. There was a good chance that we would not get our Sudan visa in Addis Ababa either but we had an Ethiopian visa and there was always an option of Djibouti so we decided to try our luck. For the New Year, we decided to go visit the Makindu Gurudwara which is in between Mombasa and Nairobi.  It’s basically THE holiest for East African Sikhs. Not only is it popular with Sikhs but its a safe stopover for the night or for a free meal for Muslims (although there is a mosque next door), Hindus, Christians, also tourists!  We ended up staying one night and had a chance to meet some Sikh families from Nairobi who were pretty active at the Simba Union Club (like a Punjabi country club).   Dipi and Ambi,  and many other families treated us for a Sunday brunch at the club and we had a great time partying it up!  The next day we fitted our front tire and we also meet up with our Nairobi Indian Biker friend, Karthik who introduced us to Ethiopian food!

We didn’t feel like wasting the Ethiopian visa and there seemed to be a lot to see in Ethiopia itself but there was one big…not big….huge(!) hurdle in front of us…the Isiolo to Moyale highway! 400kms of suspension breaking, banditry mayhem that should not be tried alone. Except…we were alone.  No other traveler was going north so, with our usual optimism in tow and good ol’ Punjabi “Koi na!” (“No worries!”) we pushed on to one of the most feared roads….We couldn’t find anyone to go on the road with us and other bikers had left since we were waiting for our damned Sudan visa. So we had to do what everyone told us not to, go alone. We rode from Nairobi to Isiolo which was tarred and spent the night camping out and eating masala fries (the best ever!) at what seemed to be the only campsite. The real crap was set to start tomorrow as the tar was going to end 140km in Marielle. On top of that it rained 5 days In a row before we left (also at night) so we knew we’d be in for some mud. So why is this road so bad? Well if you get a dry run, it’s much easier. But there’s still big rocks, big stone gravel, sandy parts and ruts to deal with. Many bikers and even 4x4s face damages due to roads like broken shocks (supposedly the BMW curse)!  Also the scarcity of petrol, food, water and people or law enforcement makes it a bit frightening. In the past years there has been much inter tribal warfare as well as kidnapping and attacks on tourists. Constantly, along the route to Marsabit (kinda like a midway point) locals tried to stop us either for water or just for no reason. We decided since we were riding alone we wouldn’t stop. Many times we found ourselves alone surrounded by lava rock and bushes. Random herders walked around with automatic rifles and Samboro tribesmen walked around in brightly colored fabrics with linear designs and silver jewelry. All was well until two young tribal guys tried to stop us but Nick did not feel safe enough to do so. The road was pretty rough with ruts so we couldn’t move too fast. I looked to my right and saw the two guys running almost parallel with us.  Nick tried to go a bit faster when they threw a couple of spear shaped long sticks that ended up hitting our tent. We sped as fast as we could but in reality it wasn’t that fast. I quickly opened up my camera and pointed it at the guys which made them run into the bushes! *Whew* close one! After that Nick and I were a bit shaken. We ran into major black sticky mud later on…either side of the bike the mud was built up.  Nick literally had to slowly crawl along the walls. Somehow the big just wanted to go down and we fell! We couldn’t pick it up and had to wait for help to lift it up.  Eventually after crazy ruts later, we got to Marsabit, found a guest house and settled in.

We got up super early in the next morning and headed out. We passed through Marsabit National Park which is made up of old, old volcanic craters and a perfect Tarmac road being built by a Chinese contractor which was running parallel to our dirt road.  What torture to see that paved road blocked off by huge piles of rocks!  The scenery was amazing and made us feel so helpless and at the mercy of nature. Hadn’t felt that since being in the Himalayas. And that’s exactly how we found ourselves, at the mercy of the terrain. We thought we were going down a dry mud hill but there was wet red mud underneath. The bike fishtailed three times almost sideways, swinging like a pendulum. And trust me, a fully loaded BMW going sideways is not a pretty feeling. Nick almost controlled it but we found ourselves sliding down and then falling. The bike was at a crazy angle in piles of mud. After waiting a few minutes, we removed the panniers and lifted the bike out. Soon the terrain changed a bit from sandy dirt to gravel and the road stretched for miles and miles. It was the most desolate landscape I had ever seen. Sand was littered with lava rock except for the odd rock structures that looked like abandoned huts. Every now and then we would see camel caravans and mostly Muslim herders and ladies with lots of silver jewelry, tattoos, and black henna. It was no doubt interesting but the terrain and muscling the bike was taking a toll on Nick. BMWs are notorious for the rear shock to go out. Every hour we would stop and let the shock cool down.  We also changed our suspension setting to ‘hard’ so the shock would compress less. About 80kms short of Moyale (the border town of Kenya/Ethiopia), we tagged down a bus going from Marsabit to Moyale.  We convinced them to take the two side panniers and me (!!!) on the bus.  Plan was that Nick would follow behind as close as possible. The bus was packed!  And of course being the faranj (foreigner) it was a staring contest. I stood for the first hour and after our first stop at a small village where the bus unloaded so people could go to the bathroom and get a cold drink, I got a seat between a guy with a broken arm and a burkha-clad woman. Overall the people were really nice and strangers offered me water. The lady next to me would get really excited to see Nick speeding beside us on his bike which was good because I could not see him at all behind us or the road in front of us. As for the actual ride, I have never been rocked like that in my life. The bus went full speed over ruts, corrugations as if it was invincible. Many of the young guys were chewing on khat, a kind of plant that has stimulant activity and is only legally grown in Ethiopia. In the last big village of Silolo, the bus picked up an armed askari (guard) who sat on the steps of the bus.  The terrain changed a bit and on either side of the bus we were surrounded by bushes, good hiding spots for bandits I guess!  Two guys who had been chewing khat nonstop since I had gotten on, literally jumped off the bus while the bus was still moving!  As we went storming on, my mind was with Nick…how was he faring?  Basically for him it was a rally!  He felt like he was doing the Dakar trying to follow the bus!  The bike was definitely moving much easier without the luggage and pillion! Eventually we got to Moyale (Kenya) but the border was closed! Uuuuggghhh! We found a guest house and called it a night….we could not believe that we survived the road from hell!  I think if it’s dry it’s still better but the mud made it worse as well as the constant stress of the rear shock going out.  We would never do that road again

But before we wrap up Kenya, a few words…

Never in our trip or in our lives have we felt so welcome by non-family or strangers as we have by the Punjabis of East Africa. For 2 months all of you have been acting as our family by feeding us, providing us a place to stay, talking to us without any selfish intention or doubt, and wielding out hugs, handshakes and kisses.  Never have we been so accepted for fulfilling our dream…not even in the US or India.  Thank you for everything and all the encouragement and support which has made us push on! You guys have reminded us of what helping the community is all about! Jambo and Asante Sana!

The border crossing into Uganda was simple with the usual road tax charged in these African countries.  We decided to ride to Jinja which is where Nile or White Nile supposedly starts…I won’t get into that because it seems people take the location of the Nile source pretty seriously.  We ended up camping out at the Adrift Camp which had a great location on the river with a beautiful view of the Nile below.  But on the way to Jinja, we noticed the greenery.  There was sugar cane, rice, corn growing everywhere.  Seems like wherever you throw a seed, something will grow.  There’s also some pretty good white water rafting in Jinja but it’s pretty expensive compared to other places.

We headed out for Kampala, only to be caught in rain.  And it proceeded to rain for the next couple of days.  Thankfully we were camping out at a place that had great wifi, so we were able to catch up a bit on pics.  Kampala is like any other crowded African city, but people in Uganda were really nice and again, lots of English speakers. There is a liveliness at night, especially on the weekends.  Weird enough, we ran into many Indian Army and Pakistani Army soldiers that were stopping in Kampala for a couple of days after serving as UN peacekeepers in South Sudan before heading home (my guess is to take a look at the gori mems…essentially white girls staying at the guest house).

Thankfully the rain stopped for a day and we headed out, we were in the mood for some hills so we headed for the Fort Portal area.   Fort Portal is situated in a hilly,cool place where you can get some views or arrange trekking  to the  Rwenzori mountain range. The Rwenzoris, believe  it or not,  get annual snow and also have huge glaciers.  We took a dirt road full of ruts in search of a campsite up in the scenic hills, which was surrounded by beautiful old trees, tea plantations and flowers.  It ended up being a beautiful place to camp.  Only thing is in Uganda, there was always moisture in the morning and our tent would never dry!  Talking about the tent…It’s become pretty routine for us to put it up.  But as husband and wife , although we might pitch it every day, folding it back together is always a fire starter But the tent is definitely cozy no matter how cold and sometimes we’d rather stay in our tent with our own sleeping bags than in a yucky guest house!  The next day we headed out on an awesome trail that began to get more narrow and rough as we headed out.  It was cool though, we were able to get a glimpse of village life and whizz through farms and tea plantations…something you couldn’t do on 4 wheels. We did hit some patches of sticky back mud  but we were able to waddle our way through.  It was actually Christmas Eve and we hoped to hit a nice place to spend the night.  Villagers were also getting ready for Christmas.  Each village had a butcher shop that had slaughtered cows and goats. It seems that meat is kind of a special occasion thing.  I talked to a few kids  on the Uganda side of the border with Kenya and asked them what they did for Christmas.  Their answer was simple…”I ate some meat and I watched a movie and went to sleep.” This same kid asked me for Indian rupees to buy some bananas.  He just wanted to collect different money from around the world.  He was so sweet he broke my heart.  All kids around the world are sweet and precious, sometimes I wish I could whisk them away on my motorcycle and show them the world. Again, beautiful green hills with dramatic clouds dominated our ride.  Oh and we did encounter sticky red mud and rain along the way…and the red mud is really something else…I had to get off the bike a couple of times and it was more difficult to walk since it was like ice skating…that slippery! You could definitely feel the back of the bike fishtailing!

Eventually we got to another hilly area that was once surrounded by volcanoes.  We decided to camp near Lake Bunyonyi.  Luckily the place we were camping at was decorated with Christmas trees, lights, and Santa Claus!  There were tons of Indian families celebrating and we felt a bit homesick.  After opening a bottle of rum and gorging on a creamy, pesto pasta (courtesy of me!) we sat around a bonfire along with an older couple originally from Bangalore, but now doing business in Kampala. Talking to them made us miss the family further.  We retired back to our tent after warming up near the fire, had some Cadbury Fruit n Nut and curled up together and slept.

We didn’t have much back tire left and had one front waiting for us in Nairobi that we thought we’d change in anticipation of the road to Moyale (Ethiopia). We also needed the  Sudan visa so we needed to get the process started hopefully.   So, on Christmas Day we decided to head towards Kampala and then on to Kenya.  We usually don’t like to ride at night but we were determined to get to Kampala because it felt in reach.  Along the way people were really out and about since it was Christmas.  It was obvious people had been drinking so we were really on alert.  Along the way I got a bit sleepy and my eyes closed for a minute (I usually don’t like to sleep on the bike) and I felt Nick put on the breaks suddenly, I felt the rear of the bike going in the air and then landing hard.  I lunged forward and felt my left foot flat on the ground and sparks flying.  There was a bike and a man sliding on the ground right in our bike’s path.  We stopped right before the guy’s body.  Nick, very  worried, asked me if I  was okay and my  dazed and  confused answer was, “Wait, ek  (one) minute…” and Nick was like what the heck….By the time we got to Kampala, it was dark.  We decided to go to a backpackers place and found there was only one room and no food.  We walked down to the street to find a lively street stall scene.  We decided on a couple of Rolex’s …basically an omelet with veggies wrapped in a  parantha.  We had our simple Christmas  dinner and fell asleep,   feeling thankful to get to Kampala safe and sound and to have each other.

Getting into Kenya was nothing too complicated except for being hounded by Masaai ladies.  They kept on pushing their beaded jewelry on me saying it was a free gift from them to me.  Saw this trick in Laos We rolled into Nairobi and met up with my Uncle Pili.  My Nanaji’s parents (my great-grandparents) and his siblings moved to Kenya in the 50′s-60′s.  They’ve mostly moved to the UK now, but we still have some distant family in Kenya.  In short…Uncle Pili is awesome.  He really showed us an amazing time in Nairobi…I don’t think we’ve partied that hard in a while!!! Basically the bars seem to pick up after 12pm in Nairobi, and the music is something we’re used to…a mix of hip-hop, African, reggae, but there’s always a strong reggaeton-ish beat, so you always feel like moving!  But we weren’t partying the whole time…we caught up on our blog, pics, videos (that’s how I’m able to type this up right now!), went to Jungle Junction and talked to some fellow overlanders especially about the trip to Moyale, left our front tire that we’ll replace later, and also get our Ethiopian visa.

We had read a lot of junk online that US citizens or European citizens have trouble getting the visa in Nairobi and Kampala.  You basically have to mail your passport back to your country and wait a good week before you get it back.  We really did not want to do that!  We went with our most smiliest, sweetest of faces and asked for a visa.  We also told them that we hold a passport which is like an Indian dual citizenship and they took a look at that.  The tattooed lady that everyone complains about online was okay but definitely has the potential to act like a big fat meanie.  We asked for a transit visa from the start and told them we’re trying to get back home to India.  After asking questions like…”If you’re going to Uganda, why don’t you get  it there ?”  Us: “Because we are just riding to Mt.Elgon and ride back.”  Tattoo Lady: (Rolls eyes)”How long will you be in Ethiopia?” Us: “One month, umm just in case something happens to our bike you know..like an accident or breakdown” Tattoo Lady: (Rolls eyes) “Go sit outside.”  We sat outside wondering what our fate was to hold.  We were then told to go to the bank to deposit the visa fee into the bank account of the Ethiopian Embassy and also to get an extra copy of the carnet (we had one, guess we ran out).  We ran back to the embassy and waited…20 minutes later we were handed back our passport for…an Ethiopian visa for 3 months!!!  Wow!!!!  After that we decided we better head out of Nairobi and go towards Uganda.

Our first stop was Lake Naivasha.  to be honest the lake is okay…there’s a park close by called Hell’s Gate which is supposed to be cool because you can walk and cycle around it.  So…you can take your car, walk, or cycle…but again…no motorcycle is allowed!  So that was a major bummer.  We stayed at the Fisherman’s Camp at Naivasha but we weren’t too crazy about it, it was way too crowded and noisy…also the bathrooms weren’t too nice.  They say hippos come out to the shore of the lake but with all the noise and people, I doubt the hippos get out near the camp.  The next day we headed towards Lake Nakuru.  Lake Nakuru is part of a national park that’s supposed to have loads of pink flamingoes living on the lake.  Someone guided us up to a hill to see the flamingoes but we couldn’t see any…not sure where they went  Oh well, there’s always Florida.

Kericho was our next stop and little did we know what we were in for a Punjabi Simba welcome!  We were overwhelmingly welcomed by old family friends of my family that lived in Kenya back in the 60′s!  We stayed at the big Gurudwara in Kericho which really was wonderfully constructed by the community.  It was great to learn more about the family and the African roots.   We also got to take a look at the old Brook Bond tea estate on which my Great-Grandfather and my Grandfather’s brother (my DadaJi’s brother) were directors of.  The Hunjan Family treated us just as their own, (being old friends of my family), and showed us around and even invited us to the wedding festivities of Harry.  We also had the honor of coincidentally having arrived when Sant Mohinder Singh Ji came to Kericho.  Sant Mohinder Singh Ji is the successor to Baba Puran Singh Ji who was a saintly man who believed in hard word and seva (helping others) and who was like a brother to my Great-Grandfather.  We also got a chance to visit places my family was born and also what they helped to build.  Next stop was Kisumu!  We were hoping to get a glimpse of Lake Victoria but there was too much green overgrowth.  We were greeted by friends of the family, including the Panesar family!  Aunty and Uncle treated us to paranthas, brownies, and a big box of homemade burfi! I will always remember Aunty’s milk powder-burfi!  The ride to Kericho to Kisumu and beyond was full of gorgeous views.  I think it’s overlooked but for us it was a standout.

In Indonesia, somehow we had missed the whole equator sign and the chance to take some pics and say ‘Yeah!  We made it to the equator!” So we made sure we’d pass the sign up on the way to Uganda…and yes, we got to take the requisite cheesy pics   East Africa was turning out to be beautiful and full of great people.  We weren’t too sure what to expect of Uganda, but we were to be pleasantly surprised!

Mozambique was a short affair. In terms of scenery there wasn’t much in north Mozambique. It was dry and pretty poor. We passed village after village of mud houses and bags full of coal to sell lined up on the road.  As with most of the other countries, you had the occasional crowd surrounding the water pump with plastic Jerry cans lined up for their turn.  We decided to stop and grab a soda. We were immediately hounded by people asking questions in Portuguese.  Only knowing a few basics and employing whatever Spanish I know, as well as our version of sign language, we were able to communicate. Most of the countries in Africa that we had visited so far did not pose much of a problem language wise until now! We decided to make our night halt in a big town along the Zambezi River called Tete.  Two old friends made a reappearance in Moz…the small motorbikes and samosas.  Both Indian imports apparently since Bajaj and TVS seem to be pretty popular and samosas were brought by Indian traders.  After sifting through crazy expensive accommodation, we found a campsite along the river where there didn’t seem to be anyone taking care.  Eventually we found that the man of the family was drunk and knocked out, while the wife greeted us with babies in tow.  Ah the plight of women continues in the world.  The beaches in Mozambique are supposed to be pretty nice and the flavor of the region completely different from other countries in southern Africa but route wise, it wasn’t making sense for us to go to the coast.  And long stretches of nothing on shit roads to get to a beach that might just be so-so was not tempting, so we pushed on to Malawi.  One thing there is plenty of in Mozambique are mango trees!  they are neverending…and the trees are huge and just loaded with mangos. Everyone’s eating them or sucking on a mango pit!

Malawi was a continuation of Mozambique in terms of scenery…mud house villages and coal tied up in bundles for sale.  The border crossing was nothing too crazy except that they gave Nick a visa valid only for 7 days and me a 30 day visa…go figure.  They wouldn’t change it either!  We decided  to head towards Lilongwe.  It had been a long time since we had a wheat roti…all this time since South Africa we have been carrying rice and pasta and cooking that.  the taste of a roti,the texture and the motions of tearing a bite with a few fingers of one hand is something that you miss over time.  I remember when my brother and I were little, we’d whine…”Roti…??? Again???” The things you take for granted in your life!  We found Indian food that was somewhat decent,  definitely not what we were looking for…we wanted the stuff that tasted like a mother made it.  That would have to wait!  We ended up camping out at the Lilongwe Golf Club…random I know!  But they were really nice and had a complete camping set-up.  From Lilongwe we wanted to hit Lake Malawi.  We took an inside road from the main ‘highway’ that was supposed to be along the lake.  We could see the lake from a distance and it seriously looked like the ocean.  Many of the villages were small, Muslim ones so the vibe reminded us of traveling through southern Thailand and Indonesia.  On a whim we took a small dirt road down towards the lake after seeing a badly painted sign for a guest house in the Chinteche (New London Guest House or something!) We found the guest house to be fine, cheap, and including breakfast (reminiscent of the Asia days)!  There was a gorgeous white sand beach with traditional wooden boats strewn about.  We had originally wanted to go to Nkhata Bay but after making this last minute stop, we felt satisfied after seeing this part of the lake.  We decided just to make a quick stop to see what the fuss is all about in Nkhata Bay.  Stopping by at Mayoka Village guest house, we were shocked by the view! The lull of the turquoise waters fringed by lush mango trees and beautifully constructed and fitted bandas (chalet-hut type of rooms) convinced us to stay one more night along the immense lake.  This hadn’t happened in a really long time…an impulse stay!  the place is really ecofriendly…compost toilets etc.  Problem is the water was shut off.  Whenever we take a day off we try to get some stuff done like laundry etc.  No water meant that we ended up washing our clothes in the lake which ended up being fun  Nick also had to take a bath in the lake as well…fun times!  We stayed one more night in Chitimba before we pushed out of Malawi.  Some people ask us if Lake Malawi is really worth it.  I would say if you find yourself in the area, it’s a nice place to stop by.   It’s really chill, you can still find good deals, and the water really is beautiful…but if you have to really struggle to get there visa wise or transportation wise…maybe not.   Malawi is known for friendly people and that holds true.  Actually to be honest people in Africa have been great.  You get some lazy, jerk-ish people at the borders but people are generally very polite.  So far we haven’t felt like we’re being majorly scammed or taken for a ride like you do in Asia.

But as we move up…I’ve heard things will change.  In the meantime…so long southern Africa…on to East Africa!

We decided to see the Victoria Falls from the Zimbabwe side since we were more interested in getting a frontal view.  From Zambia, you are getting a view right on top.  We got a bit late crossing into Zimbabwe, but along the way we saw tons of wild elephants taking shade under trees near the road.  It was getting a bit dark and we had even more elephant sightings, many of them crossing the road in a hurry.  We were a bit worried since we don’t like to travel at night and it was going to be dark by the time we hit the border.  We didn’t see much accommodation on the road, and thought we weren’t too far from the actual city of Vic Falls…let’s try.  We filled gas (didn’t want to take a chance on that at night, especially crossing borders) went through immigration and customs on both sides easy enough.  Funny, the immigration/ on each side asked us if we were scared to ride at night…we asked why?  Their reply was “The wild animals!”  We figured, eh we’d be okay.  Unfortunately we didn’t see anyone else crossing that night.  We started out on the dark, lonely road.  The surface felt weird…was it tar? Was it gravel? Was it gravel on tar? The bike would slip a bit.  In the distance we could see crazy streaks of pink lightening.  About a kilometer in, we were stunned by a family of elephants along with a baby in the middle of the road, not even 6 feet in front of us.   As if elephants weren’t enough, we were met by hyenas along the way.  We told each other we wouldn’t stop, even if it started to storm.  In the distance, we could see a car’s taillights gunning it.  No matter how fast we went to catch up, they would speed on.  At some point we lost them.  The thunder crashed around us while lightning struck in the direction we were riding.   Nick, whispered to me, “Now would be a good time do a prayer!” After a never-ending 70kms, we started to see some lights.  We couldn’t see people yet, but we were able to make out buildings and lights around us.  Finally, we caught up to some cars and breathed a sigh of relief.  Night border crossing?  Never again!  The first backpacker joint we saw we stayed.

After being eaten alive by mosquitoes the night before we woke up to a sunny, happy place.  Turns out we were riding through a game reserve that lies at the border of Botswana and Zim.  The nice thing about the town of Victoria Falls is that it’s walkable.  From the guest house, we were able to walk to the Vic Falls National Park entrance.  Which of course we were asked for a ridiculously high fee for non-residents.   We had been told by a few tour operators that the best time to go is around 3pm.  Sounds crazy because that’s also around the peak heat, but you get amazing photos of rainbows in the mist in front of the falls.  Plus, the mist from the falls keeps you nice and cool!  It’s dry season so the falls are not at their maximum capacity but for photos, that’s best or your photos (and camera) would be shrouded in mist.  We took a good 3 hours exploring each of the 12 points of the falls from start to finish.  Each point offers a different perspective.  The gorge to where the falls come down really is gnarly looking…especially from the bridge that connects Zam and Zim where it’s very popular to bungee from!  Overall a fun day! For the first time since South Africa, we ate out which was exciting for us (and a welcome break)!

Since we had been seeing a lot of nature-made sights, we were welcoming a change in Zim and were excited to see some cave paintings and ruins.  So we headed towards Matobos National Park.  We could already see a change coming from Botswana to Zim…there were people out and about, taxis, cars, even people on motorbikes!  People, with their own civilization that they had carved out over years despite any Mugabe madness.  People were selling things, doing business, had restaurants with their own food,  going to smaller shopping stores, it felt as if people knew how to do things and live life unlike some of the other countries we had been riding through as of late.  On the way to Matobos, we passed Bulawayo which seemed like a big town in it’s hey-day.  Also noticed loads of buildings  and offices that had Indian names attached to them…seems like a lot of real estate is owned by the South Asian community.  We found a campsite amongst the granite boulder ridden scenery of the beautiful Matobos area.  The next morning we learned we couldn’t go in to the park on motorbike.  The two ladies in charge at the gate started to get a bit scheme-y…they told us we could pay them around $25 (Zim only takes US$) and we could go in up to a certain point but if we get stopped we can say we’re just riding to the next town but we would have to come back out the way we came “and then we’ll see”.  that didn’t sound good at all.  Looks like they were going to take us for a ride for $25 a piece and who knows how much others would demand inside the park.  To our disappointment, we had to let it go.  What a bummer…especially since we had seen local bikes going in and out.

We headed for the ruins of Great Zimbabwe.  But before that, we needed to grab some petrol!  As we rolled into the petrol station, the attendant came running out towards us yelling “Paper! Paper!” We asked him what was going on and he said he’d be right back.  He came running out with a newspaper and asked “Is this you on your bike?”  Smack on the front page of the national newspaper was a picture of the bike with us riding…must’ve been taken in Bulawayo!  The caption read something to the effect of we being American tourists and they are traveling the world and see how many American tourists are coming to Zimbabwe!  Obviously a ploy to boost citizen confidence in tourism because when we made it to the ruins of Great Zimbabwe, a UNESCO Heritage site and one of the greatest civilizations of Africa, we found ourselves alone save for a Korean cyclist, Job.  Soon, we found we were not alone as there was a huge group of school kids on a field trip having fun amongst the ruins of their great civilization.  There is a good exhibit that has some old artifacts recovered from the digs and information of how the Zimbabweans once lived. The ruins itself are pretty large and much of it is well preserved while the rest is in crumbling heaps of granite bricks.  Towards the end of the ruins is a small grouping of huts where there was a dance troupe with traditional dress and dried pumpkins tied to their ankles to create sound like a rudimentary kungroo. Ladies sang songs and danced and the school kids joined in.  We walked back to the campsite after taking in amazing views of the sunset and ruins from the mountain top.  Hungry as hell, we made a simple rajma and rice (turned out pretty decent!) and listened to the kids in the distance as they sang, danced, and played games all night long.  Sad, because Zimbabwe is a safe country.  Putting it out there!  The country is safe…a bit expensive at times but perfectly safe with things to see and do.  We had to choose between Zambia and Zimbabwe and we are thoroughly happy with our choice.

One thing we’ve learned on the trip, if it’s hot…there’s got to be mountains somewhere!  And so far, almost every country has some sort of chilly hilly town.  So we did just that, we headed towards Chimanimani in hopes to be cooled off!  The curving road carved in the red dirt of the green carpeted hills, led us to waterfalls and eventually an old town with British style buildings.  It was nice, but nothing to keep us lingering.  We headed for the Bvumba Mountains that are on the border with Mozambique.  It seriously seems like the Bvumbas are the last stronghold for white Zimbabweans.  You have big typically African towns right before the mountains start and then you have the Bvumbas, where expats have built B&Bs, houses, and nurseries in the ‘safety’ of the forests.  The views are breathtaking with midst mingling with the hilltops to create romantic visions reminiscent of England.  We rode around the hydrangea lined roads and visited the very pink Leopard Rock Hotel which was where the Queen and Lady Di used to come and visit.  After getting in a day of cool weather, we pushed off.

Exiting the expat-controlled Bvumbas, we were brought to reality by a Third World problem.  One thing that is a bit annoying in Zim, are the police blockades, and it seems to be on all roads going in the direction of Harare (the capital).  We were stopped by a lady officer who wanted to see our ‘papers’ and drivers license.  Nick gave her his Texas license and she held on to it for a while not knowing what to do with it.  Then we began to ask her questions…”what’s the problem? Why do you need to see my documents?”  Police officers hate to have the interrogation flipped, so naturally, she was not happy.  But after being unable to give us any good reason and tiring from trying to debate with us, she let it go.  Majority of the time in Africa it’s money or power-trip fueled…little did we realize what was waiting for us in Malawi and Tanzania!  To get to Malawi, we had to either spend more time and moeny in Zambia or pass quick in one day through Mozambique…Moz it is!  Immigration and customs were again, straightforward on the Zim side (as straightforward as its going to get) and a bit confusing due to language on the Moz side.  But honestly, the crossings so far haven’t been as complicated as people have made it out to be!  Crossing into Mozambique was like entering India, as the bike started, stopped, sat–people stared, shouted, screamed, grabbed, and gathered.  Ummm how long are we here for?!

Looking back at the Namibia post, I realized that I kept repeating the fact that it was damn hot in Namibia.  That’s because it was freakin hot in Namibia.  And so was Botswana.  We took the Trans-Kalahari border crossing into Botswana and again found dryness.  Just flat dryness.  Then the dead cows started.  Either due to heat, lack of rain, or foot and mouth disease, every few kilometers we found cows and goats dead along the road sides. A little disturbing because of the number of animals that were dead.  The main draw in Botswana is the Kalahari and the Okavango Delta.  Since we were done with the hot, we headed for Maun to jump off to Okavango Delta. It’s supposed to be an amazing park full of hundreds of waterways and watering holes  where animals gather.  There are different ways to see the delta, either by mokoro (traditional wooden boat) where you are taken around the delta and you can camp out or by helicopter/plane.  It’s dry season and after talking to the tour operator we made a decision against the mokoro.  The operator straight up told us that it’s too hot to enjoy the day and for most of the day you’re just ‘hanging out’.  To be honest, we expected a bit more organization when it came to the town of Maun.  We headed for the airport to see what we could arrange on our own.  We walked into Blue Air and to our surprise, found a young,handsome, sardar guy sitting at the desk.  We were stunned for a second…haven’t seen a sardar since Australia!  He introduced himself as Supreet, and turns out he is from Chandigarh too!  Supreet was able to hook us up with an awesome flight over the Okavango.  He was a great pilot and able to point out loads of animals before we could even see them!  It was  an early flight, but we got to see elephants wading in the water, water buffaloes, giraffes, and zebras.  Getting an aerial view was great-we could see the complicated, snake-like water ways wind through the greenery and all the tracks the animals had carved into the land.  And we were also surprisingly low enough to see the animals very well. A big thanks to Supreet for making the experience great and for elegantly representing sardars far from home!

After the flight, we jetted out of Maun.  We were a bit tired of the heat and also ready to get out of Southern Africa and explore the more ‘African’ countries.  In South Africa, Namibia, and Botswana…it felt as if Africans did not own as much as you would think, land-wise and business-wise.  Many seemed to be working for expats.  There were no restaurants on the way, not too many shops unless you were in a big city, and not much traffic on the roads (esp Namibia, Botswana).  It just feels like these countries haven’t found their ‘groove’.  This may not make sense now, but I’ll bring it up again later….Next stop, Victoria Falls!