How did the Zikra Initiative start?

When Zikra was launched it was a charity drive, I had learned about  a “dusty community” discriminated against because of their skin color. They had been taken advantage of by loan sharks and now couldn’t pay the loans back.  So their land was taken away. This community doesn’t have high positions in government. We donated mainly household items and camp food at first. After awhile it started feeling awkward, it created a giver/receiver relationship, as if we the givers were the heroes. In reality we were learning a lot from this community. As a city-man I was not exposed to my traditions or roots as much. I started to see how rich “poor” people were and how poor “rich” people were. Each community has their own deficiency. One was rich in culture and tradition while the other had financial security. That was when Zikra  changed into an exchange concept.

Amman is full of influential people, it has become very westernized, and we don’t really know the country. They are ministers, they are the future of country – yet don’t know country, its people, or the roots and traditions that have shaped Jordan. I wanted them to visit the rural areas without them being the heroes and going to “save” the area and community. Rural communities have just as much to give and teach, it is an equal relationship.

Explain the Economic Impact of Zikra

We are using tourism as a tool to solve social problems. We wanted the trips to be cool and relevant to everyday life. We use social media, YouTube, and the like to get the message out.

The Exchange Tourism process is created through an attractions program between the urban and rural community. The Zikra Initiative creates trips for the urban community to travel, participate and experience Jordan’s heritage and roots in an interactive workshops led  by Ghor community. The visitors learn traditional skills and crafts such as making organic eye-liner , weaving baskets, tassling hatta, and cooking traditional dishes like Gallayet Bandora or Tomato-in-a pan. In exchange  visitors pay a nominal fee that is channeled into a microloan in addition to other economic and social development projects. People pay JD 25 which will support the ladies of Ghor Al-Mazra’a.

We don’t view our exchange as a business or an attraction, we honestly want to overcome what years of racial discrimination have done to this community through breaking different stereotypes we may have about one another, allowing rural communities to develop pride in their culture and generate fund invested in marginalized areas

Are most of the participants from Jordan? If not, where are they from?

About 65% are Jordanians. Jordanians can only come weekends, foreigners are able to come on weekdays, usually they find us through travel agencies, travel alone, through their embassies, or they come with other Jordanians. We mainly target Jordanians in an effort to connect and shatter stereotypes in both communities.

People in Ghor al Mazra’a think people from Amman are selfish while many from Amman see rural communities as backward or uneducated. The government tells them they are poor and have nothing to offer, we search for and highlight their treasures and assets. Fish don’t know about the water until you take them out of the water. This community had a hard time seeing what they could offer, so we helped point it out.

Ghor al Mazra’a is an expert in recycling and growing organic food – teach are able to teach the Amman community how to be responsible because they are responsible by nature. Who said they are poor? do they consider themselves poor, perhaps financially. We need to redefine the word, we need to create equal relationships and stop looking at things from only one perspective.

Have the revolutions and violence from surrounding countries affected program or volume of participants?

Not as much as other organizations, most of our participants are from Jordan and understand the level of security in our country. The revolutions and image problems have affected other organization who cater mostly to foreigners.

However there is a close parallel to the revolutions here. Accoridng to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, self-esteem is needed for motivation and self-actualization. Tunisia motivated other countries who didn’t think things could change. If you tell communities that they have things to offer, that they are worth something, you have the capability to change lives. Motivation so important for economic development and self image We judge people by one criteria but need to look at the big picture, it’s not just about money or level of education.

What are your most popular programs? What do you think spurs it’s success?

Exchange Tourism is the most popular. We come up with new ideas all the time, it’s never the same program. We do a lot of team building activities for businesses or theater programs. At the end of day participants can say, “We learned something, we saw something new. We took and gave in return.”

Is Ghor al Mazra’a unique in its situation or are there many communities who face similar challenges in regards to discrimination, unemployment, and poverty?

Most of Jordan is the same, my friend Raghda Butros says, “There is no such thing as a poverty pocket, only rich pockets.” All of Jordan is poor, it is mostly made up of villages. What makes Ghor al Mazra’a a special case is that it has had a history of racial discrimination.

What did the community first think about this project? Has that changed?

It changed how they looked at themselves, they realized they had a lot to offer. At the beginning they thought it was weird that people from Amman would come to learn from them. They thought, “how silly.” But it has truly helped them appreciate who they are.

We also do many cultural activities, using culture to build identity. Culture brings people together, it gives them self-esteem and pride. Now we have begun to participate in different festivals. At TEDxDeadSea, on of our community members, a 16 year old girl, sang. But her father supports her. It was a shock for Amman and Jordan which is very conservative, women don’t usually sing. Her songs talk about her village and way of life. This was the first time that someone actually from the community was there to represent the Dead Sea community.

I don’t like the word “voluntourism” , although l respect and encourage volunteering, for what it stands for and does for the development of communities , but unfortunately nowadays the perception of volunteering  has become a reflection of a giver-receiver relationship or a hero-victim relation.

By Sharon Spence Lieb

Photo Courtesy, Cancun Visitor and Convention Bureau

At pink dawn, frigate birds arch their wings over a turquoise Caribbean. Off Cancun, Mexico, we hop into a tiny fishing boat with guides from Solo Buceo Dive Adventures. They usually lead intrepid divers to explore the 420-mile Mayan Reef, the northern hemisphere’s largest coral reef. But today, we’re hoping to encounter whale sharks.

“Ready for a whale shark party?” asks our enthusiastic guide, Martha Aguilar. “The ocean’s a buffet of fish eggs and plankton, their favorite food. Keep your eyes open.”

Adventure is not a theme park, so challenges always show up before exhilaration. The smooth sea churns into nasty waves, the sky crumples dark. Our little boat tosses like a coffee cup. For two hours, we roller coast the concrete waves. Smiles fade. I throw up last night’s dinner and this morning’s Dramamine.

Why didn’t we just sleep off our margaritas, and go for pancakes, like Normal Folks?

Look, we’re feral. We’ll suffer for encounters with wild beasts. We’re almost there. Where is “there”? The boat stops in the middle of nowhere, bobbing in a dark blue empty Caribbean.

Photo Courtesy, Cancun Visitor and Convention Bureau

Then, monsters of the deep rise up. Whale sharks surround our boat. Forty feet long, light grey, white spots, mouths the size of a dining room table. Scientists have tracked whale sharks living at 2300-foot depths, journeying thousands of miles around our globe. One peripatetic beast swam 8,000 miles from Mexico to the Tonga Archipelago, east of Australia.

“Why are they here in Cancun?” I ask Martha.

“So much delicious whale food, as I told you, and they love our warm waters. From May through September, they birth their babies, and rest for long journeys ahead. Where they’ll go next, who knows?”

I strap on mask and snorkel, pull on fins. Grab my underwater camera. Fall

Photo Courtesy, Cancun Visitor and Convention Bureau

overboard into the school of massive whale sharks. My snorkel mask is leaking, the too small fins cramp my calves.

Eye to eye with a dozen of the biggest fish on Earth is scary as hell. Ok, I admit it: I’m afraid of a beast that can swallow me like Jonah, or knock me unconscious with his mighty tale. On the other hand, I’m in the open ocean with mega magnificent forty-foot long fish and feeling exhilarated.

After a too short hour, we hurl ourselves back into the rocking boat. Bedraggled, exhausted, but grinning ear to ear.

Now back home in my beautiful South Carolina, shopping at the grocery store, making dinner before the news, I feel different.

From that once in a lifetime adventure, a whale shark is swimming inside my heart.

 

C2011 Sharon Spence Lieb, email: sharonspence@cs.com

Sharon is author of guidebooks on Seoul, Florida, Chicago, and Santa Fe. Her “Globetrotters” travel/photo feature is published monthly in Charleston, South Carolina. Link: www.moultrienews.com Click Travel.

Sharon was profiled in The Wall Street Journal as an award winning travel journalist/photographer, December 20, 2010.

 

By Heather Rath

Sweat is pouring from my pores. I am saturated with my own perspiration. My hair is wet and stringy. My breathing is laboured because of burning lungs and I am thankful we are in total blackness since I am struggling to sit upright. My instinct is to lie down in the fetal position on the floor where the air may be cooler, not so fire-hot. The steady beat of the drum haunts me with its rhythmic thump… thump… thump. How long have I been in this temazcal? Can I last this session of 45 minutes?

The traditional temazcal (pre-Hispanic steam bath) has a round igloo shape that represents the womb of Mother Earth. Photo courtesy of Heather Rath

Getting Started

I have opted for detoxification and rebirth through this unique spiritual journey practised in similar ways by indigenous people worldwide. I am accompanied by a personal guide, Roberto, who first explains that the name of this Aztec/Mayan pre-Hispanic steam bath near Mérida in México’s Yucatán Peninsula comes from two Nahuatl words: temas for ‘bath’ and calli meaning ‘house.’

On the day of the temazcal, I wear only loose clothing (nudity is best, but sadly our society is different from the ancients). I am apprehensive about the coming experience, but I begin. I stand before the bath structure for a moment, admiring its igloo shape, which is said to represent the womb of Mother Earth.

Ancient Mayans' diet included chaya leaves, a leafy green vegetable with more nutritional properties than spinach. Combined with cucumber and carrot, it makes a cleansing energy drink to prepare for the temazcal. Photo courtesy of Heather Rath

Having eaten only lightly, I enjoy an energy drink of cucumber, carrot and chaya (a favourite leafy green vegetable of the ancient Maya, with more nutritional properties than spinach) just before entering the womb. Roberto performs the preparatory rituals. Repeating my name, he scatters incense in the four cosmic directions – north, south, east and west – representing the four elements of life: earth, water, wind and fire. Then he passes a bouquet of chamomile (for tranquillity) around me to enhance my spiritual cleanliness and detoxification process.

I am cautiously excited about this adventure. Others have warned I must be in excellent health to endure the high temperatures of the temazcal. Was I? Medical researcher Dr. Horacio Rojas Alba, Instituto Mexicano de Medicinas Tradicionales Tlahuilli A.C. has studied the ritual and reports that body temperature during a sweat bath can rise to 40°C (104°F) resulting in increased blood circulation and a faster, more intense heartbeat that promotes the release of toxins from the body. Apparently every litre of sweat lost in a temazcal equals a full day’s work by the kidneys.

After the intense sweating inside a temazcal in Merida, Mexico, a cooling pool of natural water for dipping awaits. Photo courtesy of Heather Rath

Hot Rocks

Immediately before entering the temazcal, I utter the words In Láak’ Kech to welcome the brotherhood of man as we merge into one. Then I chant A Láak’ Kin to seal the greeting. These two phrases should be used each time I wish to speak while inside: the first to ask permission, the second to grant that permission.

On my knees, I crawl into the womb of Mother Earth. I enter through the small south-facing opening known as ‘the pathway of the dead,’ so-called because we progress toward death from our moment of birth. Our journey represents the dualities of life: mother and father, good and evil, life and death.

Additional instruments used in the temazcal: conch shells, the sticks (claves in Spanish), decorated gourds with dry seeds inside, and pots of incense. Photo courtesy of Heather Rath

Once inside, I creep clockwise in a circle, from left to right, following the path of the planets in our solar system. Sitting cross-legged on a towel with musical instruments and a sprig of basil (for circulatory assistance) beside me, I notice a bouquet of rosemary and thyme hanging from a small hole in the roof. Although I am still able to see, I know the light will soon be gone.

Hot lava rocks, heated in an external furnace that faces east where our father, the Sun, rises, are now introduced into the centre well. Their placement within the womb symbolises the moment of conception.

Roberto is at the mouth of the temazcal, ready to lead this ancient cleansing process. Because of the intensity and ritual of the temazcal, it is a group experience led by a knowledgeable guide. Photo courtesy of Heather Rath

Finally the door and rooftop opening are closed and a new cultural experience begins. I sit in pitch black space. Hot steam hisses loudly as herbal water splashes on the rocks. Roberto asks why I am here. Soaking with perspiration already, I mutter I seek a mystical journey through detoxification and a renewed appreciation of Mother Earth’s life-giving gifts.

Drum beats, herbal essences, the all-encompassing darkness, my own chanting and intense sweating, soon lift me to another dimension. And so my rebirth and detoxification begins:

Earth is my body
Water is my blood
Wind is my breath
Fire is my spirit

The benefits to a destination from volunteer tourism have been hotly contested for some time. Bloggers were recently debating the topic again after the Human Research Science Council published a report about how short term volunteer projects do more harm than good.  However, we believe there is still an important place for volunteer tourism, if carefully planned, monitored and managed.   If this is accomplished, it can promote meaningful cross-cultural exchange and bring economic benefits to both tour operators and local people.  On our trip for example,  we learned from a representative of a prestigious international adventure tour operator that incorporating a meal with local Egyptians into an existing adventure itinerary had resulted in word of mouth marketing valued at $5 million additional revenues to the company.

A few of the organizations we visited, which offer some potential for volunteer tourism, are profiled below:

El Nafeza is a paper-making center in Cairo, where it is possible for small groups of visitors to learn the paper-making process and meet and interact with the women who work there. The paper is made using an environmentally friendly process: agricultural byproducts including rice hay and natural fibers are recycled into the paper; all colors and patterns are hand mixed, matched and printed. Although not an official offering for tour operators, interested visitors can contact the Center to arrange a visit: elnafeza@gmail.com.

The Association for the Development and Enhancement of Women is an organization that arranges micro-finance loans for small businesses.   It was the first NGO in Egypt to identify women as “head of household” and establish a micro lending program using a group lending methodology for this target group.   Nermean Foad, a representative from the association, said they would welcome skilled business volunteers who might support their internal operations; additionally there is the potential that interested volunteers might work with the individual micro-finance recipients: adew@link.net.

At the Spirit of Youth Association for Environmental Service/Recycling School for Boys in Mokattam, we learned about the Zaballeen community, whose people collect approximately 4000 tons of trash each day from Cairo’s  nearly 8 million people. The Zaballeen earn some money from the city, and some from recycling projects with corporate sponsors, such as Proctor&Gamble.  We met with Ezzat Naem who grew up in “Garbage City” and now leads a school funded by revenues from trash and recycling collection. Scroll to the second article here, “Garbage City Teaches Recycling” for the full history.  As explained on the group’s Facebook page, the boys at The Recycling School learn how to sort and safely recycle plastic shampoo bottles. They receive a small income every month from sending these back to the shampoo factories. Through the process, children are taught the principles of recycling and the importance of safety precautions such as suitable clothing, gloves, and masks.  They also learn about hazardous waste materials, such as those from hospitals; they are encouraged to share this information with their families so that the entire community can learn.  A documentary was made about this community, it’s called Garbage Dreams.   Although no formal program for volunteer tourists is in place, interested visitors can contact the community and inquire about volunteering with the kids or on other projects at the school: spirit.oftheyouth@yahoo.com.

Further south, our team met with Ossama Meguid, Director of the Nubia Museum,  and visited the Gharb Sehel village.   The village and the museum are located in a region known to ancient Egyptians as the Kingdom of Kush; it encompasses southern Egypt and northern Sudan.  Many Nubians migrated to the city of Aswan after Lake Nasser swamped much of their traditional homeland when the Aswan Dam was constructed in the 1960s.  Here, we toured the Museum and learned the role it is playing in developing community-based and volunteer tourism to the region.

Mr. Meguid has written extensively on the subject of tourism in the region; to read more click here, where we have re-posted his article: “Community Based Eco-Tourism Concept, Characteristics and Restrictions Gharb-Sehel Village, Aswan, Pilot Project.”

As Meguid notes, “Nubian villages surrounding the Aswan City urban area such as Gharb Sehel are a regular stop for foreign tour groups, on half- or full-day boat and bus tours of the Pharaonic, Christian, Islamic, and modern landmarks of Aswan. The Gharb Sehel village represents the look and feel of a village of Old Nubia when compared to the government-built concrete homes in New Nubia.”  Although tourism is necessary in this region, Mr. Meguid argues eloquently for careful resource management and small group visitation.   An article from the Somali press about the region is available here.

Volunteer Tourism in Egypt is still in its nascent stages; good people to start with if you are researching a trip to Egypt that stretches beyond Pharonic bounds include Gateway to Egypt, Wild Guanabana,  and Ashoka foundation.

Also, check out this great resource, Friends of Egyptian Volunteer Tourism, where you can find various initiatives throughout Egypt, put together by NGOs and Tour Operators.

- Christina Heyniger

Morning fog in the Mamoní Valley Preserve.

The field operations of Earth Train, an international youth leadership organization, are located in Panama in the Mamoní Valley Preserve. The preserve is a remarkable area in the center of the Americas on a land bridge teeming with biodiversity and where the separation between the two great oceans is at its narrowest. It is a crucial battle ground for the protection and smart use of rainforests for future generations.

“It’s more than just ecotourism,” remarks founder Nathan Gray, “Earth Train hopes to build solid mentorship and guiding models as the foundation to our future endeavors.”  Nathan refers to the mentorship models that are being built in partnership with O.A.R.S., an international river adventure company. Through this unique partnership, O.A.R.S. guides are providing Earth Train with hands on training. This past summer, Pierre Lemarchand, Director of Adventure Learning, spent three months with O.A.R.S., learning the technical as well as logistical skills guides need. “You need to be able to make good decisions as a guide on the river as well as think through details such as setting prices, acquiring the right equipment, meeting customer expectations, transportation logistics, providing customer support. O.A.R.S. brings so much knowledge and experience to the table.”

Graviel, a local hunter, who knows the jungle like the back of his hand, and the Kuna Toniel Edman, co-Director of Adventure Learning, at the Cangandi put-in.

Recently, O.A.R.S. guides visited Panama to scout the Cangandi River and map out possible routes for future rafting trips offered by Earth Train. Nathan sees these guides as “multipliers.” “Their potential as a role model is huge – they are multipliers in the sense that what they pass on will be replicated by our guides who will continue to pass on their knowledge to present and future generations.” The unstoppable determination and passion behind the O.A.R.S. team allows for Earth Train to build on the experiential learning process. “We want to develop inspired and capable guides that unlock the potential of a guest, who are able to evolve with the situation.”  Earth Train empowers these future tribal leaders and provides skills that will allow them to preserve and take advantage of what nature has gracefully draped across their lands, to sustain the future of their people as well as other populations. In addition to scouting future routes, Earth Train tested out several extremely lightweight (6 lbs vs. 30 lbs) inflatable kayak prototypes that were built especially for Earth Train by Sheri Tingey, founder of Alpacka Rafts.

George Wendt, owner and founder of O.A.R.S., has seen the loss of many natural resources over the years; it is in part what inspired him to create O.A.R.S. and to partner with Earth Train. “The only way to save these areas is to get enough people going in, who are or will become communicators and champions for these places, to preserve something that otherwise might get sacrificed in the name of progress.” George continues, “Panama is largely focused on logging and converting land into cattle grazing country, however large indigenous people groups own most of the land – it makes sense to train them to become leaders because future generations are at stake.”  Pierre remarked, “They say you only protect what you love. We want people to fall in love with the jungle. After living such an incredible experience with Earth Train we hope they will be flabbergasted enough to protect it. If they already have that passion we want to give them the skills to create the change necessary.”

For more information visit Earth Train’s website. Earth Train is always interested in hearing from entrepreneurial people with the initiative the further Earth Train’s work, contact them to learn more about their volunteer and internship opportunities.

An exciting opportunity is coming March 13-20, 2011. Earth Train has partnered with Outside Adventure Film School to bring in students interested in learning how to capture the beauty of dynamic landscapes and thoughtful depictions of the local indigenous communities. Read more and sign up here.

You can also donate or become a Forest Guardian.

New Crew Members

Ask any youth from the Western hemisphere to name their favorite hip hop artists and they will probably rattle off a few names that come to mind. Ask their parents and grandparents and you would likely be met with a blank stare. Younger generations have come to assume that this culture gulf is wide and incapable of being bridged.  Nasanbat, a 52 year old Mongolian woman, however, can name the first hip hop song that became popular in Mongolia, a few of the bands and artists around town, and is probably more tuned into the industry than any Western youth. She is not the exception. In fact, in Mongolia, older generations know all about hip hop.

Hip Hop in Mongolia is largely of Western influence. As Mongolia struggled to gain independence from the Qing Dynasty, it began to be heavily influenced by its neighbor to the north, Russia which at the time was a socialist state (USSR). With the end of socialism and the start of a democratic revolution in the early 90s, the people of Mongolia began to explore their freedoms of expression and long for identity. Traditionally rooted as a strong music culture – it should be no surprise that they turned to music. Enter hip hop.  Enter Mongolian Bling.

Benj Binks

Planning a year long journey throughout Asia, Benj Binks decided to document it. After taking a short film course, he was equipped to begin the voyage. Plans changed however as he remembered the hip hop music he had heard while working on the Trans-Siberian Railway. It was good, it was different. So Benj began to seek out the story, he began to understand the people behind these hip hop songs and he was there as hip hop went through a transformation, “There have been some interesting changes since I spent time there three years ago, you still see a lot of Western influence but there has been a ‘Mongoliazation’ of American music. They have adapted it to suit their culture. Yeah you still seem some pretty commercial music, but there is a lot with social and political commentary. It doesn’t hurt that their language suits hip hop extremely well.” So instead of documenting a year long journey, Mongolian Bling became Benj’s main focus. To provide expertise in their respective fields, cameraman Nacho and sound recordist, Steve came along.

Shaman

Some artists like to think that hip hop actually originated in Mongolia. Throat singing has been a strong part of Mongolian culture since the Chinggis Khaan period (known more commonly in the West as Genghis Khan). Throat singing also known as overtone chanting allowed the Mongolian shamans who practiced it to create multiple pitches simultaneously when chanting producing similar beats to hip hop.

Much of the film focuses on Mongolian identity which begins to raise questions among viewers and their own personal identity. Benj, a native Australian, commented, “In Australia, white people have only been there for a couple hundred years, before aboriginal people occupied the land, but there is little evidence of their influence. Now compare this to Mongolia, their culture has been in existence for over 800 years. It makes you question your own background, I almost feel homeless. Westerners fantasize about the East, but complain about mobile phones being in these secluded areas. So how exactly do you maintain a culture but continue progressing? I think the Mongolians have found an answer and they are doing it very well.”

Gennie and her Grandma

Be sure to check out Benj’s documentary later this year and also visit his website for up-to-date release information and previews: http://www.mongolianbling.com/

Or join the Facebook group here

Check out Benj’s other projects at http://www.benjbinks.com/

If you’re visiting Mongolia and would like to soak in a bit of their music scene, a few recommended bars and venues in Ulaanbaatar include UB Palace, Ikh Mongol (meaning Great Mongolia), and a pub called Grand Khaan.

If you would like a taste of Mongolian hip hop, check out some of the artists featured in Mongolian Bling: Gee, Gennie, and Quiza

Along with eight other two-biologist teams, Danny and I are out in the Mojave desert conducting Line Distance Surveys, a population sampling process designed to show any changes in the desert tortoise population over 25 years.  If the population shows improvement, the tortoise can be delisted as a Threatened species under the Endangered Species Act.  Already 7 years into the study, the Fish and Wildlife Service conducts these surveys over the entire expanse of the Mojave desert every spring, tweaking the survey methods every year in an attempt to eliminate bias and retain statistical viability.  The rubber meets the road in this study like this: we are given UTM coordinates for the southwest corner of a 12 km square, and our job is to walk as straight as possible from one corner to another, searching each step for a tortoise, mostly within 4 meters of the line.  One surveyor walks 25 meters in front of the other, literally dragging a line behind him or her.  When we find tortoises, we weigh, measure, and tag them.  When we find mountains, we scramble through them.  When we find teddy bear cholla forests and 50 mph winds on sidehills, we use pliers and combs to pull spines out of our shoes, hands, and calves.  When we find shade, we eat lunch in it.  When we find chuckwallas, swarms of bees, brass shells from WWII, and fields of lupine, Chia, and desert dandelions, we admire them.

We did not find any tortoises that day we walked in to the wilderness area.  The toughest part of the long day was the last kilometer; I sat down three times in that last ‘k’, once within sight of the trucks.  I developed a blister on the ball of my left foot that plagued me for a week.  Without days off, just gobs of tape and strategic limping carried me through to the callus stage.  We have a limited amount of time to survey for tortoises before the desert starts to bake, the flowers on which they depend for their entire year’s worth of food and water dry and crumble, and all the tortoises retreat to their burrows for the summer and its 120 degree heat.

Needless to say, preserving one’s feet is the key to Line Distance.  As well as the ability to avoid meltdowns when, at the end of the day, after 26 miles, you return to your partner’s truck with a flat tire.  And a flat spare.

Knowledge of the closest milkshake helps in these circumstances.  I highly recommend the date malts at truck stop cafe at Chiriaco Summit.

We came to Albania to hike the Northern Alps. Within the Northern Alps, two main areas, the Valbona Valley and the small hamlet of Tethi stand out as major destinations. There are no direct roads that connect the two areas, and going from one to the other by car would take 2-3 days. However, a series of hiking trails connects the two areas and it is possible, although not easy, to hike between them in a day. Most places recommended a guide, but the main trail is well marked.

Albania has large number of travel agents who cater to outbound tourists, but, none run tours within Albania. There is no central bus station, and while it is possible to take a combination of taxi, bus, ferry, bus, taxi, to get to the Valbona valley (our destination), the best option of reaching Tethi is to hire a car to drive you to Tethi. From there, however, you will be on your own.

Driving north along narrow and crowded roads, Albania’s rapid modernization became apparent:  shiny Mercedes’ with drivers on cell phones weaved through donkey carts pulling loads of hay freshly cut with sickles by peasants; cows and goats grazed next to fashionable clothing stores.

The drive to Tethi, from the capital Tirana, takes about 6 hours, 3 of which are on fairly rugged and steep dirt roads.. There are no hotels here, but most families have a sign outside their home advertising guest rooms. For a small price, 25 Euros, one gets a place to stay and three hearty meals a day (homemade bread, fresh cheese, hefty plates of meats, organic watermelon, and pudding cake). Tethi is not really a town, but more of a collection of ancient stone houses. There are no stores, although a few families have started selling coke and beer out of their backyards.

From the house we stayed at we followed a series of goat trails to the valley floor and then started up the long steep pass. Hiking the Northern Albanian Alps, one quickly realizes: the switchback has yet to make it here. Most paths are straight vertical inclines that make your legs burn and your lungs burn.  But the astounding beauty of 4,000 foot drops of limestone make the struggle well worth it.  Snacks of homemade bread, cheese, and jam packed at the guesthouse provide the energy needed to scale the mountains.

The highest pass was a knife edge. One minute we were walking straight uphill, and then suddenly, after a single step on flat ground, we were headed straight downhill.

Near dark the trail finally flattened and we passed several more stone houses with massive gardens exploding with fresh vegetables. And just like that we had crossed the Albania Alps. The following morning we awoke to Turkish coffee prepared by our hosts and began walking and hitchhiking our way towards Kosovo.

Check out the Visual Blog for photos.

-Robert Bart is a teacher, explorer and writer based out of Hood River, OR.

His next adventure can be found here: www.kamchatkaproject.org

Referred to in our map mysteriously as “Road of Unconfirmed Status”, the road had turned into an isolated, narrow singletrail of compacted mud only an hour out of town that morning. Snake-like it wound its way through the leafy bushes and the skinny, grey stems of Lao’s national “Frangipani” tree. Above our heads the dense canopy revealed only fractions of the blue sky and except the muffled roar of our scooter engines, and the infrequent, alien screeching of crickets, an eerie quiet lingered. The trail was challenging, forcing us to push and carry our bikes through streams, getting stuck in thick mud and scratching ourselves and the bikes on thorny twigs and roots. Nevertheless, we had persisted for more than eight hours because we had gotten what we had wanted: an adventure.

Now, however, I felt foolish and intimidated by the situation. With little gear and no food we were unprepared. Our only option was to push the bike to the last settlement we had crossed a few kilometres up the path.

When we arrived a group of local men quickly took to the tire with improvised ingenuity while a few women and children gathered at some distance observing us shyly. With the flat fixed, darkness had descended on us and we gestured for a place to sleep. A man eventually motioned us up the stairs of one of the wooden houses on stilts with a thatched roof. Crossing our legs we sat on the floor of the main landing around a paraffin lamp bellowing black smoke where he soon joined us. Using gestures and a few phrases from our guidebook we tried to learn more about his family. However, the only thing we were sure we gleaned from the exchange was that the name of this smiling, gentle man sitting opposite us was Sim. A woman emerged from the dark with a tray of food. We had not eaten since breakfast and pounced on the sticky rice and the small, whole fish dipping it in the spicy chilly-shrimp paste. Our interaction was reduced to smiles as we sat chewing quietly.

After the meal we were soon motioned to sleep on a thick duvet underneath the family’s mosquito net, which had been set up in the corner of the landing. As we lay exhausted the soothing sounds of the lives continuing outside slowly eroded my nervousness. I listened to Sim talking quietly to someone in the adjacent room. Just outside the thin wooden walls there was faint laughter and chatter from other houses, amid scurrying chickens and dogs. It was then that I realised we were going to be just fine.

- Marius Kaiser

Marius Kaiser is a German travel writer based in Düsseldorf, you can reach him at

marius_kaiser /at/ yahoo.de

Mongolia is a country of superlatives.  Lowest population density, coldest capital, most cars per capita…and also most livestock per capita, at about 15 to 1. Couple that last stat with a cold, dry climate, and it is no wonder that the consumption of meat is much higher than in other parts of the world. And therein lies the “worst food ever” perception many people have about Mongolia, because meat isn’t just juicy steaks and fried chicken, it’s also internal organs and appendages, leading to some rather uncommon dishes.

In Mongolia, where winter temperatures sit in the sub-zero double digits, food isn’t just for pleasure; it’s about survival: hearty chunks of piping hot fat, nutrient-rich livers and crispy charred skin help you get through the cold nights. Seasoning is not a common concept in Mongolia, but tasting a food item au naturel, while sometimes an acquired taste, is a good reminder of how real organic food should taste.

But to dismiss Mongolia as a country of meat-eaters is to miss out on some really tasty cuisine. For starters, wheat is actually the most commonly consumed item here, prepared in a few different ways and using a variety of cooking methods.  You’d be surprised at the delicious results that can come from mixing flour with water.  Bread in the countryside is light and fluffy, and for the lucky few traveling through Khentii and Selenge provinces, it has an extra hint of flavor, not unlike sourdough.  Carved into hearty slices, it is topped with fresh cream or butter, and, for a few precious weeks in the fall, fresh berries (the rest of the year, local jam is substituted).  Stop into a Buryat family’s wooden cabin after a few hours riding horses, and the herder’s wife will usually present you with a plate of this delightful bread and cream.

Mongolian cuisine is most eclectic and imaginative when it comes to dairy.  The estimate for the number of different dairy products varies but is probably in the hundreds.  Part of this is due to the number of animals from which milk can be consumed – not just cows and goats, but also sheep, camels, yaks, horses, and, in the far north, reindeer.  Preparation is often similar, but the flavors can be vastly different.  In the countryside, herders’ wives milk livestock several times a day.  Milk is then boiled for immediate consumption, or further processed into yogurt, cream, or butter.  Though Mongolians don’t make cheese in the conventional sense, they make a variety of farmers’ cheeses, some of which is sweetened or salted before consuming.   Drying the curds turns them into hard candy-like morsels called aruul.  Aruul is sour in a mouth-twisting way, and sucking on a piece supposedly helps relieve thirst.

Airag, the local alcohol, looks and tastes like sour buttermilk but has the alcohol content of a beer! Taking airag, or any yogurt made from another animal’s milk and fermenting it some more, leads to another alcoholic beverage with the consistency and taste of sake.  It is surprisingly clear, but with a slight hint of yogurt or buttermilk, and an alcohol content of around 12-14%.

What the Mongolian diet lacks in variety of food groups, it makes up with its ingenuity.  From three simple products – meat, wheat, and milk – comes a huge variety of food items, both familiar and unfamiliar.  Experiencing the variety of the Mongolian diet is an essential part of a true cultural experience here.