I've been sitting here in this sweltering internet cafe for the past 5 minutes trying to figure out how to start this final Cameroonian post.
...I've got nothing.
Tonight I will be on Swiss Air, eating that mini chocolate bar and airplane food I've been fantasizing about for the past 4 months. (yes, I've been fantasizing over airplane food...). And the MOVIES. Looking forward to that to.
With a 6:00 curfew most nights, there has been a LOT of Laura time. I created a game with myself called "Instances" , in which I write out in detail extreemly specific moments I want to occur when I return home. (...most pathetic game ever?).
For example: It is snowing outside,I just took a HOT shower, and I am wearing hoodie sweatshirt. Driving with new music to see Where The Wild Things Are, drinking a fountain Diet Coke from McDonalds with a fat straw and ICE.
It is definitely bittersweet leaving Cameroon. I'm absolutely ready for the creature comforts of home, the Christmas season, seeing family & friends. However, I'm really going to miss the adventure of each day here.
During the first week of the program here, we had something called "The Drop Off", a sort of scavenger hunt in a third world city. Basically, they send us out in taxis and tell them to drop us at a certain place in the city. To say my partner and I were freaking out is an understatement. We were afraid to speak french, afraid to ask for directions, afraid to take a taxi, afraid to be with just the 2 of us, afraid when people called out "la blanche to us, afraid to go to the ATM, afraid to bargain...you get the picture. It hit me yesterday when I went to Centre Ville by myself to do some last minute shopping just how much things have changed over the last few months. All of the forementioned things I was afraid of seem so silly now.
When I arrived in Yaounde for the first time, I definitely felt like I was in a third world city. But now, after returning from the trips throughout the rest of Cameroon, Yaounde feels like Dubai. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but there is still cold beverages and relitively fast internet. Can't imagine what NYC is going to feel like flying into...
Okay, time to go have my last meal of beignets and beans. Thank you so much to everyone who kept in touch throughout my trip here, you have no idea how much it meant to me. Getting the e-mails and posts from family and friends kept me sane and so happy throughout my time here.
Au revoir Cameroon! Tu me vas manquer!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Mount Cameroon
Spent the weekend getting dominated by Mount Cameroon. Two SIT friends came for the weekend to check out Buea and attempt to climb the monster with me. We woke up Saturday morning at 3:45 AM, where our guide and porter came and picked us up. I could talk about how superhuman these guys are for the next 5 blogs, but I’ll keep it to this:
Enter Walters (THE GUIDE): 21 years old with 8 older brothers and sisters. He has gone the farthest in education out of his entire family (he is up to high school now), primarily paying for his own education. He began his job as a porter at 15 and became an official guide at 18. He climbed the mountain in wool socks and gellies.
Sprint in Vitalise (THE PORTER): Successful completer of the “Race of Hope” five times, currently training for his 6th. The Race of Hope is a 23 mile race up Mount Cameroon and back down for any person crazy enough to attempt it. It makes heartbreak look like a fat piece of Boston cream pie. You need superhuman endurance to reach the top, and superhuman agility and balance to make it back down. He started running in hope of attracting a sponsor… he can run a marathon in 3 hours 20 minutes.
Impressive dudes.
Started our ascent through the rainforest, and slowly moved up into the grassy savannah. Saw the rock where they used to sacrifice an albino every year, as locals believe spirits live on the Mountain (they stopped this just 30 years ago…) Stopped to rest at hut 1, where I fell asleep on a grassy patch and our guide made me get up, asking me if I really wanted to get bit by a snake…
After 10 hours of straight uphill hiking, we stopped at hut 2 for the night. As my dad was watching SNL and my mom was passed out with English papers on her lap in the warmth of the maison de Stable Lane, I was waking up to start the starlit hike to the summit circa 3 AM Cameroon time. I was legitimately cold for the first time since last March.
Definitely the clearest sky I have ever seen, with tons of shooting stars and constellations I knew the names of in 7th grade. It was pretty incredible to be hiking up this mountain, above the clouds, as the sun was rising over Buea.
Stopped at hut 3, where our guides were pretty certain we would have to turn around because of the cold. Ellen and I convinced them to let us attempt to make it (she’s a Minnesota native, and I feel like after surviving the march down Broad on raw New Years’ Days, I can handle anything). 45 painful minutes later, we made it… spent about 30 seconds on the summit snapping pictures and trying not to get blown off the edge. After about 5 pictures, our incredibly patient guides finally snapped, told us to get a move on, ushered us back down the Guinness trail. Started the descent, jogging behind Vitalise.
The downhill was just as difficult as the uphill, especially with legs of led. The stupid volcanic rock that covered the path made us both wipe out on several occasions. Walters was walking behind me, machete in hand, still rocking the gellies. As I slipped down the trail, I was praying the gellies wouldn’t fail Walters and send that machete towards me… Speaking of machetes; apparently it is not uncommon for people to die during the Race of Hope while running down the mountain and slipping on the rocks. Vitalese casually mentioned this when telling me about the difficulties of the race…
By the time we reached relatively flat land, we all literally forgot how to walk. Walters and Vitalise had fun making fun of us waddle to the end of the trail (an absolutely extreme case of the jimmy legs).
Enter Walters (THE GUIDE): 21 years old with 8 older brothers and sisters. He has gone the farthest in education out of his entire family (he is up to high school now), primarily paying for his own education. He began his job as a porter at 15 and became an official guide at 18. He climbed the mountain in wool socks and gellies.
Sprint in Vitalise (THE PORTER): Successful completer of the “Race of Hope” five times, currently training for his 6th. The Race of Hope is a 23 mile race up Mount Cameroon and back down for any person crazy enough to attempt it. It makes heartbreak look like a fat piece of Boston cream pie. You need superhuman endurance to reach the top, and superhuman agility and balance to make it back down. He started running in hope of attracting a sponsor… he can run a marathon in 3 hours 20 minutes.
Impressive dudes.
Started our ascent through the rainforest, and slowly moved up into the grassy savannah. Saw the rock where they used to sacrifice an albino every year, as locals believe spirits live on the Mountain (they stopped this just 30 years ago…) Stopped to rest at hut 1, where I fell asleep on a grassy patch and our guide made me get up, asking me if I really wanted to get bit by a snake…
After 10 hours of straight uphill hiking, we stopped at hut 2 for the night. As my dad was watching SNL and my mom was passed out with English papers on her lap in the warmth of the maison de Stable Lane, I was waking up to start the starlit hike to the summit circa 3 AM Cameroon time. I was legitimately cold for the first time since last March.
Definitely the clearest sky I have ever seen, with tons of shooting stars and constellations I knew the names of in 7th grade. It was pretty incredible to be hiking up this mountain, above the clouds, as the sun was rising over Buea.
Stopped at hut 3, where our guides were pretty certain we would have to turn around because of the cold. Ellen and I convinced them to let us attempt to make it (she’s a Minnesota native, and I feel like after surviving the march down Broad on raw New Years’ Days, I can handle anything). 45 painful minutes later, we made it… spent about 30 seconds on the summit snapping pictures and trying not to get blown off the edge. After about 5 pictures, our incredibly patient guides finally snapped, told us to get a move on, ushered us back down the Guinness trail. Started the descent, jogging behind Vitalise.
The downhill was just as difficult as the uphill, especially with legs of led. The stupid volcanic rock that covered the path made us both wipe out on several occasions. Walters was walking behind me, machete in hand, still rocking the gellies. As I slipped down the trail, I was praying the gellies wouldn’t fail Walters and send that machete towards me… Speaking of machetes; apparently it is not uncommon for people to die during the Race of Hope while running down the mountain and slipping on the rocks. Vitalese casually mentioned this when telling me about the difficulties of the race…
By the time we reached relatively flat land, we all literally forgot how to walk. Walters and Vitalise had fun making fun of us waddle to the end of the trail (an absolutely extreme case of the jimmy legs).
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