The Adirondacks and Lake Champlain

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Adirondacks, Canada, Canada-US border, customs, ferry, I-87, Lake Champlain, Lake Placid, Mont Royal, Montreal, mountains, New York, passport, passports, photography, pictures, Plattsburgh, Quebec, road trip, RPI, snow, travel, Troy, Vermont, views, weekend trip, Whiteface Mountain, winter

The alarm went off and my brother didn’t flinch.  Jess and I got up and started dressing quickly in the dark.  I poured coffee to keep me awake for driving, then Kyle eventually was up and we loaded my car with his things for the trip and winter break.  His hockey gear barely fit in my trunk with the spare cushion and the 0-degree sleeping bag that I packed in case we got stranded in a snow storm.  It was a good call because the roads were isolated in many places, we encountered a lot of bad weathering, and we almost ran out of gas a few times during the whole weekend.  Once everything was packed up and his dorm was ready to be locked, we hit the road and headed for I-87N into the Adirondacks.

I was trying to make Whiteface Mountain by sunrise.  As I was driving, it got lighter and lighter and we realized there was never a good time to pull over and watch the sun come up.  The mountains were blocking our view.  We would have had to have been on a mountain to watch it come up from before actual “sunrise” time.  We still made it to the mountain and saw the resort busy with people.  We wound around some back roads for awhile, passing through tiny towns, racing down windy, snowy curves, and noticing the frozen lakes and lack of overlooks.  The mountains were pretty, but they really weren’t big and fantastic like our ridge is back in Pennsylvania.  At 5,343 feet, Mount Marcy is the highest peak in New York, Whiteface being the 5th.  Compared to Pennsylvania’s Mount Davis, at 3,212 feet, New York definitely wins out, but there’s something about the length of our stouter mountains that make all of the difference when you drive through them.

We took a different route than originally intended to make our way back towards I-87 on the north side of Plattsburgh.  Jess had wanted to see Lake Champlain (and had never been to Vermont), so I decided to surprise her.  We wound down a road and watched as the speed limit kept dropping until we suddenly took a bend and the road ended at toll booths and the waterfront.  I paid a fare at the window and drove up to the water’s edge in a line that was waiting for a Lake Champlain ferry crossing.  Much to my brother’s dismay, I played “I’m on a Boat” as we sat with other cars – and a tractor trailer! – on the tiny ferry to Hero Island and environs on the other side.

Once in Vermont, we drove north and stopped at a few coastal places to photograph the mountains in Vermont and the Adirondacks visible back in New York.  We crossed a drawbridge which my brother laid down on in the middle of the road (and almost got hit), then we kept driving up the icy shores until we found the large bridge crossing back into New York and Champlain.  We were skimming the Quebec border as we headed back west towards I-87, deciding to cross at the larger gate so we could get currency exchanged.  We made it across easily but, much to our dismay, the booth was closed and we could not exchange our money.  Instead, we continued the short but boring drive north towards Mont Royal, our first stop in Montreal.

There’s the dumbo brother of mine lying across the North Hero Drawbridge!  Haha – then a truck came and he ran like a chased deer.

Some ice fishers out on the lake.

It was the first time I had driven to Montreal. The last time, I flew.  The only other time I drove in Quebec, I was in the eastern reaches of the province.  We were anticipating a snowy weekend.

London in the Footsteps of Harry Potter

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anglais, Australia House, Big Ben, bilingual, bridges, bus, Case Western Reserve University, Chunnel, customs, double-decker, England, English, Europe, filiming, francais, France, French, Globe Theater, Gringott's, Harry Potter, London, London Eye, metro, movie, mugged, night lights, Paris, pickpockets, pickpockets in Paris, RER, river, Shakespeare, solo, solo travel, stolen iPhone, student, Thames, Tower of London, traditional food, train, travel, walking tour

Leaving Paris was a nightmare.  We were way too tired to want to get up in the morning and it took too long to get out the door.  We checked out and dragged our luggage to the closest metro stop on the east end of the city.  We took this train towards the center of town to transfer to a line that would take us to Gare du Nord but there was construction and we were tried several lines before we found one that was open.  It was an RER line and I had told Dan I didn’t want to take the line.  It seemed dirty and slow but we had no choice.  While we stood on the platform, two men closed around either side of me and I felt uncomfortable at how they were looking at me.  When the train arrived, I tried to get on when one of the men stepped in front of me and tried to grope me.  I shouted at him in French and pushed him with my bags, completely distracted from what was going on.  Dan didn’t understand either and commented on how the man sat on the other end of the car.  We couldn’t understand why.

When we got to the train station, we rushed through customs as quickly as we could until Dan got pulled aside for carrying knives onboard.  He had packed them for camping and his military card fortunately let him keep them.  We ended up missing our train over this… which is when we bought breakfast and I finally put two and two together: the man on the train had distracted me so his friend could dig out my iPhone and flee the platform without me realizing.  I felt incredibly stupid and angry.  I replayed it a thousand times and imagined how much I would love to chase the guys down and beat them with my suitcases.  But it was too late.  I don’t have a phone for the rest of my trip.  At least it was completely backed up…and my parents consequently blocked the service.

We were able to take the next train to London without any problems.  We got seats together and watched as we passed through the northern countryside of France and slowly descended into a Chunnel for the train.  Upon arrival in London, the train station and how kind the people were amazed us.  We quickly found our Holiday Inn, drank a bottle of cider we had brought from Bretagne, and mapped out our sights for the day.  We were psyched to include places on our list where the Harry Potter films were made.  Our walking tour of London started with King’s Cross and Platform 9 ¾, then we took the metro (oldest in Europe!) to the Tower of London.  We walked along the bridge and the shore from here, stopping where scenes from Diagon Alley and Gringot’s were filmed and others, crossing nearly every bridge, and hitting popular points like the Globe Theater.  We stopped for some traditional dinner after taking a double-decker from Twinning’s Tea Shop to a plaza where we took the metro to Buckingham Palace and its surroundings.  We passed the Arch and gardens by the Palace on our way to Parliament, Big Ben, and a view of the London Eye under its blue evening lights.  It was a great day and we managed to see everything we wanted to see!

Arrival at the station.

King’s Cross.

Me outside of what would technically be Platform 9 3/4.

Me with an official Gryffindor tie where they filmed scenes from Diagon Alley.

Me by the Tower of London.

Me in front of the Tower of London Bridge that we had just crossed.

Me with Dan by a pub near the Thames.

Telephone booths!

Beefeater out by Buckingham Palace.

Big Ben at night.

London Eye on the Thames at night.

 

The Biggest Funeral Party I’ve Ever Seen

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abroad, Africa, alcohol, Bharat village, Cameroon, Case Western Reserve University, culture, customs, Engineers WIthout Borders, EWB, experience, funeral, student, tradition, travel, village

Pictures coming soon.
Batoula-Bafounda, Cameroon.

It was yet another morning at the site.  The same weather every day: cool mornings with light fog in the deepest thickets of banana trees, slowly warming air, then warm air with a hot sun.  No rain.  I could wear flip-flops and jeans all day, plus a hoodie in the morning which I would remove by about 10am.

We spent the morning topping off the tower.  It was increasingly difficult to explain to the villagers not to touch our tower or climb on it.  The children were eager to scale the sides, especially when I had to help compact dirt on top or place fill.  We had already spent so much time explaining why there was no need for cement on a tower using geotextile and friction to hold it together.

The market was up and running today, so we left the site briefly to join the rest of the villagers.  It was a swarming mess of people, some from more remote parts of the village who had not yet encountered us.  The people are pushy to sell, but it’s definitely not like in other places I’ve been.  The loosely assembled stands that we’d seen passing through the village before were now bustling with people and stocked with all sorts of goods.  There were a lot of random electronic stands with random assortments of radios, cables, and things that seemed to old for me even to identify.  There were of course also hot food stands and big burlap sacks of sugar cane being pulled from overloaded cars.  Perhaps the worst section was the meat section, where fish that looked whole and shriveled laid, skewered, on mats in the sun.  There were goats lying on tables, cut completely open with the fur still on.  The flies were incredible and the smell was putrid.

I passed the section with the more pleasant food and bought a classic white-and-blue striped plastic baggie of twisted beignets.  Some of the students went around purchasing machetes and clothes.  Everyone liked my dresses I had tailored in Benin, so I was helping them buy material for their own.  I ended up finding a used dress for a dollar which needed a new zipper.  I had the zipper replaced at another stand for about the same price.  I also bought my grandma a dress, myself more fabric and clothes, and my brother a shirt.  While standing around looking at the shirts, Victor came up and started asking for me to marry him.  He was in hysterics as I said “no” and kept sucking on a plastic bag.  It was the same kind of plastic bag I’ve seen kids suck on after picking them off the ground.  Victor eventually turned to go and I realized the bag was actually a little sack of to-go whiskey.

Emily was glad to find something to wear the funeral that we were then expected to attend for Tomas.  I too found something to wear.  We went back to the house and washed up.  After everyone was dressed traditionally, we started a long walk down some new trails.  The people around us kept multiplying.  When we got to the thickest of the group, it was amazing how much of a party the funeral looked like.  There were drinks, the music was loud and live, and people were singing everywhere and dancing too.  We stood for what felt like an impossibly long time, observing Tomas with his family sitting around an opening where the casket was.  Apparently it’s traditional to be buried by your ancestor home or something like that.  This was certainly not the kind of area Tomas currently lives in, with his large mansion and Italian marble floors.

When we were told to head back, we were followed by a select…hundred or so…of people.  We all walked through the afternoon heat in our bundles of fabric and found seats at one of the tables under the tents set up on the soccer field at Tomas’s house.  There was sooo much catered food and so much alcohol too!  I was surprised how much alcohol is accepted where I’ve been.  Some man even in and took photos with us… and he was really drunk.  It was kind of funny, until he got aggressive and we all stopped acknowledging him.  When we left the party, we ended up just doing our own things for the rest of the day because everyone was so tied up with the funeral that we couldn’t get enough hands to finish the work.  What a typical workday in Cameroon…

This is Benin.

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airport, alone, Benin, Case Western, Cotonou, currency exchange, customs, Engineers WIthout Borders, flight, French, Ouidah, solo travel, student, The Humanity Exchange

Cotonou-Ouidah, Benin, Africa
On my flight from Morocco, the languages of choice were incomprehensible English, poor French, or Arabic.  I had to rely on mostly the French to understand, then supplemented it with what I could understand of the English.  I’m not sure why, but I always think Arabic is French for the first few seconds I hear someone speak it.  The H sound gives Arabic away, though.  But some guy seriously almost died on the plane.  Or at least I’m pretty sure he didn’t die.

I was so tired, I didn’t know what was wrong with the man beside me and was concerned, but I couldn’t stay awake when I was so drowsy.  The guy was to my right kept coughing and complaining about not feeling good.  The woman on my left was watching Futurama in French on her laptop, so I just buried my face in my pillow on my food tray and turned my head to the woman as the man coughed and was given medical attention.  At one point, the guy reached into his bag and something fell out and hit my foot, but I didn’t’ want to touch it or have the man reach under my seat because I didn’t know what was wrong with him.  I felt horrible, but I kicked the object towards him as he dug in his bag for what I suspected was the object on the floor.  It was.  I hope he didn’t realize I had kicked it and not offered to help pick it up for him, I was just worried he was contagious.  I awoke to find another, new man beside me and the other one in a very depleted state with a doctor and the flight attendants at his side across the aisle and up a row.

When I got off the plane, I was frantic that my baggage hadn’t made it.  I left the plane and was hit by humid and hot air, even at 4am.  I climbed onto a crowded bus and was pleased to find that I was not the only non-black (i.e. most likely a foreigner) and that no one was looking at me strangely.  I quickly filled out the paperwork and passed through customs.  My suitcase beat me there.  I was relieved and grabbed it when it came back around.  Then I was surprise to see someone checking luggage tickets at the door.  I looked for mine, but I had never been given a new one when my flight was changed.  I gave the guy what I had but, despite the luggage being part of a purple and black set with my carryon, he was not satisfied.  I tried to explain and, just like at the customs windows when I tried to explain that I had the wrong street number written down, he just shook me off like he was fed up and let me pass.

I walked out the doors to the small group of people outside and was quickly greeted by Aminata and her THEX Bienvenue Kayla sign.  She hugged me, said welcome, asked how I liked Benin, and many more questions.  She was dressed in traditional, vibrant African dress with a head wrap.  She looked very pretty and was slightly shorter than I.  She led me to a car with a chauffeur.  It reeked of gasoline and struggled to start and shift.  As we left, I was surprised by how good the roads were.  Then I remember Aminata was supposed to take me to get money and other chores done, but because I was coming in at such a weird time just hours before my first class I wasn’t sure how she was going to handle it.  She said we could stop at the bank, so we went to two ATMs with guards sleeping at the outside but both were broken.  I tried to explain to her I had American cash and not a card that would work here, that I had a Discover card.  We returned to the airport where the currency counter was closed.  We tried the ATM there and it didn’t work, but it claimed it was because I had the wrong pin, so I called my mom on Aminata’s phone (I knew it was only 10-11PM there).  She answered and informed me that my card isn’t even set up for an ATM, probably since my brother recently lost the card and we had new ones issued.  She (Aminata) said don’t worry, we’d find a way.  We left.

This is when I realized how bad the roads are, apart from the couple I was on the first time.  We drove through the ghettos over such lousy roads that it suddenly made perfect sense why the suspension is so horrendous in the cars there.  Most people drive motos, though.  We picked up another man that the others knew and he directed us to this shady-looking street with bars and scantily dressed women milling through thickets of men.  The man left the car and traversed the street a couple of times in front of us with an older man.  Then he came back to the car and asked for $203.  I got 100,000 XOF for the money.  That’s a surprisingly fair exchange, I think.  We headed off for Ouidah then.

The drive was around an hour long.  Much French was spoken, but too quickly and it took me a while to realize the heavy African accent that made it so difficult to understand.  When I said it was too fast, the driver wasn’t saying much but the man in the passenger seat made obvious attempts to speak very slowly.  Aminata was behind him and she started to talk slowly but quickly forgot… so there were these two talking with the man going slowly and Aminata rambling on.  I felt bad because I was tired and distracted by the sights, and it was difficult to hear over the wind in the car.  I didn’t like him slowing down for me like that; I felt bad.  Besides, Aminata fell asleep before long and it was silent.

There were so many people sleeping on the street and sweeping even at that hour on a Sunday night.  I was surprised by the amount of lights/electricity, too.  The road had speed limits that no one followed and divisions (“Diversion!”) that were mildly obeyed.  We had to crisscross between the road and the sides which were all under construction.  I saw a man praying to Mecca at around 5:30am.  The buildings were surrounded by clouds of reddish dust and the doors looked like unapproachable, barred sheets of 3000lbs chocolate bars.  As we drove West and I looked out of my south-facing window, I said how nice the breeze was and if the sea was there.  Aminata said yes, that’s why it’s so nice.  Then I asked her if the water was hot or cold.  She didn’t know.  The man in front of her said hot, and all Aminata had to say was how horrendous the ocean was, how dangerous the current could be, and that she had never gone near it.  She gave it voodoo connotations, but apparently a lot of people – especially children – are killed each year by the waves.  Fishing is dangerous and a lot of people don’t know how to swim.

We saw lots of police blockades which looked like Army officers.  Aminata said something to the effect that there’s little difference and they’re all corrupted anyway.  I think one blocked off road was by the military, though… something having to do with the president’s arrival, presumably the Beninese one.  The others were just periodic vehicle checks.  We eventually made it past the never-ending lines of people to Ouidah by about 6:30am.  I went up and joined the other girl Manon in her room.  I hadn’t known there were even any other people here.  Aminata barged in and flipped the lights on when Manon had been sleeping and started talking to her as if she had been sitting there waiting for us.  (I felt bad; Manon later reflected on this moment with a frustrated twinge that I suspected was now habitual after her long stay with Aminata these last few weeks.)  I managed to sleep for nearly an hour and felt pretty miserable.  My lesson was at 8am.