A visit to Victoria Falls

by Kraig Becker on

Back in 1855, Scottish explorer David Livingstone was nearing the end of his exploration of the Zambezi River when he came across a sight that was quite unexpected at the time. For days he had heard from the local tribes about a great water fall that lay ahead on his journey, but because the region he was traveling through had no mountains, valleys, or plateaus, he found no reason to believe the reports. That is until he came face to face with the most magnificent and beautiful sight he had ever seen, the 360 foot tall waterfall that he would name Victoria Falls in honor of Queen Victoria of England.

Today, the Falls remain one of the top tourist draws for Zambia, with thousands flocking to the country every year to make the journey to see Livinstone’s wonderous discovery. Victoria Falls is the biggest waterfall in the world, stretching nearly a mile in width, and when combined with its impressive height, it forms the largest sheet of water anywhere in the world.

Recently, David Abel of the Boston Globe, made the journey for himself, and returned to share his experiences with the rest of us. While he was there, Abel discovered first hand why the Zambians call the falls Mosi-oa-Tunya or “the smoke that thunders” when he finally looked upon the falls that measure twice the height of Niagra.

From there, he moved on to the five-star, $900 per night, Royal Livingstone Hotel, where he enjoyed crumpets and tea while monkeys played in the trees overhead. The adventure didn’t stop there however, as he followed it up with other wildlife encounters and an exciting ride down the Zambizi River through Class V rapids.

Clearly Zambia has a lot to offer the adventurous traveler, and it extends beyond just the falls. But a chance to walk in the Livingstones footsteps sounds too goo to be true, and yet 150 years after the famous explorer visited the region, we’re still going back for more.

The Disposable Memory Project

by Kraig Becker on

Disposable cameras have become a very popular way of capturing images in the digital age. They’re cheap, take relatively decent photos, and can be found in just about every discount store the world over. But one organization has taken the disposable camera off the guest tables at every wedding, and sent them out into the world to capture images from around the globe.

The concept behind the Disposable Memory Project is simple. Pass out disposable cameras to travelers, have them take a few photos and then pass the camera along to someone else. Eventually the disposable cameras get returned, at least in theory, and the photos are published online for everyone to share. So far, the project has placed 164 cameras in 42 countries around the world. To date, 42 of those 164 cameras have been found, and 11 have been returned, carrying a record of their journey with them.

The Disposable Memory Project website has a comprehensive list of each of the cameras and the places where they’ve been released into the wild. You can use the page to see if there is one close to where you are, and if you find it, you can claim it, snap a few photos, and pass it along. Eventually, once the memory on the camera is full, you simply contact the good folks at the Disposable Memory Project and they’ll arrange to have the camera picked up, and get the images developed and posted on the web, passing the link along so you can check out your photos.

What an interesting and fun project! There are still quite a few cameras that have been found and are still bouncing around the globe, and dozens more that have yet to be discovered at all. If you want to join the fun, go find a camera that has been released in your area, and if there isn’t one, perhaps you can release a camera of your own.

The top ten beach hotels of the world

by Scott Carmichael on

European hotel booking site Trivago, recently released the results of their guest survey to find the ten best beach hotels in the world.

The lineup has a bit of a European tint to it, and no hotels in North or South America made the cut. Still, the list has 10 hotels I wouldn’t mind spending some time, and I’m not even that much of a beach fan.

Most of the hotels offer their own private beach, which means you won’t have to share any of it with the commoners who were not lucky enough to stay at your upscale property. Prices for the rooms start around $500/night, with the most upscale rooms going for as much as $10,000/night in the high season (for a private over-water bungalow).

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Bowermaster’s Adventures — Zanzibar

by Jon Bowermaster on

After the Perfume River in Hoi An and the souks of Marrakech, Zanzibar rounds out the trio of ‘most-exotic’ places on the globe that I’ve long wanted to spend not days, but weeks. While these are very real places – crowded, often hot, occasionally dirty – they have each set themselves up in my mind, mostly through books, as mysterious, romantic. Now I’ve officially spent time in each.

Walking the tight streets of Stone Town, the centuries-old market on Unguja, the main island of Zanzibar, the place lives up to the reputation built in my mind. The earliest visitors here were Arab traders who are said to have arrived in the 8th century; pirates swarmed its coastline beginning five to six hundred years ago. I walk into its earliest building, the mosque at Kizimkazi, which dates back to 1107. Hints of its human influences – Assyrians, Sumerians, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Indians, Chinese, Persians, Portuguese, Omani Arabs, Dutch and English – are visible everywhere. Some, particularly the Shirazi Persians and Omani Arabs, stayed to settle and rule. With this influence, Zanzibar has become predominantly Islamic (97%) – the remaining 3% is made up of Christians, Hindus and Sikhs.

For centuries the Arabs sailed with the Monsoon winds from Oman to trade primarily in ivory, slaves and spices. The two main islands, Unguja and Pemba, provided an ideal base for the Omani Arabs, being relatively small, and therefore fairly easy to defend. From here it was possible for them to control 1,000 miles of the mainland coast from present day Mozambique to Somalia. Most of the wealth lay in the hands of the Arab community, who were the main landowners, kept themselves to themselves, and generally did not intermarry with the Africans.

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This was not true of the Shirazi Persians who came from the Middle East to settle on the East African coast. The story goes that in AD 975, Abi Ben Sultan Hasan of Shiraz in Persia (now Iran) had a terrible nightmare in which a rat devoured the foundations of his house. He took this as an omen that his community was to be devastated. Others in the Shiraz Court ridiculed the notion, but Sultan Hasan, his family and some followers obviously took it very seriously because they decided to migrate. They set out in seven dhows into the Indian Ocean but were caught in a huge storm and separated. Thus, landfalls were made at seven different places along the East African coast, one of which was Zanzibar, and settlements began.

Widespread intermarriage between Shirazis and Africans gave rise to a coastal community with distinctive features, and a language derived in part from Arabic, which became known as Swahili. The name Swahili comes from the Arab word sawahil, which means ‘coast’. The Zanzibar descendants of this group were not greatly involved in the lucrative slave, spice and ivory trades. Instead, they immersed themselves mainly in agriculture and fishing. Those Shirazis that did not intermarry retained their identity as a separate group.

This day we get lost in the narrow market streets, modern-day stores selling much of the same factory-made “antiques” to a booming tourist crowd, and emerge in the real Zanzibar, a sprawling open-air market. Even in the late afternoon as the sun begins to disappear on a hot, hot day it is packed with people weighing fruits and vegetables, eyeing shell fish and giant jack’s, for the home table.

It’s a beautiful end to a first day on the so-called spice island; from here, its north, into the heart of what is increasingly becoming “the pirate’s sea.” So … stay tuned!

Read more from Jon at Bowermaster’s Adventures.

Bowermaster’s Adventures — Ibo

by Jon Bowermaster on

Ibo – officially Ilha Do Ibo, by the Portuguese who colonized it – is one of a string of 32 islands that make up the Quirimbas archipelago, separated from the Mozambique coast by just a shallow channel. Barely two miles long and two miles wide a fringe of reefs surrounds it; at low tide you can walk to the next island. On its main, slightly derelict beach fishermen hammer at boats turned on their sides and a pair of skinny boys walk the mangrove shallows with a net between them, trolling for baitfish. Just offshore cruise elegant-if-paint-flaked wooden dhows; their triangular white cloth sails making them look more windsurfer than sailboat. Ironically their masters can only fish when it’s windy, since most have no motors.

A grassy square of abandoned colonial houses in ice-cream pastels anchors the island’s main town (there are just three). Their grand size and wrought iron terraces and lampposts suggest prosperity. But the ironwork is rusted; the walls pitted with black mold and fig trees grow through the roofs. After the church, the grandest building on the square is the Customs House, pink-painted with ornate iron lattice along its roof. Inside, in a vague attempt at tourism, it has been turned into a tourist office. The unmanned display consists of an elephant skull, an old dining chair with a label reading “cadeira usada pelos portugueses” – chair used by the Portuguese – and a table laid out with a few coffee beans.

Ibo’s heyday was during the late 1800s, based on slaves and ivory. When slavery was abolished in the early 1900s and modern ships no longer needed to stop off so often for water and supplies, it faded. The island’s graves tell how, over the centuries, it attracted the Chinese, Arabs, British and Portuguese. Today it feels as if time has stopped since the Portuguese left abruptly in 1974, its population having fallen from 37,000 to fewer than 6,000. There are no cars, no banks, no postal service, no television or Internet and virtually no electricity … except at its lone and elegantly restored hotel, the Ibo Island Lodge (www.iboisland.com).

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One thing that sets Ibo apart from much of the rest of the Africa today – a continent on the verge of continent-wide drought – is an abundance of fresh water. For an hour I watch young boys come and go from a pair of wells in the center of town, pumping fresh, clear water into yellow plastic bottles with red screw tops. It comes from not far beneath the sand and according to locals seems bottomless. (For a good read on how the rest of Africa is dealing with serious drought, read my friend Andy Revkin’s recent. dotEarth report.)

“All day long it will come,” says my guide for the day, Ali, of the clear fresh water pouring from the rudimentary pump. “People even come from mainland Mozambique to get Ibo’s water. Maybe we can turn it into a business. What do you think?” I assure him that if he can figure out a way to export the island’s water, while preserving enough for local needs, he may have found his own path to riches, Ibo-style.

Read more from Jon at Bowermaster’s Adventures.