Jon Bowermaster: Dispatches from St. John – Day 3

by Jon Bowermaster on

I spent one rare rainy day in St. John with Jane Johannis, who couldn’t have been happier about the dampness outside her simple house. “When it rains like this I put out every pot and pan I have, in order to keep my plants watered,” she says.

A native of the island, at 80-plus years old her skin as beautiful as fine Italian leather, eyes reduced to slits from years spent tending her garden under a hot sun, she wears a long pink dress and flip-flops. Her hair, remarkably free of gray itself, is pulled back in a tight bun. One of seven children, with nine kids of her own, she has lived most of her life in the small island town of Coral Bay. “You could say I’m surrounded by family all the time, yes,” she says, though she’s not against the occasional off-island foray and has been to New York and LOVES Las Vegas. “I do manage to play the slot machines,” she smiles, “since I’m not a drinker I need to have something to do!” But more than anything she loves her island life and her gardens.
Her expertise is the herbal medicines she finds everywhere in the bush, giving the occasional class but counseling her friends and neighbors for free. “People now they too easily run right to the pharmacy when they need something. They tell me, ‘It’s easier.’ I don’t agree. Me, I never go to the pharmacy. The doctor? He’s the last person I turn to!”

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What does she find in scrub and forests? Black wattle for fighting colds. Aloe for burns. Eye bright, which is – believe it or not – makes your eyes stronger. Sour sop used as a sleeping aid. Bastard okra, boiled and used to relieve burning eyes. Breadfruit leaves, used in an infusion to cure high blood pressure and lime leaves boiled with salt to fight aging. “Those are the ones I rely on most these days,” she laughs.

She’s not wild about some of the changes on her island, like the cost of living and taxes both of which are going up. “Even Coral Bay is changing, with more shops, more people, more everyt’ing,” she says. I’m headed to her small town the next day and ask for a recommendation on a good place to eat, the best places to hike. “Go to Salt Pond, for sure. That’s where we collect the best sea salt. The best restaurant would be Lucy’s, but she died the other day at 93, of a stroke. I’m going to her funeral tomorrow. So that restaurant be closed for a private party. But you might stop by anyway. Probably be the best party of the year!”

Exploring a Somali camel market

by Sean McLachlan on

Hargeisa, the capital of Somaliland, is built on an oasis used by nomads since ancient times. It’s been a center for camel and livestock trading for centuries. Hargeisa’s camel market, the Senlaola Hoolaha as it’s called in Somali, is a huge and dusty field a mile from the city center. Most of the day it´s used as playground by schoolchildren, but between 7 and 12 a.m. the scene is taken over by camels, goats, sheep, cows, their respective owners and of course prospective owners.

It´s a tumultuous place. The men are inspecting the animals or standing in groups sharing the latest gossip. The women have occupied a big part of the field for their own business of selling food to hungry traders. Some have traveled for days to sell their goods. The camel herders, who generally travel without any motorized transport, have been traveling for as long as two weeks and from as far away as the Ogaden region of eastern Ethiopia.

A camel can cost anything from 300 to 1000 dollars depending on its age, strength, and of course the buyer’s ability to haggle. All camels have been marked with the owner’s special sign to avoid any conflicts about ownership.

%Gallery-93036%Not everyone can learn how to recognize a good camel, says Hassan, who has been buying and selling camels and goats at Senlaola Hoolaha for twenty years. He enthusiastically shows me where to check on the camel’s back to know its age and health. You have to know how what to look for or you’ll get cheated, he says. Many camel herders give their camels extra water to make them look fatter than they really are, and only a well-trained eye can spot the difference.

To make sure that your bargaining doesn’t affect anyone else’s deals, an intricate technique of hand signs has been developed. The two businessmen put a shawl over their interlocked hands, and the bids are communicated by touch. The negotiations usually last from five to ten minutes but can take up to half an hour. The system might seem complicated at first glance, but the logic is simple and easy to learn. Every finger has a number. All the numbers from 1 to 9 represented. One, for example, would be described by grabbing the index finger at the tip. In the case bigger numbers are needed a zero can be added by grabbing a bigger part of the finger. One finger can therefore describe 1, 10, 100, 1000. Since both parties know the general price for a goat or a camel the use of zero is limited.

If you’ve ever been to the camel market at Birqash, near Cairo, you’ll probably notice one significant difference. While in Egypt you’ll constantly be followed around by hustlers, in Hargeisa you won´t be offered anything but long gazes of amazement. Here you are the only tourist around and you´ll soon find yourself, not the camels, becoming the main attraction.

(Note: the photos and much of the text in this post are the work of Leo Stolpe, a Swedish photojournalist who joined me on some of my Somaliland adventures. I merely edited the text and added a few things. Unfortunately, the program I’m using doesn’t allow me to put him in the byline. Check out Leo’s website for more great photos from his epic travels in east Africa.)

A conversation with Joe Diaz, co-founder of AFAR

by Grant Martin on

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last year you’ve heard of AFAR media and their new magazine that’s currently making waves around the travel industry. As one of the few companies to risk starting a print publication in a transitioning media landscape, there’s plenty at risk in this endeavor, but the strategy runs deep at AFAR and the innovation is plenty.

Earlier this month, Gadling’s Editor in Chief sat down with AFAR co-founder Joe Diaz to catch up on new developments at the startup.

Grant Martin: Congratulations on the success of Afar to date — how are things settling in for you as the co-founder of a major publication?

Joe Diaz: Things are going well. We have the opportunity to work in media in such an exciting and evolutionary time. AFAR has entered the game at an opportune time. Others call this the “bottom” or “worst time ever” to start a media company. Obviously, we see it another way and believe that the demands of today’s consumers were not being met in the travel space. Judging from the success of our launch it looks as though AFAR is fulfilling the desires of today’s experiential travelers. Our magazine launched with much success and I’m really excited about the upcoming launch of AFAR.com

GM: Right, your magazine is only a small part of the Afar portfolio with a large portion of Afar Media set to unfurl on the web in 2010. How is that progressing?

JD: The entire team is really excited about the launch of AFAR.com, a social network meets social search site that gets people like you to answer questions you have about travel. We are headquartered in San Francisco for a reason and that reason is AFAR.com. We plan on entering our beta in late June of 2010. We are now beginning to invite well-heeled travelers and members of the tech community to join us in shaping and improving the site. I encourage you to “try out” for our beta at http://private.afar.com.

Although we see our site as a revolutionary progression in the online travel space, our platforms always drive back to our company’s core values. In this case, it’s all about connecting travelers to other travelers, locals and businesses in ways that fit their individual way of traveling.
GM: So upcoming components of AFAR.com will be socially interactive. How will it be different from, say, Facebook or Dopplr?

JD: AFAR.com will differ from Facebook in terms of the approach. Facebook is effective when you want your “friends” to answer questions that you might have about anything in particular. When traveling, how many of your “friends” have been to the places you’re thinking about going? Then take the number of friends that have been there and ask yourself, “How many of them like to travel the way I do?” Probably not that many. We think there is a whole community of like-minded travelers that you should be able to tap into to give you recommendations that fit your psychographic.

GM: AFAR events is another branch of AFAR Media that’s kicking off this summer. What have you guys got planned around the country?

JD: We are planning an AFAR.com launch party in San Francisco for late September/early October. Stay tuned!

GM: Going back to the magazine that we all know so well, you recently made some editorial changes at the top. What motivated these changes?

JD: Things evolve and change over time and as a company we need to adapt to those changes. The initial launch of our company required a different approach than the stage we are currently in. AFAR is a media company and although the magazine is an important part of our strategy, it was time to move away from magazine-centric thinking and really embrace an audience of experiential travelers rather than any one single platform.

GM: And you’ve been getting some pretty big names in that industry involved — we just saw our friend David Farley off the Belarus on a top secret mission for you guys. Who else have you got coming down the pipeline?

JD: Yes, we’re acquiring top-notch creative talent for the magazine. It’s exciting to see writers like David Farley, Susan Orlean, Andrew McCarthy, and Tim Cahill working with us. I think it speaks to the uniqueness of AFAR and this magazine’s ability to talk about travel in a real way. Photographers who get shunned from other travel magazines because they like to photograph clouds hanging over those white, sandy beaches…no problem. AFAR likes clouds.

Fly to New Zealand and back this month for only $480

by Grant Martin on

Got some free time later this month? Air New Zealand just put a giant swath of seats on sale for travel between California and New Zealand. Round trip, the entire journey only costs $399 with tax, or just about $490 all in. That’s less expensive than half of the transcontinental US flights and than all of the flights to the EU this spring.

In short, it’s a fantastic deal, and combined with the strong dollar (against the NZ dollar) and Air New Zealand’s superior transpacific service, this is a once in a lifetime experience.

If you’re interested in booking tickets, check out Air New Zealand’s website for more details. Tickets need to be purchased by day’s end Friday, May 14, 2010 for travel between May 21 and May 30.

And if you’re looking for inspiration to make your journey, check out Gadling’s series In the Corner of the World where we road trip from the tip of the north island through the heart and soul of New Zealand in a two-week-long fiesta of adventure, excitement and wide angle photos.

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Hargeisa: a capital in search of a country

by Sean McLachlan on

For a people without an official nation, Somalilanders sure love their flag.

It’s everywhere–painted on doors, flying from government buildings and private homes, hanging from rear view mirrors, worn on belt buckles and even knitted into a cap like this barber is wearing in the photo. Somalilanders are proud of their nation and want everyone to know it.

After sleeping off a grueling ten-hour bus ride to get to the capital Hargeisa, I wake up and see at least a dozen flags from my hotel window. I’m eager to start exploring. I don’t know what to expect. Somalilanders say the capital is safe, but can an unrecognized government next to one of the world’s worst war zones really keep the peace?

My contact in Harar, Muhammed Dake, had assured me, “Hargeisa is safe. Just watch out for two things. Foreigners are offered prostitutes and alcohol. Both are illegal.”

I can handle that. I’ve never paid for sex in my life and if I can’t go without booze for a week, I should go without it forever.

I’m staying at the Oriental Hotel, the country’s oldest, having been built in 1953 when this was still the colony of British Somaliland. After two months in the Horn of Africa it is by far the nicest place I’ve stayed in–clean sheets, good service, new facilities, and water and electricity that never go off. Even before making it into the street I can see the government and investors are getting at least some things right.

The Oriental Hotel is in the center of town next to a large mosque, rows of low concrete buildings housing shops and apartments, and the gold market. It’s here, in the first half hour of my first day, that I get a lesson about the kind of country the Somalilanders have built.

%Gallery-92887%First stop is the money changer, who sits on the ground with a pile of bank notes around him. The Somaliland shilling isn’t internationally recognized, so it fluctuates constantly and hard currency is in big demand. “Hard currency” even includes Ethiopian birr, the currency of their biggest trading partner. You can use it as cash just about anywhere, and every shopkeeper knows the day’s exchange rate. One U.S. dollar is worth about 6,800 shillings, but since the government hasn’t printed notes above 500, any trip to the money changer gives you a gangster-style wad of cash. These exchanges happen in the open without any sign of worry. The money changers do keep the hard currency in their pocket, though.

At the gold market, mesh wire boxes the size of small tables sit by the side of the street displaying chains, rings, and earrings. Most of these “shops” are run by women in niqab, a full face veil made of black cloth. The niqab has become increasingly common in Somaliland and the Muslim parts of Ethiopia in recent years. Gold is handled freely and in the open, despite there being no police around. At one point I see a gold seller showing a tray of earrings to a customer. The customer walks away without buying anything and the jeweler goes off to talk to someone else, leaving the tray on top of her box. I stand a few meters away, watching and wondering what would happen. Will someone run up and grab it? Will another merchant chase down the dealer and tell her to put away her gold? Or will they put it away for her?

What actually happens is what I least expect–nothing. Nobody touches it, and after five minutes the jeweler finally comes back and calmly puts away the earrings.

When I ask Muhammed Dake about this later he shrugs and says, “Nobody steals in the market. It would mean a bullet, and that would mean civil war.”

In Somaliland, even the thieves appreciate stability.

Everyone knows what it could be like. Somaliland became independent in 1960 and a few days later joined Somalia. It was a fatal mistake. Soon the brutal dictator Siad Barre was in power and the Somalilanders tried to break away. Barre’s air force leveled Hargeisa, killing thousands. Somalia disintegrated into dozens of warring factions and Barre’s regime eventually fell. Only Somaliland was able to create a nation. The rest of former Somalia is a living hell of constant warfare. A steady stream of refugees flees to Somaliland looking for a better life.

Hargeisa is a new city, having risen literally out of the ashes of the old one. Every now and then you spot evidence of the past in a heap of rubble or pockmark shrapnel scars on a concrete wall. Most buildings are new and the sound of countless hammers counterpoints with the muezzin’s call over the city.

This place is a traveler’s dream. There’s nothing to see–no museums, no art galleries, virtually no monuments, there are only the people. Ancient ruins and fine art are great, but in any country it’s the people who teach you the most.

In Somaliland a foreigner will have no trouble meeting the locals. In a week I see only half a dozen other Westerners, even the Chinese engineers ubiquitous in the rest of Africa are absent, so I’m a curiosity wherever I go. I cannot walk down Hargeisa’s dusty streets for more than two minutes without someone starting a conversation. If I stop for any length of time a crowd gathers. At times I even block traffic. When I tell them I’m writing about Somaliland the inevitable answer is, “Thank you,” followed by,

“See how safe it is here, don’t forget to tell them that,” or,

“It’s not like the rest of Somalia. Why don’t people understand?” or,

“We need recognition. Then we can get more investment.”

Recognition is on everyone’s mind. Recognition would provide foreign investors, international aid, and dignity. Somaliland doesn’t even have a postal system because the Universal Postal Union won’t recognize it as a nation. Everyone uses private couriers like DHL or the reliable broadband Internet available in most cities. And while the Somali diaspora invests millions in the country, international recognition would bring in international organizations and specialists to help with building infrastructure, dealing with refugees, and tackling poverty. Somaliland has only a fraction of the NGOs that Ethiopia has, and few foreign companies. Yet this region of former Somalia has built up a stable nation with virtually no help from abroad. Meanwhile aid money pours into the chaos to the south, to no visible effect.

So as I wander in and out of shops selling the latest electronics, or through street markets filled with shoppers, or watch workers busy putting up yet another building, I ask myself, “What did these people do wrong? How isn’t this a country?” It’s like suddenly every court in the world decided my wife and I weren’t married, and my son is a bastard.

Who decides these things, and why?

Don’t miss the rest of my series on travel in Somaliland.

Next time: Hargeisa’s camel market!