You said how much?

I like... birds

We've totally seen some awesome birds. Like totally. I tell you, see this Kingfisher bird? It's just like sitting there on the super thin wire. And suddenly it's just like flying all around. Wham, into the water and up carrying a tiny fish it awesomely just snatched up. Don't even know how it could see that tiny thing. I totally didn't. And than, right up in the wicked tree straight up there, another one is hiding. Don't even know what bird it is, but it's just too cool. Man, just sitting there hiding like. Wow.

And just suddenly this weird surround like sound is all around. Couldn't even see the thing at first. Like hoot hoot everywhere. Big blue like thing it was, with a freaking mohawk I tell you. Wham, another one looking like a flying T-Rex just swooping down from I don't know. Damn, they're just everywhere.

And than there is this tiny thing picking stuff off a bamboo. Maybe he eats it or something. Tiny beak and all. Man, maybe he's poisonous like. That tiny beak scares the hell out of me, but he's just too awesome. Another one totally like the first one, but a little different maybe, is totally just sitting there looking. Like he's glued to that stick or what? And man, that awesome looking kingfisher again. Just king of the boat like.

Big and somewhat familiar looking thing just suddenly scares the crap out of me. Just popping up right out of the freaking jungle. I tell you, he totally reminds me of something. Maybe it's somewhat similar to my aunt or something. A squeek like sound from right, over on the side there. Little ball of color just gymnastically balancing like crazy on that rope, almost thicker than him it is. He totally looks in the killing mood or what?

The complete Oxford dictionary for East Africa (Part I)

Chapter I, Basic rules

1. Never assume. Ever.

2. People lie.
. 2.1. The price is a lie.
. 2.2. The direction is a lie.
. 2.3. The distance is a lie.
. 2.4. The ingredients are a lie.

3. Everything's negotiable.
. 3.1. The price is negotiable.
. 3.2. The direction is negotiable.
. 3.3. The distance is negotiable.
. 3.4. The ingredients are negotiable.

4. You're rich. Face it.

Chapter II, Dictionary

Yes: I have no clue where you're going, but I'm dying to take you there for an unreasonable price. My 5 seat taxi can easily take 10 or more.

Whistle: We allready have 24 unhappy looking guys in our 14 seat minibus, but we're happy to cram in a couple more for three times the regular price. By the way, the cabin smells like human excrements and every last window is rusted shut.

We go: Let's put you, your girlfriend and all your backpacks with a combined weight of around 50 kg on my death trap of a motorcycle. The traffic is petrifying and I only drive like a complete maniac.

Yes?: I have no freaking idea what you just said, but I'll just scribble down something completely random in my notebook while nodding frantically, hoping to leave the impression that I've understood your order. Hopefully you'll be to pissed off to complain afterwards.

No?: I can hear your answer loud and unmistakeably clear, but I'm a human goldfish and will continue to ask the same question without catching breath until you'd rather walk 5 km with a heavy backpack than ride on my bike, just to rob me of the pleasure.

Chapter III, Directions

Always bring a map. When you do not have a map in your hands and are forced to ask for directions, you will be mislead, lied to and sendt in the complete opposite direcion from where you ought to go. Here is a practical example to illustrate. Some subjective information has been added for additional depth.

1. [0 km] Bike shop employee: "Take your second right, go straight through the roundabout and just follow the signs. It shouldn't take you more than 10 minutes." Of course we forgot every single word as soon as we closed the door, so we argued a little and took our third right.

2. [1 km] Police officer: "It's just down this road." We highly doubted that, but chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. It didn't stop us from double checking right down the hill though.

3. [1.3 km] Gardener: "That way." (Pointing down an seamingly endless gravel road going downhill). According to our general sense of direction it was not far off, so we gave it a shot. This was the point where we should have considered picking up the map.

4. [2.5 km] Old man on bike: "Back up that way!" (Pointing up the gravel road that now was uphill). This was the point where Maria suggested we pick up the map. For some unexplainable reason I told her that we couldn't be far off and that we just should go on.

5. [4.2 km] Young man on bike: "Down there." (Pointing down a narrow gravel road twisting out of sight). At this point our butts were really starting to appreciate the hard leather bike seats. Having allready gone this far without consulting the map, we desided it would be a fun experiment to try reaching our destination by following the directions of local guesswork.

6. [4.8 km] Fat lady: "Oh, you have to go back up the hill you just came down from. Once you reach the tarmac road take a right." If it hadn't been for the sheer steepness of the narrow gravel road we now had to go back up, this might have been funny.

7. [5.4 km] Hotel employee: "Up to the roundabout, take a right and follow the road." This time at least we knew that we were being lied to. First of all, we had allready been down that obvious dead end. Secondly, her insecurity lit up her face like fireworks in a cupboard. You might ask yourself why people are handing out advice when they clarly have no freaking idea what they are talking about. Well that's a damn good question. Tell us if you find the answer.

8. [5.7 km] Policeman: "You should get a map." That was the first reasonable sentence we'd heard in the last hour and a half. Unfortunately, we were beyond that point now. "Take right before you reach the roundabout. You'll see the signs." Believe it or not, we sure didn't, but he was right.

9. [7.7 km] Guard at the gate: "It's right down this hill. It'll cost you 10,000." Entrance fees are also negotiable. "OK, make it 5000." Thank you very much.

Roots and leaves

Our buts have drummed their way through the bumpy, dusty roads of Uganda. We've felt the sticky and stinky sweat of fellow matatu passengers and the restless wind of boda-bodas driving us into the sunset. For living in a time when adventure's fairly limited by the internet (or the destrucion of unreachableness) and Lonely Planet's allknowing guide to every-small-hidden-corner-on-this-planet, I feel we've had our share of wild exploration.

There's a strange rythm in our path that connects every place we've been in a wicked balance. The tranquility of the air at the source of the Nile in Jinja loses bits of its ethereal feel to the very real mud huts, nonsense letters on walls and pothole hotels.

Kampala's heart is the nest of a snake of smog who's getting entangled in itself trying to bite its own tail. But in spite of the dirt, the shouting, the burned-up ruins and the running for your life across tarmac lanes there is a hidden, shaky order, a flow that pushes everything -even you- ahead.

The blue and white horizon of the Ssese islands is soul-morphine, but the majestic solitude is shattered into pieces by the ever-so-lively birds, the screams of hippos, thunders at night and the pure force of life crawling on the ground and on the trees, making you feel like a tiny piece of something endless. The hunger for more roads leads you into lost bubbles of sky and forest. You learn how to slow yourself down without crashing and how to accelerate without burning up the engine.

The slow breathing in of grass and leaves beside volcanic Lake Nkuruba puts you to sleep in the evening, while the playful screams of funny-looking monkeys wake you up in the morning. An upside down plant is growing inside of you. Its roots are your brain. They're steady and always reaching out for more. Its leaves are your feet, dragged away by the wind.

As heard in Serengeti

Dialogue is presented as heard, in order from left to right. Some fragments may seem fictional, especially those appearing to voice the thoughts of one or several of the individuals, but we can assure you of their complete authenticity.

Bruce: Sorry bro! Didn't mean to put my face in your ass. Now don't you go thinking I'm gay or anything.

Ricky: Oh, you mustn't apologize my friend. I actually find the touch of your trunk rather pleasant. Ugh, what's that horrible odour?

Little Karen: Hmm... What's this strange and warm sensation, gradually spreading down my face? Oops, there goes my eyesight!

Gramps: Ahhhh...

Gustav: I'm just gonna go way out here guys. Way out.

Silvia: Oh look, a bunny rabbit!

David: If I put my feet just like this, I'll look exactly like a weird illusion I once saw on the internet.

Roger: Eighty four million six hundred and twenty four thousand nine hundred and... and... FUCK! Oh no... One bottle of beer on the wall. One bottle of beer.

Ludwig: Mother? Mother? Mother? Mama? Mama? Mama? Mama? Mum? Mum? Mummy? Mummy? Mummy? Ma? Ma? Ma? Ma? Ma?

Wilma: I'm floating in perfect harmony. It's all a matter of willpower. I'm fucking zen! Do I spot a pack of lions at the foot of that hill?

Shower with a view

Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening

Hello rainy season! We're in for a rough couple of months together, and I for one am a bit unsure of how well we'll get on. This post is, by the way dedicated to our friend Evarett, in mild gratitude for all the times he's kept us company while we've been busy chasing thunderstorms. May the lightning never strike you twice.

Ooh yeah, ooh yeah. Nothing really matters. Anyone can see. Nothing really matters, nothing really matters, to me. Anyway the wind blows...

As we go

"You gotta go there to come back" do sing Stereophonics. I guess we're gone. We're so far gone that we've made up our own gipsy song. So this is to all the travelers. Mh mh.

You' rather vanish into nothingness

than getting your invisible wings cut off.

Anywhere's your home

and the road's your address.

The whistle of the sparrow is your call,

your duty nothing at all

but the world you see.

You like to think you are free,

but your eyes are chained to the horizon.

You feel the rush, you go on.

Addict.

You unravel stories a thousand years old,

ruins hidden in the jungle,

Gede's secrets still untold.

-Or so they tell you.

(And yes, we did feel like Indiana Jones).

A thousand miles are swept off

from under your feet.

You find yourself on an island,

floating like a bubble far off from modernity.

A dhow drags you away

from noises an smells,

leaving you alone with yourself,

even in the company of others.

The drumming on plastic

bouncing though chest and heart

leads you right back to the start.

In the blackout night of donkey paradise

you finally meet the laic devil in disguise.

He calls himself Satan, sits in a dark corner

and doesn't believe in the gods of bloodshed.

He talks about the Bantu, politics, and Congo.

The night is warm as the words flow.

You feel like missing this place even before leaving.

And in the end you know,

it's not just about the photographs.

It's also about the things

you never got to capture,

although you really wanted to.

Now you see it through.

It's really not about getting everything,

traveling means missing.

That's what pushes you forwards

in the quest for the next horizon.

Traveling's a song you once heard on the radio

that you've never heard since.

It's a beautiful tree stuck on your mind,

it's the light of the sun making you blind

-but you don't mind.

It's a map of phrases without words,

a promise to yourself and to the world.