Gorilla Tracking. Who Would Have Thought?

I recently spent, with PK, 26 days away from Ordinary Life, mostly in Uganda or South Africa. Of those, three rate as among my best days ever. I will attempt to describe them in this and coming posts, plus offer more glimpses into life beyond how it's usually experienced in rural Oregon, or the USA in general. First off...Gorilla Tracking!

This is a 350-400 pound silverback gorilla photographed from perhaps 7 meters, or 21 feet) with my new and already beloved Panasonic Lumix camera with its nifty 24-300 zoom. Looking this magnificent creature in the eye (he couldn't see my eye behind the camera, and we were told to avoid eye contact) was a highlight, competing with several other stellar moments from this vacation, or as they would say in Africa, this holiday. 

Slipping and sliding on a steep tropical mountainside searching for gorillas never occurred to me as even a remote possibility until a few months back when "gorilla tracking" was offered as an option by our volunteer itinerary planner, anthropologist, cultural/historical consultant, and all around brilliant person, Kara Blackmore. Did we get lucky, or what? Not just for seeing gorillas really really close, but in having a learned person such as Kara planning our trip and spending several narrative-packed days with us. We said Hell Yes! to gorillas, and Kara paid the $500 per person permit fee on our behalf. (A portion of that fee goes to the surrounding impoverished communities for education and healthcare, and to encourage habitat preservation.)

Looking in the direction of the Biwindi Impenetrable National Park from the Silverback Lodge, where we stayed, some 52 kilometers (32+ miles) from where tracking began. We got up at 4:30 a.m. to drive THREE HOURS on what PK describes as a Class 5 FWD road to arrive on time for the gorilla tracking briefing. 

During the briefing, our guide gave us the lowdown: If gorillas are found, we have one hour with them. Flash photography, eating, and drinking are no-nos. Unless a gorilla approaches us, we are to stay about 23 feet away. If anybody has cold or flu symptoms, they can't come into gorilla territory. Boots are recommended, but trousers tucked into long socks will also ward off safari ants that climb beneath pant legs and chomp. Gloves are recommended to protect against stinging nettles and other jungle things designed to tear flesh, produce welts, or otherwise ruin your day. Walking sticks are provided, but taken away once gorillas are spotted. The sticks could be construed as threatening by gorillas. Navigating without walking sticks, however, could be construed as threatening to trekkers. 

Our guide roughs a map into the dirt. The Biwindi Impenetrable 

Forest is in the far southwestern corner of Uganda bordered by Rwanda 

with the Democratic Republic of Congo close by. This general area is the only 

habitat for the endangered mountain gorillas of Dian Fossey fame. 

About 400 live in the Biwindi Impenetrable (don't you love that word?) Forest.

Ok. Where's the path?

I was thrilled and surprised to actually swing on a jungle vine!
Lucky I was wearing my Life is Good hat. Our trek was short compared to many I've heard described. If you decide to go, be sure you're physically prepared. The terrain is demanding.  

Here's one of the NINE Ugandans who accompanied us. In addition to the main guide and two men carrying AK 47s in case of a charge by a rogue gorilla, were a couple more with machetes to chop a path through the indeed "impenetrable" forest. Also at our bidding were porters who carried our packs for $10 per person. This is a lot of money in a country where the average wage is around $1 a day. A young Irish couple were the only other tourists that day. They reported that one of their parents tracked gorillas recently and hiked for nine hours! I can't recall if they found gorillas (sightings are not guaranteed) but one of the two had to be carried by porters and rangers in some of the steeper sections on the return trek. At around 6,000 feet elevation, the rain forest mountainsides are steep and slick. Real gorilla tracking was going on, but it was not by us. Four trackers were ahead of us in the forest radioing our guide regarding the gorillas' whereabouts. The gorilla group we came upon reportedly had 23 members. I saw only the handful I photographed, but PK sighted at least 10. Lucky for us, we had only slipped and slid for about a half hour into the forest before we stopped to enjoy our one unforgettable hour with mountain gorillas.

Expressions of delight and awe play on our faces as gorillas move around us. 

We were only a half hour into the trip when we spied this guy.
Seeing him so close took my breath away. 

This fellow, a young male, made a noisy and spirited charge in our direction, but backed off quickly,
as young males of many species are known to do.

A baby gorilla, mama nearby, cavorts. 

A ranger with a machete and a Bob Marley backpack helps clear the way with his machete.
Gorilla tracking provides much-needed jobs for villagers.
Porters rotate, sharing the wealth of $10 to $20 a day, 

For most trackers, it's all about photography, and the guides go out of their
 way to clear visual lines to the gorillas. 

PK having the time of his life. It was magical indeed.

Next up: Bush camping and game sightings in Uganda's Murchison Falls National Park with TIA (This is Africa) Adventures. 

Chasing Chimps in Uganda

Dear Email subscribers, if you have problems with the photos, clicking on the blog title will take you to more pleasurable viewing. Thanks for checking in! Mary K. 

When I shot this photo, I saw only dark blurs in the dense jungle canopy. It wasn't until I downloaded and corrected the exposure that I knew this mama chimp was looking at us with disdain, and that her baby was equally unimpressed. Poor people! They must be so sad, not living here and not eating figs and other delicacies and being part of a chimp troop with undying allegiance to one another. I see the mama's expression as a judgement. From recent experience, she knows that visitors to the Uganda chimp sanctuary mean no harm.* But still. What are those strange creatures doing? There's nothing here for them.

Well, that's not true. There was something there for us. Perhaps she couldn't hear our accelerated heartbeats or our panting as we chased around on the jungle floor as the chimps flowed effortlessly in the canopy, mostly unseen. She didn't sense our wonder, our awe, when the entire troop of an estimated 25, began vocalizing, stunning us with surround sound. We stopped dead in our tracks, jaws agape, eyes roaming the canopy. 

What do chimps sound like? Here's a 15 second video-soundtrack recorded in the same place, but not the same time: Chimp sounds/video. It's similar to what we heard, but the crescendo that enveloped us rose like a giant wave that stopped at its crest, shimmered like crazy, then evaporated. This happened three times and each time we were immobilized with wonder. Enjoying chimp tracking as much as we did came as a surprise. 

Let's start at the beginning. A few days earlier, PK and I had seen gorillas. In the jungle. From about 10 feet away. Accompanied by nine Ugandans, several carrying rifles. An account with photos is here. We LOVED this. In fact, we didn't quite see the point of going for chimps as it meant getting up at 5:30 a.m. and driving for a couple hours and then...chimps? Not gorillas? That just goes to show we're not immune to the shallow/callow Western tourist gimme-more-bang-for-the-buck crap. As usual, our trusty volunteer tour guide—and so much more—Kara Blackmore, heard not our low whining but used her considerable eye beams to transmit this message: Why on earth would you want to miss anything Uganda has to offer?

And  so we were off, just the two of us, following one unarmed guide, along an easy path into the Budongo Forest  home to about 700-800 chimps and dominated by mahogany and ironwood trees. This la-de-da type hiking went on for about 20 minutes. Then the signs began to appear.

Fresh paw prints prove we're on the right track.

Fresh chimp poop excites our guide. They were just here!! He lifted his hand to signal us to be quiet, then whispered, "They're headed that way," he said, nodding into the pathless maze. "Are you ready?

With that, we made a sharp right turn straight into the jungle. So much for the la-de-da path. 

We're going through THAT??!!!

There they are! Whispers the guide.

Where? There? What?!!! The view looking up.

The view looking down. Yikes.
But then, as we moved, we began to catch some glimpses. 

Here's a little chimp texting on his cellphone. Just kidding.

Chimp with wild figs, a favorite food.

Our guide shows us the innards of a wild fig. One that the chimps
are not going to get.

There's one, getting outta here.

It must be said that this chimp chasing was a lot of fun and a good workout. After the first half hour or so of ambling along an easy trail, we ran RAN behind our guide though dense vines, around slippery creek banks, over soft grassy berms, and into places we would never have thought to venture if we weren't chasing a guide, chasing chimps. We liked this.

Here are a few, so near and yet so far.

The guide making chimp vocalizations. He also interpreted the chimp sounds. They were talking about crossing the road, apparently, as the road became the goal of our haste.
 Impressive guy, our guide. He really was.

I only fell once after tripping on a vine.
Thankfully, I landed on hands and knees in soft grass.
PK remained upright.

Our guide was correct about the chimps wanting to cross the road. We made it in plenty of time and got to see a dozen streaking across the red dirt to join the rest of their troop.

* Chimpanzee populations are threatened in Uganda, and elsewhere, mostly from deforestation and poaching. Chimps get caught in snares meant for other animals and lose limbs or life from infection.

Note: When I started this series of Africa-travel posts, I mentioned that three of the most memorable days of my life occurred there. The chimp-tracking day was one of them. But wait! It was just the start of an incredible day, all facilitated by TIA Adventures.  We were finished with chimps by 10 a.m. and then Pete Meredith, TIA owner, drove us over yet another red dirt road into the great unknown. Smiling, he was.

Pete Meredith of TIA Adventures. 

For a comparison between chimp and gorilla tracking, keep reading.

Trying to be a traveler, not a tourist, in Uganda

I don't so much like being a tourist. I like to think I'm a "traveler" instead. I mean I want to get out of the tourist conveyance, whatever it may be, and walk around as a regular person. I may be delusional, because in places so foreign as Uganda, there's no way I'm going to pass as ordinary.  I'm white. I'm old (the average life expectancy there is 55. I have that beat by decade+).

And I'm rich. I don't think of myself as rich until I'm in a country where just the fact that I can buy an airplane ticket and hire a driver puts me, puts US, as I travel with PK,  in the "rich" category. We cannot imagine their poverty. They cannot imagine our wealth. So maybe the native people are not so poor as we think? And we are certainly not as rich as they perceive.

But anyway. During our recent whirlwind time in Uganda and South Africa, I managed some solo adventures where I pretended to be just a regular person.

On this October day, on my little solo journey, I witnessed lumber production at its most basic; was accosted by a gang of 10-year-olds; was saved by a young non-profit manager; got caught in a torrential storm; and was rescued again by the non-profit guy with a miraculous umbrella.  Here's how it went down.

Ugandan school children on a sales mission headed my way. 
Can I run faster than they can? I don't think so.

PK and I had been gorilla tracking (blog post) in the morning, then survived (and enjoyed, oddly enough) a jolting teeth-clenching but spectacular three-hour 32-mile drive back to our lodge over what PK called a "class 5" road.

Grinding through a serious slick-clay hole, one of many.

We had tea and biscuits on the veranda, then, after making a phone call,  PK decided he'd like a nap.

PK on the phone as I'm plotting my getaway.

I decided I wanted to walk from our hotel, the Silverback Lodge, into the village, Buhoma, Uganda, about 1.5 miles distant. Buhoma is not a village in the sense that there's a 7-11 or someplace to buy a drink or a tourist trinket or groceries or a bite to eat. It's more that people live closer together and walk in single file to their water source with 5-gallon plastic containers. That kind of a village.

I did this because I'd been frustrated by driving through countless roadside settlements,  as well as the huge sprawling lung-searing capital city Kampala, en route to the remote corner of Uganda where gorillas live, having had little contact with Ugandans. I feel like such a voyeur riding in our fancy (by Ugandan standards) Toyota van, just the two of us and our driver, Nesser (pronounced Nahsah). We are incredibly privileged in their eyes. In some areas, children run alongside, hands out asking for money.

Nesser, our wonderful driver, and guide for five days
One of the few Ugandans we got to know a little bit.

To be safe, for my walk to town, I  have left behind my passport and fancy camera,  but have with me my cell phone, for photo purposes,  and a few dollars. With my perky little Panama hat and long skirt, I start down a steep crooked rock-strewn rain-gullied road toward the village. Far-away thunder rumbles. I ignore it. A couple guys are making boards alongside the road.

I'm struck by the labor involved in lumber production. I raise my phone to take a photo and am approached by a man who indicates this is not cool. If I want a photo,  what is it worth? One dollar? Sounds good. I hand him one of my eight one-dollar bills and take two photos.

I can't tell who has the harder job, the guy on top or below. They have been at this since the sun came up. 

If there's a power saw in Uganda, I did not see it. Or any other power tool. And speaking of power, there is precious little in villages, and even at our lodges lights were dim and generators ran sporadically. Hairdryers? Don't even think about it. Being equatorial, it gets dark around 6 p.m. and light at 6 a.m. There's your structure. Live with it.

Back on the rocky road. Trucks and motorcycles roared and rumbled past, ignoring the ruts and rocks and the kids who leaped aside. I hugged the bank. I wondered why traffic victims are not pulverized alongside the road. One must be nimble. One must be quick. One must possess a safety schtick.

Thunder grew louder. The village still seemed far away. I continued.

Around a bend, a flight of school children bombed my way. They saw a big ole white tourist, a gorilla tracker who can afford $500 for an experience that has nothing to do with survival. They saw a mark for their school-art-project gorilla-tracking postcards. I saw trouble.

The children are proud of their artwork and I am appreciative. As I reach out to take one for a closer look (bad idea!) every child piles his or her postcard into my hands. They are not going away.

There are nearly 20 of them. One of me. I have no small change and only a few dollars. What to do? Simon to the rescue!


This is Simon, age 21, who saw my predicament and alighted from out of nowhere. He selected a group leader from amongst the children, suggested I give two bucks and let the kid divvy it up. This was probably unfair and maybe impossible. But I handed over $2, and Simon led me down the road (away from my lodge, away from the bewildered school children, and toward the village.)

Simon insisted that I  must see his office, which he says is "right down the road." We walk and walk. The thunder is now alarming and the sky is charcoal. I feel obligated, and, let's face it, I'm rotten at saying NO.  I'm worried about getting caught in a hard rain at least a mile from "home". And I know that PK will be worried. Right now, I know, he is looking at the sky and muttering, 'Where the hell is she?"

"I need to get back," I say. "My husband is waiting."

"It is just right here," he motions ahead. I don't see anything that looks office-like. We continue.  Another five minutes and we've arrived. A few women sit in the grass,  but flee inside as sprinkles begin. One is his grandmother, who seems ancient. I ask Simon if he knows her age. "I think she's 55," he says.
My eyes grow wide and I clam up. Fifty-five! We enter his office, which adjoins, it appears, his family's home. Both are typically small and dark, windowless.

Simon is so proud. Behind him is a list of projects the nonprofit aims to fund. Goals include harvesting rainwater, building a gravity water scheme, planting trees, vegetable gardening, providing mama kits, and more.  I sign the guest book and make a $5 donation. Terrible, but that's all I have with me. Later, back in Oregon, I am emailed a heartfelt thank you for my" generosity." I wish I could send money, but I don't know how. 

Here's the organizational chart for the nonprofit, which appears to be named the Environmental and Health Concern Organization. 

By now the malevolent sky is hurling rain from shipping containers and Simon continues to ramble.  I cut him off insisting, "I really must go now. If you have an umbrella, I would like to borrow it and drop it off here in the morning."

He disappears to see about an umbrella, but alas.  Despite the fact that the village is smack in the center of a tropical rain forest, the family doesn't own one. I wave and rush onto the road and charge up the hill, water parting around my ankles.  I protect my cell phone as much as possible, hence no photos of the rising tide in the road ruts, the pelting sheets of rain, the darkness. This is a serious sideways downpour. rivaling any hard rain I've experienced in Oregon.

I lean into the wind and rain, and my Panama hat has sprung a leak. I hear shouting.

It's Simon. He's running toward me. This is odd because I left him behind in his office. AND he has a  huge umbrella! Apparently, he has sprinted to the village, borrowed an umbrella, and raced up a short cut to shelter me. He swings in beside me, unfurls the umbrella and up we go, now using the center of the road as the roadsides have become growling rock tumblers.

Ten minutes later, I arrived at the lodge where PK, as I expected, was distressed. I am soaked and chilly, and stand by as the lodge shower runs for five minutes for the water to become at least tepid, then step in to wash off the mud and begin to digest my experience.

Two months later, I'm still thinking about it. I'm sorry that PK had to fret about me, as I would have about him, if he'd disappeared for an hour during a significant storm in a strange place. But I'm glad about everything else.

Especially the kindness and concern that one human being, the young and earnest Simon, showed for another, the older and more vulnerable me.  Take a look at this kind face again, then consider— He is Uganda. Without a walk in the rain, I never would have known.

Third World Travel Troubles and Why You Should Go Anyway

I ran across this forgotten 2015 post accidentally in late October 2022. I decided to add Third World lessons from Guatemala, where I spent two weeks volunteering at a school whose mission is to lift Maya youth from grinding poverty to futures with hope and opportunity.

I also invited a new but dear friend, Laura Rich, to contribute to the "conversation" about Third World traveling, or in her case, living in a Third World country. Which puts her in with other EXPERTs who contributed to this post. (See below.)

BUT FIRST —WHAT IS A THIRD WORLD COUNTRY and WHERE ARE THEY?

Various maps identifying Third world countries differ. I don't know this map's origin, but a current map might put more countries into the "in transition" category. Or we can hope. On this map: Gray represents advanced economies,  yellow signals countries in transition, and green stands for Third World status. 

Third World countries have high poverty rates, economic instability, and lack basic human necessities like access to water, shelter, and food for their citizens. The countries are often underdeveloped, with widespread poverty and high mortality rates, especially for infants.

I've been mulling over how to describe the discomforts—and the joys—of traveling in the world's "least developed" countries, those pictured above in green. I know that the disadvantages loom large, but despite the drawbacks, I belieThird World travel's rewards outweigh the baduff.

Does spending 14 days in Guatemala, 18 days in Nepal and the same amount of time in Uganda, make me a Third World travel expert? 

Of course not! But I do have EXPERTS at my disposal (see below) 

I will insert my own semi-informed opinions. But first, the generally agreed-upon drawbacks to Third World travel:

Third World realities that can mess with you

1. Poverty. You cannot ignore it, and it can make you feel terrible, helpless, and guiltyContaminatedous water. You can't drink from tap and s, and must take care not to open your mouth in the shower, which is, by the way, a significant or luxury. P, plus you must be aware of food that may be contaminated with water at all times. Even with care, water-bornastynasty bugs can have their way with you if they manage to get in. I know this all too well.
2. Hard beds. Unless separating yourself from the culture by staying in super pricey hotels, your will to suck, by cushy Western standards. Your blow-up airplane neck pillow can come in handy.
3. Connectivity. Internet access is hit and miss, even in hotels touting Wifi.
4. Bad roads. Mostly, they're terrible, especially in rural areas. Don't try to rent a car or drive yourself. Street maps, road signs, road name and s, and traffic control devices (such as stop light cuesgns) are as rare as cloth napkins Mcdonald'slds. Outside of, and sometimes IN cities, roads are typically one lane, eroding, full of potholes, blind corners, limping, overloaded buses, and motorcyclists with a deawishesish.
5. Unreliable power. In Kathmandu, Nepal's capital city, electricity goes missing for approximately 12 houdailyday in something they call load-shedding. Don't look for a hairdryer under the sink, an unimaginable waste of electricity. Some hotels and businesses fill in with generators.
6. Air pollution. In Kampala, Uganda's capital city of nearly 2 million, the primary cooking method is wood or charcoal, as it is in rural areas. Most people boil their drinking water for an hour, so tons of particulates spew into the air daily. The Kathmandu Valley, populatiof on 5 million, has cleaned up the air recently by disallowing two-cycle motorcycle engines, disposing, somehow, of trash that used to be burned. However,  the day after we left, the airport was closed due to pollution-caused poor visibility. 
7. Sanitation/toilets. Prepare to squat at least some of the time. Our $35-per-night hotel in Kathmandu had flush toilets, although we had to pour a bucket of water down ours to make it work. In Uganda, our upscale hotels were equipped with modern plumbing. On the road, howeveas the bushes or sohorriblebad squat situations in gas stations. 
8. Crime, panhandling, begging. Worse in some places than others, but when you travel to areas where daily wages are around $2 US a day, your stuff looks pretty good. 
9. Border-crossing hassles/bribery. One of the experts, Chris, has paid a lot of bribes. I've only crossed borders on airplanes.
10. Being white and, therefore ricis h a stereotype not easily escaped.
11. Weird diseases that require visitors to get immunized before entering a country. Better than getting sick.

My Third World Travel Experts

Chris Korbulic, then 28, our son, professional kayaker, and photographer exploring rivers—and cultures—in countries including Nepal, Uganda, Zimbabwe, Democratic Republic of Congo, Papua New Guinea, Rwanda, Laos, India, Ecuador, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Mexico, Pakistan, and many more. I've listed only countrisconsidered least developed, less developed, or in transition.

It's important to say that my thoughts on why a First-Worlder should travel in Third World countries, are, obviously, coming from a privileged middle-class white dude. Also this is travel, not vacation, so the goal isn't to relax and come out feeling rejuvenated. It's to see and experience totally foreign places and people and maybe even suffer a little for it. After a good travel, you'll feel like you need a vacation. 

Traveling in Third World, or "developing" countries, or whatever PC label you want to call impoverished places with more poverty and misery than we could ever comprehend, is important. 

And it's fun. There aren't nearly as many rules or enforced laws, which can be great, but can also make travel a logistical nightmare. Also cultural taboos are often just as important as laws but much harder to recognize. 

In the US, we think we're deprived. We're not free enough, rich enough, safe enough, we don't have enough time. But we are actually so safe and free and rich that we manage to create danger and chaos and misery for ourselves where it mostly doesn't exist. 

And then we create stereotypes. For example, everyone in Pakistan must be a terrorist or always scared and hungry. Wrong, actually. In my experience, Pakistanis showed overwhelming kindness and hospitality to us weird kayaking foreigners, and they took great joy in what I perceive to be pretty miserable conditions. They also seemed to have rich family lives. 

If you're lucky and you travel just right, you won't just see misery and hunger and thirst and danger, but you might actually experience them, and with your First-Worlder goals of learning about yourself and the world and empathy, your experiences will teach you much more than your eyes ever could. 

When you return home, you might recognize the great quality of life you are privileged to enjoy. And hopefully you'll feel richer, freer, and safer than before, because you are.  

Another travel danger; you might come back and sound like a self righteous a-hole too proud of your travel experiences. Chris Korbulic

Kara Blackmore, then 20-something, a cultural anthropologist working as a writer and cultural consultant in Uganda. A Cambridge graduate, she's traveled much of Africa, and many other countries, and is a contributor to a popular guidebook to Uganda. She's a good friend of Chris', and when we traveled to Uganda in 2013, she arranged our itinerary and spent a few days with us, including bush camping.
Kara is talking about Uganda below.

         I've added a few images from our Uganda trip. MK

The traffic: Go because you will see what can fit on the back of a bicycle or motorbike.

Watering trough via bicycle.

The local food:  Go because the immigrant Ethiopians make it delicious and the Belgium bakery takes the cake.

The malaria: Go because if you get it you can empathize with people and have the best diet plan ever. This could be said for amoebas too. 

The cost: Safari travel ain't cheap, but the reward for being in what Hendri Coetzee would call "nature's VIP lounge" is well worth the price.

Lion cubs on our early morning safari after bush camping.

The poverty: Seeing disparity is uncomfortable, and we should travel to remind ourselves that the great things are so simple and the simple things are so great. 

Go anyway because the colors in the art will make you feel alive. 

Go anyway because seeing charismatic mega fauna in their domain is soul restoring.

A great thrill in my life, taking this photo.  

Go because something will surprise you in ways you could never imagine.

One incredible surprise...

after another... 

Go because, just when you think it is the best day ever, 

there is more!

                                                   Kara Blackmore

Michele Templer, then 66, Peace Corps Volunteer, Swaziland, Africa. Michele was then two-thirds of the way through her two-year commitment and wrote a compelling blog about living like a local in a rural Third World country. I give her, and other PCVs, huge credit for displacing themselves for two years on behalf of the human race. I asked why she believes others can benefit from visiting the Third World. Here, she's talking about Swaziland.

Why go? You mean, of course, besides the unimaginably beautiful scenery, rugged, untamed, rolling in all directions? And besides being the different one, the outsider, the one who attracts stares and curiosity, the one who is seen as a stereotype...(A "rich" white person.)

So perhaps it's the self discovery, when our givens are questioned. It's not the expected challenges - unsafe drinking water (never brush your teeth without using bottled water) unreliable electricity and internet, and questionable public transport. 

No, I think it's the givens that slip off the wallpaper and come smack us on the nose. Things like the social cues and expectations that we take for granted and others don't. Like being aware of time, for example, and being places "on time." If you say you're going to show up, do it. Say no when you mean no. Offer emotional support when someone is hurting. If you see someone who needs help, give it. These are my givens, and they're not universal.

Children are to be encouraged and praised. They eat first, and if there's not enough, the adults eat a little less. Especially the older adults who aren't as active.  And children do not exist solely to fetch and carry for adults. .  

And then there are the things that rankle. The women carrying unbelievably heavy loads, often with children on their backs, while the men walk unencumbered. 

The manual labor that in the States is done by machine. 

The time needed for just the basics of life - cooking on wood fires requires fetching and cutting wood and inordinate amounts of scrubbing pots, for example - and doing ALL the laundry by hand, weeding between the rows of maize with hoes or cattle harnessed with ropes around their heads and horns, everyone working in the fields.

It's the patriarchal culture (it occurred to me today that most of the developing countries are patriarchal - makes you wonder about the economic effect of oppressing women, doesn't it?). 

So how do these things make someone want to travel to a developing country? I think it's about not being aware of givens until they are no longer inevitable. It's more than discovering how others live, it's finding our own beliefs and exposing our own blind spots. And, of course, along with incredible adventures, and self-awareness, such travelers come home with a deep appreciation for all that we have...Michele Templer

My two cents
Traveling in developing countries is worth the trouble because the brain, body, and psyche shift to adapt to extreme foreignness. 

Shifting is good. It dissolves complacency. As Michele points out, being in a developing country challenges our "givens". Such displacement made me rethink everything I thought I knew about religion, money, longevity, discomfort, death and dying, endurance, politics, spirituality, relationships, childhood, nature, animals, generosity, intelligence, curiosity, antiquity, education, health, history, and human nature. How's that for a list?

In other words, practically everything is called into question. The world I thought I knew is not the same as the "worlds" I temporarily inhabited. Travel makes for a different reality, but Third World travel is in a class by itself.

And then there's the beauty and awe factors, the reasons many people travel to Third World countries, especially Africa. In Uganda, I did not expect to be giddy and tearful at the same time while spotting animals I'd seen on TV ain nd magazines for years. 

But when lions, zebras, crocodiles, elephants, hippos, gorillas, rhinos, exotic bi,rds and on it goes were close by and not in a zoo, I was brought to tears. I now dream of giraffes.

In Nepal, it was the mountains and the landscape that brought me to my knees. And the incredible antiquities in the numerous World Heritage Siteso along city streets ain shops.

And, of course, foremost, the wonder, warmarm, bri,ght and beautiful people who treated us with incredible kindness and care. Nepalese may be the most welcoming people on earth.

Observing the vitality and resourcefulness and, at times, joy, of the people in both countries humbled me. Could I live as well as they do were I in their circumstances? Could I be as strong? As graceful? Laugh as much?

Like my son Chris said, I hope I don't come off as a "self-righteous a-hole too proud of my travel experiences." PK and I agree; we are proud of the wonderful and challenging experiences we've had, especially in Nepal and Uganda. The stark differences between our world and the one(s) we visited don't make us smug about where we come from and what we own. 

On the contrary, they make us question how much we need and what being "happy" means.

PK says:  Being brought almost to tears by the joy around you, while seeing, at the same time, conditions that might bring despair in our world, make you question what matters. 

Indeed it does. 

And that's why you should "go anyway."

UGANDA 
Being a Traveler in Uganda -  SCARY!
Gorilla Tracking -  ETHEREAL
Chimp Tracking  FUN!
Rafting the Nile - SCARY!
Bush Camping - LIONS ROARING NEARBY
Uganda, Best Travel Day Ever  TIED WITH FIRST POST
Murchinson Falls National Park Wildlife  TOO MANY CROCS

NEPAL 
Feeling the Love in Nepal
Fear, the Truth About Ziplines 


GUATEMALA