H: Now we have to get home. A taxi, ferry, taxi, flight to cairo, flight to the UK, and lift home. To spice it up a little, we don't know if the airport in Dar is open as an old amunitions bunker in Dar Es Salaam exploded yesterday, and set off 22 others. We also don't know if Cairo has caught up with any backlog from the protests.

I reckon we are pretty organised people in general, but when it comes to travelling, we wing it far too often. We found a canvas painting we really liked the day before we went to the beach. So today, once we got back to Stone Town, Greg dumped me, with a poorly foot and all our bags in a cafe, while he went to buy the painting and post it straight to NZ.

He returns a few hours later, extremely sweaty but somehow quite carm. He's managed to find somewhere selling bubble wrap and wrap it up, made it to the post office, and was told that it was too heavy to post. So he went out to Zanzibar airport and was told there were no flights to NZ, but he could post it to Heathrow for £60. Running out of time he gave up, came back to the cafe to get me, with the painting hanging out of the taxi boot, and we just made it to the last ferry back to the mainland.

By the time our ferry got in though, the post office and places like DHL in Dar were shut. A taxi driver took Greg to one place that was still open, offering to ship it to NZ for £130! Ooops have we made an error buying it??

We gave up on that idea and were going to risk the excess baggage fee. Until we worked out that even at $10 a kilo, it was still going to cost us about £50 to get it just back to the UK.

So to the amusement of most of the passengers around us, we set to unwrapping what G had so carefully wrapped, and fighting with a penknife to pull the staples out from the frame and roll the painting as carefully as we could. Next problem was finding somewhere to ditch the rest of the wrapping and the huge wooden frame!

So now it looks a lot smaller, and weighs a lot less, but the airline could still sting us for excess baggage if they wanted.

So to give everyone around us even more amusement, we set to emptying one of our hand luggage bags into our big rucsacs. If we tried to check in just with one hand luggage bag and the painting, maybe they would be kind and let us take it on the plane with us?

They did, so now the painting is safe and travelling for free!


It's been another amazing trip with lots of great memories. And one very sad one - I wish I could have bought Chalis home with us :o( Am really looking forward to being back home and seeing everyone again. And having more than one meal a week that I enjoy. Not sure which I am looking forward to more....

H: Until a few years ago, we weren't really lie-on-the-beach people. Half a day of lazing and I would be going stir crazy looking for a long walk to do.

Fiji, at the end of our first trip in 2006 was our first real attempt at doing nothing, and it went down a lot better than I had expected. Bouyed by this experience, we took a long bus to the coast in Cambodia at the end of our second trip, dreaming of a little beach hut with no-one around. We ended up in a backpacker hell. We stopped at a bar to ask directions, and instead were offered a spliff. The bars were beautifully named, including the "f*** yeah bar" and "ganga heaven". To make matters worse there was nowhere quiet, and only about a metre of sand.

Not wanting to be put off by that experience, we arranged to go the Mexican coast on our third trip. We were going to stay somewhere nice and go surfing. We were in a little town in the Mexican highlands, the day before we were due to travel to the beach, when Swine Flu broke out. If we had known now what swine flu was, we would have stayed in Mexico. But in the first 24 hours the locals began to wear masks, the news reported literally hundreds of deaths in Mexico, and the cold I had had for a few days got worse. We ditched our dreams of the beach and caught a flight to the US.

Fourth time lucky eh? We spent precious hours on the internet trawling for our once-in-a-lifetime beach bliss. We discounted those we thought might not be clean enough, those that were ridiculously priced ($400+ per night) and were left with a handful we could just about stretch to, if we really pushed ourselves. We even used Trip Advisor, that's how serious this was. We wanted somewhere clean, right on the beach, with an endless view of the sea.

We found a place on the East Coast of Zanzibar that we hoped would be perfect... we were both nervous wrecks pulling up the drive - this was a lot of money for us and we were dreading being dissapointed!

We were not, at least on the room front. The reception area was simple, but beautifully done. The staff really friendly, but not snobby. And our villa was just amazing. The bed was clean, with crisp white sheets (not stained floral ones) and even better, it had a duvet. There was a sofa we could slob on which was much more comfortable than the plastic chairs we have had most of our trip. The shower even had more than five working holes for water to come out of! We added our own extra touches too. I guess it's not something the staff are used to, but in a bid to save some money we bought lots of water with us so we didn't have to buy it. A good thing as they were charging about £2 a bottle. We also bought some milkshakes and cookies so we could just share a meal at lunch (the one meal a day we have to pay for!).

Being on our honeymoon, we were treated to a complimentary lobster dinner, bottle of wine and a massage each. Which should be lovely eh? Especially as the evening meals were at tables on the beach, under the moonlight.
However I don't eat fish, and more than that - I really hate looking at cooked fish. So I had to turn away while G ate his huge lobster, as I tried to find appetite for yet more dry rice and some veg. The wine was my first alcohol of the trip and so one pathetic glass later, my legs were wobbly and walking straight was hard.

I chose a 45 minute 'stress-relief' massage and have never felt so much pain before. Can a massage really be effective if every part of your body is tense waiting for the next onslaught? I never thought I would ever want to stop a massage but I came very close to it here. Infact it was only pride that kept me on the table. 24 hours on and I feel like I have swum the Atlantic. I would say I need a massage but I'm not sure I ever want one again.


Enjoying luxury but still not liking being pampered, I found having our room cleaned twice a day hard to get used to. To be honest, I was so grateful they had cleaned it before we arrived that they didn't need to do too much more. Racked with guilt that we were reading our books while a lady cleaned our room I helped her make the bed. She was pretty strict on how I did the corners ;o)

I have never experienced the little touches that you get in places that cost a wee bit more than $15 a night. There are some that are lovely, espeically the flowers on the bed when you first arrive, and the rose on the bed on valentines day. Infact I also got a rose from the waiter at dinner too, so that has doubled the number of roses I've ever been given. [Note from G - this is a lie!]

However some of those little touches are not good for the environment. Coming home after tea to a room with the air conditioning and lights turned on is lovely. But how much electricity must they waste?! Same goes for changing the towels - we really don't need our two towels each changing every day but we couldn't find a polite way to ask them not to.

There are nice-to-look-at-but-quite-inconvenient ones, like tucking the end of the toilet roll into the middle. It's a bit frustrating when you need to use it!

And then the completely bizarre ones - who ever decided that they needed someone to turn down the corners of the bed at night for them? Is it meant to make it easier to get in??


So our accommodation was bliss, but we have been big time let down by the weather! We really haven't seen very many blue skies - mostly it has been really overcast with a couple of rain storms. We had hoped to go snorkelling one morning but the sea was too rough so they cancelled the trip. I have hurt my foot and it's all swollen so walking along the beach isn't too good. Plus our dream of an oceanside villa with an endless view was ruined slightly by being further back from the sea than the pictures made out, and was on the wrong side of the peninsula so faced out to land!

It didn't really matter though - we have had four days of doing very little and it has been a great end to our trip. I have also learnt that maybe I can spend time doing nothing, so maybe it wasn't a once-in-a-lifetime break!

H: Another early start. This time to catch a bus to Dar-Es Salaam and try and get the last ferry across to Zanzibar. Our alarm went off at 4.30 and by 5.15 were at the bus station.

We have basically spent the last two and a half months about 1,500m above sea level. This has meant that is has been lovely and warm, but not humid.

Man did that change. A couple of hours into the journey, my hair started to frizz - a tell tale sign the humidity was increasing. Another hour or so and the temperature/clock screen of the bus is rising. Soon it hits 37 degrees and starts flashing - I think it might have been laughing at us. It might be 37 outside but I'm pretty sure it's even hotter inside. There is no air on the bus whatsoever. Another hour and my hair looks like I've put my finger in an electric socket.

Ten hours later, I cannot begin to describe the state we are both in. But our journey is not yet over. The last ferry to Zanzibar is leaving pretty soon and we still have to cross town and get to the port. This is when being bombarded by taxi drivers (especially ones that hone in on white people) when you get off the bus worked to our advantage. Within mintues we were in a taxi, had managed to explain we were in a rush, and were racing through Dar. With the windows open, which meant cooling down ever so slightly, but meant my frizzy horrible hair was now sticking out in ten different directions.

Ferry tickets bought (after spending a few precious mintues haggling over the price), we made it onto the last ferry. We were tired, hot and sweaty and looked like we'd not showered for two weeks.

So imagine our joy to find the ferry completely full of muzungus and the true horror of what we were about to do hit us. When we decided to go to Zanzibar, we knew it was a popular destination. It was only having been on Kili and on Safari, that we realised that EVERYONE who did those two things, carried on to Zanzibar.

We really enjoy being away from the touristy places and therefore white people. Firstly it means we can see a lot more of the local culture (not tourist-ified), and secondly it keeps us from seeing the dreaded English louts, complete with English football tops with three beers in each hand. Infact this trip, more than South America or Asia, it has seemed that we have been completely off the tourist trail. There has rarely been even just one other white person on a lot of the buses that we have caught.

To make seeing so many white people worse, they were all beautiful white people. They had showered probably within the last day. They were wearing clean clothes and their hair looked brushed (even the men's). Their day had probably only involved waking up in a nice a/c'd hotel, having a shower and meandering over to the ferry. They also looked like they had been on a diet for months in preparation for their holiday. Unlike us, or at least me, whose diet has included mainly pringles (this started out as a treat, but have eaten so many I am starting to feel sick just by looking at them), nutella and bananas. I have really struggled with the food here!


Unusually for us, we had booked a hotel for our first night. We had tried to book a room for three nights but wierdly they all say they are full. No idea why but had hoped once we got to Stone Town, we could find somewhere for the other two nights. They can't all be full.

Our Hotel were meant to pick us up from the ferry terminal but they weren't there. Instead, about 20 very pushy taxi driver/guides were there hoping for some easy cash. We stubbournly said no thank you and started to walk. Stone Town isn't big, it really can't be far. We had cooled down on the ferry, but as soon as the breeze had stopped we were hot and sweaty again. Plus with the sea breeze from the ferry, we were now sticky too and avoiding reflective surfaces at all cost. Walking with our rucscas wasn't going to make that any worse. Apart from thinking our hotel was North-ish, we had no clue where it was. Not willing to splash cash on another taxi, we aimed North and hoped someone on the way could point us in the right direction.

We asked two or three people, none of whom seemed to have heard of the hotel, let alone knew where it was. Eventually some kind man phoned for us and they told us to take a taxi and that they would pay. So swallowing our pride, we walked back to the 20 annoying taxi driver/guides.

The taxi dropped us off at our hotel - a completely overpriced room full of mosquitos. While we were checking in, they mentioned the music festival that was on in Stone Town. That we had completely missed, but was probably the reason why there were no hotel rooms to be found. Zanzibar so far has not been fun!

After a much needed shower, I headed to bed - safe in the knowledge that when I surface, G will hopefully have found us somwehere to stay. I am aware of the risks of sending G out by himself - he is not so good and keeping to our budget. But I am far too tired to care.

G: We never book accomodation in ahead of time, we don't normally think that far ahead when we're on the road. But the later part of this trip has been a little different than our previous trips. It is, after all, our nominal honeymoon. For once we are staying in rooms that have hot running water when you turn the tap... normally we have to turn the tap, realise its cold, walk to reception mention that they told us there would be hot water, wait 30 minutes as instructed, turn on the tap, sigh and accept that its either a cold shower or no shower. When you want to stay in slightly nicer places it can be easier to book ahead... then you get the perks such as free airport pick up and the like. (Not that free airport pick up is any use for people arriving via a 10 hour bumpy bus ride!)

The afternoon before our long ride (10 hour bus, 30 minute taxi, 2 hour ferry) to Stone Town we decided to have a quick look around the internet and find somewhere nice to stay. We lined up a couple of possibilites and made a couple of calls. Both full. No problem, we found a couple more and called up. Also full. Hmmm, odd, it is peak season in Tanzania, but still surprising to find them all full. We tried a few more, also fully booked. Something's up. Not deterred we kept trying. I'm not exagerating when I say we must have called 20 hotels. All full. Finally we got a little bit of luck and we found a place that had space for one night. We wanted 3 nights but one will do, at least we have somewhere to base ourselves while we find somewhere for the next two nights. Might be easier face to face.

Arriving in Stone Town we made our way to the hotel and were grateful that they had kept our room for us and there'd been no mix ups. While we were checking in we asked them why everywhere was so full... suddenly all made sense... the African Music Festival was in town. For precisely four days, precisely the four days we'd planned to spend in Stone Town before heading to the east coast for our final few nights in Africa. Oh well, I'm sure we can still find a place to stay for two nights. Surely. First thing in the morning I'll get up and trawl the streets to find a place.

Next morning I was up about 7. With H still soundly sleeping I grab a quick breakfast and head onto the streets of Stone Town. First stop was the internet to check a couple of mails I'd sent the previous day to other hotels to see if they had space. First problem... the power is out all over stone town, so no internet.

Ok, plan B. A local tour operator advertising hotel bookings outside. A few phone calls later and he's struggling, everywhere is full. The only bed he can find is $190 a night and way outside of Stone Town. Our budget is $100 a night (and that's pushing it) and we want to see Stone Town. I leave him to ring a couple more places for me and try to track down another internet place...

One of the nicer hotels nearby has an internet cafe opening running off generators. Checking my mails theres another ray of hope. One of the hotels has replied and has a twin room available for two nights. No price quoted. Actually the hotel is nearby, perhaps I'll just go see them. 10 minutes later and yes, they have a room, that they've kept until they hear back from me. Nice. But no good... $230 a night. Thanks but no thanks, I'll have to leave it. I'll admit I was tempted to just say ok, be done with it and then figure out how to wangle it past my accountant!

Back to the booking agent. Still no luck. Perhaps we can somehow find $230... just for two nights? Ok, plan C. Hit the streets. Some good old fashioned leg work. Any room for tonight? No sorry, we're full. No worries. Next hotel. I'm looking for a room for two nights? Sorry, we're full tonight. And tomorrow? Yes, full. Have you tried down the street. No, I'll try that next. Do you have a room for tonight? Sorry, full. Ok, no problem. For at least an hour... no joy. With every rejection a completely overpirced $230 room seemed more and more acceptable. H will understand.

In the end, I thought better of it. Perhaps I should check back in with the boss and see what she reckons. On my way back to meet her and all our bags, I'll just check anywhere that I pass. Do you have a room for tonight? No, sir, sorry we're fully booked. No worries. Have you any rooms available tonight? No, I'm sorry, we're full. Ah, no, wait, another lady leaning over her shoulder is talking fast and pointing at the bookings page. A glimmer of hope...

A few minutes later I'm looking at room... a really nice room, TV, fridge, large bed, air con, hot shower, the works... $150 a night. A bargain compared to $230. Can't hurt to try it on though... would you take any less, for two nights? Ok, $140 we are having power problems, but please don't complain. How about $135? Make it $136. Deal! What time can we check in? Maybe 1pm. Ok. We'll be back then. I quickly pay a $100 deposit so they don't give it to anyone else and trott back to H... who is just around the corner. That was the very last hotel on my way back.

A nervous couple of hours later, back to the hotel, and phew! They still have the room, we're checked in, bags in room, key in hand. Still a few bucks more than we'd have liked, but way better than $230 a night or having to skip Stone Town. Even the accountant can accept that. Awesome!

H: We are now in honeymoon mode so are staying in clean hotels, with bathrooms that are aware of the invention of Jif. The sheets are nearly always stain free too which is an added bonus.

Moshi wasn't too bad, but Arusha is full of safari touts that get really boring. They either want to sell you a safari or a painting. Not now? Then maybe later? The buggers have a great memory for a face too! We might try and liven the conversations up by saying we are too scared of lions to go on safari. Or ask Safari? What is a safari?

The United Nations International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (set up to try the genocide 'masterminds') is being held in Arusha and we went for a morning to listen to one of the proceedings. You can't sit in the room, but instead sit in an ajacent room with glass panels and headphones. We didn't get to see much 'action', as the whole morning was spent discussing whether or not letters from his supposed alibi in the Senegalese government were admissable or not. We got the feeling the documents were going to refute the alibi but it never got far enough for us to know for sure.

The defendant, Agustin Ngirabatware, has been accused of:
* Conspiracy to commit genocide
* Genocide
* Complicity in genocide
* Direct and public incitement to commit genocide
* Extermination as a crime against humanity
* Rape.

Now I know innocent until proven guilty and all that, but I very much doubt that having been accused of so much, he is actually a nice innocent man. No smoke without fire and all that. He had a big defence team and I would love to know if the people defending him believe him to be innocent, and if not, then I hope they don't try very hard.

H: We hadn't stopped to think what an absolutely huge tourist safari market there would be, often with some incredibly luxurious camps. We searched for a budget safari but really didn't find anything that looked really budget but that would also be good. Figuring it was our honeymoon, we booked the cheapest but best safari we could find. Which meant some luxury.

The first night, we stayed in a tented camp outside the crater. Our 'room' was a tent almost as big as the marquee we had for our wedding, with ensuite bathroom - smarter than most hotels we've ever stayed in. It got even smarter when we got back from dinner (a real restaurant 3 course meal!) to find our beds turned down, lights turned on and hot water bottles put in our beds! We have NEVER stayed anywhere with a turn down service before. So all very nice, although the view wasn't amazing. And the tent was so big it wasn't so easy to see outside from bed.

Worse, the drivers don't stay at the lodge, but instead have to either share a dorm-style room with other drivers, or find their own place to stay. I am not too keen on that separation.

One good thing about this lodge however was that the owners had started the lodge to support a childrens home that they had set up next door. It was interesting to go to the orhpanage to see its similarities and differences to the NOTDEC orphanage in Uganda. It is set up similarly - with two houses and house mums. The orphanage has 24 children, the youngest 8 and the oldest 18. As with NOTDEC, the children help with the housework and there is a small farm used to provide the orphanage and the lodge with some food.

However there was a very different feel to the NOTDEC orphanage though. Maybe it's because of older age of the children but it didn't feel full of life and happiness. And the children didn't greet us by running and bowling into our legs and demanding to be picked up. You don't get a welcome much more special than that.


The second night, we stayed in a less 'posh' tented camp in the bush. I am hopeless with luxury and feel terrible if someone carries my bag for me - especially after five years of G telling me if I want to backpack with so many flip flops I have to be prepared to carry them. So I felt even worse when they laid a sheet of plastic onto the grass and unloaded our rucsacs from the jeep and gently placed them on the sheet. Our rucsacs are filthy. They are now on their fifth trip around the world, have been hurled onto numerous buses/trains/airplanes/motorbikes, have had chickens sitting on top of them and have been transported on the top of a minibus in a crate of tomatoes. I could get used to the physical luxuries (ie a real bed and clean sheets), but am not sure I will ever be able to get used to being 'waited' on.

There were about 8 tents for tourists (ie a whole 16 people), including two strange Brits and 6 incredibly rude Dutch people. Get me out of here....


The next two nights were complete bliss. The camp was in the middle of nowhere, with an incredible view of the woodland opening out into plains in the distance. With giraffe and zebra 100ms away, we were two of six tourists staying there. The other four were in tents out of sight. It really felt like we were by ourselves. We were still 'waited' on more than I am comfortable with, but in a much more relaxed way.

It felt like how we normally camp, but with some differences. Instead of a thin rollmat and sleeping bags, we had a thick mattress with sheets and a duvet. Bliss. (I have told G that if we are not walking with our tent, then we will camp with a duvet and mattress from now on). Instead of a pit loo in a hut, we had a pit loo in a tent with no roof so we could see the stars. Bliss. Instead of a wet-wipe shower, we had a bucket shower, again in a tent with no roof. Bliss. And it was also warm. We could have stayed here for a week and not got bored. It was 100 times nicer than the very luxurious first night we had!

What is not luxurious however, are the continuous early rises we seem to be having. Getting up early (ie 7) for the orphanage, turned into getting up at 6.30 on Kili, which got earlier still to go on the game drives. Maybe when we get to our beach luxury I might get a lie in??

H: Along with climbing Kili, we have always hoped we would be able to go on a safari for our honeymoon. And it was well worth the wait (and a very long wait it was eh?) :o) Still recovering from the Kili tummy bug, we travelled to Arusha and started our five day safari.

One of the most important parts of the safari for us was our guide and we ended up falling on our feet. We reaslied this by lunchtime on day one when he said he hated lunch spots where all the other jeeps would go, and maybe we could stop somewhere quieter. Us to a T!

One of the most worrying parts of the safari for me was seeing an animal be killed. Infact I am really not sure I would be able to control myself from screaming at the poor animal to run faster, or to throw something to put the lion off, which could get me in trouble both with guide (Robert) and Greg, and potentially park rangers and other tourists too. However much I tell myself (or am told by an understanding G) that it is nature, it is still horrible. Maybe someone should tell the lions to become veggie (and no, I am not a full veggie so yes that is double standard-ed but at least I don't chase my food to death).

The scenery throughout the trip was stunning - huge open plains, and woodland savannah (with not too many trees, fortunately, or I wouldn't have liked it). We drove through the Ngorongoro Crater, the Ndutu region and into the Serengetti (a Masaii word meaning endless plains and they really are endless). The wildlife throughout was incredible - hundreds of zebra, wildebeast and buffalo. Plenty of elephants and giraffes, and we were even lucky enough to see a handfull of lions. Fortunately (for quite a few of us) we didn't see an animal chased and killed

For someone as unobservant as G (I can tell him I'm going out to get my hair cut, and even having been told, it can still take him a day or so to notice), I was surprised how much he can take in when he puts his mind to it. After a few hopefull lion spottings that turned out to be a rock/tree/gazelle, he struck gold thinking he had seen a hyena, and it turning out to be a mother cheetah with two cubs, tucking into a freshly dead gazelle.

Not quite as bad as actually having seen the kill, but still pretty gruseome and I can get all upset thinking about the poor thing and its family that will be missing it. Since we have started travelling, I have seen far too many dead animals hung on hooks outside shacks labelled 'butcher', and hens carried in bicycle baskets, or someone with a chicken in one hand, and a knife in the other. I have also seen a taxi minibus driving around with about 10 dead sheep tied onto its roof. I can now just (and I do mean just) about stomach seeing that, but it has meant that I am completely vegetarian while we're away. There's something totally wrong, but very nice in being able to buy packaged meet at home from a supermarket. It gives me a huge separation from the animal it came from!

Knowing that this was an important part of the safari however, I did take a photo of the cheetahs and dead animal - with my eyes all but closed. Then I tried to take photos just of the heads of the cheetahs when they weren't eating, as they are still pretty beautiful creatures. When I realised that their mouths had a slight red tinge to them, I gave up completely.


We learnt a lot about the animals from Robert, including finally understanding how the zebras with their very uncamoflageable colours of black and white are actually very camaglageable. The predators only see in black, white and grey, and therefore the patterns of the zebras confuse them! He also told us a lot about the Maasai. They are the local tribe and many still live very traidtional lives. Unfortunately, it's not really possible to get a picture of them without paying - they have cottenned on to charging white people for a photo and then the photos aren't very natural! Which is a shame, because they wear beautiful red robes, with beautiful earrings and many with big holes in their ears, like a stretched earring hole - take a look at this. In summary... they believe they are superior to farmers and to those who work the land. They believe all cows are theirs, and keep thousands of them. Not for meat or milk, but believing it to be a sign of power. Infact if a non-Maasai farmer owns cows, they are likely to wake up one morning and find the Maasai have taken them. They like watches - Robert isn't sure why. But they can wear up to three at any one time. They also love mobile phones, but can't text (as many cannot read or write) so the mobile phone companies are likely to make a lot of money from them. They also practice age old traditions such as sending off young men to proove themselves by killing a lion.


We specifically planned our safari mainly in the Ndutu region as that was where the wilderbeast were meant to be migrating to. We should know from past expericences that we should never make our plans round something we really want to see. Eg crossing South America to see Igacu Falls and getting there to find a drought and dry walls. Or the time we flew into Cancun to overland to Texas, and getting caught up in the swine flu mishap and having to fly instead. Fortunately neither of us had our hearts set on seeing the migration which is a good thing, as the stupid animals had seen a big rainstorm further north and had gone that way instead!

Not to be defeated however, Robert took us on a 10 hour game drive right into the Serengetti to try and see part of the migration. We thought we'd got lucky and did find about 3,000 wilderbeast in a line crossing the plain. Robert gently told us however that it would have been normal to see tens of thousands migrating, rather than just 3,000. Well you win some you loose some! We're not going to complain - the safari was still incredible!

H: Day One

We have talked of climbing Mt Kilimanjaro on our honeymoon for as long as I can remember. However following the freezing cold nights and broken knees in the Ethiopian mountains, I have been put off it a bit.

Given my favourite camping spot temperature-wise to date has been at Death Valley, at an altitude of -60m, the thought of camping up at 4,600m again really doesn't appeal. This would be our 5th high altitude trek, and whilst the walking and altitude on these treks has been fine, I have laid awake and freezing every night.

However not one to wimp out, we got to Moshi and booked a 7 day trek up the volcano. We rented down sleeping bags rated down to -20, thermals, fleece trousers and a huge down jacket each. Maybe this time I won't freeze?

Knowing I can't get to sleep at altitude, am often cold and we haven't done that much exercise this last month, I set off feeling pretty apprehensive. I am also very scared of going back down the mountain because of knees, but maybe I shouldn't be worrying about that yet.

I was very pleasantly surprised when day one turned out to be pretty straight forward. We might not have done much exercise recently, but we have spent the last couple of months between 1,000 – 2,000m above sea level which hopefully will help. We walked to the first campsite at 2,790m in an easy 2 ½ hrs through very boring trees. I really don't like trees.

I managed to stay warm at night, and even slept quite a bit. Maybe this isn't going to be too bad after all?


Day Two

Daytime - Walked out of boring trees and into really beautiful scenery with great views of the volcano. Climbed up to 3,850m to Shira 2 campsite. Walking still easy, and not yet affected by altitude. In fact are passing a lot of other groups maybe we aren't so out of shape after all. Am also walking in my Tevas which feel much better than trainers! By the end of the 8 hours of walking we were tired, but still in good spirits.

Evening time – Is freezing. Am wearing all my clothes and am really grumpy. Why are we climbing this stupid mountain? G has already been to just 70m short of Mt K's height so definitely not sure why he's bothering. I can't do another 4 nights like this, want to go home.

Night time – Am boiling. Who made these sleeping bags so hot?? I did get some sleep though so OK, maybe this walk is not going to be too bad.


Day Three

Daytime – We climbed up to a lava tower at 4,600m and then back down to camp at 3.860m. Seems a bit of a waste of energy to climb so high and then right back to where we started, but it helps with acclimatisation to climb higher than you sleep. If it means I'll get more sleep then maybe it's a good idea.

Walking up to the lava tower is pretty easy again and a really lovely walk. Am still waiting for the headache/nausea affects of altitude to kick in.

Walking is not so easy for G, who is feeling really sick by the time he gets up to the tower. It is probably the first time in 11 years that I have been ahead of him and instead of that feeling good, it's a bit worrying. Why don't I feel like that yet? We soon realise why as we head back down 1,000m. G is very sick four times – looks like he has a stomach bug. My knees are in agony – please give me more mountain to climb rather than descend.

Evening time – we make it to camp just after lunch and I get cold fast. I get into my sleeping bag and struggle to warm up. Am hoping it's going to be easier to sleep in the afternoon than at night. It's not, so I lie awake stewing while G is in a heavy sleep next to me. I am grumpy again and swearing that I will never do a high altitude trek ever again. In fact, maybe nothing with downhills either...

Night time – am absolutely boiling again. Why have I got such a thick sleeping bag? Hope G's better in the morning, I will be selfishly upset if he can't carry on and I've wasted three evenings absolutely freezing for nothing. Plus it's night time so am warm so am in a feeling-positive-about-the-climb phase and don't want to give up yet.


Day Four

Daytime – G feeling really rough but not sick, which is a good thing as we have the near vertical Barranco wall of about 500m to climb.

Don't know how the porters make it up there without more accidents. They are balancing 20kgs on their heads or shoulders and scrambling up and over massive rocks. Feel really terrible to see them carrying so much, but also aware that if we bought less, then we would just have less porters who still carried 20kgs and so would put a few people out of their jobs. It's still horrible to see though, and they only get paid about $7 a day.

Another beautiful walk up the wall, down into a valley (hate the downs still), up the other side, down again (ow, ow, ow) and up to Karangu camp at 3,930m. It still feels pretty easy although our guide is making us walk much slower than we normally would which helps.

G survives the day without being sick again, but is finding it really difficult to eat. Which isn't great given summit day is two days away.

Afternoon – We make it to camp just after lunch so in an attempt to avoid the cold and therefore grumpy evenings, I don't get out of my sleeping bag unless it's for tea or the loo. I even managed to sleep a wee bit.

Night time – Haven't been too cold so haven't swung too much to the 'can't/don't want to do this' camp. Until the middle of the night when I woke up and couldn't sleep for about 4 hours. Then I got a wee bit grouchy again, although fortunately for G he was asleep so he missed that grumpy episode. 62 hrs and I can be in a nice hotel back in Moshi and sleep in a real bed...


Day Five

Daytime – Another pretty easy half day, climbing to Barafu, the last camp before summit day at 4,600m. From here the summit looks in reaching distance. I still have plenty of energy left which makes me feel cautiously positive for the summit climb. G still has stomach ache but is starting to eat more and hasn't been sick again.

For the last few 50m or so up to the camp, I have noticed that my lower back is feeling really uncomfortable. By the time we reached camp, I couldn't carry my pack anymore and standing upright was too painful.

This is when it all starts to fall apart for me.

I don't think I have ever taken as many pills in a month as I took this afternoon.

I got a migrane, tried paracetamol first which didn't work, so then resorted to a migraleve. Which still didn't work.
My back was still in pain so took ibruprofen.
My tummy has started to be a bit dodgy so took imodium.
I also am starting to feel pretty sick and have a very runny nose.

The toilets are miles away and a lot of you will know that even at the best of times, I probably will need to go every hour...

Life is not good and all the optimism that I have gained from 5 days of finding the walking and altitude ok is fast draining away.

We go to bed at 7pm, to be up at 11.30 to start the midnight climb. G sleeps for most of it. I manage to fall asleep at about 11.15.


Day Six, Summit Day

G wakes with really bad stomach cramps but still no sickness so that is good. I am trying to be positive and forget about everything that hurts.

We have 1,300m to climb, from 4,600m to 5,895m. And that is before we then descend back to the camp, and then carry on down to 3,100m later that afternoon. That's the equivalent of climbing Ben Nevis at midnight, starting at an altitude of 3 ½ times Ben Nevis, and then down two Ben Nevis's in one day. But let's not worry about the downs yet.

To start with, G is in a lot of pain but I am stubbornly doing ok. We are walking by torchlight so can't see the top which is both a good and a bad thing. After an hour or so, G's stomach settles a bit and he's doing much better.

An hour in and I crash. I am feeling as sick as I have ever felt and my head is booming. I can manage about 5 minutes before I have to stop and rest as I feel like I am going to explode. I have borrowed proper hiking boots (rather than trainers) for the summit day and they weigh a tonne. My legs alternately feel like wood or like jelly, with nothing in between. And I don't have any energy left. We seem to be being constantly overtaken by other groups, and for the last five days we have been the ones doing the overtaking. That doesn't bode well.

We carry on like this for two hours. I cannot tell whether the sickness is because I have caught G's stomach bug, and the headache is just a normal migraine, or whether they are altitude related.
Even if they are just bad luck and not because of the altitude, it will mean I can't tell then if they are worsened by altitude and it really isn't safe to carry on. I have already walked at least an hour longer than I should have but the decision to turn round and go back is too hard.

In the end though, the decision became easy. We were halfway to the top (so near yet so far) and I stopped to find a rock to go to the loo behind. Walking over to the rock I felt I might keel over at any minute and at that point the decision was obvious – I don't care that much about reaching the top, and would much rather give in and stay safe. We didn't know it at the time but a woman the day before had pushed and got to the top, felt ill and came back down but died at the camp. I didn't want to get to the top that much.

With our guide coming back with me, I left Greg with the assistant guide, and every expectation that they would now carry on much faster to the top.

Climbing back down was really disappointing, although fortunately I felt bad enough to not question my decision too much. We got back to a very quiet camp by 5 and I got into a freezing cold sleeping bag and attempted sleep, while G persevered to the top.

Daylight came and I didn't feel any better. People started arriving back at camp looking like they had been in a war. Some were putting knee bandages on and another couple had their feet in bowls of hot water. G should be nearly down by now too...

Morning came and nearly went before Greg and Paul (the assistant guide) made it back to camp. I don't think I have ever seen him in such a state! I will leave him to tell you about the rest of his climb, but I think it took everything from him that he had to give! From what he tells me, Paul all but carried him to the top!

The 1,500m descent to the final camp that afternoon wasn't too bad. My knees were sore but nothing like I expected. We are now back in trees (boring) and a horrible busy muddy campground.

I am still feeling sick, which means it probably is G's stomach bug rather than altitude sickness after all, as by coming down so far I should have lost all altitude-induced ailments. I did lose the inability to sleep and had a very lovely long 8 hours!


Day Seven

Only two hours down today to the gate at 1,680m. I have climbed thousands of metres (if you add all the acclimatising ascents and ups and downs) and haven't felt stiff once. The down today is going to cause me serious pain when walking for the next few days for sure. And not just in my legs but also in my arms, am really using my walking poles!

There was a real feel of achievement when we reached the gate for everyone that had made it to the top, and it was the first time I really felt bummed about not having made it. I know there is nothing else I could have done, but I do wish I had been able to attempt it without the bug and the migraine. I still may not have made it, but it would have been nice to try it!

Getting back to our hotel was bliss. We are classing Tanzania as the luxurious bit of our honeymoon (camping in a tent halfway up a mountain without running water excepted) and are staying in a proper hotel, with white sheets, a shower that gives hot water, a/c and fridge. And it's even clean. The first shower in a week was bliss. But I still feel sick...

G: Cold. Exhausted. Alone. I can't eat or drink because of the nausea. I can barely keep my eyes open as the darkness surrounds me. Shaking off the desire to fall asleep and end my nightmare I force down what little water my stomach can take and stand again. One foot after the next. Onward and upward. I push on for another ten minutes and then collapse on a rock again, gasping for breath. Repeat.

OK, so perhaps that’s a little overly dramatic but its not far from the truth. By 5am on summit day I was a spent force. By 8:30am I was standing on Uhuru Peak - the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro; the highest point on the African continent; and the top of the tallest free-standing mountain in the world. Not to mention somewhere I've dreamt of standing for as long as I can remember. For the most part I have three things to thank for my success... our assistant guide Paul, the Beatles, and last but definitely not least - Mentos mints.

But before I get into all of that, let me rewind a little...

Just as H and I always talked about getting married in Wales, so we also talked about climbing "Kili" and going on safari for our honeymoon. Having spent the last couple of months reasonably roughing it we are finally in Tanzania and having a real honeymoon. Following our dreams that have brought us to Kili - a very innocent sounding pet name for a very big mountain.

For once we are staying in a real hotel. The beds have pressed white sheets. The shower has no electrical cables dangling out and produces gushing hot water 24 hours a day. There is AC. Which works. And a television with cable channels including movies and sports. I could get very used to this.

From the hotel we can see Kili. It towers above the flat landscape in these parts. Its perfectly mountain shaped. Ask a child to draw a mountain and they'll probably draw something that looks like Kili. A slight curved triangle with a nice neat snow cone near the top. Its a beautiful sight... from a distance.

These days, H has become a little fearful of high mountain adventures. She's had a few rough experiences at altitude. In Peru she barely slept for 5 nights as we did a circuit through the high Andes. In Malaysia her knees screamed blue murder as we descended 3/4 of the 4000m Mt Kinabalu in just a few hours. And just before Christmas she practically turned to ice as we trekked up to 4000m in Ethiopia's Simien Mountains with sleeping bags that wouldn't be out of place at your first sleepover!

Given H's trepidation we spent a fair amount of time checking out the gear of the various companies we looked at booking with. The company we finally booked with kitted us out with everything we could possible need to keep warm and dry on the mountain, including some great down sleeping bags and down jackets. H still didn't seem convinced. For her the mountain was still synonymous with cold sleepless nights.

Day 1 passed without a hitch. An easy afternoon hiking from the park gate at 2250m up to Big Tree Camp at 2900m. That's already enough altitude to give some people problems and to make exercise a little more breathtaking. We seemed to be handling it ok, I think mainly because for our entire time in Ethiopia and most of Uganda and Rwanda we'd been living at around 2000m. Great for acclimatisation.

Evening 1. Heather started to worry from the moment we arrived at the camp site. Instantly trying to figure out how many clothes she can get on at the same time. And getting into her sleeping bag before dinner just to try and keep warm. I was wandering around the camp site in my shorts, chatting to some other people. Heather was huddling in ten base layers, a fleece and a down sleeping bag rated to -20 Celsius. I was plenty warm enough. H was cold. Perhaps temperature is in the mind?

Night 1. After emerging from her sleeping bag for just long enough to eat some dinner and complain about how cold she was H raced back to bed and we settled down for the night. It can't even have been an hour before Heather is fighting against her sleeping bag... she's too hot! Alleluia! We're halfway up the mountain and H is officially too hot.

Day 2... Not only was she too hot, but she also managed to sleep. No joke. H, on a mountain, at night... warm enough and able to sleep?. I'm completely speechless. Its almost like she was satisfied. Ah no, not quite. I forgot, we're still camping in trees. H hates the trees. No problem though... within an hour of walking on day we're up to the sub alpine zone and the trees are small enough even for H to see over. Quite soon the views are amazing, we can even see the summit of Kili and all is well.

But not for long. Having cured H of her fear of mountain nights, our luck didn't last and by the end of day 2 my stomach was starting to misbehave again. I had bad guts before we set off on the trek and the medicine I was taking seemed to be doing the trick. But by the end of day 2 I was getting terrible stomach cramps after eating. Unfortunately worse was definitely still to come...

Day 3 was an acclimatisation day. Having camped happily at about 3900m, with H once again warm enough, we hiked up to the Lava Tower (a natural tower made of... you guessed it, lava) at 4600m and then down to Barranco Camp at about 3950m. At the lava tower my stomach decided it had had enough. I was sick 4 times that day, including after dinner in the evening. At first it seemed it was perhaps the altitude, but even dropping back down to 3950 didn't make any difference. At least we have nothing strenuous to do tomorrow... oh no, hang on... just the 500 vertical metre Barranco wall to climb! On the bright side... another warm and sleep filled night for both of us.

Days 4 and 5 were strenuous but short hiking days, supposedly preparing for summit day. I managed all the hiking and climbing, the Barranco wall not being anywhere near as bad as it looked. My biggest worry was that I was not able to eat or drink much due to feeling completely nauseous. I wasn't sick again, but spent a lot of time concentrating on keeping the food I could manage in my stomach.

A few hours into day 5 I was starting to feel more confident. I still wasn't eating but the aching my stomach was definitely getting less troublesome. H was still going strong too, walking and climbing faster than me, and in fact most people. All seemed to be going well...

Until that is, we reached Barafu Camp on day 5. Barafu is the base camp for an attempt on the summit. Its at 4600m, perched high on a rocky ridge that falls away steeply on both sides. The general approach is to arrive here for lunch, get some rest in the afternoon, have an early dinner and then get a few hours sleep before waking up around midnight and strolling up to the summit for sunrise.

We didn't like that approach. We arrived in time for lunch. I still couldn't eat. H couldn't sit, well not for long anyway, as she started to need the toilet almost hourly. I still couldn't drink much either. H started to feel sick too and had a pretty bad headache. Hmmm, wheels falling off slightly? Our cook served us up some dinner around 5 or 5:30pm. We both pretty much just pushed it around our plates and then went off to lie down. H's head pounding. She popped a few pills... immodium, paracetamol and ibuprofen all in the space of a few hours.

By 7pm we were in bed, trying to sleep. At 11:30 we were woken with a cup of hot tea. I woke up with terrible stomach pains and to find that H had basically not slept and was feeling sick. Not a great start. We both dragged ourselves out of bed and layered up with clothing. By midnight we were on our way.

For the first hour, H seemed to be defying her problems and was in good spirits. I was pretty silent as I tried to quell the uprising in my stomach. It took all the concentration I had not to be sick. During the second hour things turned around slightly. My stomach settled down. Heather's started uprising. By 3am it was a complete reverse. Poor H was feeling nauseous and her head was pounding. I was pretty low on energy (having barely eaten for 3 days now) but my stomach had finally settled.

She gave it everything, but at about 3:30, having checked with Rumi (our guide) that we still had at least 4 hours to go H had no choice but to turn back. Altitude is not something to experiment with. A pounding head and nausea are classic signs of mountain sickness. People who don't respect that can die on this mountain. We later found out that only the night before us, a lady had summitted and descended back to Barafu only to later die due to complications from the altitude. The strains that the lack of oxygen puts on your body should not be underestimated.

Heather made a hard but good decision. After handing off Mr B to me, and a big hug, Rumi turned back with Heather, leaving me with Paul, our assistant guide, to carry on. For a while I was ok. Not walking quickly, in fact by now I'm the last person heading up the mountain, but ok. Its pitch black save for the lines of head torches I can see above me - climbers with far more strength and energy than me. Paul doesn't speak much English so we walk in silence for a while. I don't know how long for I don't have a watch.

With every step I'm getting more tired and starting to feel a little nauseous. Although my stomach has settled I still have no appetite for food or water. With Heather and Rumi gone there's not much to take my mind off how crap I feel. Soon I'm getting cold as well. We make a short stop to put on my down jacket. Paul offers to carry my pack, he can see I have very little left. It doesn't feel like we're getting anywhere. I let Paul take my pack and we carry on slowly. The lines of lights above me are getting further and further away.

I know the sun comes up at about 6am. I keep glancing behind me to the horizon to see some sign that the sun is coming. The sun means warmth. The sun will also mean I've been walking for six hours and must be making progress, however slowly. There's no sign of the sun. The horizon is black. I ask Paul what the time is but he has no watch. We pass another climber coming down. The altitude has beaten him. His guide tells us its 5am. Still one hour to sunrise. Still many hours to the top at the speed we're going.

I have to sit down. After fighting the sleepiness and tensing my stomach I can sip some water, but not much before the nausea returns. Walk for 10 more minutes. Sit again.

Finally the horizon is starting to pale. I can see some of the terrain without my torch. Above me, but not too far I can make out the pale shape of a glacier. Signs that we are making progress.

At the next rest I really want to eat. The though of the chocolate or energy bars I have in my pack makes me feel more sick. The only thing I can think to stomach is a Mentos mint. I suck on it to try and make it last as long as possible. Anything to take my mind off how tired I feel.

More sitting. More walking. Slowly slowly Paul keeps telling me. He smiles and says Kilimanjaro and then his hand out for a fist punch. He thinks I can make it. I don't. Every step I take all I can think is that I now have further to go back. Should I just stop and turn around. No, walk on, 5 more minutes. Stop again. Another sip.

Its definitely getting light now. I can almost turn my torch off. The sun will be up soon. Sit again. The sun comes over the horizon. Its beautiful. I don't have the energy to take a photo. Another sip. Another mint. Walk on.

Sit again. Paul looks up and points to Stella Point. I know that Stella Point is big landmark to get to. Its at about 5700m. From there you can see the top. From there the relentlessly steep slope flattens out and the walking is easier. From there is still 1 hour walking to the summit. Stella Point is in sight, but its a long way off. Still an hour away.

One foot after another. Sing a few songs to take my mind off things. Its been a hard days night. Help, I need somebody. Sit again. Another sip. Another mint. Look up, Stella Point doesn't look any closer.

Walk on. Sit. Walk on. Sit. Slowly slowly. Find a big rock not too far away and just get to that one. Forget the top for now.

I can see people at Stella Point starting to head down. They've been to the top already. Its not too long before they're passing me. Its not too far away now. Maybe I can make it. Walk on. Sit. Sip. Walk on.

Stella Point. I'm ready to collapse. Uhuru Peak, the summit, is 1 hour away. But I can see it. And the walking is easier now. Paul says its a little bit flat, then up, then a bit flat, then up. I can do this.

Things are getting easier now. Its warm. The Mentos have given me a tiny bit of energy. I can see Uhuru. I can do this.

At 8:30am Paul and I finally arrived to Uhuru Peak. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried. Happy to be there, sad to be there without H. Completely exhausted, mentally and physically. Job done.

I can quite honestly say that I have NEVER been through anything as mentally challenging as that before. It was an emotional roller-coaster ride to the summit, from feeling crap, to feeling ok, to losing H, to the endless endless hours of struggle against exhaustion before the top was finally in sight.

The summit day was 3 days ago now. We're back down in Moshi, in our nice comfortable hotel, our stomachs are getting better and the emotional anguish has started to become a distant memory. With Africa officially conquered its time to start thinking which continent to take on next... The Seven Summits The only other question is, will H be game enough to join me?

H: We were down from the gorillas by lunch time (having set off at 6am) and headed straight to Kigali to meet up with Emily, one of the girls we met at Murchison Falls over Christmas. She very kindly (extremely kindly really, given she had only known us for 3 days over Christmas) let us stay in her room, even giving up her bed, which meant we got to stay in a real house, in a real bed and have a real shower. Even better, our first hot shower of 2011. It was amazing!

The suburb she lives in was surreal - it could have been a suburb in America. It felt very strange after 2 months of rural Africa!

Kigali is a city that is developing very quickly. It has a massive amount of white people (muzungus) that made it, at times, difficult to rememberyou were in Africa.

That was until we went to the Genocide Memorial Museum which is extremely harrowing, but an important place to visit. Even having been to the museum I am no clearer as to how it got so bad so quickly - how within days friends were turning against friends, neighbours who had lived side by side for years were now ready to kill one another. I also cannot understand why help didn't come from outside of Rwanda sooner - why they spent so long discussing whether it was genocide or 'acts of genocide'. And why the difference really mattered when 1 million people died in 100 days.

Emily teaches at the International School in Kigali and invited us in to talk to her 4th grade class (9-10 yr olds). We took in Mr B, downloaded photos of him from facebook and asked the class to guess where each photo was taken. As we probably should have expected from a classfull of children who have lived all over the world, they knew way more than I would have done when I was 20, let alone 10 years old!

Then it came to question time and we were bombarded with questions way above their years. Among them were "do you guys ever work?" and "will you still travel when you have children?"...

Most locals in East Africa get around by motorbike and Kigali was no exception. One minor difference in Rwanda to Uganda... they have laws... so only one passenger per bike (rather than an entire family) and helmets all round too! It is a really fun way to get around, especially when 6 of us all took a bike each and headed off to a local restaurant. You have to watch yourself though, G has burnt his leg on the exhaust of one of them.

H: We crossed into Rwanda heading for Parc National des Volcans, where some of the last of the mountain gorillas live.

We set off in a group of 7, up a very steep and extremely muddly track up the side of one of the volcanoes. There are 56 permits each day and you are only allowed to spend an hour with them once you get there, to make sure they don't become too used to humans and to limit the potential transfer of human diseases. About half an hour in, the jungle got very dense and our guide was starting to cut a path. Eventually we met up with the trackers, a group of men who have the amazing job of staying with the gorillas each day as bodyguards!

We had to leave all our bags and followed the trackers the last bit to where the gorillas were. The ground was so steep and muddy it was taking all of our concentration to stay upright. So we were not at all prepared to see the tree shake just infront of us and a gorilla crawl out of it!

They are the most incredible animals and it was amazing to be so close to them. In theory you're not meant to be closer than 7 metres but the gorillas don't stick to that :o) The silverback was huge, and only a couple of metres away. There were two babies who played the whole time - either wrestling with each other or hurling themselves off trees. Not dissimilar to the baby orangutans we saw in Indonesia!

The trackers and guides are amazing - they 'talk' to the gorillas using a series of grunts and can also determine what the sounds that the gorillas are making mean. It's really incredible.

It must have been one of the quickest hours of our lives!

Coming back down the mountain was pretty eventful. It was basically a chute of mud and everyone slipped at some point. One man however slipped and bashed his hand on a log. He cracked his hand back into shape (!) but by the bottom was really not feeling great and went into shock. It was one of the most scary couple of minutes I have ever experienced - he did not look well, turned completely white, stopped talking, fell back and his eyes glazed over. Fortuntely he recovered pretty quickly but it really wasn't nice!

H: After being up not long after 7 for two weeks, we needed a holiday. So we crammed into a 15 seater minibus that already had 23 people in it, and travelled to Lake Bunyonyi.

We stayed on an island on the lake in a geo-dome, which was an amazing circular hut, built out of reeds and was completely open for a quarter of it, facing out over the lake.

We had every intention of walking round the island, and maybe hiring canoes. Instead we did absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing - we didn't even leave the lodge camp! For two whole days :o)

We did watch Hotel Rwanda and Gorrilas in the Mist. We had both seen Hotel Rwanda before, but it seemed even more harrowing this time. I don't know if it is because we're in the area, or because we have heard more about the genocide in the last couple of months. Either way it didn't make for pleasant watching.

H: While we were at the orphanage, we stayed at a guest house attached to a hospital in the next village. It is a small, very local village on the edge of Queen Elizabeth Natiponal Park.

The hospital is a teaching hospital and the place is full of trainee nurses and doctors in green and blue uniforms. The local language, Luconga (sp?!) is a lovely language. We learnt two words - Wobacheeree (spelling not at all right) is good morning, and Wasinja - thank you!

We settled quickly into life here. We went to chapel (ie assembly) in the morning. Our commute to 'work' was a 15 min ride down a bumpy road on the back of a boda boda (motorbike taxi). We came home pretty tired, sometimes in time for G to play badminton barefoot and outdoors with some students. Then to tea (plain rice and a few beans, yummm) and then games at the guest house or a games or movie night at Carmen's (a German Occupational Therapists) house with some of the Ugandan students. A couple of UK doctors working there took us to a lodge for Sunday lunch - which was a very very welcome change from plain rice and beans...

Greg spent a couple of mornings helping the hospital sort some computing issues. And I spent a morning with Carmen in a little village near the hospital. Every week she has an outreach programme where she goes into the hills so that people with disabled children, that cannot afford to go to the hospital, go and see her for help.

There were 10 children who came that morning, many of which were deaf or dumb. One boy had become paralysed down his right hand side nine years ago and his parents were only just seeking help...

One of the locals there asked me what was given as a dowry in the UK. Having explained that nothing was given, and that until more recently the tradition was that the brides family paid for the wedding, I had absolutely no answer to the next question - "how can the daughter's parents survive if they are not given anything"?

H: The first day we arrived at the orphange, we were greeted by a tribe of children sprinting down the path towards us, running into us and wanting to be picked up. This was often our morning greeting and not one we got tired of! It was obvious from the start that this is a very happy place.

At any one point there's every chance you'd have one in each arm, another hanging off your back and a couple clinging onto each leg. We created skittles out of water bottles which went down a treat, and the tribe of 3-4 year olds all loved to climb - especially on Greg. They liked my hair as long hair isn't very common in Uganda so I had plenty of different hairstyles over the 10 days, styled by both girls and boys...

The children were all incredible when it came to helping at the home. All but the young ones, both girls and boys, have to clean their own clothes. And by clean I mean hand wash, not bung it in a washing machine. I spent a couple of back breaking mornings helping with this and it really is endless - the younger children's clothes are washed at least daily. I hope I think of them when I next moan about having to empty the washing machine.

They help with the mopping of the house and washing the dishes. We took them to the school to play in the afternoons and once you were finished, they all would help put the toys back into the box.

They are all also amazing when it comes to looking after each other. Kids as young as 5 walk around with babies in their arms or tied to their backs. If they cry they know how to comfort them.

On Sunday they go to church in the school room. The first service is for the young ones - who are very cute rattling their tambourines to the songs they're singing.

The music at the adult service was incredible. You hear African drumming at home - but to be in Africa and to hear it is something else. It seems to just be in their psyche - for one song a young girl was the first to start the rhythm and it was just brilliant.

We were there long enough to really start to know the children. We learnt most of their names, although didn't always get them with the right child. We saw Moses start to pull himself onto his feet - he must be days away from walking. Jane, who they think may be brain damaged because of how malnourised she was when she arrived at the orphanage, was incredibly still and quiet when we first got there. By the time we left, she had started to smile, to make a noise, and to interact with the adults.

Each child has a sponsor and we are going to sponsor Samwel, the boy who was nearly sold to a witch doctor for sacrifice. It will be really special to know we are helping someone that we have met, that has had a horrible start to life.

I tried not to have favourites but failed. It only took me a few days to fall completely in love with Chalis (spelt Charles). He is five months old and has been pretty sick but is absolutely beautiful. He had started to recognise me and to smile by the time we had left which made leaving even harder. We are waiting for the orphanage to start an adoption scheme, we would adopt him in a second.

These children are now living well compared to many Ugandan children. They are clothed, fed, watered and schooled. One of the older girls is hoping to go to University next year to study law. They do realise this though. We talked to a few of the older ones who are very quick to say that they have not had a hard life - pretty amazing to hear given the history of their families. They may not have parents, but they do have a huge loving family - with 15 house mothers and 82 brothers and sisters.

What is quite difficult to deal with, is the stark contrast between their lives, and our lives as children. They have few clothes to their name, and very few toys. What they do have is made with amazing creativeness - a checkers board played with bottle tops, and a ludo board drawn onto cadboard, a dice made from a lump of wood, and counters made from little bits of coloured plastic.

We have just had Christmas in the UK, where all our children will have been showered with presents of clothes and toys. These children had Christmas while we were there. Each child has a sponsor, who sends a Christmas present. Their Christmas therefore consisted of one present each.

Originally thinking we'd stay a week, we ended up staying 10 days and loved every mintue. It was an amazing, but very humbling experience.

I wish we could have stayed longer - these children and the people running the place are really very special.

H: We had hoped to be able to find somewhere that we might be able to help, and to stop for a few days while we were in Africa. By chance, my parents church chose an orphanage in Uganda to support for the year so we made our way there...

Dorothy Nazirambi looked after her first child at the age of 16, when an aunt begged her for help. In her early 20s, she was given another baby to look after, after its mum had died, and the father couldn't look after it.

With the help of a doctor at the hospital, she hid the fact that she had the baby, and continued to train as a midwife. She was completely peniless, and had complete faith in God that he would help provide for her.

Her faith was not misplaced - one way or another, she was given enough to allow her to look after the baby girl.

Within a few years, she had a housefull of abandoned or orphaned children, and found her way to a larger home. A few years after that, she was looking after 40 children and had purchased a large piece of land.

People knew of Dorothy and the work she was doing in the village, and when an English couple came to the hospital, they were introducted to her. Having seen the amazing work she was doing but what little she had to do it with, they went back to the UK and set up a charity to help her.

Aided by money from the UK, and by the continuing determination of Dorothy, and her twin sister and brother - the last couple of years have seen the orphange move onto the land they had bought and take on another 40 children.

The site has been developed alongside the Nazirambi's with an engineer from the UK. Between them they have created an amazing place. SO far there are 5 houses (with another one well on the way) and a small office building and school room. There are sites marked out in the grass for another 2 houses, a church and administration building.

Having drilled a bore hole for water unsucessfully, the water is pumped into huge containers from the river a mile down the road. These containers are filled four times a day.

Alongside the 5 acres of buildings, there is another 25 acres of farmland. Here they grow maize, rice and cotton either to eat or sell. In a good year, they are able to be fairly self sufficient. Where farmers in the UK try to stop birds and pesticides ruining their crop, here they are yet to find a solution to stop the elephants trampling through. Another world eh?!


There are 83 children living at the orphanage at the moment. There had been 84 but they lost a little baby girl over Christmas. The youngest is 2 months, the oldest is 22 years. Almost without exception, there are incredibly sad stories as to why they are here.

Rose's father beat her mother while she was pregnant with Rose. Her mother didn't recover from the beatings by the time she went into labour, and died giving birth.

Reuben's mum died at his birth, and Dorothy came across the group at the burial and heard that they were talking about killing the child with local herbs as nobody was willing to look after him.

Fadilah was found abandoned in Kampala.

Zak and Erick's parents were killed in a car crash. Erick has scars on his face and back.

Jane arrived at the orphanage completely malnourished.

Steven was found on a rubbish tip on Boxing Day 2009. They believe he had been born on Christmas day, so arrived at the orphanage a day old.

Chalis was one month old when he arrived at the orphanage. His parents were HIV positive and had died. Chalis has also tested positive.

Brendar's mum also died during labour and Brendar was 1kg at birth. She is now two months but still only weighs 2kg.

Samwel is the latest child to arrive, and has been here for two weeks. His parents were caught trying to sell him to a witch doctor to be used as a child sacrifice. The police bought Samwel to the orphange, and his parents are awaiting a trial.

There are tens of these stories, none of them happy ones.

Fortunately Dorothy and the people supporting her, have given these children hope for the future.

H: I am really enjoying this trip, but have been quite frustrated with how hard it's been to just get out and walking by ourselves (due to either risk of losing the way or being eaten by lions).

So it was very exciting to get to Fort Portal, take a taxi half an hour down a dirt road, and get to a guest house on the top of a hill, with no roads in sight and views of a lake and mountains. Even better, we could walk round the lake with no guide, only losing our way once and ending up at a little mud house in the middle of a banana plantation.

The following day, keen to use some energy, we hired bikes. Our plan being to go and see a waterfall, and then cycle a big loop of about 30km round the villages. A girl from the place we were staying was going to show us the way to the waterfall and we set off.

Greg's bike had a frame and two wheels but that was about it. The front tyre hadn't seen tread since the 90s. And the brakes - well I'm not sure they ever worked. Mine had brakes and the tyres had tread, but was too big for me. I could either sit on the saddle and hold the handlebars with a couple of little fingers, or hold the handlebars properly and cycle standing up. I opted for a mixture of the two, which wasn't comfortable.

The girl from the lodge hadn't done much better. Her bike was even bigger than mine, and she had fallen off not far out of the lodge's driveway.

We made it safely to the waterfall, left our bikes with a 5 year old to look after, and slipped down the very steep hill to the waterfalls - much more impressive than we had expected.

Having made it back up to the bikes, and realising both of us were already starting to feel the effects of the dodgy bikes, we decided maybe we should just do a 15k loop after all. About half way into that, we realised that even 15km was ambitious. The 'road' was more of a track, and very steep in some places. The lack of gears on G's bike was taking it's toll, and it took us about that long to realise that the black handlebars on my bike hid a gear lever, which meant I could change it into one other gear, but the rest didn't work.

We pushed the bikes more than we rode them - we pushed them uphill as we had no gears, and downhill as we had no brakes. Having long run out of water, we made it back to the lodge completely broken.

When I say lodge, I really mean hut. We had a just finished, unpainted banda for the pricely sum of £6 a night, completely with no electricty, a long-drop loo and no running water. Unless you count the rain-water shower they'd built, which ran out just as I stepped under it.

We spent New Years evening sheltering from a thunderstorm, playing backgammon in torch light (the lack of scores on this trips blog is because I am not doing so well) and eating Cadburys. We were fast asleep by 10pm.

Happy New Year!

G: After our amazing trip up to Murchison falls we decided we could do with a couple of days back in Kampala to sort out a few bits of trip admin... some simple such as making sure we have enough cash before heading off into rural Uganda, others a bit more complicated, such as getting a haircut from someone who knew how to use scissors, not just clippers!

Fortunately we managed to get it all sorted without too many problems and have today left Kampala behind for the last time. We're now a few hours West in a town called Fort Portal from where we're hoping to hop to some lakes and possibly find a place to track chimpanzees.

Having spent a day in Kampala before our trip up North, as well as this last couple of days since the trip, I think I'm finally starting to see what makes the most chaotic city we have ever visited tick.... The long and the short of it is trade. I guess that's true of most cities but in the back streets of Kampala where we were staying its very evident.

Stepping out of our hotel onto the streets was never a dull experience. The area immediately outside the door was always filled with trucks and trailers loading and unloading all manner of goods from mattresses to corrugated iron, TVs to sacks of coal.

Further up the street, and in fact on most streets in Kampala, is where the selling takes place. You don't have to have a shop to sell things, no, not at all. All you need is a mat and a space on the pavement. Drop the mat, lay out your goods and then start shouting. Its all very simple.

Don't fancy sitting on your mat waiting for people to come to you? No problem, just put some of your wares into a bucket and head off for the taxi park or one of the bus stations. Jump on the bus as its filling and see who you can persuade to buy your junk. Or thrust your bucket through the window of the minibus taxis and see if anyone is interested.

As we sat on the bus this morning waiting for it to leave, we could have bought any or all of the following... soft drinks, roti bread, chewing gum, newspapers or cake. All sensible things to be offering for people about to go on a bus journey. More oddly, people were also coming on to the bus selling perfume, table cloths, toothpaste, anti-fungal cream and camping lamps.

Everything in this city revolves around buying and selling. Of course before you buy something and after you sell it, your going to need a bank to deal with your cash. I have never seen so many banks in one place. You can't walk more than a few metres without coming across one, and there are dozens of different ones... including our very own Barclays Bank.

Another thing Kampala isn't short of is traffic. On our first trip in from the airport to the centre we spent the majority of our one hour journey stationary. Today, it took the bus nearly 10 minutes just to get out of the bus station and then another 30 minutes to do the next mile. There are no roundabouts, no traffic lights and no underpasses or flyovers. Just congestion. Lots of congestion.

There's no better example of this than in the “Old Taxi Park” where all the minibus taxis arrive and depart. 100s of Toyota Hitace minibuses line up in perpetual gridlock. There's a few signs to indicate which area to go to for buses to certain areas, but all you really need to do is ask any local and they can immediately point the way to the one you need. There's definitely a system, but I'm damned if I can work it out!

Kampala, in a nut shell, is mayhem. From the traffic to the street sellers to the taxi parks, the most fitting description I can find is organised chaos!

H: We haven't seen all that much of it yet, but Uganda seems very different to Ethiopia. It is much more built up and much more westernised Even in the villages, the majority of homes are made from bricks and stone, rather than mud. Most people even seem to wear shoes.

However, people don't seem as cheerfully friendly as in Ethiopia either, but maybe that's because we're in a big city.

And it is a big city. And I'm not sure I'd be cheerful if I had to cope with Kampala traffic every day. Basically it's like the M25 at rush hour. All the time. There are two taxi parks (minibus stations). The old one, that we have been to, must have about 500 white minibuses parked haphazardly with hawkers selling all sorts in between the vans. Finding the bus you need is actually easier than we thought it would be. Somehow the chaos is very organised.

The taxi park, and the streets around it, are full of life. You can get everything you might need there, including being able to find a lady with a sewing machine to fix your holey trousers! The streets might be full of life, but they are also full of rubbish and mud...

It's here we caught the bus from to Fort Portal. Next to the bus was a MOUNTAIN of rubbish, although we're guessing probably a days worth! Up pulls a truck, and three poor men spend the next hour (as we waited on the bus for it to go) shovelling this rubbish onto the top of an already very full truck.

Once we finally set off, it took us 45 minutes to leave the bus station and get a block down the road. And we thought UK traffic could be bad?!

H: Today we travelled to a rhino sanctuary, where they are ambitiously aiming to breed 30 white rhinos, before they can set any into the wild. Here we met our guide for the morning. A man I can only describe as crazed.

He wasn't an old guy, and had what seemed the most lovely head-tilt and smile. But behind that friendly looking face, was a very crazy man. Infact I think if he told you he was going to kill you, he would probably still have the psychotic smile on. Whilst talking to us he demanded full eye contact. No whispering and no looking around us. Under no circumstances were we allowed to wear open-toed shoes. When we were walking out to the rhinos, we had to be in single file. And by single file I mean military single file.

The rhinos themselves were pretty cool to see, but were weren't allowed to get too close (not a millimetre over 10 metres) and they were quite hidden by grass. G would have paid the money again just to see the guide again, but I'm not so sure!!

H: Christmas day was brilliant.

When I think of Uganda, I think of gorillas. I had no idea they had big game too. We spent the morning on a game drive and I really wasn't expecting to be able to see the number of giraffes, elephants, hippos and buffalo that we did!

I think there must have been a Christmas Day exception to the 'no driving off the tracks' rule. Because at one point we spotted a lot of the vans all in one place, and as is common in parks where there's wildlife, it probably meant that they had seen something. And they had – a lion and two cubs. So our driver raced past all the stopped vans, and into the bush, driving alongside the playful cubs.

We still hadn't got to lunchtime and Christmas had already been brilliant!

We cruised the Nile for the afternoon, seeing yet more hippos, elephants, buffalo and crocodiles along the banks. And the Murchison Falls – one of the most powerful waterfalls in the world.

Christmas tea was a BBQ of meat and veggies. The beer had started to flow, a pair of Christmas antlers were found, and talk started of how it would be possible to put the antlers on a warthog's head. I'd like to say this idea was most popular with the beer-drinking men, but actually the ring leader seemed to be mother-of-six and palliative care doctor Mikaela. Joe was willing to take one for the team by feeding it some bread – and being in front of it, would most likely to be charged when the warthog realised that something non too good was happening to it.

We had just about got our plan straight (I had taken the 'safe' job of photo'ing it) when a hippo wandered onto our campsite. Now you normally only see the funny ball-like eyes of hippos, as the rest of its body is submerged in water. Out of water however, these creatures are massive. It can weigh up to 3 tonnes (most of it fat) and can easily outrun a human. It is one of the most aggressive creatures in the world and is often regarded as one of the most dangerous animals in Africa. So whilst being amazing to see so close up, it was also a bit sobering. Especially for the antler wielding guys, who having seen the hippo, decided maybe it wasn't such a good idea to find a warthog, incase they came across the hippo again.

We went to bed timidly. The camp owners said the hippos often came to graze at night, and were fine as long as you avoided it. Which is none too easy when it is eating next to your tent.

I woke up at 2, needing the loo, but hearing a very loud crunching sound next to the tent. With just-woken-up/middle-of-the-night paranoia I lay as still as I could, just incase it decided to mess with our tent. Which sounds silly but apparently the week before two hippos had got into a fight in the middle of a night and brought down a tent. With two people inside it.

Half an hour later, and still really needing the loo, I heard the hippo move away so I ventured out to the toilet. Where I was greeted by Greg, Ethan, Joe and a camp worker who I guess didn't really understand what they were on their way to do, complete with bread, antlers, camera and very beer-induced squints. Yes, they were on their way to find a warthog, seemingly having forgotten that this big powerful and potentially deadly hippo was still behind a tent somewhere...

Fortunately they didn't find either warthog or hippo, or they could have been Christmas dinner themselves for a very hungry hippo...

Happy Christmas!

G: Merry Christmas everyone!

This was probably one of the more bizarre Christmas celebrations I'll ever be part of, as well as one of the best! 10pm on Christmas Day, Heather and I, along with some good friends we'd met on our tour of Murchison Falls NP, were sitting around the open air dinner table, under a thatched canopy having just tucked into some barbecued steak and sausages and sipping on an ice cold Nile Special beer.

Somehow, as you do, we ended up debating the best way to place a set of comedy reindeer antlers onto a warthog. The warthogs had been hanging out around the camp all day and although they look friendly we'd heard that they can be a little dangerous, so the plan had to be right.

The conversation got pretty animated as we tried to figure out how best to distract it with a piece of bread and approach it from behind to place the antlers. Just as the plan was being perfected and we were getting ready to put it into action, one of our party, Joe, pointed behind me and simply said "why don't we put the antlers on that".

Turning to look behind me with a quick glance, what looked like a very large pig was slowly meandering past munching on the grass. On the second take I realised that this pig wasn't just big, it was massive. On the third take I realised that this pig wasn't a pig at all... it was actually a hippo. And it was only about 5m away. And it was staring at the lot of us in a non too friendly manner.

Hippos are one of the most dangerous animals on the planet. They weigh up to about 3 tonnes and can run over 15 mph for short distances. They are also incredibly aggressive, often charging people for no apparent reason.

So, there I am on Christmas Day evening, staring into the eyes of a fully grown male hippo, who looks just a little annoyed that we have disturbed his night time walk with the noise we're making, and the fact that we're all staring right back at him.

Fortunately for all of us, after a few moments staring us down, the hippo decided to continue munching on the grass and allow us to photograph him.

The hippo was probably my personal highlight of what had already been an incredible Christmas Day.

Waking up in a simple tent in Red Chilli Hideaway just outside Murchison Falls NP, we headed into the park for a game drive, our first chance to see some of East Africa's famous wildlife. Following that we spent the afternoon on a cruise down the Nile river to the base of the falls that the park is named for.

Although Uganada can't rival Kenya and Tanzania for numbers of animals, it does have an incredible diversity of both mammals and birds. Sadly many animals suffered here through the years of civil war and unrest. During that time poaching wasn't properly policed and many animals were pushed to near extinction from the area. In fact the white rhino was wiped out from Uganda's map during that period.

The animals are slowly but surely making a recovery and we saw plenty of life to keep us happy including lots of giraffes, buffalo, elephants, hippos, crocodiles and baboons. There was also plenty of lion food in the form of waterbuck, oribi, antelope and other "cud chewers" as they're called.

Thankfully with all that lion food, comes the possibility of seeing lions. We were lucky enough to see a lioness and two cubs at a pretty close distance. In fact our driver and park guide were pretty good to us, breaking the rules and heading off road to follow the lions through the long grass, leading to a couple of great photo ops. Not that I can condone that behaviour - at least not publicly(!) - drivers should never go off road and always obey the rules of the park... unless of course they are your driver, and then its ok right?

All in all, not your average Christmas. But with some great company, some fantastic sights and a good feed it was certainly one I'll never forget.

H: We cheated and flew into Entebbe, Uganda, instead of doing the 3 or 4 day bus journey. We made our way to a backpackers where we had booked a 3 day trip to take us to Murchison Falls NP for Christmas. We have celebrated Christmas in the sun a couple of times before, and both times it hasn't really felt Christmassy. It does feel a bit Christmassy here though, but is very surreal. There are Christmas carols playing everywhere and lots of Christmas trees, all decorated with balloons, cottonwool and corporate Christmas cards...

I was really looking forward to the trip, but maybe a bit grumpily, not looking forward to spending it with a group of boozy gap year students.

I shouldn't have worried. Our group of 7 were some of the most amazing people you could meet. A brother and sister from America – Emily works at a school in Rwanda having spent a year in Mombassa working with street girls. Her brother Ethan is a helicopter pilot in the Navy. Joe is teaching in Kosovo, having already taught in Colombia and wanting a fresh challenge. Mother and son, Mikaela and Ruben, were in Kampala for 5 weeks volunteering at a hospital here.

We stayed at a tented camp not far from the Nile, with resident warthogs for company. Which are cute in an ugly kind of way, but also a bit of a walking hazard when you don't see them in your way on the way to the loo...

G: Ethiopia... the home of Premier League football. Yes, you may have thought that England had that sewn up, but let me me put you right.

Last Monday evening, as Manchester Utd beat Arsenal 1-0, what were you doing? Apart from a select few of you who may be fans of those clubs, most of you probably didn't even know the game was taking place. In Ethiopia, everyone knew about it, and as the game kicked off at 11pm local time the whole country came to a standstill.

Seats were at a premium. In the bars and cafes that can afford to buy the satellite channels showing the game, you would have had to get there a few hours before kick off to score your seat. Either that or buy it from one of the entrepreneurial soles who've sat on the seat for a couple of hours waiting to sell it just before the big game.

For most people here, the result was not a good one. We're told that about 75% of Ethiopians are Arsenal fans. This is due to the large number of players of African descent that play for Arsenal. Most of the rest of the country support Man Utd. Hence the magnitude of this game in particular.

Unfortunately, we also understand that sometimes the passion of the support here can spill over into fighting between the two camps. In Gondor, where we were staying when the game was on, some bars have taken the extreme step – or been forced to by the local police – of having two separate rooms, one for Arsenal fans, one for Utd fans. Towards the end of the game the police decide which fans can leave first and phone each of the bars to tell them which room to lock. Half the people then can't leave until after the others have been cleared from the street. And we thought football hooliganism was a problem in England?

The previous day Chelsea played Tottenham and nobody really cared. When I tell the locals I support Liverpool, its all they can do not to laugh. This season at least, they have a point!

Of course there is much more to Ethiopia than football....

We're currently sitting in the airport about to fly to Uganda, and I'm quite sad to be leaving. This is a fantastic country. The people are friendly and nearly always carry a smile. Even the touts that are usually so obstructive in other countries can't help be but nice to you here. Once you tell them that you don't want what they're offering, its only a nano second before a big smile breaks out and they remind you to enjoy your trip and have a great time!

Ethiopia's history is somewhat different to most of Africa. Primarily because it was never colonised by Europeans. While those around it fell or agreed to European powers, Ethiopia resisted strongly. The Italians tried a few times, but were fought back. The nearest it came to it was a few years of occupation during the war. I think that is probably one of the main reasons that Ethiopia feels like it is stuck in a bit a of a time warp... especially outside of the few large towns and cities.

Travelling North to the Simien Mountains and back to Addis again, we have passed through a lot of country side. On the 10 hour bus ride from Addis to Bahir Dar I think we only passed through one town of any real note. The rest of the time we were continually passing through small farming communities, where donkeys are still the main means of getting freight from A to B and homes are made from mud and wood. Most men carry a stick, and most women carry a baby on their back wrapped in a blanket. On market day people walk, generally barefoot, from miles around to trade their produce with one another.

In contrast, the cities of Addis, Bahir Dar and Gonder are quickly dragging themselves, with the help of a strong and much loved government, into the 21st Century. New buildings are going up everywhere including large condo blocks and flash hotels. Roads connecting these places have recently been sealed, and comfortable bus services now run alongside the crammed minibuses. There's even a new agricultural university being built near Bahir Dar. There is genuine investment in infrastructure being carried out by the government and it shows real promise for the future.

On top of that, tourism is being well promoted, and tourist attractions – from castles to churches, waterfalls to mountains – are being well protected. This is definitely a country on the up.

The future's bright, the future's red, yellow and green!

H: We met a guy on a bus last week (Habtamu) who is a vicar at a church in Bahir Dar. We didn't get chance to go to the church last week but thought we'd delay our bus back to Addis by a day so we could go this week.

It was absolutely brilliant. The church was off the main road and down a dusty side road, and you could hear the singing well before you could see the church.

The church was a large room and was absolutely packed with people - there must be 500+. The music was lively and all 500 seemed to be singing their hearts out and bopping away to the music. Over all this we could hear some people making what sounded to us like a tribal call – it was all very moving.

Habtamu sat next to us and translated for us, which is a good job because apart from the occasional "Hallelujah", we really didn't understand a word of it.

The feel of the church was incredible, there was such a lot of energy and passion. It was well worth the delayed bus!

H: Another sleepless night and I was ready to head back. G however was keen to spend an extra day on the mountain tops before heading back. Being the good wife I am, I eventually agreed and am ashamed to say I thought it a bit funny when G woke up (yes he did get bits of sleep) with a streaming cold the next morning.

We did a beautiful day hike on the tops and without a doubt it was one of the best days of walking we had done - I am glad he made us stay.

But it meant another cold and sleepless night. Even at rest the altitude makes it harder to get the oxygen you need. The toilets were 20m down a hill from the campsite but climbing back up felt like you had just climbed up Everest. From talking to the other trekkers there weren't many people sleeping well, a few even had sleeping pills...

So by now I am extremely tired, my feet hurt and my knees are starting to give in.

We did the 30 mile walk back to Debark in two days. Two very grueling and painful days for both of us. The downhill should have been a relief but instead put my knees in agony. I preferred the uphills. G didn't have knee troubles, but was now contending with a cold as well as the altitude so getting enough oxygen for the uphills was made even harder.

We made it back to Debark completely broken; Every joint below my hips felt full of arthritis. I was shattered, and have also caught G's cold. G isn't doing too much better.

Only the thought of our first shower in 5 days and some clean clothes made us survive the bumpy 3 hours followed by the smooth but cramped 4 hours on buses back to Bahir Dar.

As Mum said on the phone just now, we do it for fun right? Right.

H: After 3 hours on a very bumpy bus (in fact I think I was only in contact with the seat for about 2 ½ of those hours) we arrived at Debark. Debark is a rural town on the edge of the Simien Mountains where there are more goats, cows and mules on the streets than there are anything with wheels.

Having arranged a guide, scout (man with a gun – not sure what he will protect us from but you have to have one), a mule, mule handler and cook we set off into the mountains.

It was apparent very quickly that altitude was going to be a problem. At over 3,000m, we were having trouble breathing and we hadn't chosen a flat route. It was however, very beautiful. The countryside was stunning, and we passed through little villages with mud hut houses and endless herds of animals, followed often by a child no older than 8, brandishing a stick. The life of young children in these villages couldn't be more different than those of the same age in the UK.

Life looks very hard for the villagers. They are in tattered clothes, often with no shoes. You see them carrying huge bottles of water back from the water pumps to the village. We saw a 12 year old carrying a massive pile of wood into the village to sell (G bravely stopped to help) which our guide told us meant that he could then buy food to take back home.

The children especially however seem really happy. They would yell hello as you walked by, even if you were a couple of fields away. If they were close, they would run up to shake hands, or to walk hand in hand just for a little while. He probably won't admit it if you asked him, but I think it was making G broody...

We had heard there were baboons in the mountains and were really hoping we'd see a couple. We didn't expect to see troupes of 100+ scattered around the mountains. Our guide told us they are the most dexterous of all primates and they were really incredible to watch.

All these things to see went some way towards taking my mind off the pain.

The first day was 18 miles, up and down hills in the really intense sun. By the time we reached our first camp, my feet hurt pretty badly.

We arrived at 5, and enjoyed an hour of sun before it went down at 6. And then the traumas really started. It got cold incredibly quickly. The sleeping bags we hired were rubbish – I think I would have been cold in it if we had been in Death Valley. I put on all the clothes I could and got in the bag. And shivered.

I had forgotten that I can't really sleep at altitude and so spent the next 9 hours tossing and turning in various states of frozen-ness.

I wish I could say I woke up the next day, but I don't think I had been asleep. My feet were still sore and now I was tired too. I shivered in the tent until 6.30 when the sun came up. We were walking by 7.30, and roasting in the African sun by 8.

10 miles later and we made it to the second camp where we were greeted by a couple of other walkers who said that their tent had frozen the night before.

Brilliant. I did this once in Peru four years ago and I swore I'd never do it again.

I got no more sleep than the night before in my rubbish bag. Although I did try and spare a thought for the mule men and scout, who were huddled together with just a blanket for warmth in the hut used to cook in.

H: We caught a mini bus further north today, to the ancient town of Gondar. The minibus had 12 seats and left with every seat taken but, quite unusually, no extras in the aisles. However as soon as we were out of the Bahir Dar town limits, we started collecting more passengers until there were about 20 of us. An hour into the journey however we stopped, 8 people were bundled into a tuk tuk and we drove on. We passed through a town, the minibus stopped again, and the 8 people that had got off, got back on.

Someone saw our confused faces and explained - the towns often have transport police and it's not legal to carry more passengers than the number of seats. So they make sure they have the right number, through the towns, and load up again after!

We also passed a huge number of construction sites and the man sitting by us explained that the government are pumping a huge amount of money into the economy to try and reduce the gap between the rich and the poor. We have spoken to quite a few people now who seem really pleased with the work that the current government is doing.

There were quite a few touts at Gondor which can get annoying when you just want to wonder. But the touts here are pretty refreshing - especially after Egypt. They don't push too much, and if you still say no to whatever they're offering, they just smile and wish you a lovely day, rather than walking off grumbling. They even show you the right bus if you ask for help, rather than telling you it's full/only 1st class left/only taxis go that way...

H: We took a boat across Lake Tana today to see a couple of monasteries. Which aren't monasteries as we would think of them, but mud huts which are used by the locals to worship, the insides of which are covered in very bright and descriptive paintings. It was interesting to see the monasteries, but it was more interesting to see the village life. They have a generator for electricity, no running water and walk barefoot. But we did still see one lady with a mobile phone!

The cameras that we are sometimes embarrassed about were again a hit. Some of the village children loved to see photos of themselves and even tried taking some too...

H: They say that life is about the journey and not the destination and the same is often said about travelling. Today this has really been true.

We caught a local bus to the village of Tis Isat, the village at the start of the track to the Blue Nile Falls. The bus leaves when it's full but by full they mean actually full, not just that all the seats have been taken. We arrived once the seats were all taken but happily got on and stood in the aisle. Two very kind locals however scooted up in their seats and offered Greg (who was standing next to them) a 5" sliver to sit on. G being the generous guy he is, offered it to me and managed to find a comfy cushion to sit on in the front. We set off and I realised that to stay sort of on the seat, I was going to have to use all muscles in my arms and legs to keep on it. The road was extremely bumpy...

Fortunately someone found a jerry can and put it in the aisle for me to sit on. Whilst not the comfiest seat in the bus, it was a far more comfortable than sharing two small seats with two men! Greg spent the journey having a conversation with a guy in the front by sign language and the LP phrasebook, our Amharic not being too good and all... I was sitting by a very nice old Ethiopian man who kept smiling and pointing at things. We also got Mr B (our travelling bear) out for a photograph and they loved it! One older man just put it on his knee and spent ages looking at it. They were really interested in our camera too, and liked to see photos of themselves on the screen of the camera.

It really is special to be able to travel on these buses and see real local life. Many were barefooted villagers in traditional dress, carrying sugar cane and the men carrying the long wooden sticks that they all seem to have. The women's babies are wrapped in blankets and tied onto their backs. They are often so well bundled up that you don't realise there's a child in there until it makes a noise!

The falls were beautiful even though we were in the dry season. The walk also beautiful - 2 hours in the hot African sun, through countryside and small settlements. The journey home was as full as the first and I kindly returned the seat favour by having a little boy on my knee. Not really a hardship - he was pretty cute!

As amazing as today has been, it has also been quite difficult. It is hard to be in these places with food, water, money and cameras in our bag, and shoes on our feet. These villagers don't have shoes, probably not a lot of food and walk up to an hour each day for water. Our empty water bottles are a valuable commodity to them - as soon as you finish a bottle someone is next to you asking for it. The village at Tis Isat had a water pump and we saw about 10 women there waiting to get water.

It sounds dramatic but it really does make you stop and think about your life, and it can make you realise how trivial some of your worries are. We have talked a lot about how we can help but it's really difficult. Handing money out doesn't seem like the right thing - I guess we need to find an NGO to support who can help villages with infrastructures.

Tourism is both a blessing and a curse for them. It will bring money into the villages which hopefully will help them. However with it comes a sad attitude.

The villagers on the bus knew very little English, and just smiled and wanted to try and communicate with you. Many tourists take minibus taxis to the falls so they may not be used to seeing too many tourists. The village by the waterfalls however was a different story. A white face normally results in a hand being held out and money asked for. Children as young as 3 have learnt the English to ask for money or a pen. And the girl who asked for my cardi wasn't much older.

Getting off the bus, we were surrounded by school children who want to be your guide. Their English is amazing. But as much as you try and say no thank you, they still lead the way and you know at the end you'll be giving out some money. The two boys that walked with us yesterday talked of dreams of becoming a pilot or a doctor. Our 'guide' money might help pay for this, but it also might encourage them to skip school and become a tour guide.

There is no easy answer.

H: A 10 hour journey from Addis Ababa took us to Bahir Dar, in Northern Ethiopia. It's the first countryside we've seen and is incredibly beautiful. Africa is somewhere I've wanted to go for years. I thought the countryside looked stunning, and the people friendly. And I was not disappointed! We passed through some gorgeous villages, and saw the farmers at work. Children start work early in life, with some not looking much older than two or three, brandishing a stick and herding goats and cows.

We also tried our first 'Injera' - a local speciality which consisted of a variety of different sauced vegetables on a type of "bread". Which looks not unlike a soggy rubber mat, and to be honest doesn't taste much better...

H: We have been lucky to do quite a bit of travelling now, and have always hoped we might get bumped off a flight. That would mean an overnight in a nice hotel paid for us (one that we could never afford on our budget) and maybe even a nice meal too.

Our wish nearly came true when we found we had been bumped off our flight into Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, another 5 hour flight, leaving at 11pm so meaning another nights broken sleep. We thought we had struck gold until they said there wasn't another flight for 2 days and so were going to put us on an Ethiopian air flight leaving a few hours after ours should have done. On the upside though, we did get US$80 compensation between us, and our nights sleep wasn't any more ruined than it was going to be!

Addis has felt like a breath of fresh air after Cairo – literally! The scenery as we landed was stunning – Addis seems to be in the middle of a beautiful plain. The people are incredibly friendly, and most are honestly friendly. We have even been charged the right price on the local buses. The culture you see on the streets is beautiful. The locals have such friendly smiles, and our taxi driver from the airport (no local buses apparently, although we have fallen for that before) was a lovely old Ethiopian guy, dressed in a tweed suit and flat cap :)

There is so much more life on the streets too. I know that that means more poverty and therefore isn't necessarily a good thing. But there is something special about the vibes of places like these.

We have both been worried that we have become suddenly unfit but have realised that Addis is at nearly 2,400 metres which explains the shortness of breath.

Our lessons in Egyptian road crossing unfortunately don't help us here. Crossings this time means walking into the road and dodging the cars, as they most certainly won't slow down or swerve to avoid you! Luckily, there is not the same amount of traffic...

We have taken the plunge and gone much nearer budget accommodation. Our hotel here is costing £10 a night and is pretty clean again. The shower just dumps a bit of water on you, but somehow manages also to soak the rest of the bathroom. The toilet flushes roughly 1 in 5 times, but also leaks a lot. The bed sheet covers the bed – just. So you very quickly get in a tangle with it and end up sleeping on bare mattress. All this is manageable.

What I am not keen on, is the tens of cockroaches that we seem to be sharing our room with. We (well G) started to catch the ones we saw, but there are too many for that, plus the buggers move pretty fast. So it's a case of snuggle up in bed and hold the sheets down tight...

Dates and times used here confused us to start with. Our bus ticket for the 5.30am bus tomorrow to Bahir Dar (Northern Ethiopia), has the date 25th March 2003, and the time 11.30 on it. Welcome to Ethiopia time. They are 7 years behind, I am sure there is some reason for this but am not sure what. And the time is because it is in Ethiopian, not European (and surely the rest of the world??!) time. 3am Ethiopian time is actually 9am our time. It means 3 hours after the sun comes up at 6. So our bus at 5.30am tomorrow, is actually 11 ½ hours after the sun has gone down – hence 11.30! I see us being confused by this more than once...

H: In between the sleeps, we went to see the pyramids. Not letting ourselves in gently, we went the local transport way. This is a good, not a bad thing. You get to see far more of local life, you just need to have plenty of time. Which fortunately we did. We successfully caught the metro to Giza, and then had to find either a bus 900 or 997 to the pyramids. Having stood at the side of the road about about 10 minutes watching buses go past and not seeing many symbols that we recognised, we figured that maybe Arabic number don't look like ours.

So we pulled out our phrase book and started learning Arabic numbers. Helpfully, a 9 is a 9 and 1 is almost a 1, but other than that there's no similarities and actually a lot of confusions... A 5 is a 0. A 0 is a dot, a backwards 3 is a 4, a 7 is 6 and a backwards 7 is either a 3 or a 2 – depending on the wiggle. Got it? No, us neither!

We then realised that we were completely without a map (the Cairo guidebook we ordered online days before we left hadn't arrived in time), but knew that the pyramids were somewhere along the road. We fell for our first con of the trip. A nice smiley guy said that this was our stop and got off with us. And then preceeded to tell us that it was much cheaper to go to the pyramids the back way, go on camel and then you don't pay half the entrance fees. That he was just a chef somewhere and he was telling us this from the goodness of his heart. Blah blah blah. We have got to start remembering again that if someone talks with very good English and is dressed in Western labelled clothes – they're probably trying to scam money from you.

Wisening up pretty quickly, we said no thank you and walked the rest of the way. Fortunately having spied the top of the pyramids in the background and assuming if we roughly went that way we could find the entrance.

Which we did. But not before reasling we had no money. So back to the ATM and half an hour later we were at the pyramids.

Which, I'm afraid to say, were quite underwhelming. We have been extremely fortunate, and maybe a bit spoiled by the places that we have been so far.

The pyramids themselves were impressive, if you take into account how long ago they were built. But not beautiful or 'clever' in the way somewhere like Chichen Itza in Mexico was, which had been built so that at the summer solstice, the sun caused shadows in the shape of a serpent to snake down the side of the pyramid.

Add into the slight disappointment of the pyramids, an overwhelming number of camel and horse “guides” who all have learnt the same conversation in English. It goes something like this...

Tout: Hello, where you from?
Us: The UK
Tout: Lovely Jubbly (am not kidding – this seems to be the standard reply to telling anyone you're from the UK)
Us: Real laugh the first time, fake laugh after that.
Tout: You want camel ride?
Us: No thank you
Tout: But then you have to walk
Us: We like to walk
Tout: I charge good price...
Us: No thank you
Tout: OK well if you do, come and find me. My camel is called [insert cartoon character name here eg Snoopy, Charlie Brown], I have called it that so that it is easy for you to remember its name

And we walk on, to be followed by said guide until he spies more people to prey on. Which leaves you in peace for roughly 30 seconds before the next guy tries his luck. I can't tell you how frustrating this gets.

We then learned not to enter into the long conversation, and to stop them early on and say we don't want a camel/horse ride thank you. To which at least one of them said “but I don't charge you for talking to me”. Which about summed it all up.

Even the security guards here are in on the cons. They will often call you over and offer to let you touch the pyramid, or even climb them for a sneaky fee!

We did pay to climb the worlds most expensive staircase (£10 each) inside the biggest pyramid. Lack of guide meant that we thought there was a huge room inside or something like that, laid out how the discovers would have found it. Instead we crawled up an extremely steep narrow staircase to a little and bare room at the top. And then climbed back down.

I am sure many people who have seen the pyramids are amazed by them and have had a much different experience to us. We however felt it was overshadowed by the touts that go with it, meaning instead of having the space to try and appreciate it, you are constantly hounded. Bring on the un-touristy destinations!

H: I would like to say we have run around doing all the touristy things, but we really haven't. We have slept a lot. And then a bit more.

We did wander around though - we saw the nightlife along the Nile and wandered through an amazing local bazaar selling anything you could possibly need (and not need).

Not wanting to sound too grumpy, but we (and especially I) didn't find Cairo a nice place to be. It is huge – a giant sprawling city, but seemingly with no green. Or at least none that we saw. The streets are quite narrow and the concrete buildings built tall, and with the lack of green it feels very heavy. It is also probably the smoggiest city we have ever been to. I thought blowing my nose in London wasn't nice but this was something else.

The traffic however was a highlight. I thought we must have seen it all when it comes to roads and traffic but this was a new experience. Lane discipline doesn't exist, infact I'm not really sure why they bother with the markings. There also don't seem to be pedestrian crossings, which is fine. But crossing the road therefore means just walking out into a 5 lane road, crossing slowly and hoping that the cars will avoid you. Which they did. We practiced by crossing when locals did, but soon got our confidence.

Security was another thing that made us smile. We went into a few banks to try and take money out (oh the joys of travelling – a couple of our cards had already been stopped). There are metal detectors at the doors of almost all the banks, and we set every one of them off by going in with our rucsacs. However the security guards just asked where we were from and then just smiled us on.

You'll be pleased to know we have let ourselves into the accommodation trauma gently. We had a pretty clean room, running hot water and a toilet that flushed nearly all of the time. And I even showered without flip flops. All for a not so bargain price of £20 a night...

H: The day we left Christchurch for Asia in 2008 was pretty eventful and one we never thought we'd repeat. We had left it too late to get everything done; we had wiped our iPod by mistake and so were both re-syncing that, and taping up our shipping boxes, in the car on the way to the airport. We then got to the airport to find we'd left out passports back at Tash and Joris's. Fortunately out flight was delayed and Joris can drive very fast, or we would never have made it.

You'd think we'd learn eh? No. This time, we decided to look at buying a camera lens with 24 hours to go. Having decided to keep it, G started ringing camera insurance companies with an hour to go. I didn't realise how many of my clothes needed altering until I started packing. Which was late. And so mum was left making half (most?) my clothes longer/shorter/smaller/bigger. She was sewing up to the last minute. Literally. My work computer back up took much longer than we thought and so we packed that into a box at T-5 minutes.

We left the eBaying and our shipping insurance to do from Egypt.

Add that into the four previous days when we were already running behind and so were surviving on 5/6 hours sleep and we were pretty tired. So a 5 hour overnight flight didn’t put us in the greatest of shapes to start the trip with!