Brazzaville, Congo; KM 42,270 to KM 47,150 June 12, 2009

After picking up visas for DRC and Congo in Windhoek, I headed for Kaokaland, a remote area of northwest Namibia where local tribes maintain many of their traditional ways. Enormous piles of rust-colored rock rose from the plains, as if dumped there from a giant wheelbarrow. After stopping at Epupa falls, I crossed the Kunene River, which separates Namibia from Angola.

Epupa Falls, Namibia

kids, southern Angola

Angola was good to me. The distance I felt between myself and many of the locals in Namibia and South Africa instantly vanished, and I was welcomed into Angola with big smiles and plenty of engaging conversation. Luckily for me, Spanish is close enough to Portuguese that I can understand and be understood, and being able to communicate with the locals makes all the difference. The clock seemed to slow down a bit in Angola. Crumbling tile-roofed colonial homes, painted and repainted in soft pastel colors, line dusty avenues. Fishermen mend nets in the shade of their porches, listening to crackling radios with broken speakers. Angolans have a laid back confidence that put me at ease, and they are quick to share what little they have.

fisherman, Angola

fishing boats, Angola

shipwreck, Angola

kids playing on the beach, Angola

Unfortunately, the presence of so many foreign companies anxious to tap into Angola’s mineral wealth has caused prices to soar. A dingy budget hotel room in the capital would start at around $90, and a burger and fries costs $15. So even though I would’ve liked to stay longer, my budget pressed me onward from the arid south of Angola to the coast, then northward into the thick humid jungles along pitted and rutted orange dirt roads and across the border to DRC and the hectic capital, Kinshasa. A ferry ride across the Congo River put me in Brazzaville, the capital of Congo, which is surprisingly lazy and safe, very different from it’s neighbor across the river.

loading the ferry from Kinshasa to Brazzaville

ferry passengers, DRC

If you have a taste for game from the forests of Congo, the markets of Brazzaville may have just what you’re looking for. Among the odd edibles were fried caterpillar, nutria, some other large rodents, wild antelopes, and more.

smoked monkey

How much would you pay for a roasted civet?

journal entry, June 2- in my tent in an abandoned gravel pit, waiting for the rice to cook

Tonight we’ll be starting with a healthy gulp of Jamison (the last in the house) followed by a spoonful of peanut butter and a dash of Habanero Tabasco, a prelude to the entrée: organic baby zucchini, garlic and purple onion sauted in Namibian butter and Syrian olive oil, finished with a Habanero peanut sauce. Served with South African long grain rice.

Sounds exotic. I guess it is exotic in a way. Yes, I’m in a gravel pit on the side of the road in Angola, but it’s still just a meal cooked by a guy that’s ready to eat. So many of my days are filled with complete normalcy. Small problems to fix, decisions to make, eating, going about my business, sleeping. A book that I should be reading, a journal I should be writing in, a conversation that I should be paying closer attention to, an opportunity I shouldn’t be missing. The struggle against complacency is a daily challenge, no matter where I am. In many ways, life on the road is not so very different from life back home.