Entering Lesotho via the Sani Pass

When researching South Africa, I stumbled upon Rough Guide’s “Things Not To Miss” in South Africa. The Sani Pass was one of the only places on their list that I hadn’t planned on hitting. After reading about it and seeing the photos, I realized that I had to squeeze this quick detour into our itinerary. We were greeted by Paul, our guide, at 9am for our full day tour of the Sani Pass and Lesotho. The top of the narrow, winding Sani Pass measures at 2874m. Before the 1990s, the Pass was used for the transport of goods – the UN would transport goods to Lesotho via the Sani Pass, as it is the only way to enter Lesotho via car from the East. It wasn’t until the 1900s that it was used for tourism purposes. The first road up the Sani Pass crossing from South Africa into Lesotho was built in 1958, and the government built a second, safer road in 1968. People are afraid that in the next few years the road will be paved over, which will take away from the experience of the Sani Pass. The gradient of the Pass is 25% once it starts to zig-zag near the top; to do the Sani Pass in the winter time isn’t such a good idea (yes, parts of Africa do get cold enough for ice!). While the Pass is technically part of South Africa, at the top, you immediately cross the border into Lesotho (the Continental Divide is the official border between the two countries).

A bit about Lesotho (pronounced le-sue-two): Lesotho used to be one of the poorest countries in Africa and asked for help from the United Nations. In the mid-1990s, they got a big loan and built two dams (the highest in South Africa), which they were able to use to generate electricity for the country. Lesotho does okay economically because South Africa imports water from Lesotho, and Lesotho exports wool. Despite this, Lesotho is still a fairly poor country – most people don’t have a lot of money, nor make much money, but the people are rarely undernourished. Surprisingly, despite it’s decently poor state, Lesotho has a great education system; they have the highest literacy rate in Africa, as 80% of the population can read and write. Education is tackled in a non-Western fashion. Similar to the Bedouins, when a boy becomes a teenager, he becomes a Sheppard. He goes up to the Highlands and spends the whole summer living on his own as a Sheppard. When Autumn rolls around, he brings the sheep down to the Lowland, and then the men get to study in the winter months. After tackling the Sani Pass, we drove around Lesotho. We visited a sheep shearing station to learn about their biggest agricultural export: wool. We saw the gorgeous views from the Black Mountain Pass, but it was quite cold and extremely windy. The highlight of the day was hearing Paul’s story about the 1960’s road race disaster – during the annual race up the Sani Pass, a plane crashed into the Lesotho Highlands and all of the passengers were killed. On the 25^th anniversary of the death of the passengers, a man went to visit the site of the crash as a means of memorializing his father who had died, since he was two years old when he died. During the ceremony of those lost, the relatives saw something glimmering in the dirt. They went down to pick it up, and it happened to be his father’s wedding ring. Somehow amongst all the excavation, removal of bodies, and traffic over the years, the ring just happened to be there. To this day, the man wears his father’s wedding ring around his neck. Believe it or not, this a true story – Paul’s friend was the guide for that group and witnessed it first hand.

Post-lunch, we got to a Basotho (pronounced bah-sue-two) village. The people of Lesotho are Basotho and they speak Sisotho (sis-oo-two). The village consisted of very small huts with no electricity, and one woman invited us into her home. We observed her way of life – they see at night with candles, they cook over cow dung, their floors have coals underneath the ground to help warm them during the cold months, their bathroom is a tiny shed a few minutes away from their house, and the closest hospital is 45 km away. We learned a few words in Sisotho and watched the woman cook on her hands and knees. With a big smile on her face, she had us try Bochebe, a sweet and delicious homemade bread, alongside Twshala, a healthy, grainy beer. The experience made us realize that living so simply really enhances relationships and human interaction. One of the men in our group said that seeing a hut like that made him “miss his fridge and hoover and TV.” We in the Western world are so used to modern technologies that we sometimes lose sight of human interaction, whereas the Basotho acknowledged that they had no interest in Western civilizations, without even a desire to go into South Africa. The barren land and small villages of Lesotho really felt like a whole different world from South Africa.

Travelers Tip: Don’t do the Sani Pass unguided, and make sure you have a full empty page in your passport because you will receive four separate stamps. I couldn’t recommend enough the necessity of a windbreaker and sweatshirt – the altitude causes Lesotho to be pretty chilly.

To my Israeli soldiers…

I admire you. You’ve moved me, inspired me, scared me. My experience in Israel was incredible, but wouldn’t have felt as “real” had I not met you; you made it so much more profound, meaningful, and emotional. You’ve exposed me to an unsettling reality of people my own age (and younger) overseas – you’ve been forced to grow up faster than the majority of us due to the constant threat of violence Israel faces. I can’t imagine mandatory enlistment, much less having to do so at such a young age. Thank you for your service, and for helping to create the strong connection I feel both toward you and Israel; your friendship elevated the entire adventure and I won’t ever forget you guys. You’ve filled me with a sense of belonging that I have yet to experience in any of my travels thus far.

Many people were concerned about me heading to the Middle East; they warned me that perhaps I was taking my wanderlust too far. The problem here lies in the fact that many people in the United States are ignorant as to what’s going on in Israel. Sure, the country may not be located in the most geographically stable area, however, I felt safe in Israel. I felt safe when alarms were going off on my last night, and I felt instantly connected to the beautiful people. Negative news goes viral, positive news does not. What the networks have failed to mention here is the unequivocal genuineness and goodness of the Israeli people. There is an immense sense of unity, commitment, and understanding in Israel that is truly contagious.

Getting to know you was the highlight of my trip. Thank you for touching me so deeply and you will forever be in my heart.

!!!אוהבת אתכם ומתגעגעת כל כך

Jerash, Madaba & Mt. Nebo

We woke up early to head to Jerash, located in Northern Jordan near the Syrian border. After spending almost four hours in the car going in and out of sleep, we arrived at the site of the ruins of the Greco-Roman city of Gerasa (modern day Jerash), which was founded in 2000 BC.

Once considered part of the Decropolis, Jerash is the only one of those cities whose streets you can wander; it is the perfect example of what a Roman city used to look like, considered by many to be one of the best preserved sites of Roman architecture in the world (outside of Italy). In fact, only 40% of Jerash has been uncovered, while the other 60% remains beneath the soil. This town felt like a Roman village. From the earthquake-proof Corinthian columns, to Hadrian’s Arch and the Hippodrome, to the Temples of Zeus and Artemis, to the Cardo Maximus, Oval Forum, and beyond, you can truly picture what Jerash looked like many lifetimes ago.

At lunch that afternoon, our guide taught us about Ramadan – Mercy Month, or the Month of Fasting, considered to be regarded as one of the Five Pillars of Islam. To begin the following morning at 4am, Jordan (and a large majority of Muslim countries) were to fast during all hours of daylight every day for one month, from dawn to sunset. It’s compulsory for Muslims to begin fasting upon reaching puberty, with some exceptions (the sick, the pregnant, the nursing, the babies, etc.). In Jordan, those unable to fast have to give to a poor person the most expensive meal they have in their house, or the equivalent of that in cash. According to our Jordanian guide, the idea behind Ramadan is to feel what a poor person feels on a daily basis, in turn becoming a better person and feeling mercy for others.

Post lunch, we drove to Madaba, which is best known by its Byzantine and Umayyad mosaics, specifically for the large Byzantine-era mosaic map of the Holy Land. The Madaba Mosaic Map was discovered in 1896 and preserved in the floor of the Greek Orthodox Basilica of Saint George. It is an indexed map of the region, depicting hills, valleys, villages, and towns in Palestine and the Nile Delta. It illustrates 6^th century landmarks, with the Cardo Maximus and the Holy Sepulchre quite visible. Mosaics aside, Madaba was once a Moabite border city, mentioned in the Bible in Numbers 21:30 and Joshua 13:9.

From Madaba we drove to Mt. Nebo. According to the final chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses climbed Mt. Nebo right before he died, and it was there that he looked out upon the Promised Land (that he would never enter) for the first time. After his descent from Mt. Nebo, he died in the city of Moab; no one is exactly sure where he is buried. Atop Mt. Nebo, approximately 2,680 feet above Sea Level, there is a panoramic view of the Holy Land, the valley of the River Jordan, Jericho, and Jerusalem on a clear day.

Pointed in the direction of the Holy Land is the Brazen Serpent Monument, symbolic of the bronze serpent created by Moses in the Wilderness (Numbers 21: 4-9) and the cross upon which Jesus was crucified – “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up” (John 3:14).

We drove to our accommodation for the night: Mujib Chalets, aka a hut overlooking the Dead Sea. We got there right before sunset and I decided that I wanted to go for another swim in the Dead Sea. Me. The water. The mountains. Not a soul in sight. Solitude. We watched a beautiful sunset from our patio, relaxed a bit, and passed out early.

It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one destiny, affects all indirectly.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Coming to an End…

Our last morning with Birthright. After breakfast, we threw a red ball of yarn around our circle while sharing our most prominent moment from the trip. It was very emotional and it connected us both figuratively and literally. We were such a unique, likeminded group of individuals and the yarn signified that not only are we rooted together, but that our actions affect everyone else. It was really quite moving, and we partook in one last group hug.

We boarded the bus, took our last look at the Sea of Galilee, and began driving to Ben Gurion airport. As we approached the airport, we tearfully sang “Leaving on a Jetplane.” I knew that our Israeli soldiers would be meeting us, so when we walked through the doors I looked all around. I saw no one. Then out of nowhere I heard them yelling and running towards us and somehow got tackled in one (final) big Taglit bear hug. Day = Made. We said our sad goodbyes to the group. It was weird to be at the airport with luggage and not boarding a plane. David and I had to make our way to Eilat somehow, and luckily we were able to get on a train with our Israeli friends who guided us in the right direction.

Unfortunately, by the time we made it to the bus station, we had to wait two hours for our bus to Eilat. David and I wandered around, reflecting on the incredible journey that we’d had thus far. For some reason, we were some of the only non-military people on the bus, which was interesting. If I were anywhere else in the world, I’d be uncomfortable being surrounded by so many guns in such a close vicinity in a country where I didn’t speak the language. That’s not what we are accustomed to in the US but, in Israel, it put me at ease.

We finally got on the bus for our three-hour journey South. It was smooth as could be. During a fifteen minute rest stop this old Israeli lady asked if she could practice her English with me. She told me about how her whole family had been in Israel for as long as they knew. She wanted to tell me her story and explained that when she was a teenager the South was just a land of dirt, and so she mapped out what she wanted her house to look like, laid it in the sand, and put rocks on the corners so that it wouldn’t blow away. She then built that house on the same spot of land and has been there ever since. A pretty touching story indeed. At last, we arrived in Eilat at 23:00 and were thrilled that we were actually able to find our hostel.

The Four Humps

I was up with the sun after a short but deep sleep in the tent, despite virtually sleeping on the ground. We had a quick breakfast and went to our canyon hike at Ein Ovdat. The gorges of the canyon were a different, and welcomed, change of scenery from the desert that surrounds Masada. We had assumed that we were walking through the canyon. And we did…until it was time to go straight up. Through a series of ladders and stairs, we made it to the very top of the canyon and looked down from where we came. It was stunning.

We headed back to the Bedouin tents for our camel trek. The “Four Humps” rocked the caboose of our camel-chain. We trotted along, laughing and joking around for a bit before riding back to the tents.

Can’t say camel riding is the most comfortable experience in the world, but it’s an experience nonetheless. Naturally, I had to take a selfie…

We departed from the Bedouin village and went to Midreshet Sde Boker, the site of Ben Gurion’s grave. He and his wife are buried on the cliff overlooking the Zin Valley. David Ben-Gurion was Israel’s first Prime Minister and is commonly known as Israel’s founding father. On May 14, 1948 it was Ben Gurion who officially proclaimed the establishment of the State of Israel and was the first to sign the Israeli Declaration of Independence. What’s most interesting though is that after retiring from political life in 1970 Ben Gurion moved to Sde Boker, a kibbutz in the Negev Desert, and spent his final years there trying to fulfill his vision of cultivating the Negev.

After a quick falafel for lunch, and the discovery of guaraná in Israel (!!!), we stopped by a goat farm in the Negev, held baby goats, tasted delicious goat cheese, and reflected with the Israelis (as it was our last time gathered as a group).

Honestly, it sucked. It sucked knowing that seven members of our newfound family were leaving, and I felt like the dynamic just wouldn’t be the same after their departure – their presence, smiles, laughs, and viewpoints would all be sorely missed. We hugged them goodbye and waved to them from the bus as we watched them walk away.

We made it to Netanya, and as soon as we arrived we were greeted with an outstanding sunset right outside my bedroom window. I took in the beauty as I reflected on how I already missed my new Israeli friends.

That night we went out in Tel Aviv, and the Israelis just “happened” to show up in the same place at the same time. Hmmm, I wonder how that happened?! 🙂 We all sat around a large table drinking, chatting, and enjoying each others company for what we knew would actually be our last time hanging out together. There was a lot of love and respect going around that table.

We spent the following day in Tel Aviv. We began in Rabin Square, where Yitzhak Rabin, the fifth Prime Minister of Israel, was assassinated in 1995; he was assassinated by a radical right-wing Orthodox Jew who was against the creation and signing of the Oslo Accords (to which he won the Nobel Peace Prize).

We spent the morning wandering around Tel Aviv before ultimately entering Independence Hall – it was at this site that Ben Gurion officially declared the State of Israel on May 14, 1948 (despite being in the midst of a Civil War). The following day began the 1948 Arab-Israeli War. Armies from Egypt, Jordan, Iraq, and Syria all attacked the newly-deemed land of Israel. It wasn’t until 1949 that Israel signed armistices with everyone (Egypt, Lebanon, Jordan, Syria) except Iraq and Palestine.

After learning quite a bit about the creation of the State of Israel, we headed to Jerusalem Beach to relax on the Mediterranean. The water was beautiful and the sun was shining; it was some much-needed downtime.

We boarded the bus to Tiberias, ate, and had a fascinating talk about the West Bank. As I crawled into bed, exhausted, I rolled over to check the time and saw an urgent email from NYU Buenos Aires. I quickly opened it to discover that my tango buddy from my Buenos Aires program, Zake Morgan, had passed away during his travels in Nicaragua; it’s amazing how truly fragile life is. Zake brought laughter and smiles to everyone he interacted with and will be forever missed. I pray that his parents find peace and comfort in these difficult times.

http://www.gofundme.com/akosj4

On Wednesday, May 20^th, I hopped on the subway bright and early to make my way up to Yankee Stadium for the NYU All-School Commencement Ceremony. My family had planned on meeting me there since it was rush hour. Around 125^th Street a stranger tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was Sarah. I gave him a funny look and nodded. He went on to tell me that people were shouting my name at the other end of the subway car. Believe it or not, my family somehow ended up in the exact same subway car at the exact same time during rush hour in NYC. Pretty wild.

Upon arriving at Yankee Stadium, I bumped into my very first friend at NYU. We ended up sitting together directly behind Home Plate. It seemed fitting that I started and ended college with the same friend by my side. It just so happened that my family was seated on the second tier directly behind me – between my hat and grandpa’s bright orange jacket, we were able to constantly lock eyes throughout the whole ceremony, making it that much more special. The rain held up and we had a beautiful day as J. Sexton, Mariano Rivera, Aretha Franklin, and Janet Yellen took the stage. As we flipped our tassels and the torch was passed, it was the over. The day had arrived when I could finally call myself an NYU Alum.

KEEP ON DREAMING OUT LOUD.

I’m so thankful for all of the people that I’ve met throughout my incredible travels. From the lovely Aussie couple I met in Mendoza, to my awesome car-mates in Bolivia, to the friend I got stranded with in the desert, to my Russian-loving Canadian naturalist, to the crazy Irish lads, to my Ecuadorian “fairy godmother,” to the attractive hang-gliding Hungarians, to the bravest Swiss girl traveling the globe solo, to my Spanish-speaking-saviors in Buenos Aires, to the Couch Surfers in Uruguay, to my three beloved travel buddies, to my favorite circus monkey, to the insanely fun Brasilians (and my number one menina branca)…you guys rocked my world. I couldn’t possibly list everyone I’ve met along the way, but I love you all.

5 months. 2 continents. 8 countries. 28 flights. 24 busses. 5 ferries. 2 ships. Amazing memories.

A few hours later I packed up my things, headed to the airport, and took off for my home country! At the gate, South America sent me off with yet another astonishing sunset. About 8 hours later, in my Dramamine-induced state, I heard the pilot of my plane announce: “Welcome to the United States.” I felt a ping of sadness in my heart as reality began to set in, as I realized that my five-month South American journey was over.

Instead flying straight into New York, I made a pit-stop at Club Med Sandpiper Bay, Florida to join up with the family for our annual Club Med trip. I was going through reverse-culture-shock and trying to resist every urge to speak Spanish, but it was so lovely to see them all again. When I arrived, I dropped my bags and headed straight to trapeze…shocking, I know. Due to the “polar vortex” in NYC I was hoping to get stranded in Florida for a few days longer, but unfortunately my flight was unaffected and it was, at last, time for me to return to reality.

Feliz Ano Novo! 2014.

As midnight approached, 2.3 million people arrived on Copacabana. The main stage and smaller stage were pulsing – people were dancing, drinking, and chatting, all while trying to avoid stepping on pieces of broken glass and smashed beer cans. Time was flying by and, suddenly, everyone started the countdown: “dez, nove, oito, sete, seis, cinco, quatro, três, dois, um…” FELIZ ANO NOVO!! Cue the most spectacular fireworks that I have ever seen. With a boom, fireworks filled up the entire sky – spanning the length of the beach. All colors, all shapes, all styles. Nonstop for 30 minutes. Through sips of champagne, we all hugged and cheered and listened to the Brasilians singing what I could assume to be their equivalent of Auld Langs Syne.

It’s another tradition in Rio de Janeiro to increase your luck by jumping over 7 waves while making 7 wishes. Our whole group was aware of this notion so, as the fireworks ended, we took off to the water’s edge, going completely into the water instead of just jumping the waves at our feet. What we didn’t know was just how strong the waves were – we were laughing hysterically as we were repeatedly tumbled, which led to some of the funniest moments of my life. The view from the water blew my mind; there were thousands of people standing on the beach jumping waves in front of us, and eight cruise ships beautifully lit behind us.

Some of our group passed out soon after, others wandered home, but a few of us were determined to make it until sunrise, and we did! The music blasted and the dancing never stopped. At the first signs of sunrise I became giddy like a five year old – it was the beginning of one of the most beautiful mornings I’ve ever witnessed. The sky turned outstanding colors of purples, oranges, yellows, and pinks. The deep red colored sun finally made an appearance and it looked as if flames were coming out of it. We packed up our things, grabbed some empanadas for breakfast, and finally climbed into bed around 8am.

New Year’s Eve: 2013-2014

And finally, the day had come: New Year’s Eve, Rio de Janeiro, 2013-2014. Rio is known for being one of the best places in the world to ring in the New Year, and I was about to witness it firsthand. Last year I was numb with cold counting down to midnight in Times Square, so the idea of sweating on a beach as midnight approached was rather appealing.

While the others slept in, I headed to the beach for some downtime before what was bound to be a crazy night. After four hours in the sun, I went back to the hostel to shower and get into my all-white outfit for the night’s festivities. On New Year’s in Rio, no one should wear a color more predominant than white, however, it is typical to accent colors through bathing suits and underwear. The colors all represent different kinds of luck – white represents peace, green means good health, yellow for money, red being passion and romance, and purple denoting inspiration.

A group of newfound friends (from Ireland, Poland, Germany, France, Mexico, and the US) all gathered in the hostel as we took some photos and headed to the beach to get a spot for the night! Our plan was to stay out until sunrise so we had to be well prepared – ice, beverages, limes, sugar, snacks and, for some reason, an Irish flag. We set up camp and awaited the mass amounts of people that were bound to flood Copacabana Beach. We were ready.

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Forests, lakes, and rivers, clouds and winds, stars and flowers, stupendous glaciers and crystal snowflakes – every form of animate or inanimate existence, leaves its impress upon the soul of man.

Orison Swett Marden