GANG ACTIVITY ON MAFIA ISLAND

Maybe Mafia Island doesn't have any mobsters. But there certainly seemed to be a lot of gang activity during our stay.

Fishing takes a village, at least around Mafia, whose waters teem with fish. The small boat above is filled with a gang of helpful islanders needed to set and retrieve the heavy nets used in the surrounding waters.

Kip (far right)  joins a local gang
assisting a driver re-start his van.

An intimidating gang of feral cats
stakes out a fish seller

Another fishing gang pulling in nets on the island's north shore. 

Liz cleans up trash in the Mafia Marine Reserve. Only a gang of litterers would trash a beach as beautiful as Mafia's.

This group of plastic bottle caps, styrofoam and a lighter shows more of the work of the litter gang.

Kip, trash bag in hand, joins Liz to clean up the beach, littered by the work of the aforementioned litterers. 

BEAUTIFUL BELO SUR MER

So, eight hour boat trip aside, this place really is beautiful. We can admit that now.

When we arrived, however, hot, thirsty, and sunburned with still a 1 kilometer walk through a sandy marsh to anything reminiscent of a hotel, we can't say it made the best first impression.

But, we were glad to be on land. And, Liz was particularly excited about the diving. We'd heard stories about the reefs offshore in the deep, clear waters of the Mozambique Channel, which was one of our main reasons for heading to this very out of the way place.

Alas, the universe had other plans. After struggling along in the mud and sand, we stopped at every guesthouse (there are four in total, even counting the uninhabitable one barely standing after cyclone damage). Each one we passed was either closed for the season or full (though we saw no other foreigners for miles). Sounds like a typically planned Liz and Kip trip so far...

As we went to what we thought was the final hotel (they were closing down for the season and wouldn't let us stay), we were lucky to meet one of the owners of Ecolodge de Menabe, who told us he had rooms. The owner ran the only dive shop within 100 miles. Despite his perfect English, he only wanted to speak French, so Liz decided to wow him with her skills, asking, "Plongee?" For those without such an amazing command of the language, this is the French word for diving.  And he replied, "No plongee." To which Liz said, "Oh no!" and he replied in his heavy French accent "Oh, yes!"  She was not amused.

But, his place was marvelous and he gave the three of us (thank you Ernest for not smothering us in our sleep) the best bungalow in the entire place. We felt special. We were the only guests in the entire village, and the local kids showed off for us a bit  by having a contest with their spinning tops.

We were also served some tasty samosas by these adorable and precocious kiddos. We can honestly say, nothing tastes better than a fresh fish samosa. Especially when it's delivered right to your doorstep, with a smile.


And then, there were the sunsets.

All of this ALMOST made up for the fact that we had an eight-hour boat ride back...which, in true Madagascar style, was really 12 hours. 

Market stuff in Belo: Clockwise, starting with dried sardines, weird hush puppies, two bowls of salty fish patties, and six fuzzy round fruits from the baobabs, which Liz took a liking to.

Liz with a sunblock-covered friend we met after picking up trash along the town's main road (a sandy path). 

The kids could work wonders with their homemade tops.
Winding the rope around the spindle, they would hurl
the balls into the air  and at just the right moment,
pull back so the top dropped, spinning madly,
into their palm or on their chest or even
on one guy's head. Good show.

HIKING (AND CLEANING UP) THE INDIAN HIMALAYAS

Our friend Alex Parlini (the dark speck on the trail) hikes toward Kanchenjunga, the world's third highest peak.

While Liz headed south to Udaipur, Mumbai, and Goa, Kip and his buddy Alex from DC went northeast to Darjeeling (thanks for the visit, AP!). After testing out the region's famous teas, they traveled into the Indian Himalayas for a trek toward the world's third highest peak, Mt. Kanchenjunga (alt: 28,169 ft). 

There, they hiked five days and watched some incredible sunsets/rises over the mountains of India/Tibet/Nepal/Bangladesh/Bhutan, one of the most unique and spectacular views in the world. 

Along the way, they also filled garbage bags with trash that lined the trails. As we had experienced in places including Nepal, Borneo, the Philippines, and others, the people met along the way happily joined the trail beautification efforts, proving once again that cleaning up...and volunteering...can be contagious. A big thanks to the guides, as well as Alex, Stewart, Stephanie, Raymond, and Sara.

With no trash collection in the mountains, garbage must be burned to get rid of it. Above, Alex supervises while the guides incinerate a small pile of some of the debris we collected during the five-day hike.

Mt Kanchenjunga in the morning light.

Kip at sunrise. The view includes Everest.

Potato diggers met along the trail.

The sun sets behind afternoon clouds.

RUPEES TO RUBBISH ON THE EVEREST TREK

Two boys walking home from their village school taught us once again just how contagious cleaning up can be. 

It was Day Four of our trek to Everest Base Camp. As part of our "1 of 7" activities, we had been picking up trash along the trail. Yes, even on a trek to the world's tallest mountain--and passing through some of the most incredible scenery on the planet--people manage to throw trash on the ground, ignoring the well-maintained trash cans/baskets along the way.

We had tied plastic bags to our backpacks and were filling them with candy bar wrappers,  water bottles, empty tobacco packages and all types of other items tossed by local porters and foreign trekkers, as well. 

As we passed through a tiny village, two kids approached us in matching school uniforms--navy wool sweater and grey pants. They stared at our plastic bags, smiling. Then, one of them stuck out his hand and asked for rupees.

In Kathmandu, lots of street kids will ask you for money. It's a pretty common occurrence. But out here, it doesn't happen.

Feigning ignorance, Kip pretended he didn't understand the boy. Instead, he smiled and said, "rubbish." He motioned the boys closer and showed the two what was inside our trash bags. At first, they didn't get it, so he pointed to a piece of trash nearby and repeated, "rubbish" as he picked it up and placed it into the bag. 

He repeated the process again, and that was that...the kids joined us for the next kilometer or so on our clean up mission, helping us pick up trash along the trail until they got to the turnoff to their house.

For the following days, we would be joined by lots of well-meaning folks happy to give us a hand. Like our new friend, Baptiste, a hilarious Frenchman who donned his own garbage bag while walking the trail (thanks, Baptiste!). And like Rob from Zimbabwe and his Aussie girlfriend Jolai who we ended up hiking with for three days (thanks, mates!). We even got their guide, Tiagaram, involved, chastising porters for throwing their garbage on the ground.

The rock-climbing, trash collecting Frenchman Baptiste helps Kip take out the trash.

It takes a lot to change people's behavior. It wasn't so long ago in the US that people saw no problem with throwing bags of trash out their car windows. Thankfully that has changed. 

Behavior on the Everest Trek is hopefully on its way toward change, too. Because of the incentive program started in 1994 by American mountain climber Brent Bishop, the garbage and used oxygen bottles left behind by Everest expeditions have been cleared from the high camps and summit of the world's tallest peak.

Us at Everest Base Camp, holding a sign that reads, "1 of 7 EBC Clean Up 2012." 

Judging by the numerous guides and hikers that said "thank you" upon seeing the trash in our bags, and those willing to pitch in and help clean up, we may be a trash-free trail the next time we decide to punish ourselves into another 12 day trek.

With a little help from the next wave of hikers, hopefully the trek up to Base Camp will see the same result.

Kip the garbage man headed up the trail.

CLEANING UP IS CONTAGIOUS

It started out as just another beach clean-up.

Earlier, we visited the national monument and surrounding park that mark the northernmost tip of Borneo. It’s a gorgeous spot, with rolling hills that drop off onto a shore of massive rocks and white sand. Sadly, the beach bordering the park was littered with water bottles, plastic bags, random flotsam, and a boatload of flip flops (you'd be amazed by the sheer number orphaned flip flops on the beaches here).

The place needed to be cleaned up, and bad. Armed with two large garbage bags and a double layer of sunscreen, we hit the beach. We started at the tip of the park, working our way down the shoreline away from the monument. We filled bag after bag, dumping their contents into the nearby trash cans of a tree-lined rest area, next door to what looked like a mosque overlooking the beach.

The sun was hot, and the trash seemed to go for miles. Sweating, we cleaned our way toward the mosque. And that’s when it happened.

From the beach we saw a woman in a hijab exit the side of the building, pointing toward us and speaking loudly in Malay. Was she talking about us? Were we trespassing on holy ground of some sort? We looked at each other and then back toward the building.

Suddenly, from behind the woman sprang five little girls covered from head to toe in white. They ran straight for us. Some wore sandals, a few only wore socks. Five expressionless faces showed from beneath their veils.

Standing alone on the beach, our bags half full of plastic bottles and flip flops, we could do little more than wait to see how this one turned out. Neither of us moved.

The little girls stepped out onto the sand just a few feet from us. Then, without looking our way, they each began filling their arms with plastic bottles.

Wait, what was going on? We looked at each other again, then back at the girls. Their arms were quickly filling up, as they hugged bottles and bags and old flip flops.

Following their cue, we approached them slowly, opening our garbage bags for them to deposit their collections. At first, they were hesitant to make eye contact or to get too close. But after an approving nod from the older woman, they dropped what they carried into our garbage bags, and ran to collect more bottles, giggling all the way.
The addition of a few more helpers made us work more quickly. We couldn’t dump the bags fast enough, so we had to work out a relay system to be sure there was space for all the trash the girls were bringing from every direction. We filled (and properly disposed of) more than 10 large garbage bags in less than an hour.

The seven of us worked our way further and further down the beach, until the older woman gave a shout that must have signaled it was time for the girls to head home.

As our little helpers bounded across the sand toward their teacher, all we could do was wave and shout, “terima kasih,” the only words we knew in Malay. The girls giggled “sama sama” (you’re welcome) as they ran like five little angels, back through the door, leaving us alone on the empty beach.

A LITTLE HELP GOES A LONG WAY

OK, so if you've been reading this blog, hopefully you know we try to do some sort of volunteer work at least once a week wherever we are. It's not a monumental goal, nor is it going to change the world. We realize this.

But giving back, even a little, does make us feel good. Plus, sometimes we get to see/do some cool stuff we may not otherwise get to do, such as photographing whale sharks or spending Earth Day underwater in Palau. 

Last week, doing our "1 of 7," as we like to call it, we experienced something we thought was pretty nice. 

We had found our own little paradise--a beach hut for $10 per night (whoo hooo!), complete with front porch, hammock, and ridiculous views, all on a remote island in the Philippines where few foreigners visit except during surf season, which it wasn't. There were even seashells out front for Liz to collect and water buffalo out back for Kip to take pictures of!

The only problem was the beach was scattered with trash. Most of it came in with the tides, but some also fell from the hands of locals, many of whom still think tossing their chip bags, food wrappers, and cigarette butts in the sand is acceptable behavior. A few folks even call the plastic bag the "Filipino Jellyfish" for its prevalence and appearance when found in the water or washed up onshore. 

After breakfast and a less-than-stellar surf session, we grabbed a few plastic bags and hit the beach to start a clean up. Side note: You may have noticed picking up trash has been a go-to activity for us; there's litter everywhere, it's easy to collect, and cleaning it up makes an immediate impact, especially in tourist areas; if only we could figure out how to get people to stop littering. Hmmmmm. 

After half an hour or so, a graying man and younger boy in board shorts walked down the empty beach toward us. Looking closely, it appeared as if they both were carrying plastic bags and that they were picking up trash as they walked. 


Helpers? Indeed, it was.

The man's name was John. He was an expat American living in the Philippines, and he and his Philippine-born son, Kenji, had seen us and wondered if they could lend a hand. 


"Of course," we told them, "we'd love to have the help."  So father and son joined in, and, together, we walked along talking and filling our bags. 

John said he hoped this would be a good lesson for Kenji, who spent hours on the beach or on the waves nearby. He also thought it may help convince some of the locals who'd been watching us to stop littering and maybe even consider cleaning up after others who weren't as conscientious. 

It was nice to imagine. 


After emptying our bags in a nearby trash can, we shook hands and parted ways. And then we got back to enjoying what we felt was our own little slice of paradise...

ROCK CREEK CLEAN UP

Ranger Scott Einberger briefs volunteers in Rock Creek Park as part of National Public Lands Day. 

Volunteer Liz Zipse daintily picks up an unknown trash item from the shores of Rock Creek. Dirty work, indeed. 

Liz and Kip getting in their 1 OF 7.