Huh? What? Is that a dog licking my toes? Woke up at 8 am on Saturday morning to a beeping alarm. The sound of it echoed through my aching lobes still effected from Friday nights World Cup kick off debauchery. My eyes were crusty, my mouth yearned like a lost camel in the Sahara, my head thumped like the speakers from that shitty drum and bass DJ lat night. I would love to say I jumped up, yawned and started a bright and fresh Kellogg’s morning. Nope I snoozed it. Luckily by some higher soccer party power I re-woke 20 minutes later. I rarely snooze. Dan and Paul were no better, still snoring, still drooling, still dreaming of duckies and bunnies or whatever those two call their happy places while sharing a bed for yet another late night slumber.

It was time to move. “Get up bitches!”. (Please remember one thing. We are three guys traveling to soccer matches for 40 days throughout South Africa, this is the lingo.) We moved, like those endemic tortoises of South Africa crossing a busy intersection. Hopped in our trusty VW Citi Golf called “Blue Steel” and sped in some direction towards Cape Town airport. I’m glad I wasn’t the driver. I couldn’t even comprehend the word airplane at the time. We left the car in Parkade 1 and hustled toward the terminal.

As we moved I charmed my two comrades with my mastery of the South African accent, repeatedly saying the words “Hee Broo” aka Hey Bro. I even took my accent to the check in counter and tried to woo the pretty 1Time Airlines hostess. That didn’t get me too far. We stumbled onwards, through security where I forgot my breakfast and had to backtrack. Paul and I had ordered perfectly with our grilled foccacia breakfast sandwiches while it was quite clear that Dan missed the boat completely with his dried and flaky blueberry muffin and OJ that needed to be eaten with a fork and knife. Needless to say we made fun of him.

I slept on the plane. I slept everywhere any chance I got over the next 24. My trusty comrades have the photos to prove it. We landed made sure we had all our luggage which wasn’t too hard as our baggage consisted of a camera, a sweatshirt each and I believe Raymore brought a toothbrush (like you really need a toothbrush at a World Cup soccer match…maybe it was meant for some of those English fans?)

We were ready to go. Raymore did his best goooooaaaal dance as we walked through the arrival gate and dozens of people waited for there loved ones on a floor painted like a World Cup soccer field. He slid on his knees with arms raised in accomplishment as some old woman giggled and shook her head and I’m sure was thinking, “I’m glad that not my grandson”.

When I say we were ready to go, I must preface by saying we were ready to go somewhere. We had no plan, we just got on a plane, got tickets the day before, scored soccer tickets two days before and we’re now in the Jo’Burg airport with no idea what the next move. As we searched for rental cars it was quite evident that most were sold out, this was the World Cup afterall. We left ours (Blue Steel at the Cape Town Airport). We searched Avis, Budget, Europcar past fans from Mexico, South africa, Algeria all wearing jerseys, decked out in national pride with no such luck. In line at “Last Resort Rental Car” I decided to use my jedi mind trick powers and scored us a ride with an American couple who had scored a car. They took us to Rustenburg, the sight of th USA vs England. We didn’t need no stinkin’ car. We live on the road.

We parked in a grass field with no sign of a stadium. The flags of England and America were everywhere. We said goodbye to our new friends and got on a shuttle to the stadium. It took a while, we never saw the town of Rustenburg. We were dropped in what looked like a semi ghetto, one horse podunk somewhat of a town outside what appeared to be a high school stadium. We were confused. We had just been at a game in Cape Town in a beautiful brand new stadium and couldn’t believe this was the same soccer tournament.

Our heads were still aching and screaming for food, water, beer, anything! We began the search. Chants of USA! USA! USA! and bla bla bla bla England were floating through the air. Where was the f@%$’in refreshments! You could tell Dan was suffering from serious hanger (hunger anger) issues. We searched though there was much to search and all we saw was a cook your own backwoods meat shop. If you are wondering what that is, let me assure you that I have no idea. I am with two non-meat eaters and all there is around is do-it-yourself BBQ. There was no way we were cooking anything, we could barely walk straight. We moved on, baffled that this could possibly be the 2010 World Cup. It seemed like Fifa forgot to mention to the local community that 45,000+ fans from all over the planet were about to embark on their town and that it was a great chance to make enough money for the next 2 years.

After much attempt and passing more patriotic parties than one could ever deal with outside the world cup we found ourselves at some “country” market. They had a Braie (bbq) going outside and the meat really looked nasty. The guy said, “hee broo, mooor fud insaid”. Inside was a small market with some food on a hot plate. It looked really nasty. I have been traveling through Africa for the last 3+ months and eaten all sorts of gnar but this was something else. Then I saw it, like an apparition from the heavens, a bright white light in a world of darkness. It looked like a hot dog. Actually it looked like a hot dog party! Picture this, an enormous block of white bread, wrapped in some sort of processed yellow cheese which is somehow nastier then kraft with a strangely red colored tube of meat resting on its bed, accompanied and paired perfectly with a pink slice of what appeared to be bologna but looked ominously like a tongue. All of these heavenly delicacies rested calmly on a syrofoam plate and were then tightly held together with plastic wrap and placed in a microwave that went out of style after the 1989 season of The Price Is Right. Then I heard the words slide off my tongue, I’ll take one of those broo.

I took my prize to their fine outdoor seating area and sat at the plastic table and tried to pry the extremely tight plastic armour off my meal. When the seal broke the smell was aweful, but I took a bite anyways. The bread had begun to harden as the at least two minutes had passed since in popped out of the microwave. There were Chips (fries) on the side that I thought would be the saving grace but they were covered in some sort of sauce from hell. It was so disguisting I can’t explain. I ate the entire dog and even took a tiny nibble of the bologna tongue just to prove to myself that I still loved adventure. We had a few conversations with the local drunks who kept asking if we were from England even though we kept telling them we were Americans. Dan also enjoyed the dog in addition to the fish he decided to order (we were no where near any water source).

It was definitely beer time. We threw down a handful of Castle and Black Label’s, painted stars and striped on our faces, made fun of some British people, questioned reality and went into the stadium. We were so incredibly psyched, USA vs England in the World Cup in South Africa 2010. The vibe was insane! It was like a music festival for soccer. There was face paint and flags and costumes. I saw knights, I saw Abe Lincoln, I saw a guy painted with “1776″ on his forehead, I saw USA shaved into another guys head, you name it, it was there. It was packed and ready to explode. Army helicopters flew overhead with their flood lights on, camera flashes flickered and popped like strobe lights throughout the stadium. Even though it looked like a high school football stadium it was on!

It was unbelievable to see how many USA soccer fans there were. There were more English but the Americans were definitely in the house. Our seats were right on the railing on the second tier and were perfectly situated in the heart of the USA section. All I can say is that it was awesome! Once in a lifetime! When Gerrard scored in the first ten minutes our hearts sank, when we scored or when Green the English goalkeeper dropped the ball in the net, we went nuts! The entire section was shaking and screaming, it was full pandemonium, like when Hulkamania was running wild.

click the video link  http://vimeo.com/12223514

 http://vimeo.com/12227580

The main photo was taken at a tribal ceremony in Hamer lands. Stay tuned for my upcoming slideshow this summer/fall to see more images from this incredible location.

So I got lost for a while but have resurfaced in southern Africa. There are many things that have occured but it is only now that the internet is working again and I have the patience to write. The last three weeks have led me across three countries en route to the World Cup. From the palm fringed Tanzania island of Zanzibar through Dar es Salaam I was self-forced to change my course through Northern Mozambique as the visa process would have required me to stay an extra week. I had some empty memory cards stolen as well as one of my two pair of shorts. As I have changed my lifestyle from day to day into moment by moment I made my way across the Tanzanian countryside through a nice game park to the border with Malawi. I luckily beat out all the bus station scams and money changers along the way and crossed the Malawian frontier.

Malawi was a beautiful change from all my previous stops. The people were wonderful and kind and it really hit the spot. I found myself a nice bungalow on the beach on the shores of Lake Malawi and vegged hard for 8 or days. Along with ten other guys we formed Mizungo United (aka white boy soccer team) and took on the entire town (we have a facebook page). Everyday we had a new challenger, some we won, some we lost. It was nice fun.

Then came the eye infection. A few days in one girl got it and her eyes were glued shut and pussing. Then it moved to her friend, then on to two members of Mizungo United. I was terrified. I was told it was a bacterial infection, it seemed nasty. Needless to say, I packed up and ran. I wanted nothing to do with it even though I was completely convinced I had it for days after.

It was time to head south. I hitched a ride with some Swedes to Lilongwe the capital of Malawi and began a grueling bus journey south. I still can’t remember how many days straight it took, but my neck and back are fucked, my brain aches and that music won’t stop echoing in my skull. Full blast is the only volume they have. Over the past few days I have pitched my tent (that being my home) in two bus stations. It was either that or who knows what. I crossed into Mozambique at Zobue and am now attempting to speak Spanish in a Portugese colony. At least I can tell the girls they’re beautiful.

Last night the bus ride finally finished in some cross road town at midnite. Of course there was no further transport. After much deliberation I pitched my trusty Big Angnes tent in the crossroads and went to sleep until dawn. I was a bit nervous seeing it is a new country that I know nothing about, but after 4 or so days of straight bus travel, a fever, headache and dehydration I was getting some rest!

I awoke this morning, hitched a ride to Vilankulo, which is a sweet little beach town on the Indian Ocean with great diving and seafood. Strikes and gutters, baby.

http://vimeo.com/11519807

I just lit a match to light a candle. It’s 5:30am and I’m over another night of tossing and turning. A slight dehydration can be felt in my head, my lips are chapped. The wind has been blowing strong all night causing the door to our tukul to flutter open and closed as it has for the last few nights. Peering out the door I can see the first glowings of a new day on the horizon. It’s a day that screams for a shower. My hair is matted in places, yet sticks up straight on command. Maybe it’s trying to mimic some of the incredible hair styles of the Ethiopian Highlands. My body stinks, my eyes are crusty, my clothes desperately need a wash.
There are times in your travels when you realize you are very far from home. Maybe it’s a rooster’s crow or a smell in the air, but sometimes it’s just you. You can feel it in yourself and you realize that your physical and mental condition are ones that you would never find at home.
Fleas have found a home in my trusty Sierra Designs sleeping bag. Lauren and I had prepared for this known fleas problem by purchasing flea spray from Petco before we left. Regardless of whether it works or not I can still feel them crawling , hopping and nibbling on my skin as I pretend to sleep. The dozen red dots on my abdomen are a reminder of how far away my fleece sheeted bed at home is.
The landscape of the Simien has given way to yet another grand escarpment. This one is the Mesket. We have walked it for the past 4 days over an unknown distance. The earth is parched and bare. Grand Canyonesque mesas surround and the vegetation is sparse.
The children swarm as we pass their homes. They smile, they get excited, they turn ferocious like the gnarling dogs that attempt to attack only to be held at bay by rocks and sticks. They beg, they beg, they beg. They have a feeling of entitlement with this begging. One that only comes from decades of handouts. The babies learn from the young ones, the young ones learn from the teens, the teens learn from the adults and the adults learn from the elders. A society of aid, a society if pity. “Give me money, give me pen, give me everything you and all the other white folks who have passed through have.”
The sun continues to light the sky. Voices begin to fill the air in the village below. A society of early risers. I guess I fit in.
There’s a few things the Lonely Planet left out like how does 55 days of fasting feel? What’s it like traveling in a land when the entire population is repenting their sins? Here is something I would be happy to shed light on. Eating shiro and injera on a daily basis has become a chore. That sour, gamey taste is getting more and more difficult to handle with every dig of my fingers and lump of mush that I pile in my throat. You can feel the hunger pains in people. The fasting for lent is in it’s 54th day. During fasting the people only eat after 3pm and seem to only eat injera and shiro nothing else. Needless to say it has created an incredibly dull cuisine for this Jewish traveler. Mix this with a dreary landscape and the death of Christ for an Orthodox population and you are on a one way street to Depressionville! We are actually in a week when the people abstain from dancing, smiling, fucking or anything joyous that translates into “Depression Week”! It culminates with one full day of nothing, no food or water. Should I feel bad as they watch me eat like an animal? or even as they prepare the food I eat? Am I a bad person?
But here is the catch, the sigh of relief, the light at the end of the tunnel…Tomorrow at 12 am begins Fasika or Easter. The breaking of the fast and lent. The curries, the meat, the food, the death of thousands of goats, chickens and cows that have lived their final days in a grace period, a safe haven free from the blade, free from the plate, free from my belly.
Halleluya!!!! I’m going to church tonight!!!!!

To view the entire Simien Gallery visit: www.photoshelter.com/c/ryansalmphotography and click on the Simien link.