Ladies: Thank God Every Day You Weren’t Born A Woman In Mali

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The discarded women of Mali live behind these walls. Photo from Family Care International.

I have mixed feeling towards Mali. I loved my time there and would go back in a heart beat… but. and it’s a big BUT. It’s one of the few countries in the world where female genital mutilation is still widely practiced and is legal. Many countries at least pay lip service and outlaw the practice on the books (it is performed anyway). But at least if it is technically illegal – it can be prosecuted AND when a government publicly proclaims something to be illegal, it is the first step in the permanent eradication against FGM. If FGM is still legal, there is not even a toe hold for the battle to begin.

On my three and a half week journey up the Niger River, we stopped at a small village, miles from any road and days from a major city. A woman who looked to be about 50 [she was 31] came up to me crying, begging and pleading. My interpreter said, “She wants to know if you have medicine. She is sick.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“All women out here have the female cut when they are young. When they get married and have children, there are problems. She is in a lot of pain. If something doesn’t happen she will be turned out.”

TURNED OUT. As in – you are no good to your husband anymore so get the hell out. The “lucky” ones end up at the Fistule hospital in Mopti, where the women and some of their children have a roof over their head and access to food. The unlucky ones just disappear.

This shop next to the Fistule home is how the women make money to eat. Photo from the Catholic Relief Services.

The hospital – which is really more of a “retirement home” for women past their prime (read: anyone who has had complications due to an unsanitary and brutal cut)  is a few blocks from the port of Mopti and the courtyard is full of discarded women and their children. Next to the mud walled courtyard is a small metal shop which sells jewelry and trinkets made by the women in an attempt to get money to eat and pay their rent at the home (because yeah – it ain’t free).

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Are Americans Really The Worst? Five Other Countries Whose Tourists Make Us Look Good

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We’ve all heard it before. The “Ugly American”; The clueless dingdong who travels other countries doing the following: talking too loud; complaining about everything – especially cigarette smoke and the lack of a decaffeinated coffee; traveling with their own peanut butter to live on lest the local food poison them; wearing funny looking clothes; ignoring the personal space of anyone around them.

Now, in all honesty, some of these stereotypes are true. Take Daddy for example. My old man has a strict summer uniform of ecru Rockport Walkers, long white knee socks, tan pressed khaki short, belted at the waist, a short sleeve button down/golf shirt with a pen in the neck, sunglasses and a sweatband or fishing hat.

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Daddy also has an endearing habit of going to European countries and talking “local like” – for example in Italy, a typical sentence would be, “Excuse-ay me-o, where-o can i get-o some damned pizza?” Or randomly saying things like, “Mamma Mia!” “Mangia, mangia!”

But he means well. He doesn’t complain. Much. There was that time in Italy where, while watching a pigeon defecate down the face of a statue of Mary. “Look at that!” he said. “That damned pigeon just taking a crap all over Mary’s face! Now if these damned Eye-talians had honored my good old American gun permit, I could’ve brought my Walther PPK over here and shot that heretic and we’d be having what they call squab-o for dinner! But nope – over here law abiding citizens can’t own their own damned guns. So the pigeons can just dump anywhere.”

No, my friends, after traveling the world, I have decided we Americans get a bad rap. Especially as there are other countries that deserve so much more vitriol! Find out which ones after the jump:

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The Khe San Slambook

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Khe San Today

Along the old DMZ zone in Vietnam, the war is still being played out, this time between the tourists. The battle is played out in the pages of the Visitors Book at Khe San, the notorious battle site outside of Quang Tri where the Marines were under siege by the North Vietnamese for over four months in 1968 during the Tet Offensive. The government memorial proclaims a victory for the North Vietnamese Army – a notion disputed by Americans. Lying in the back, behind bomb remnants, pictures of Americans “fleeing in fright!” (boarding a carrier during Operation Charlie), and mannequins of VietCong women sewing a flag ala Betsy Ross, is the visitors comment book. Which reads like an international high school slam book:

“Never trust an American – they speak with fork (sic) tongue, Vietnamese, you guys rock!” – Jeff, from “The World.”

[Underneath the previous message]:  “FUCK YOU,” – USA

Let’s be clear. Khe San was a horrific, long battle. And the wounds have yet to heal for many people [From militaryhistory.com: Lasting 77 days, the “siege” of Khe Sanh saw American and South Vietnamese forces suffer 703 killed, 2,642 wounded, and 7 missing. North Vietnamese losses are not known with accuracy but are estimated at between 10,000-15,000 dead and wounded].

It gets worse. For more fighting words and pics of the pages, continue after the jump.

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10 Reasons Why You Should Go To Egypt RIGHT NOW

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The Egyptian economy might be in the dumps and the political situation fairly unstable but the US government just relaxed the travel warnings against it and Egypt is the best deal going right now. I just got back and had the TIME OF MY LIFE. I swear. After the jump I present the top ten reasons (and deals!) why you should book your trip to Egypt NOW:

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Forget Sochi: Have Your Own Private Olympics (with Video!)

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Photo courtesy of Atos.

Photo courtesy of Atos International.

There’s so many reasons not to bother with the Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia this year.  Let’s count them, shall we?

1. The virulent anti-homophobia that has gripped Russia courtesy of Vladimir Putin (despite the most watched winter sports being dominated by the gays. I’m not here to out anyone but if a dude has custom ice skates on and and a matching lycra outfit, there’s a pretty safe bet to be placed that he won’t be sidling up to any Playboy parties anytime soon).

2. THERE’S NO HOTEL ROOMS – even for the people (media) who let Russian officials know they’d be coming, oh, A YEAR ago. From USA Today:

A stray dog inside the hotel, building dust everywhere and debris scattered all around. That’s what some Olympic-accredited visitors have found on arrival in the mountains above Sochi.According to the Sochi Olympic organizing committee, only six of the nine media hotels in the mountain area are fully operational. The accommodation for athletes, however, has not been affected by the problems.

3. This lady and all her bomb-happy pals – there are apparently, more than five – who are really, really angry at Putin and have threatened to blow some (read: any) shizz up. Oh yeah – and she made it through security.

Run if you see this woman.

4. And let’s not forget the fact that NBC, in an attempt to corral ad dollars into prime time, doesn’t like to run the Olympics live, so by the time you watch the main events they are already on the interwebs and the events the network deems unworthy (like mine and Putins favorite, rhythmic gymnastics) they don’t bother to show at all.

So, my duckies, I present an alternative for you – Chile. In August, all the Olympics skiers train their butts off at Valle Nevado (home of the aforementioned Man Stew) and Portillo ski resorts. Where you can watch Olympians do their things without crowds or bombers… and then party with them later that night.

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The Hottest Party In Baghdad [Read: I’m Too Hungover To Post Words Today. Don’t Judge. The Superbowl’s In Town]

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It’s one of those days (don’t judge – the Superbowl has come to NYC and I’m off to the Miami Heat/NYC New York Knicks game tonight).

The Italian troops partying at the Italian embassy in Baghdad.

The Italian troops partying at the Italian embassy in Baghdad.

So. yeah. There’s no partying per se in Baghdad (except for that one club, but that’s a story for another time). So what’s an expat gonna do when he/she just needs to let off some steam?
The best time in Baghdad is found at the Italian embassy – which every Friday and Saturday used to (and presumably still does because really, not much has changed) host parties in the back yard which consisted of booze, bars and a bunch of Italian paratrooopers busting their shirts off and getting on the bar to shake their stuff. I think the “HOLY CRAP IT’S CHRISTMAS!!!” look on the blonde lady’s face says it all. And, just because I really love you all, after the jump, the rear view:

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Lost In Translation: The Best of The Worst Signs In The World

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Warning: you may lose your head on the train to Morretes, Brazil.

Warning: you may lose your head on the train to Morretes, Brazil.

You have no idea how many times I’ve walked through a random street in some random section of the world and tried to figure out just what the local government is trying to tell me.

Don’t take a picture of rats? [Fine].

Don’t stick your head in the fire? [Yep. Figured that out].

Wild Monkeys may eat my hat? [I didn’t really like it much anyway].

Don’t feed the volcano? [Considering volcanoes historically only eat virgins, I don’t qualify].

You learn so much about a place from its signs. Mali has an AIDS problem; Colombia is more concerned with drugs;  Egypt apparently has a huge sex trafficking issue… and everyone is concerned with where and how you poop.

So, for your viewing pleasure, after the jump I offer some of the best signs I’ve found all over the world…

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Brazil: Home Of The Worst [read: Best] Trinkets Ever.

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I can't get enough of this - the reverse Romulus and Remus painting. This little guy went on to build the wolf version of Rome.

I can’t get enough of this – the reverse Romulus and Remus painting I found in Morretes, Brazil. This little guy (on the left) went on to build the wolf version of Rome.

Everyone knows I love a good market. I even pack collapsible bags on my trips for countries [Laos, Vietnam, Iraq, Guatemala] that have really good markets where I can pick up things to either decorate my apartment or give out as gifts. So, it was with high hopes that I went to Brazil – specifically Iguazu, Morretes and Curitiba.

I had visions of the indigenous market at Chichicastanenga in Guatemala or the night market in Luang Prabang, Laos… I was so wrong. So, so very wrong.

While I didn’t end up buying anything, I did photograph the wares on offer for your viewing pleasure.

Side note: the only reason I didn’t buy every single one of these mementos is because I live in a tiny Soho apartment. In my fantasy world, I have an apartment that is so big I have an entire room dedicated to awesomely bad art. Until then, I only have the pictures. Sad face.

Behold, some awesomely bad art/weird tchotchkes and so much more (including a wooden dildo) after the jump :

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Meet Penny: The Hedgehog Snatched From the Bowels Of the Bamako Death Market

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Penny, the hedgehog I saved from the Death Market

Penny, the hedgehog snatched from the bowels of the Bamako Death Market

Fun fact: People in the West African country of Mali will say, “The country is 80 percent Muslim, 20 percent Christian but 100 percent Animist.” Which means that everyone carries amulets, “passports” (leather pouches) and rings that are all full of magical potions created by a witch doctor… and that are made with all sorts of animals parts. Which also explains why Mali has almost no wildlife to mention, as every animal has been hunted to the point of extinction (Which is awful, except for the times you are forced to camp on the side of the Niger River in No Man’s Land and have to get up to pee at night. The absence of crocodiles comes in handy then, and only then). The dearth of crocodiles in Bamako is even more ironic as “Bamako” is taken from a Bambara word meaning “Crocodile River”… not so much anymore, just saying.

A stall in the Death Market

A stall in the Death Market

The main Witchdoctor (aka Death) Market is in the capital, Bamako, where you can find every animal that roam(ed) the country in a state of decay. There are hippos, hyenas, snakes, birds, dogs, lions… and hedgehogs. All waiting to be ground up into powder, blessed and put into a pouch so the wearer can traverse the Sahara or the Niger safely. For $2 you can videotape the stalls and take pictures – all while trying not to gag on the smell which is… potent, to say the least.

So there I was, in the Middle of the Death Market, when a vendor pointed out a ball of bristles. It was a tiny hedgehog-y ball of life in a sea of death. It freaked me out – I mean come on, can you imagine being stuck in a pile of rotting corpses just waiting for your turn? UGH. So I started haggling and walked away with Penny, the hedgehog, who was a little expensive, but how often can you save a life for $20?

The full story, WITH VIDEO of the rescue and release, after the jump!

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Things To Do In Iraq If You’re Mildly Acrophobic: Climb The Spire Of Samarra

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The Spire of Samarra

The Spire of Samarra

One of the coolest places in Iraq is Samarra – which houses the 9th century Great Mosque of Samarra… and the huge Spire of Samarra, built in 859 by the Abbasid caliph Al Mutawakkil.

Unlike, say, in Rome or some sort of ancient place in the First World where you can only look at things from afar or behind glass, in Iraq, you can climb all over (and up) anything. So, naturally, I did. Despite having a slight case of Acrophobia (fear of heights). Because, really – when am I ever gonna get back to Samarra?

There is an apt saying about this city that comes from the Babylonian myth, “An Appointment in Samarra,” which signifies death – as in “(so and so) has an appointment in Samarra” – meaning you’re gonna bite it. Which has got to be about anyone climbing this thing. Because damn, did I come close. I walked all the way up the spiraling cone (52 meters high and 33 meters wide) up the spiral ramp (with no handrails thank you very much) which got narrower and narrower the higher you got. And don’t even get me started on the wind factor. One stiff breeze and you’re playing Icarus.  By the time I got to the top I thought I was gonna have a heart attack. Especially when I ran into Steven on the way up (see video) and there was no way to go around him.

In the Al Qaeda clubhouse - with the Spire in the background.

In the Al Qaeda clubhouse – with the Spire in the background.

But I made it. Without vomiting or peeing my pants or anything. I know – I’m as shocked as you are!

I must have gotten down somehow (I’ve blacked it out), and while hanging out in the middle of the the mosque courtyard, I took some pictures with our armed escorts and then was told to “hurry it up.”

“What’s the rush?” I asked, only to be told, “We gotta be out by five – in the evening the local Al Qaeda guys come here and hangout.”

For your viewing pleasure, after the jump, see pics I took from around Samarra and check out the video I took while climbing the Spire.

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