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Of course they do—they get to trek with camels. But you can, too! We’ve got the COOLEST TRIPS, TOP TEN TRENDS, EXPERT ADVICE, AND BEST NEW PLACES TO GET LOST IN 2003. So what are you waiting for? Giddyup!




Let the Pros Be Your Guides




Get Lost in the Back of Beyond




Say Hello to the Wild Life




The Next Best Thing to Actually Living There




Go the Extra Green Mile




Take the Multisport Approach




No Whining Allowed




Blazing New Trails by Mountain Bike




Water is the Best Element




Our Next Thrilling Episodes




Remote Trips Right Here at Home




Three Helicopter Epics




Six New Additions to the ���ϳԹ��� Travel Map




What’s Up in the World’s Danger Zones

Star Power

Let the pros be your guides

BIKING THE TOUR DE FRANCE [FRANCE]
What’s better than watching this year’s 100th anniversary of the Tour de France? Riding it, just hours ahead of the peloton. You’ll pave the way for a certain Texan vying for his fifth straight victory, pedaling 10- to 80-mile sections of the race route through villages packed with expectant fans, and over some of the toughest mountain stages in the Pyrenees and Alps. At day’s end, ditch your bike for luxury digs in villages like Taillores, on Lake Annecy, and the Basque hamlet of St.-Jean-Pied-de-Port. OUTFITTER: Trek Travel, 866-464-8735, . WHEN TO GO: July. PRICE: $3,575. DIFFICULTY: moderate to strenuous.

MOUNT EVEREST ANNIVERSARY TREK [NEPAL]
This May, commemorate the 50th anniversary of Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay’s historic climb to the summit of Everest by spending more than a month trekking and mountaineering in Nepal. Starting in Tumlingtar, you’ll hike beneath Himalayan giants like 27,824-foot Makalu, and strap on crampons to climb the 20,000-foot East and West Cols, and cross 19,008-foot Amphu Laptsa pass into the Everest region. At trek’s end in Thyangboche, Hillary’s son, Peter, will preside over a ceremonial banquet, while the man himself (now 83) will join in by sat phone from Kathmandu. OUTFITTER: World Expeditions, 888-464-8735, . WHEN TO GO: April-June. PRICE: $3,690. DIFFICULTY: strenuous. CRUISING THE SEA OF CORTEZ [MEXICO]
To celebrate 25 years in the adventure business, Wilderness Travel has called on Ÿber-mountaineer Reinhold Messner and Amazon explorer Joe Kane to headline a weeklong cruise in the Sea of Cortez. When you’re not on the shallow-draft, 70-passenger Sea Bird, you’ll snorkel with naturalists as they track sea lions off Isla Los Islotes and spot gray whales in Bah’a Magdalena. Sea-kayak around uninhabited islands and hike desert arroyos, then spend evenings swapping expedition tales with Messner and Kane. OUTFITTER: Wilderness Travel, 800-368-2794, . WHEN TO GO: March. PRICE: $4,595. DIFFICULTY: easy.

CYCLING THROUGH THE TUSCAN VINYARDS [ITALY]
Might want to add another front chainring to your bike before embarking on this hard-charging eight-day affair in Toscana, birthplace of cycle touring. Thanks to the expertise of former Giro d’Italia winner Andy Hampsten, this 400-mile route is designed for riders who are as serious about their Brunello as they are about their hills. From coastal Maremma, you’ll pedal little-trafficked backroads past farmhouses and monasteries, resting your climbing legs and dining like a Medici at wine estates and 12th-century hamlets. Four nights will be spent at a vineyard for a thorough indoctrination in winemaking (and tasting). OUTFITTER: Cinghiale Tours, 206-524-6010, . WHEN TO GO: September. PRICE: $3,000. DIFFICULTY: strenuous.

KAYAKING THE YELLOWSTONE RIVER [USA]
Drop into Craten’s Hole with freestyle-kayaking phenom Ben Selznick. Bozeman local and winner of the Gallatin Rodeo 2002, Selznick is your guide on a seven-day tour of Montana’s most famous whitewater. After warming up on the Gallatin River’s Class II-III waves, you’ll graduate to the steep creeks off the Yellowstone, ranging from Class II to V. At night, ease your sore shoulders poolside and fireside at the Chico Hot Springs and Rock Creek resorts. OUTFITTER: GowithaPro, 415-383-3907, . WHEN TO GO: July. PRICE: $4,500. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

Far Out

Get lost in the back of beyond

Big wig: a Papuan prepares for a tribal dance

SHAGGY RIDGE TREK [PAPUA NEW GUINEA]
If you were to drop off the face of the earth, you’d probably land in Papua New Guinea’s steamy Finisterre Mountains. Rising 13,000 feet out of the sweltering lowlands, the mountains’ flanks are choked in jungle thicket that few have ever fully explored—not even the locals. Be among the first. Hike and camp for seven days on tangled game trails and World War II supply routes to Shaggy Ridge, an airy fin of rock 4,900 feet above the Bismarck Sea. Be prepared to answer a barrage of questions from Papuan villagers who rarely, if ever, see outsiders. OUTFITTER: World Expeditions, 888-464-8735, . WHEN TO GO: August, September. PRICE: $2,150. DIFFICULTY: strenuous.

THE ULTIMATE FLY-FISING ADVENTURE [MONGOLIA]
You’ve got much more than a fish on when you’ve nabbed a taimen, a specimen that regularly grows to five feet long and dines on prairie dogs and ducks. If you’re not up for hunting the world’s largest salmonid for a full week on the Bator River, you can cast for lenok, the brown trout of Mongolia; ride horses or mountain bikes; or just enjoy the good life in your ger, a woodstove-heated yurt with two beds and electricity. Outfitter: Sweetwater Travel Company, 406-222-0624, . When to go: May-June, August-October. Price: $5,200. Difficulty: easy.

RAFTING THE FIRTH RIVER [CANADA]
Caribou know no boundaries. Every June, the 150,000-strong Porcupine herd leaves the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and migrates into the Yukon’s roadless Ivvavik National Park. And because the Class II-IV Firth bisects the park, you’ll be awestruck when thousands cross the river in plain view. Other big game are afoot, too—musk ox, barren land grizzlies, and wolves—and in such high concentrations that the region is often referred to as North America’s Serengeti. With long Arctic days and three- to four-hour river sessions daily, you’ll have plenty of time on this 12-day trip to hike the gently sloping 6,000-foot Brooks Range and fish for arctic char. Outfitter: Rivers, Oceans, and Mountains, 877-271-7626, . When to Go: June. Price: $3,995. Difficulty: moderate.

RIO NEGRO & AMAZON ADVENTURE [BRAZIL]
The upper Rio Negro is your portal back in time on this 11-day adventure that plumbs the deepest, darkest corners of the Amazon Basin. From the former Jesuit outpost of Santa Isabel, you’ll motorboat on the Negro’s blackened waters through virgin rainforest, camping alongside Tucanos Indian settlements stuck in a 19th-century time warp. Off the water, you’ll trek with native Brazilian guides into the rugged tepuis (3,000-foot plateaus), prowling for medicinal herbs used by local shamans. Resist the urge to swim: Football-size piranha call the Rio Negro home. OUTFITTER: Inti Travel and Tours, 403-760-3565, . WHEN TO GO: year-round. PRICE: $2,750. DIFFICULTY: easy.

RUNNING THE KATUN RIVER [RUSSIA]
If you’re looking for bragging rights to a truly remote river, consider the glacier-fed Katun. This 90-mile stretch of whitewater drains from the southern slopes of the 13,000-foot Altai Range, dropping fast through alpine tundra, 300-foot granite canyons, and continuous sets of Class III-IV pool-drop rapids. After a long river day, your evening entertainment at camp consists of traditional Russian dancing and a steamy riverfront bana (sauna). Outfitter: Bio Bio Expeditions, 800-246-7238, . When to Go: July. Price: $2,800. Difficulty: moderate.

COAST TO COAST IN BALBOA’S FOOTSTEPS [PANAMA]
Cross a continent in less than two weeks? Improbable but true when you retrace the route 16th-century conquistador Vasco Núñez de Balboa used to transport riches across the Isthmus of Panama. Five days of hiking, from the Caribbean village of Armila through the Darien Biosphere Reserve, take you to the Chucunaque River, where you’ll board dugout canoes and navigate a maze of flatwater channels past Ember‡ Indian settlements. Four days later, you’ll find yourself on the other side: a wide stretch of beach where Balboa “discovered” the Pacific in 1513. OUTFITTER: Destination by Design, 866-392-7865, . WHEN TO GO: May, December. PRICE: $3,290. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

Close Encounters

Say hello to the wild life

A scarlet macaw perched in the rainforests of Belize

EXPLORING REEF AND RAINFOREST [BELIZE]
Mingle with everything from crocs and tapirs to jabiru storks and hawksbill turtles on this eight-day whirl through Belize. After three days on the mainland, gawking at toucans and parrots at the Crooked Tree Bird Sanctuary and dodging howler monkeys at the Mayan ruins of Lamanai, you’ll be whisked 55 miles offshore to a tented base camp on undeveloped Lighthouse Reef. Spend your days snorkeling, kayaking, and scuba diving within more than 70 square miles of pristine reefs. OUTFITTER: Island Expeditions, 800-667-1630, . WHEN TO GO: December- May. PRICE: $1,929. DIFFICULTY: moderate. WALKING WITH BUSHMEN [BOTSWANA]
See the backcountry of Botswana and all its attendant wildlife—with a twist. On this nine-day safari, you’ll tag along with Bushmen on their daily hunting-and-gathering forays (while still bedding down in luxe lodges and camps). Following the lion-cheetah-leopard-elephant-giraffe-zebra spectacle in the Okavango Delta, you’ll head north for a night to stay in the River Bushmen’s new camp, where you’ll search for medicinal plants or hunt with bow and arrow. Farther south, in the arid Central Kalahari Game Reserve, San Bushmen will show you how they survive on roots and prickly pears. OUTFITTER: Africa ���ϳԹ��� Company, 800-882-9453, . WHEN TO GO: April-November. PRICE: $1,925-$2,595. DIFFICULTY: easy.

SWIMMING WITH HUMPBACK WHALES [TONGA]
It’s been said that life is never the same after you’ve looked into the eye of a whale. Here’s how to find out: Every year between June and October, hundreds of humpbacks congregate in and around the turquoise waters of Vava’u, a group of 40 islands in northern Tonga, in the South Pacific. For seven days, you’ll bunk down in Neiafu at night, and by day slide into the water and float quietly while mammals the size of semis check you out. OUTFITTER: Whale Swim ���ϳԹ���s, 503-699-5869, . WHEN TO GO: August- October. PRICE: $1,180. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

Immersion Therapy

The next best thing to actually living there

REMOTE HILL TRIBE TREK [VIETNAM]
Despite the boom in adventure tourism in Vietnam, few travelers venture into the far-northern hill country, some 200 miles north of Hanoi. You should. Following overgrown buffalo paths and ancient Chinese trading trails, you’ll hike steep terrain for 120 miles over 11 days, traveling north from Cao Bang and staying with Nung villagers in huts on stilts. Save some film for Ban Gioc Falls, on the border with China, and Pac Bo Cave, Ho Chi Minh’s legendary hideout. Outfitter: World Expeditions, 888-464-8735, . When to go: October-March. Price: $1,490. Difficulty: moderate.

TREKKING THE ATLAS MOUNTAINS [MOROCCO]
The M’goun Gorge is so narrow in places, you can’t see the sky—let alone the craggy summits of the nearby 12,000-foot Atlas Mountains. But they’re never out of sight for long on this ten-day trip through small Berber burgs in Morocco’s most fabled range. Over four days of hiking, you’ll climb Tizi n’ AïImi, a 9,528-foot pass, and sleep in Berber farmhouses en route to the Valley of AïBou Guemez, a rare oasis where you’re welcomed as family. OUTFITTER: Living Morocco, 212-877-1417, WHEN TO GO: May. PRICE: $2,950-$3,050. DIFFICULTY: easy.

BARACOA-GUANTÁNAMO CYCLE TOUR [CUBA]
Ride beneath the radar on this Canadian outfitter’s weeklong, 300-mile bike tour of Cuba’s northern coast, past black-sand beaches and nature reserves. The towns en route—Mayar’, a village immortalized by Cuban crooner Compay Segundo, and lush Baracoa—see few tourists and fewer cyclists, so you’ll have La Farola, a winding mountain pass known as “Cuba’s roller coaster,” all to yourself. Use caution when hydrating: Rum’s cheaper than water. OUTFITTER: MacQueen’s Island Tours, 800-969-2822, . WHEN TO GO: April, December. PRICE: $2,595, including round-trip airfare from Toronto. DIFFICULTY: moderate to strenuous.

SNOWSHOEING THE RHODOPE MOUNTAINS [BULGARIA]
Haven’t heard of the Rhodopes? No surprise. Obscurity has helped keep these 7,000-foot peaks in southern Bulgaria among the least visited in Europe. You’ll spend four to seven hours a day snowshoeing along ancient footpaths, through deep drifts and pine forests, to the slopes of Mount Cherni Vruh. Medieval monasteries and village guesthouses provide shelter on this eight-day trip, and Bulgarian perks include homemade sirine (a local feta cheese) and chance sightings of the Asiatic jackal. Outfitter: Exodus, 866-732-5885, . When to Go: February, December. Price: $775. Difficulty: moderate.

It’s Only Natural

Go the extra green mile

RAFTING THROUGH THE RÍO PLÁTANO BIOSPHERE RESERVE [HONDURAS]
Hail the monkey god on this 12-day rafting expedition through the R’o Pl‡tano Biosphere Reserve in eastern Honduras, a primordial jungle where more than 100 archaeological sites are covered with petroglyphs of the primate deity. On the R’o Pl‡tano, you’ll run Class III-IV rapids and float through serene limestone grottos, encountering en route the full Animal Planet menagerie of macaws, tapirs, spider monkeys, anteaters, and, with any luck, jaguars. At trip’s end, you’ll “hot dance” in a Garifuna Indian village. OUTFITTER: La Moskitia Ecoaventuras, 011-504-441-0839, . WHEN TO GO: December-August. PRICE: $1,430-$1,765. DIFFICULTY: moderate. DOCUMENTING RARE RAINFOREST PLANTS [CAMEROON]
Thanks to 4,000 resident species of plants, Cameroon’s 6,500-foot Backossi Mountains are a horticulturalist’s dream. Join scientists from England’s Royal Botanic Gardens and Bantu guides for 13 days to help inventory rare forest flora such as endangered orchids, edible fruits, and a new species of bird’s-nest fern. You’ll camp in a nearby village or bunk in a community hall and learn to prepare local fare, including plantains, fu-fu corn, and cassava. OUTFITTER: Earthwatch Expeditions, 800-776-0188, . WHEN TO GO: March-May, October-November. PRICE: $1,295. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

EXPLORING NAM HA [LAOS]
The Lao equivalent of a national park, the 858-square-mile Nam Ha National Biodiversity and Conservation Area in northwestern Laos offers some of Southeast Asia’s wildest rafting and trekking. Spend ten days paddling Class III whitewater on both the Nam Ha and Nam Tha rivers, sleeping in villages and bamboo-and-thatch bungalows at the Boat Landing Ecolodge, and trekking with local guides deep into the jungle, on the lookout for tailless fruit bats and Asiatic black bears. OUTFITTER: AquaTerra Ventures, 011-61-8-9494-1616, . WHEN TO GO: June-January. PRICE: $1,150. DIFFICULTY: easy to moderate.

ECO-TRAIL SAFARI IN KRUGER NATIONAL PARK [SOUTH AFRICA]
Go trekking with rangers on the newly designated Lebombo Eco-Trail, which runs for more than 300 miles along the previously off-limits eastern border of South Africa’s Kruger National Park and Mozambique. You might encounter rhinos, zebras, and even the lowly dung beetle in Africa’s most biodiverse park. You’ll also trek into nearby 200-million-year-old Blyde River Canyon and stalk lions on a walking safari. OUTFITTER: Sierra Club, 415-977-5522, . WHEN TO GO: September-October. PRICE: $3,695-$3,995. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

Variety Packs

Take the multisport approach

Skiing the extra mile: Norway’s version of the Alps

CROSSING THE PATAGONIAN ANDES [CHILE AND ARGENTINA]
The Edenic Río Manso Valley, at the southern tip of South America, is pure Patagonia—high, open country surrounded by ancient alerce forests (think redwoods) and populated by gauchos and trout. How you choose to play on this nine-day camping trip—rafting the Manso’s Class IV-V rapids, casting for rainbows, or horseback riding along the riverfront trail—is up to you as you venture west from the altiplano of Bariloche toward the chiseled fjords of coastal Chile. OUTFITTER: ���ϳԹ��� Tours Argentina Chile, 866-270-5186, . WHEN TO GO: December-March. PRICE: $2,900. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

MUSHING WITH THE GREAT WHITE BEAR [NORWAY]
You take the reins on this 12-day dogsledding sojourn across the frozen island of Spitsbergen, Norway, 600 miles from the North Pole. When the huskies are resting, keep busy by snowshoeing amid gargantuan icebergs, cross-country skiing over glaciers, and spelunking blue-green ice caves. Defrost at night in a lodge made of sealskin and driftwood, expedition-style tents (you’ll be snug beneath reindeer-fur blankets), and a Russian ship intentionally frozen into the pack ice. Your only neighbors will be the island’s 4,000 polar bears (in case of emergency, your guide’s got the gun). OUTFITTER: Outer Edge Expeditions, 800-322-5235, . WHEN TO GO: March-April. PRICE: $3,990. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

POST ECO-CHALLENGE MULTISPORT [FIJI]
The professional adventure racers have gone home, so now you can spill your own sweat on the 2002 Eco-Challenge course. This new ten-day trip gives you access to some truly wild, made-for-TV terrain: mazy jungle trails, precipitous singletrack, and idyllic beaches. After sea-kayaking two days to the island of Malake, where spearfishermen bring up walu for dinner on a single breath of air, you’ll mountain-bike 25 miles over rugged terrain from the village of Ba to Navilawa. Next up is a two-day trek through lowland rainforests to the summit of 3,585-foot Mount Batilamu, followed by Class II-III rafting on the Navua River, from the coral coast to the interior village of Wainindiro. After all this, you’ve earned two days of beachfront R&R on the little-visited island of Kadavu. OUTFITTER: Outdoor Travel ���ϳԹ���s, 877-682-5433, . WHEN TO GO: May-October. PRICE: $1,999. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

Take It to the Top

No whining allowed

The frozen zone: Argentina’s Perito Moreno Glacier

CONTINENTAL ICE CAP TRAVERSE [ARGENTINA]
Patagonia’s 8,400-square-mile slab of ice wasn’t even explored until the 1960s, when British explorer Eric Shipton crossed it first. Starting in El Calafate, on the shore of Lago Argentino, this arduous 16-day backpacking/ski-mountaineering trip cuts through Parque Nacional Los Glaciares, where you’ll cross rivers and crevasses, ascend 4,830 feet to Marconi Pass, do time on ropes, crampons, and skis, and set up glacial camps along the spine of the Fitz Roy Range. The payoff? A wilderness fix on the gnarliest mass of ice and granite this side of the South Pole. OUTFITTER: Southwind ���ϳԹ���s, 800-377-9463, . WHEN TO GO: November-March. PRICE: $3,395. DIFFICULTY: strenuous. SURFING EPIC WAVES [THE MALDIVES]
Board where few have surfed before: off the Indian Ocean’s remote Huvadhoo Atoll, site of several world-class breaks. Huvadhoo is a two-day voyage on a dhoni, a 60-foot, five-cabin, live-aboard wooden yacht, from the capital, Male; along the way, cast off the deck for tuna, marlin, and bonito. Once at the Huvadhoo, be ready for eight-foot-plus waves, especially near the atoll’s largest island, Fiyori, where there’s a fast (and dangerous) right break. OUTFITTER: Voyages Maldives, 011-960-32-3617, . WHEN TO GO: April-September. PRICE: $85 per day (typically a 7-, 10-, or 14-day tour). DIFFICULTY: strenuous.

RAFTING THE BRAHMAPUTRA RIVER [INDIA]
With 112 miles of Class III-V+ Himalayan runoff, the Brahmaputra, the lower portion of the legendary Tsangpo in Tibet, is one of the planet’s ultimate whitewater challenges. And a relatively new one at that—the first commercial rafting expedition was launched late last year. You’ll spend nine days blasting down emerald-green hydraulics (the Class V Breakfast Rapid is famous for flipping rafts), camping on sandy beaches, and passing through Namdapha National Park, home to one of Asia’s most varied tropical forests. OUTFITTER: Mercury Himalayan Explorations, 011-91-112-334-0033, . WHEN TO GO: November-February. PRICE: $3,300, including internal airfare. DIFFICULTY: strenuous.

Get Wheel

Blazing new trails by mountain bike

Sandstone heaven: on the rocks in Cappadocia

RIDING THE RUGGED NORTHEAST [PORTUGAL]
A good set of knobbies and generous helpings of local beef and nightly port will help you tackle this eight-day inn-to-inn tour through Portugal’s wild northeast corner. Dodge cows on Roman pathways, follow craggy singletrack alongside the Douro River, and spin along trails once used by smugglers trafficking coffee beans to Spain. The grand finale is the wide-open wilderness of the remote Serra da Malcata—land of pine-topped peaks, wild boar, and little else. OUTFITTER: Saddle Skedaddle Tours, 011-44191-2651110, . WHEN TO GO: May-July. PRICE: $1,120. DIFFICULTY: strenuous. MOUNTAIN-BIKING CAPPADOCIA [TURKEY]
In our opinion, any trip that starts off with two nights in a traditional cave hotel has promise. See for yourself on this six-day, 180-mile ride through Cappadocia in central Turkey. Thank three-million-year-old volcanic eruptions for the otherworldly terrain: impossibly narrow sandstone spires (called fairy chimneys) and towns that plunge 20 floors underground. Happily, the riding is as varied as the views. You’ll pedal along dry riverbeds, slickrock, and narrow jeep tracks en route to each day’s destination—luxe campsites or charming village inns. OUTFITTER: KE ���ϳԹ��� Travel, 800-497-9675, . WHEN TO GO: May. PRICE: $1,695. Difficulty: strenuous.

SECRET SINGLETRACK [BOLIVIA]
It was only a matter of time before Bolivia’s ancient network of farm trails, winding from village to village high in the Andes, found a modern purpose: mountain biking. On this new 14-day singletrack tour through the Cordillera Real near La Paz, intermediate riders can rocket down 17,000-foot passes, contour around extinct volcanoes, and rack up an epic grand-total descent of 54,000 feet. Nights are spent camping at Lake Titicaca and in local pensions like the Hotel Gloria Urmiri, where natural hot springs await. OUTFITTER: Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking, 011-591-2-2313-849, . WHEN TO GO: May-September. PRICE: $1,750. DIFFICULTY: strenuous.

COPPER CANYON EXPEDITION [MEXICO]
There’s lots to love about the 6,000-foot descent into Mexico’s Copper Canyon by bike—and gravity is only part of it. Get down in one piece and you’ll have a week’s worth of technical riding ahead of you in a canyon four times the size of Arizona’s Grand. Cool your toes on fast, fun river crossings near the village of Cerro Colorado, visit the indigenous Tarahumara, and bunk down in a restored hacienda built into the canyon walls. OUTFITTER: Worldtrek Expeditions, 800-795-1142, . WHEN TO GO: September-April. PRICE: $1,599. DIFFICULTY: strenuous.

The Deep End

Water is the best element

SAILING ON THE ECLIPSE [PALAU]
Captain John McCready’s 48-foot Eclipse—outfitted with a compressor, dive tanks, sea kayaks, and rigs for trolling—is your one-stop adventure vessel for exploring this South Pacific archipelago. After picking up the sloop near the capital, Koror, give yourself at least six days to explore Palau’s protected lagoon in the Philippine Sea, dive along miles of coral walls, and kayak and hike some of the more than 200 limestone Rock Islands. By the time you reboard each evening, chef Charlie Wang will have your pan-seared wahoo waiting. OUTFITTER: Palau Sea Ventures, 011-680-488-1062, . WHEN TO GO: November-June. PRICE: $4,200 for the entire boat (which sleeps four passengers) for six days, including captain, dive master, and cook. DIFFICULTY: easy.

SEA-KAYAKING THE MASOALA PENINSULA [MADAGASCAR]
Once a refuge for pirates, Madagascar’s rugged northeast coast has been reborn as Parque Masoala, the country’s newest and largest national park. For nine days, you’ll explore the calm coastal waters by sea kayak, watching for humpback whales, snorkeling the coral reefs, spearfishing for barracuda, combing the shorelines of deserted islands, and sleeping in one of two rustic tented camps. Onshore, scout for lemurs in the rainforest with Malagasy guides. OUTFITTER: Kayak Africa, 011-27-21-783-1955, . WHEN TO GO: September-December. PRICE: $1,080. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

SNORKELING AND SEA-KAYAKING NINGALOO REEF [AUSTRALIA]
A virtually untouched alternative to the Great Barrier Reef, Western Australia’s Ningaloo Reef is a 162-mile close-to-shore coral barrier protecting the white-sand beaches and high-plateau shrublands of Cape Range National Park from the Indian Ocean. Mellow two- to four-hour paddling days on this five-day romp up the coast are punctuated by snorkeling in 70- to 80-degree turquoise waters (never deeper than 13 feet), swimming with whale sharks just outside the reef, and hanging at the plush moving camp. OUTFITTER: Capricorn Kayak Tours, 011-618-9-433-3802, . WHEN TO GO: April-mid-October. PRICE: $450. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

KITESURFING SAFARI [BAHAMAS]
Steady winds, warm waters, and world-class instructors—essential ingredients for a perfect kitesurfing vacation—exist in plenitude among the numerous tiny islands off Abaco in the Bahamas. During this weeklong clinic, you’ll master board-off tricks and 360 jump turns, learn to sail upwind more proficiently, and critique videos of your kite moves over coconut-rum drinks at the seven-cottage Dolphin Beach Resort on Great Guana Cay. OUTFITTER: Kite Surf the Earth, 888-819-5483, . WHEN TO GO: mid-January-May. PRICE: $990, including airfare from Fort Lauderdale and all gear. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

Future Classics

Our next thrilling episodes

Everest’s seldom-scene cousin: Tibet’s Kawa Karpo

CLIMBING MUZTAGH ATA, “FATHER OF ICE MOUNTAINS” [CHINA]
Already been to Everest Base Camp? Next time, head to Muztagh Ata, a raggedy 24,754-foot summit in the Karakoram Range in China’s Xinjiang province. The five-day trek (instead of yaks, you’ve got camels!) starts at 12,369 feet, climbing through grasslands and river valleys to Camp One at 17,388 feet—where not one but ten glaciers converge in a vast expanse of ice and snow. Outfitter: Wild China, 011-86-10-6403-9737, . When to go: September- October. Price: $2,710. Difficulty: strenuous. PILGRIMAGE TO KAWA KARPO [TIBET]
Mount Kailash gets all the press—and all the Western trekkers. But this May, another sacred Buddhist route, the annual pilgrimage to Kawa Karpo, a 22,245-foot fang of snow and ice, will open to Western visitors. The 18-day camping trek climbs out of semitropical rainforest and Tibetan villages before circling the peak’s base. Snow leopards live here, too, but if you don’t catch a glimpse, at least you’ll leave with a lifetime’s supply of good karma. OUTFITTER: High Asia Exploratory Mountain Travel Company, 203-248-3003, . WHEN TO GO: May, July, October. PRICE: $3,800-$5,000. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

TREK THE VILCABAMBA [PERU]
Now that they’ve limited tourist permits on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, we’re left wondering, What else is there? How about a 17-day camping trek to Peru’s lost city of Victoria, a 600-year-old ruins discovered in 1999 and encircled by 19,000-foot peaks of the Cordillera Vilcabamba. You’ll log some 40 miles over ancient Incan walkways along the Tincochaca River, and then climb 15,000-foot Choquetecarpo Pass. Once at Victoria, you’ll have the excavated homes and ceremonial sites all to yourself. OUTFITTER: Wilderness Travel, 800-368-2794, . WHEN TO GO: May-June. PRICE: $3,895. DIFFICULTY: strenuous.

All-American

Remote trips right here at home

THE ALASKAN CLIMBER [ALASKA]
Many peaks in the Chugach Mountains of southeast Alaska remain unnamed and unclimbed. Your objectives are the 12,000-foot summits of Mount Valhalla and Mount Witherspoon, but even with a ski-plane flight into the range, you’ll still spend 20 days hauling, trekking, and climbing on this self-supported trip. Outfitter: KE ���ϳԹ��� Travel, 800-497-9675, . When to Go: April. Price: $2,895, including flights within Alaska. Difficulty: strenuous. DOGSLEDDING AND WINTER CAMPING [NORTHERN MINNESOTA]
Forget your leisurely visions of being whisked from campsite to campsite: Dogsledding is serious work. During four days in the wilderness bordering the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, you’ll learn how to handle your team of malamutes and brush up on winter camping techniques. Outfitter: The Northwest Passage, 800-732-7328, . When to Go: January-February. Price: $895. Difficulty: moderate.

RAFTING THE OWYHEE RIVER [NEVADA, IDAHO, AND OREGON]
This 17-day, 220-mile trip on the rarely rafted, Class II-IV Owyhee takes you down one of the longest and most remote stretches of runnable river in the Lower 48, through rugged canyon country. Need something shorter? Several sections can be run in four to seven days. Outfitter: River Odysseys West, 800-451-6034, . When to Go: May. Price: $3,735. Difficulty: moderate.

HALEAKALA CRATER SEA-TO-SUMMIT HIKING EXPEDITION [MAUI]
Go from sea level to 9,886 feet on this three-day trek from Maui’s sandy shores, through Hawaiian rainforests, to the moonlike floor of Haleakala Crater. You’ll climb 11 miles and 6,380 feet on the first day alone—good thing horses are hauling your gear. Outfitter: Summit Maui, 866-885-6064, . When to Go: year-round. Price: $1,190-$1,390. Difficulty: moderate.

GRAND GULCH TRAVERSE [UTAH]
What’s better than backpacking the 52-mile length of the Grand Gulch Primitive Area in southeastern Utah? Llama-trekking for much of the same seven-day route, past ancient Anasazi ruins and more recent historic landmarks—including Polly’s Island, where Butch Cassidy, some say, crossed the Gulch. Outfitter: Mountain Travel Sobek, 888-687-6235, . When to Go: April. Price: $2,590. Difficulty: moderate.

Elevator, Going Up

Three helicopter epics

MOUNTAIN-BIKING THE CELESTIAL MOUNTAINS [KAZAKHSTAN]
Just as your quads begin rebelling during this two-week, 300-mile traverse of the Tien Shan—the fabled 21,000-foot mountain range that separates Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan from China—a midtrip bonanza brings relief: A Communist-era cargo helicopter will whisk you to the top of the 12,000-foot “hills” for two days of screaming singletrack and goat-trail descents. Outfitter: KE ���ϳԹ��� Travel, 800-497-9675, . When to Go: July-August. Price: $2,395. Difficulty: strenuous.

RAFTING IN THE HOOKER RANGE [NEW ZEALAND]
Rarely boated, the upper reaches of southwestern New Zealand’s Landsborough River and the nearby Waiatoto are so remote that the only way to the put-ins is by helicopter. You’ll spend seven days roaring down Class III and IV rapids on both rivers, fishing for brown trout, searching for keas (the world’s only alpine parrot), and camping under the gazes of 10,000-foot peaks Mount Deacon and Mount Aspiring. Outfitter: Mountain Travel Sobek, 888-687-6235, . When to Go: March, December. Price: $3,190. Difficulty: moderate.

SHOOTING THE COLUMBIA MOUNTAINS [BRITISH COLUMBIA]
Spend four days coptering from Adamant Lodge in the Selkirks to remote 10,000-foot hiking trails in the Columbia Mountains for a photography workshop with widely published outdoor lensmen Chris Pinchbeck and Paul Lazarski. After pointers on lens selection and composition, shoot sunrise-lit alpine meadows till your film runs out. Outfitter: Canadian Mountain Holidays, 800-661-0252, . When to Go: July. Price: $2,360. Difficulty: easy.

Most Likely to Succeed

Six new additions to the adventure travel map

SURFING THE WILD EAST [EL SALVADOR]
Though the civil war ended 11 years ago, it’s been difficult to access El Salvador’s remote eastern point breaks on your own. Now you can hook up for eight days with Punta Mango’s local guides to surf Los Flores, La Ventana, and other perfecto Pacific peelers. OUTFITTER: Punta Mango Surf Trips, 011-503-270-8915, . WHEN TO GO: year-round. PRICE: $394-$818. DIFFICULTY: moderate. EXPLORING ISLANDS AND VOLCANOES [NICARAGUA]
Once a war-torn dictatorship, Nicaragua is now drawing scads of expatriates to its safer shores. Hike and mountain-bike around belching 5,000-foot volcanoes on the Pacific side, and kayak, fish, and loll in natural hot springs on islands in Lake Nicaragua. OUTFITTER: Nicaragua ���ϳԹ���s, 011-505-883-7161, . WHEN TO GO: November-September. PRICE: weeklong trips start at $600. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

RAFTING THE SOCA RIVER [SLOVENIA]
Spilling from the Julian Alps, the roiling Soca has long been a backyard destination for Europe’s whitewater intelligentsia. With improved infrastructure and an exchange rate favorable to Americans, now’s the time to hit this Class II-IV river. OUTFITTER: Exodus Travel, 800-692-5495, . WHEN TO GO: June-September. PRICE: eight-day trips, $715. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

BIKING AND BOATING THE DALMATIAN COAST [CROATIA]
Sail from island to island in the Adriatic Sea, stopping to cycle the nature reserves and medieval villages, safe again after a decade of political strife. OUTFITTER: Eurocycle, 011-43-1-405-3873-0, . WHEN TO GO: April-October. PRICE: eight-day cruise, $690-$740. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

MOUNTAIN-BIKING IN THE JUNGLE [SRI LANKA]
While the northeast is still volatile, don’t discount a southerly traverse of the island by mountain bike, through lush jungles and over cool mountain passes. OUTFITTER: ���ϳԹ���s Lanka Sports, 011-94-179-1584, . WHEN TO GO: year-round. PRICE: 15-day trip, $985. DIFFICULTY: moderate.

TRACKING GORILLAS [GABON]
Onetime host to warring guerrillas but permanent home to the peaceful lowland gorillas, Lopé-Okanda Wildlife Reserve is the jewel of Gabon, nearly 80 percent of which is unspoiled forest woodlands. OUTFITTER: Mountain Travel Sobek, 800-282-8747, . WHEN TO GO: February-March, August. PRICE: $6,490 (19 nights). DIFFICULTY: easy.

Cautionary Trails

What’s up in the danger zone

When it comes to foreign travel, how risky is too risky? It’s hard to know. But the best place to start researching is the U.S. State Department (). At press time,* these 25 countries were tagged with a Travel Warning advising against nonessential travel. Here’s the lowdown on what you’re missing—and just how dicey things really are.

RISK LEVEL:
1��������GENERALLY SAFE
2��������SIGNIFICANTLY RISKY
3��������EXTREMELY RISKY

AFGHANISTAN
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Despite the U.S.-led Operation Enduring Freedom, now in its 18th month, Taliban holdouts still lurk in a country once known for great hospitality (and hashish).
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Trekking in the Hindu Kush’s remote, red-cliffed Bamiyan Valley, where the Taliban destroyed two monumental fifth-century Buddhas carved into mountain rock
RISK: 3

ALGERIA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Terrorism in this oil-rich country has dropped off slightly in recent years, but there is still risk of sporadic attacks in rural areas and on roadways, especially at night.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Hiking in the El Kautara Gorges and the jagged Ahaggar Mountains, near the town of Tamanrasset
RISK: 2

ANGOLA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
An April 2002 cease-fire put a stop to the 25-year civil war, though millions of undetonated mines are still believed to litter the countryside.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Checking out Operation Noah’s Ark, an effort to relocate elephants and giraffes from Namibia and Botswana to the savannas of Quicama National Park in the northwest
RISK: 2

BOSNIA-HEREGOVINA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
The 1995 Dayton Accords ended the war between Muslim Bosnians, Serbs, and Croats, but UN troops remain to control localized outbursts of political violence, which are sometimes directed toward the international community.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Some of the best—and cheapest—alpine skiing in all of Europe at the Dinari Range’s 6,313-foot Mount Jahorina, site of the 1984 Winter Games
RISK: 1

BURUNDI
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Decades of ethnic strife between Hutus and Tutsis have killed hundreds of thousands. The resulting poverty and crime can make tourist travel dangerous in this small, mountainous nation.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Scuba diving in Lake Tanganyika, at 4,710 feet the world’s second-deepest lake (after Russia’s Baikal) and home to some 600 species of vertebrates and invertebrates
RISK: 2

CENTRAL AFRICAN REPUBLIC
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
After independence from France in 1960 and three decades under a military government, C.A.R. was turned over to civilian rule in 1993. Still, it remains beset with instability and unrest.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Bushwhacking and hiking with Pygmy guides through the rainforests of Dzanga-Ndoki, arguably the most pristine national park in Africa
RISK: 2

COLOMBIA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Dubbed “Locombia” (the mad country) by the South American press, Colombia is rife with cocaine cartels, guerrilla warfare, and more kidnappings than any other nation in the world.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Encounters with the pre-Columbian Kogi people while trekking through dense jungle and the isolated 19,000-foot Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta Mountains
RISK: 3

DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Though rich in diamonds, gold, and timber, this equatorial country is still in tatters—famine, millions of displaced refugees (since Mobutu’s despotic 32-year rule ended in 1997).
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Mountaineering in the Ruwenzori Mountains on 16,763-foot Mount Stanley, Africa’s third-highest peak
RISK: 3

INDONESIA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Anti-Western terrorist attacks in Bali and separatist violence in West Timor, the province of Aceh, central and west Kalimantan, and Sulawesi have destabilized the world’s largest archipelago.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Surfing Sumatra’s legendary breaks off the island of Nias and jungle trekking in Gunung Leuser National Park
RISK: 2

IRAN
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Despite inclusion in Bush’s “axis of evil” and the U.S.’s suspension of diplomatic relations, Iran is generally safe—though travel to the Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iraq borders is best avoided.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Skiing in the 12,000-foot-plus Elburz Mountains, where the resort in Dizin receives more than 23 feet of snow annually and lift tickets cost $4 a day
RISK: 1

IRAQ
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Even if you wanted to go to Iraq, no U.S. commercial flights enter the country that’s ruled by the world’s most infamous dictator.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Canoeing the Marshes, the historic ecosystem at the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers—birthplace over 10,000 years ago of the Mesopotamian civilization
RISK: 3

ISRAEL
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Israel has been a hotly contested geopolitical and religious crucible since 1948, but the two-and-a-half-year Palestinian intifada has produced more suicide bombings than any other period.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Scuba diving to the underwater ruins of Herod’s City at Caesarea, along the palm-fringed Mediterranean coast
RISK: 2

IVORY COAST
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE
Once the most stable West African country, this coffee-producing nation suffers from falling cocoa prices and clashes between Christians and Muslims.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING
Trekking through the virgin rainforests of Taï National Park, home to the threatened pygmy hippopotamus
RISK: 2

Be aware that the State Department also posts advisories about unstable regions in many other countries, like Kyrgyzstan and Nepal. Carefully check the Web site’s postings and consult with well-informed tour operators before finalizing any travel plans.
*This information is current as of January 14, 2003

Compiled by Misty Blakesley, Amy Marr, Dimity McDowell, Sam Moulton, Tim Neville, Katie Showalter, and Ted Stedman

Cautionary Trails, PT II

RISK LEVEL:
1 GENERALLY SAFE
2 SIGNIFICANTLY RISKY
3 EXTREMELY RISKY


JORDAN
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

Jordan is considered the least dangerous Middle Eastern country; still, threats of random violence (witness the October 2002 killing of an American Embassy employee) remain high.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

World-renowned sport and trad climbing on the 1,500-foot sandstone walls in Wadi Rum, and camel-trekking with the Bedouin in the country’s southern desertscape
RISK: 1



LEBANON
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

Home to the terrorist group Hezbollah, Lebanon has a history of anti-U.S. violence, and there have been recent protests, sometimes violent, in major cities.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Skiing the 8,000-foot-plus peaks and six resorts in the Anti-Lebanon mountain range, then heading to the coast to swim in the Mediterranean
RISK: 2



LIBERIA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

Though a democratic government took power in 1997, ending an eight-year civil war, this developing West African nation is plagued by clashes between government forces and dissidents.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Safaris to Sapo National Park, Liberia’s only national park and one of the last rainforest refuges for bongo antelopes and forest elephants
RISK: 2



LIBYA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

Seventeen years under U.S. sanctions, convictions in the 1988 Lockerbie bombing, and rising crime make travel to Libya a tricky proposition.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Safaris to the Ubari Sand Sea, land of shifting, 300-foot dunes and salt lakes
RISK: 2



MACEDONIA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

A geopolitical hot spot, this mountainous Balkan country is still smoldering with ethnic tension, most recently between Albanian rebels and Macedonian forces.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Spelunking among the dripstone formations and stalagmites in the caves around 3,000-foot-plus Matka Canyon
RISK: 1



NIGERIA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

Though nearly 16 years of military rule ended in 1999, this oil-rich West African country suffers from rampant street crime, ongoing religious and ethnic conflicts, and kidnappings.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Trekking through rolling grasslands and exploring the volcanic 3,500-foot Mandara Mountains along the border with Cameroon
RISK: 2



PAKISTAN
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

In 2002, members of the Taliban, who had crossed the vertiginous Hindu Kush from Afghanistan, are believed to have instigated a rash of anti-Western terrorism in Islamabad and Karachi.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Completing the classic three-week trek to the base camp of pyramidal K2 in northern Pakistan, leaving from Askole and crossing the Baltoro Glacier
RISK: 2



TAJIKISTAN
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

A mountainous and unstable “stan” in the heart of Central Asia, Tajikistan is thought to be home to the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU) terrorist group.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Climbing untouched glaciers and rock faces in the Pamir Mountains, where first ascents of 17,000-foot-plus summits abound
RISK: 2



SOMALIA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

Ever since dictator Siad Barre was ousted in 1991, anarchy has ruled this drought-prone East African nation. Warring factions are still fighting for control of the the capital, Mogadishu.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Deep-sea tuna fishing in the waters off Somalia’s 1,876-mile coastline, the longest in Africa
RISK: 3



SUDAN
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

Nearly 40 years of civil war, coupled with famine, have made Sudan extremely unstable, especially in the oil-producing Upper Nile region. Americans have been assaulted and taken hostage.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Scuba diving in the Red Sea to famous shipwrecks and coral atolls, first explored by Jacques Cousteau in the sixties
RISK: 3



VENEZUELA
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

Opposition to President Hugo Chávez and a nationwide strike have destabilized this tropical country, causing acute oil shortages and triggering violent protests in Caracas.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Trekking through humid jungles and the vast savannas of the Guiana Highlands to 3,212-foot Angel Falls, the highest waterfall in the world
RISK: 2



YEMEN
WHAT’S THE TROUBLE

This country on the tip of the Arabian Peninsula has been plagued by anti-American sentiment since long before the 2000 attack on the USS Cole.
WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

Exploring the coral beaches of Socotra, the largest Arabian island, which abounds with flora, including frankincense, myrrh, and the dragon’s blood tree
RISK: 3



Be aware that the State Department also posts advisories about unstable regions in many other countries, like Kyrgyzstan and Nepal. Carefully check the Web site’s postings and consult with well-informed tour operators before finalizing any travel plans.

*This information is current as of January 14, 2003



Compiled by Misty Blakesley, Amy Marr, Dimity McDowell, Sam Moulton, Tim Neville, Katie Showalter, and Ted Stedman

The post Nomads Have More Fun appeared first on ���ϳԹ��� Online.

THE DRUNKEN soldier in the airstrip waiting room put down the AK-47 he'd been pointing at my head and picked up a pair of bricks. This was progress. Bricks don't go off by themselves; their clips are not emptied out of fear, or habit. Bricks take willpower, aim. Besides, despite demands for beer money and much raving about my motives for being in Saurimo, a backwoods diamond-mining town in the far east of the country, it had become clear that the soldier was not 100 percent serious about killing me. He simply wanted to make a point about his life here, in Angola.

Farm workers watch as fields burn outside Saurimo

A lone Baobab stands guard on the Angolan coast near Quiçama Park.

“I have lived many lifetimes in this hole”: Chyngandangaly, a diamond mine outside Saurimo.

A garimpeiro at work.

Refugees loiter around a supply truck.

The Soba

Mealtime at an orphanage in Huambo

“In this sad life”: Pentecostal worshipers dance on the beach south of Luanda after a funeral.

One deportee, set loose in Quiçama.

“Kuito!” the soldier exclaimed, shouting the name of the devastated city on the central Bié highlands, scene of some of the fiercest fighting in the longest civil war in African history. “Kuito!” he repeated, pointing to the swatch of blistered skin on his left forearm. The UNITA rebels had put fire on him in Kuito. “Huambo!” he announced, displaying a six-inch gash on his rail-thin lower thigh. He'd been shot in the leg in Huambo.
“Moxico!” he said. One of the fingers on his right hand was missing. It had been blown off in Moxico (pronounced “mos-SHE-co”), the giant eastern province.

“Moxico, Angola! Kuito, Angola! Huambo, Angola!” the soldier reprised, waving the bricks in the air, as if his body was a wound-by-wound primer of his beleaguered nation's geography.

Then he dropped the bricks. They were nothing but props anyway, and he had something much better. Removing his khaki cap, the soldier rammed his head into my chest.

“Olha ai!” he shouted in Portuguese. Look here!

His head had a hole in it, a dark well descending into his cranium. About a half-inch in diameter, deep enough to store a small marble, the depression was located where one might find the centering whorl on a young boy's scalp.

It couldn't have been a bullet hole. How could he have lived through that? No, he must have gotten hit with a pickax, a rake, the point of a machete. Either that, or someone—his mother? God?—had pressed a thumb into his yet unformed skull.

“Olha!” the soldier yelled once more. But the menace was gone, replaced by plaintive desperation. He couldn't have been more than 20, but he looked incalculably older.

Well, I'd come to see the lingering nightmare, hadn't I? And here it was, presented on a platter, right down in the black hole in this poor dude's noggin. What lurked in there, what bad videos? The legacy of the slave-master Portuguese who during their 500-year reign had shipped roughly four million Angolans off to the plantations of Brazil and Hispaniola? Jump cuts of a thousand malarial nights sleeping in the bush waiting for UNITA's rebel M-16s? Angola was a land full of grievous memories, unhappy ghosts. Perhaps the poor guy had punched that hole in his head himself, in a vain attempt to release the demons.

But now there were other soldiers in the waiting room, a dozen men in camouflage from the Forças Armadas de Angola (FAA) carrying AK-47s, ready to be shipped out to some new venue of potential doom—all of them young like him, all looking just as haunted. In Angola, there are always more guys with AK-47s.

Get up, they told their drunken comrade, no more Castle beer, no more shouting at the tourists, time to move on. The soldier grunted, clamped his cap down over his broken head, and picked up his gun once more.

“Olha…Angola,” he said, one more time, and walked out.
��

IT IS A FABLE YOU HEAR TOLD all over this country, about how when God made Angola, he was in a very happy mood. Tucking it into the southwest coast of Africa, with Congo to the north, Zambia to the east, and Namibia and Botswana to the south, he gave Angola every manner of gift: vast diamond fields, huge oil deposits, numerous rivers flowing throughout the countryside. He gave it savannas teeming with wildlife and farmland second to none, with wide and rambling meadows for grazing animals.

When the other African nations saw what God had given Angola, they protested. Why did Angola have so much, when we have only this pile of dust, these rivers of disease? God agreed. He'd been too generous to Angola, but there was no changing it now. What was done was done. As recompense, God made the Angolan people so contentious, so disputatious, that they would never be able to enjoy the riches he had given them.
So present-day Angola came to be: a perpetually war-torn (basket) case of extreme underdevelopment, even in a continent known for underdevelopment; a Marxist reverie of contradiction in a land run by former Marxists. The fighting there has spun out in stages, each one a devaluation of moral imperative. What began in 1961 as a heroic war of liberation against Portuguese dictator Alberto Salazar's bankrupt, teetering colonial regime degenerated into a messy, ethnic-based shootout even before independence was gained, in 1975.

The short history: Holden Roberto, leader of the populist National Liberation Front of Angola (the FNLA, primarily composed of Bakongo people from the north), was backed by Zaire and, until he lost, the United States. Agostinho Neto, a Marxist poet turned revolutionary, led the People's Movement for the Liberation of Angola (the MPLA, largely Portuguese-speaking urban elites from the Mbundu tribe), and was supported by the Soviet Union and 50,000 Cuban troops. The MPLA vanquished the FNLA, but in 1979, when Neto died, he was succeeded by a 37-year-old oil engineer named José Eduardo dos Santos, who has retained power ever since, reconfiguring the formerly Marxist MPLA government into a capitalist kleptocracy. Dos Santos was, in turn, opposed by the ruthless, charismatic Jonas Savimbi and his agrarian army of Ovimbundu tribesmen—the National Union for the Total Independence of Angola (UNITA)—which received money and arms from the United States and active military support from apartheid-era South Africa.

In the late 1970s and 1980s Angola became a roaring, orgiastic Cold War proving ground. Despite a fitful series of cease-fires and three failed United Nations peacekeeping missions, including a highly disputed 1992 election in which Dos Santos defeated the much-feared Savimbi, the war ebbed and flowed, killing upwards of 500,000 people. Now it appears to have sputtered out, though Angolans are justifiably leery about its closure. When the 67-year-old Savimbi was killed last February—reportedly shot 15 times in an ambush led by Angolan army troops in Moxico—the Dos Santos government had to unleash what The New York Times termed a “press offensive” to convince the populace and the world that the long-demonized UNITA chief was really dead. It took several minutes of TV footage showing Savimbi's lifeless body—still decked out in his olive-drab UNITA fatigues, his pants falling down, a bullet hole in his neck—to do the trick.

My journey, which took place before Savimbi was killed and his tattered, malnourished UNITA troops straggled in from the bush to sign a cease-fire agreement, was originally conceived as a mission of sorts: to see what the future held for Angola, once so lush and beautiful, as it re-emerged from a quarter-century of ruination. Twenty-seven years of civil war can generate a raft of impressively gruesome statistics. As of 2000, according to the UN Children's Fund (UNICEF) and the World Health Organization, 62 percent of Angolans were without access to safe drinking water, 56 percent lacked adequate sanitation, and 16 percent (2.1 million people) were afflicted with malaria. As much as 30 percent of the population live as deslocados, internally displaced people, in refugee camps run by the government and aided by the UN World Food Program; currently, half a million are starving due to famine. Almost a third of the country's children die before the age of five. More than 54 percent of Angolans are younger than 18, and life expectancy hovers around 36. According to the latest statistics, only 50 percent of school-age children attend classes, and nearly half the population is illiterate.

In 1999, UNICEF declared Angola, of all the ravaged spots on the globe, the single worst country in which to be born.
��

THE WORST PLACE IN THE WORLD you might have the misfortune to be born—this is what most people in Angola refer to as “the situation,” or the �����ٳܲ���ã��.

The �����ٳܲ���ã�� is what passes for everyday life in this nation of 13 million relentlessly buffeted souls. In the marketplaces of Luanda—the suffocating seaside capital where four million people live (up from 750,000 in 1970) without power or water, in unfinished, roofless high-rises graffitied with names of gangs like the Young Squad and the Disgusting Blades—the street poets sing in lilting hip-hop about the �����ٳܲ���ã�� , low and under their breath, so that government spies do not hear.
“Angola, my Angola,” they sing, “once so beautiful, always so fucked up.”

Still, Angolans tell you, they can deal with the �����ٳܲ���ã�� . What cannot be dealt with is the ���DzԴڳܲ�ã��, the second and more deadly half of the Angolan existential equation.

An example: Angola is one of the most heavily land-mined countries on earth. Any given former cow pasture or cassava field might contain a Soviet-issue POMZ-2 stake-mounted fragmentation mine, a Type 72 antitank mine made in China, a PP-MI-Sr II “Bouncing Betty” from the former Czechoslovakia, or an East German-made PPM2 antipersonnel blaster. Above the surface, the nearly invisible trip wires of American Claymores are set off by passing trucks. All it takes is one innocent foot stepping on one mine, as dozens do every month, to have the �����ٳܲ���ã�� rapidly mutate into the ���DzԴڳܲ�ã��.

But ���DzԴڳܲ�ã�� happens. And the great ironic geology-is-destiny application of the �����ٳܲ���ã��/���DzԴڳܲ�ã�� is that if Angola wasn't so naturally rich, it would be at peace. Angola remains one of the ten poorest nations on earth. Yet it has the fourth-largest diamond industry in the world, controlled by the government and various foreign diamond cartels, which generated 5.1 million carats in 2001, worth in excess of $650 million. That's not counting the proceeds from the “informal” market, which traffics in “conflict” or “blood” diamonds, often mined or stolen by UNITA forces. According to Rough Trade, a 1998 report on the Angolan diamond industry by the nongovernmental watchdog group Global Witness, UNITA realized an estimated $3.7 billion from the sale of conflict diamonds from 1992 to 1998.

Then there's the Angolan oil industry, which according to Global Witness will likely soon surpass Nigeria's as the largest producer in sub-Saharan Africa. Controlled by the Dos Santos government, the oil industry is projected to produce more than 900,000 barrels a day by the end of 2002. In 2001, oil sales accounted for 87 percent of state revenue—that is, $3 to $5 billion. Currently 3.4 percent of all crude oil imported by the U.S. comes from Angola, nearly three times the amount imported from Kuwait before the Gulf War.

So the civil war became, to a large extent, a contest of environmental plunder—UNITA's diamonds against the MPLA's oil. The dense rainforest once covering the central and northern sections of the country has been nearly logged out. Wildlife, 50 years ago among the most abundant in Africa, has been decimated, primarily by poaching and hunting for food. Offshore oil drilling threatens the remarkably fecund Atlantic fishing grounds, fed by the cold-water Benguela Current. Numerous bird species, such as the Pulitzer's longbill and the grouse-like Gabela akalat, are beginning to disappear. In the countryside, days can go by without a bird appearing in the sky. “Everything has been eaten,” people say.

To put it mildly, the effort to return Angola to any kind of environmental normality is going to be difficult. This was obvious the day the photographer Antonin Kratochvil and I visited Quiçama National Park—prewar, the crown jewel of the country's 12 national parks and game reserves, 5,850 square miles of treed savanna and coastline, 44 miles south of Luanda.

We spoke to park ranger Eduardo Benguela, a large, boisterous man in a snappy uniform and pith helmet. Eduardo was happy to see us, since the park had not had any visitors in several days. Did the park have zebras? I asked. No, Eduardo replied. Were there giraffes? No. How about antelope or leopards? No, none of them. Lions? Nope. Hippos? No, they were disruptive. The Cubans shot them years ago.

Then what animals did Quiçama have? “Elephants,” he replied. He said he had 15 elephants, which had been flown in from South Africa as part of a conservation program called Operation Noah's Ark (see “Incoming Elephants,” page 118). None of the park's few visitors had seen any of these elephants recently, Eduardo allowed, but he was reasonably sure they were still there. If any of the pachyderms had stepped on an antitank mine, he would have heard the explosion.

This, Eduardo said, was “the �����ٳܲ���ã��.”
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ANGOLA, NEARLY TWICE the size of Texas, has become an archipelago, each city its own island, or ilha. Our plan was to drive from ilha to ilha—to start in Luanda and move out into the countryside, to see if the land and the animals could come back from the war, the rapacious diamond mining, the no-holds-barred oil exploration. But driving was going to be almost impossible. ���ϳԹ��� Luanda, few remember when anyone drove to anywhere from anywhere else in Angola. International demining organizations, such as the Mines Advisory Group, say it will be years before the explosives are cleared from the few remaining highways. So the only way to get around is by air. But there are no commercial flights—that's the situation.

To get to Saurimo, the tumbledown provincial capital of Lunda Sul, 450 miles east of the Big Ilha of Luanda, you need to get to the airport at four in the morning. Several men will then run from the shadows screaming, “Cabinda!” “Lubango!” “Huambo!” When someone yells “Saurimo!” you follow him into the sprawling barrio nearby, through narrow, garbage-strewn streets, to a tiny office lit only by a Coleman lantern, where a big, smiling man named Jorge waves a price list covered with wrinkled plastic like a truck-stop menu. Saurimo costs $150; there is no bargaining. You hand over the bills in return for a piece of tissue paper stamped, simply, “received from.”
As roosters crow, you are put on a Boeing 727 cargo plane—a good thing, since the other plane on the tarmac is a Russian-made Antonov being stocked with 55-gallon drums of gasoline. Notoriously poorly maintained and unable to stay out of the range of the shoulder-launched, heat-seeking U.S.-issue Stinger missiles favored by UNITA gunners, an Antonov carrying gas is like a flying bomb. The Boeing only has four seats, already occupied by an FAA soldier, his sleeping girlfriend, and a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses assiduously underlining passages in the Book of Ezekiel. You must ride in the windowless cargo section, where your fellow travelers are splayed out on giant sacks of sugar. With no seats, there are no seat belts, and you lie there in freezing darkness hoping the Korean-made pickup trucks in the back are properly lashed down, in case of short stops.

Saurimo is where the diamonds are. Lunda Sul is home to a large deposit of kimberlite, the pipe-shaped igneous rock formations in which diamonds take shape, and 70 percent of the stones found there are considered gem quality; diamond for diamond, that makes it one of the richest fields in the world.

However, staring down into a 100-foot-deep pit a few miles east of Saurimo, where 200 or so garimpeiros—independent prospectors—work 12 hours a day with sieves and pickaxes in 95-degree heat, sifting through red mud for whatever they can find, Breakfast at Tiffany's seemed very far away.

“Welcome to hell,” said a dreadlocked man in a yellow soccer shirt with Brazilian star Ronaldo's number 9 on the back. He introduced himself as Da Consciencia das Pedras, the Conscience of the Rocks. Now 39, twice the age of most of his fellow garimpeiros—who, at the first sight of us, had raised their shovels to the sky and shouted, “Chindele! Charuto! Chindele!” (White man! Give me a cigarette!)—the Conscience of the Rocks said he had “lived many lifetimes in this hole.”

The best of it was back in 1994. “I found several stones in my first month,” the Conscience reported. “You are supposed to give the first stones to the foreman, but I did not. He slept all day and his food was shit.

“I was a king,” the Conscience went on. “I had a Toyota and a quintal in Luanda, a nice house.” But it did not last. “I spent it all and my wife stole the rest.” He returned to Chyngandangaly—which is what the pit is called, after the first prospector to score there—but hadn't found a diamond in over two years.

The Conscience of the Rocks is like Chyngandangaly itself, because this hole is close to played out. Some garimpeiros have moved north, to a new and bigger hole, called Samuhondo. The digging is better there, but there are complications. Samuhondo is on the other side of the Rio Chicapa, and FAA soldiers control the rubber boats. Lazing in thatch-roofed huts, playing cards and listening to Destiny's Child tapes on their boom boxes, the FAA guys, with Vietnam-era rubrics like SUCK ON THIS scrawled on the butt ends of their Kalashnikovs, exact a heavy surcharge, usually in diamonds. Attempts to cross the river in non-army craft invite a hail of gunfire. Swimming the muddy 100-yard-wide expanse is likewise out, on account of crocodiles.

“So I am stuck. This hole is my grave,” said the Conscience of the Rocks, the reddish walls rising above him. “I only hope I am dead before I am buried in it.”

NONE OF THIS IS A PROBLEM AT CATOCA, another Lunda Sul diamond mine, about nine miles to the north. In 2001, Catoca, which is overseen by the Angola Selling Corporation (ASCORP, owned by the state and a conglomerate of foreign firms), produced 2.6 million carats, worth close to $200 million. It is the biggest kimberlite diamond mine in Angola, with its own airstrip and a well-stocked commissary, and the fourth-largest in the world.

We were under the impression that we would be allowed to enter Catoca. We had letters, one personally written by the governor of Saurimo Province, with whom we'd had a brief audience. But this was not good enough. We would need permission from “the company,” we were told.
Being barred from Catoca enraged Victor Vunge, the 30-year-old journalist we had hired as our fixer. Other journalists and NGO workers said that we should fire Victor, that he was reckless, déclassé, and possibly fatally self-dramatizing. But we liked him. Born in Malanje, he claimed to be a leading son of local Mbundu royalty. His mother had been killed during the war, when the MPLA mistakenly bombed the hospital where she lay ill; his father had been stricken with cerebral malaria and was now “crazy.” Living in Angola did that to you, said Victor, who admitted to voting for Savimbi in the 1992 election on the premise that any change had to be for the better. This was the ultimate idiocy of Angola, he said, that “a man of the people” like himself had to cast the only vote he'd been allowed in his entire life for a murdering psychopath like Savimbi.

“Why can we not go in? Who does this mine belong to?” Victor demanded of the ASCORP representative and a government man. “You cannot allow them to steal these diamonds! This is Angola! Not Brazil! Not Russia! Not Israel! Angola!”

Now, however, peering through the barbed-wire fence into Catoca, watching truckloads of soldiers in crisply creased uniforms whiz by, Victor settled into a sullen calm. It was an outrage that all these gems were leaving the country without the building of a single hospital or school. But constant railing about the �����ٳܲ���ã�� could only go so far. Simply that the government man appeared to be a grinning idiot meant nothing. You needed to know when to shut up.

We got Victor out of there before the �����ٳܲ���ã�� degenerated any further, got back in the car, and drove to a nearby refugee camp, where 5,000 people were lined up to receive their monthly ration of maize, salt, oil, and six dried fish. There is a numbing sameness to refugee camps. The same tents and mud-brick huts, the same stunned, staring children, the same quarantined area for the lepers, the same demoralizing array of T-shirt iconography—Tweety Bird, Princess Di, Nike, Mštley CrŸe, and Michael Jordan, the all-time refugee-T-shirt king.

But mostly people sit and wait. Indeed, the camp, which received aid from the World Food Program, was generically tagged Lugar de Reassentamento (“resettlement camp”), but the people called it A Place to Wait.

Over a cup of dense tea, Antonio Franciteo Nuadjidji—the soba, or traditional leader, a tall, distinguished-looking 57-year-old man in a high-crowned ten-gallon hat with marlboro spelled out on the band—explained that he and his people were from Dala, about 150 miles to the south. They'd always lived there, working as shepherds and cow-herders, but after UNITA burned their village for the fourth time since 1984, they left and walked here. Boatless boat people marching across the waterless sea of the Angolan archipelago, many died on the way, mostly from malaria and land mines. It was humiliating, being forced to go into the fields to plant cassava and hang around waiting for handouts from stingy relief organizations, the soba said with obvious disgust.

I asked him if he could characterize what had been lost by having to leave his home to come here. The soba sat still for several moments, deep in thought. “No,” he finally said. The question was “too big.” His mind “couldn't even decide where to begin to think about” what had been lost.

Then he mentioned a dream he'd had a few nights before. He was out walking in the fields and he found a diamond. It was a giant diamond, he said, making a tennis-ball-size shape with his weathered hand. He sat and looked at the diamond for “a long time,” wondering what he would buy.

“I bought a plane. It landed over there,” the soba said, pointing to the field beyond the huts where the lepers stayed. He loaded his people on the plane and flew it back to Dala, where he built a high wall to keep UNITA out. Then he bought an armored truck, the sort the relief groups use to clear antipersonnel mines, and drove it back to the camp.

“I used that truck to smash down this place, starting here,” he said, pointing to his own thatched hut. In his dream, he drove that truck “around and around,” flattening everything, until Lugar de Reassentamento was just an empty hole in the ground. That's what the soba did with the diamond of his dreams.

IT IS WRONG TO SAY THAT CONSUMER GOODS are unavailable in Luanda. Get stuck in a traffic jam and the mall will come to you. During a stoppage at a street corner near the Prenda slums—a dead body under a bloody sheet led to much rubbernecking—our vehicle was approached, in a five-minute period, by vendors of toothpaste, surge protectors, windshield wiper blades, condoms, baby carriages, window blinds, many kinds of lights and batteries, a Mr. Coffee, a case of yogurt, and many loaves of bread, which are always hot, since the women stack the baguettes in buckets that they balance on their heads in the noonday sun.

We were looking for where they sold the people. Or rather, for where we'd been told people were sold. The place to look was Roque (pronounced “rock”) Santeiro, the largest open-air market, or candonga, in Angola, a crowded warren of makeshift wooden stalls built upon a beachfront rubbish dump that once served as a public execution ground.
Victor made inquiries and eventually found Daniel Damingos, a sleepy-eyed, ruddily handsome 14-year-old in a soiled Garth Brooks T-shirt. Daniel, who had no idea who Garth Brooks was except that he liked his hat, had been living at the Roque for six years, ever since walking here from Benguela Province after UNITA thugs killed his parents. Sleeping on the ground behind various stalls, he sometimes sold vegetables, but mostly he sniffed gasoline—except on Mondays, when the market was closed and the wooden tables were cleared away and piled 20 feet high, allowing everyone not too stoned to play soccer.

Mostly it was newborn babies who were sold at the Roque, usually to people from Senegal and Mali, said Daniel, leading us to where the trade supposedly took place. It made sense, he said. Families were big, there was no food or health care, and in this Roman Catholic country, abortion was not an option. Prices varied widely; he said he'd seen babies sold for anywhere from $20 to $100, as many as five in a day. (Daniel's account of baby-selling was anecdotal, of course; although it's talked about among relief workers and journalists in Luanda, I could find no organization that had investigated such allegations.)

But the cops had been by several times that week, he said, demanding gasosas—”soft drinks,” slang for bribes—and chased everyone away. Daniel, very apologetic, suggested an alternative. Perhaps we might like to buy him.

We thought he couldn't be serious, but he was. Well, then, how much did he want for himself?

“Quanto?” Victor demanded, asserting his Mbundu class prerogatives for the moment, seemingly ready to bargain hard on our behalf.

It was a dislocating, appalling moment, considering that not far from this spot, on the docks of Luanda, whole populations looking roughly like Daniel had been sold to people looking roughly like us. If instead of 2001 it had been 1601, 1701, or 1801—even 1901, forced labor having not been abolished here until 1962—we might have been peering into Daniel's mouth to check the quality of his teeth.

“Quanto?” Victor shouted again. Daniel shrugged.

“Quanto?” Now Victor pushed him in the chest, screaming for him to stand up straight. Surely he knew how much he was worth. And just as surely, Victor shouted, he knew he was worth more than any man, no matter how rich, could pay. It was no disgrace to be a street kid in Angola. There were thousands in Luanda alone. But you had to show some self-respect. You couldn't hold yourself cheap. “Don't sit here all day sniffing gasoline!” Victor exhorted.

Then Victor told us to give Daniel 100 kwanzas, about $5. He'd taken us around, given information; he deserved to be paid for his work. Daniel pocketed the money with a nod and walked off into the clouds of dust and cooking smoke.

“Angola,” Victor whispered, looking up into the thickening gray clouds. “What a stupid country.”
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WE THOUGHT CABINDA, the small province on the north side of the mouth of the Congo River where more than 70 percent of Angola's oil comes from, would be a tropical Klondike full of horny roustabouts, hookers, cheap fun, and easy money. We were misinformed. By 7 p.m. on the evening we arrived, we had the dining room of the Maiombe Hotel, the only place to stay in the town of Cabinda, completely to ourselves—not counting the ten underemployed waiters dressed in frayed suit jackets and black ties.

The oilmen were down the road in Malongo, at the Chevron-Texaco compound, one of those self-contained golf course/multiplex/multinational nirvanas. As per insurance requirements, the American and European drillers fly in from Luanda on the government's 727s and are choppered over to the Malongo landing pad. If any Tony LamaÐwearing Houstonian had ever set foot in Cabinda town, the clerk at the Maiombe had never seen one.
The day before, back in Luanda, we'd gone by Chevron's swank offices, amusingly located on Rua Salvador Allende (Rua Karl Marx and Rua Che Guevara are around the corner). No problem to visit Malongo, they said; our names were on the list. But when we rolled up to the gates, they weren't. We told Victor to inform the lumpen gatekeepers that as Chevron shareholders (my mother gave me ten shares for my birthday many years ago) we expected to be shown the facility immediately. Instead, they called in the guards from Teleservices, the private military force that protects Malongo. We made a stink, but it got us nowhere, and Teleservices turned us away.

Not that we really needed to see Malongo. You could guess what they had in there, down to the iceberg lettuce and jars of French's mustard. The reaction of the few Cabindans who had actually been inside the stucco walls was more to the point. Our driver, a morose part-time schoolteacher named Antonio, said it was a veritable zoo. “They have many animals,” he marveled. Monkeys ran wild inside the compound, swinging from trees. One had even run alongside his car, jumped on the hood, and pressed its red butt flush against the windshield. Cabinda, formerly a densely covered rainforest, had once been overrun by monkeys, but Antonio hadn't seen one since he was a child.

Driving back to town, we came upon several people crowded around a large, metal-framed bed. Almost lost in the folds of a frilly pink-and-blue blanket lay the body of an eight-year-old boy, dead of malaria. This wake was a last chance to see the boy “in this sad life,” said a squat man sitting by the boy's body. “Many children die of malaria here,” the man added. “This is why AIDS is not as bad here as the rest of Africa. With war and mosquitoes, people die before they have a chance to die of having sex.”

The man introduced himself as “Mr. Belichnor Tati, relative of the deceased, political officer of FLEC.” FLEC is the Front for the Liberation of the Enclave of Cabinda, which has been fighting a low-level war to secede from Angola since 1963. What distinguishes the province's claim to self-determination is its tremendous offshore oil reserves. If Cabinda—twice the size of Rhode Island, with a population of 168,000—achieved independence, it would instantly be transformed from a poor, embittered possession into a nation with the highest per capita income in Africa.

Worst to first: This was Cabinda's unprecedented version of the �����ٳܲ���ã��, Tati explained, as we left the wake and walked across the highway to the Atlantic shoreline. The sky was gray. A dozen offshore rigs dotted the misty horizon, interspersed with plumes of fire jumping from the ocean's surface to vent flaring gas, which often attends offshore drilling. “Fire on the water,” said Tati, shaking his shaved head at what he took to be an affront to nature. Off in the distance was a giant tanker.

“They take the oil straight from the rigs, put it in the boat, and sail away. We never see it, except for this,” Tati said, looking down at the rainbow-slicked waves and the blackened sand. Only a few weeks before there had been a major spill. It was particularly galling to him that the MPLA used the enclave's oil money to beat UNITA. “Without Cabinda the MPLA is nothing,” he said.

FLEC was patient, but they couldn't wait forever. Recently they'd captured several Portuguese construction workers involved with a logging operation to the north. “Two are still in the bush,” Tati said, an unsettling smile crossing his broad face. Kidnapping foreign nationals was “a good tactic” for FLEC, he added, since it brought revenue and attention. Until now, the group had preferred to snatch Portuguese, “because of history,” he said. But history had changed, bringing new enemies.

“It is the Americans now,” he said. “We will have to put fire on American cars, like the flames out in the ocean. We have to make them listen.” (No Americans have been attacked or kidnapped in Cabinda since 1992.) Then Tati turned to us. “You have American passports, and you come here as tourists. Alone, without the Teleservice guards? Without weapons? Is that brave, or stupid?” It was a question left unanswered as we got back into the car, drove to the deserted hotel, and locked the door, for all the good it might have done.
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PROBABLY IT WASN'T the smartest thing, a chindele walking the streets of Luanda alone before dawn. But I couldn't sleep.

We'd only gotten back from Cabinda the day before, and then spent the better part of the evening driving the deeply rutted streets of Luanda, looking for some good music. We first stopped in at the Chihuahua disco, where the well-dressed sons and spectacularly beautiful daughters of the MPLA elite do the kizomba, Angola's elegant tango-like dance. Victor, of course, was outraged by this cologne-drenched panorama of privilege. “Afro-trash! This is no place for a journalist!” he fumed above the din, demanding we leave.
So we headed to an open-air party spot frequented by Bakongo refugees from the north, where we sat, listening to the music and buying Castle beers for the girls. Bakongo music is more forgiving than the kizomba. This suited the former FAA soldier standing near us. He was a land mine victim, his left leg blown off at the knee. Still, his disability did not prevent him from gyrating mightily on his crutch. Before his injury, he and his girlfriend had been kizomba champions, he told us, “but now if I do the kizomba, I fall over.”

It was still dark when I went out, the stars bright in the sky. Astronomy is always improved by bad power grids. Looking up, I thought of a comment made to me by Moty Kramash, an Israeli who ran the ASCORP office downtown. It was an outrage that international groups made such a fuss over “conflict” diamonds when the oil was worth so much more, Moty had said.

He understood it, he supposed, because “there is something about a diamond.” If you looked at the sky, he said with sudden sentimentality, the black oil would surround the diamond stars. “But oil is slimy. You pour it into an engine, wipe your hands to get it off,” Moty said. “People don't wish on oil, they wish on stars, and maybe those wishes will come true, even in Angola.”

Maybe. Amid the early morning cool and quiet, Luanda looked serene, even airy. A bowl of hills set around a perfect sweep of bay, the city had more than a hint of Rio about it. There was even talk of gentrification. Recently the government had forcibly removed thousands from the Boa Vista musseque on the seaside cliffs near Roque Santeiro. The cliffs were eroding, authorities said. But everyone knew the boa vista—good view—was too beautiful to leave to slum dwellers. The words “real estate” had begun to dot polite conversation. The aim was to buy at “before-peace prices.”

The sun was edging up as I reached the Marginal, the once-grand boulevard that skirts Luanda Bay. I walked around awhile and then went by the Biqer bar for a coffee. A rundown place with unwashed windows that reach to the 25-foot ceilings, the Biqer (pronounced “BEE-ker”) is known as “the journalist bar.” One table, its six chairs leaning against the coffee-stained top, is eternally reserved for “the dead scribblers.” Ricardo Manuel was already there, sitting in his usual seat, wearing his argyle vest and beret, eating breakfast. Manager of a bookshop down the street and author of numerous works, including the recent Cronica de Uma Cidade, Vol. 2, sketches of “the unusual people I meet in a day in Luanda,” the 65-year-old first came to Angola from Lisbon in 1964.

“I was a settler,” he said, gently mocking the term the Portuguese used to describe themselves. I asked Ricardo about the famous episode in Another Day of Life, Polish journalist Ryszard Kapuscinski's account of the approach of the rebels and the hasty Portuguese evacuation in 1975.

“The city was closed and sentenced to death,” Kapuscinski wrote. “People ran around nervously, in a hurry…. They didn't want Angola. They had had enough of the country, which was supposed to be the Promised Land but had brought them disenchantment and abasement…. Everybody was busy building crates. Mountains of boards and plywood were brought in,” which made dusty Luanda “smell like a flourishing forest…the city of crates.”

Ricardo's eyes lit behind quarter-inch-thick glasses. “My things were in those crates,” he said. But he decided to stay in Angola when 350,000 people, including almost everyone he knew, left.

“I liked Angola,” he said, explaining why he stayed, “but there was so much panic, so much fear…I remember sitting in my house trying to decide what to do. From the TV I heard the voice of Agostinho Neto. He was giving a speech declaring Angola's independence. But I could not see him. The screen was totally white.

“That's where I was when my friend came to see me. Peter. My black friend. He'd gone to the coast and caught several fish. He brought them to me, as a gift, because I was leaving. I invited Peter in and he sat down. We were there together and the TV fixed itself. It wasn't only white now, it was black and white. You could see the picture: Agostinho Neto giving his speech. So we cooked the fish, had some beers, and sat there watching.

“I made up my mind to stay in Angola,” he said. “I have been here almost 40 years now, some good, many, many bad. But this is my place.” Whenever the �����ٳܲ���ã�� threatens to become the ���DzԴڳܲ�ã��, Ricardo thinks of the time he decided to stay in Angola. “It helps,” he said.
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LATER THAT DAY, our last in the country, we decided to take a ride down the coast. The road is considered safe until the town of Sumbe. That's about 180 miles, the longest stretch of open road in the Angolan archipelago, plenty of time to crank up the radio (Nelly's rap with the refrain “It must be the money” was huge) and pretend you're driving any coastline, anywhere. We weren't going far, just an hour past the hideous garbage mountains of the Rocha Pinta musseque and the massive fenced-in estate of Futungo, where Dos Santos lives, to the slave museum.

Set out on an ocean point, the slave museum does not have many exhibits—some rusted neck irons, a corkscrew-shaped whip known as a chicotte—but these few objects are chilling. A haphazardly hung line drawing of a manacled African beseeching a diffident Portuguese trader, “Am I not a man and a brother?” is enough to set you weeping. You pay your five kwanzas to the attendant, who does not look up from his comic book, and walk out into the late afternoon sunlight feeling shame, anger, and humility.
A group of Pentecostals were dancing and singing on the beach that afternoon. Watching them, I got into a conversation with Belmiro Teixeira, who had hitched a ride down to the beach from Rocha Pinta along with his wife, Milla. They were a slick pair. Belmiro was marvelously attired in yellow shoes, green-and-black check slacks, and a snazzy tangerine guayabera. Milla, sleek and long-legged in chartreuse capri pants with a stretchy aqua top, had her hair done up in crisscrossing cornrows.

Belmiro listened closely to the singers for a moment and shook his head. “They say the next world is better, but how do they know?” he asked. He went to church too, but he was “an optimist…a believer in the future. Right here, right now.”

It was a lesson he had learned from “my own life,” he said. After failing to make the Angolan national basketball team, which played the American Dream Team in the 1992 Olympics, Belmiro had been drummed into the UNITA army. He ran away, only to be caught by government forces and made to fight for them. Wounded near Ondjiva, he hung around the Namibian border for two years before coming up to Luanda. “If I could live through that,” Belmiro said, “I knew everything will be good.”

Now 32, Belmiro had a five-year plan to become a millionaire in the rebuilding of a new Angola. His first instinct was to go into the glass business. There was a shortage; almost every plate-glass window in the country had been shattered. “Glass is smart,” he'd thought.”I'll make glass.” But glass cannot be made in a musseque backyard. A factory is needed. This meant money and permits—always a problem.

Then the unfinished building that Milla's family had been living in burned down. Her brother, who died in the fire, had rigged an illegal electrical hookup to the power lines and something had gone wrong. This got Belmiro thinking. If the government could not provide safe power to everyone, Angolans could make their own. At the time, Internet access was becoming more widespread, so Belmiro found some Web sites selling solar energy panel kits. A place in Finland had good prices. If he could sell these kits cheaply enough, he could distribute them around the country. If anything in Angola was truly free, it was sunlight. The MPLA, Chevron, UNITA, and the rest could not control the sun.

It was all still in “the planning stage,” though, Belmiro said. He needed some investment. But this was an excellent time to be thinking solar. Everyone was talking about the upcoming total eclipse. Its path would pass right over Angola.

“The sun will go out. It will make a big hole in the sky,” Belmiro said. “But it will come back. Like Angola. At least, that is the hope.”
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ON PAPER, Angola's 12 national parks and reserves take up 31,600 square miles—roughly 7 percent of the country. The problem is, no one really knows how many animals are still roaming around in them. Now, given the recent cease-fire, wildlife biologists are eager to get back in there and see what has survived. The entry point is Quiçama National Park, 44 miles south of Luanda.

“This park used to have more than 4,000 elephants, 6,000 forest buffaloes, and numerous other wildlife, but it was all destroyed,” laments Wouter van Hoven, 54, a professor at the University of Pretoria's Centre for Wildlife Management. Van Hoven heads the Kissama Foundation, a conservation group formed by the Angolan government in 1996 to resuscitate the country's park system.
To repopulate Quiçama, the foundation launched Operation Noah's Ark. Since 2000, 34 elephants, 14 zebras, four giraffes, 18 ostriches, and 12 each of Livingston eland, kudu, and blue wildebeests have been airlifted from neighboring Botswana and South Africa. Next June, van Hoven plans to make history with the largest international wildlife relocation ever attempted: 200 elephants and about 200 other animals riding first-class aboard a South African navy supply ship. Quiçama is also slouching towards eco-tourism: It's got the only game lodge currently functioning in Angola and a contingent of 60 former soldiers who have been retrained as game wardens.

This August, van Hoven and Richard Estes, a research associate with the Smithsonian Conservation and Research Center, plan to lead an expedition to survey Luando Integral Nature Reserve and Cangandala National Park for any sign of the rare giant sable antelope, Angola's equivalent of the bald eagle. The former commander of the Angolan army also will be along to steer them clear of minefields. “I don't think they're all wiped out,” says van Hoven of the sable, which remains prized by poachers for its long, curved horns. “But we want to make sure that this animal does not go extinct.”
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