We were driving along outside of a village when the driver stopped to talk to this man for a while. He was probably the best dressed man with a cow I've ever seen. He was happy to pose for a few photos.

Mali is bustling with history and culture. If you're heading into Dogon country, see if you can find out when Mopti is doing a mask dance. We stumbled upon this even by dumb luck, and it was one of the high points of the trip. I think the kids in the trees had the best view of anyone.

I arrived into the town of San, Mali in the late afternoon. I immediately headed to the center of town as I was curious to see San’s Grand Mosque, which is a beautiful Sudanese style earthen building, plastered entirely by hand. There, I bumped into a small group of very friendly kids who were very curious about this foreign woman walking past their mosque with camera in hand. They followed me around, curious about my every move. After a while, one approached me to take a photo of the group. I gladly did so, motioning them to stand front of the mosque. Of course, they wanted to see the photo I had just snapped. As they huddled around me, I turned my camera to preview mode. The moment they saw their images, they broke out into very animated chatter and laughter. They were so cute! They seemed interested in the photo so I scrolled through some of the ones I had taken on trips to other countries. As the images passed before their eyes, there was silence at times because they were images that I was certain they were seeing for the very first time. Other photos elicited questions, which I attempted to answer as best I could in my broken French. Next thing you know, more kids had gathered around. By now, I wish I had a larger preview screen on my camera. Before I knew it, it was time for me to leave and I waved the kids goodbye. Every time I look at this photo, it brings back warm memories of a special travel moment for me.

Centuries ago, the ancient Tellem people of Mali built their mud homes high up on a cliff ledge on the Bandiagara escarpment. When I first saw the Tellem cliff dwellings, I was at *ground* level glancing up at them; they looked like several rows of tiny brown sandwich bags, sitting side-by-side, on a kitchen shelf. From the village of Dogon village of Telli, I followed a guide up to the ledge, clamoring up rocks and stones that were strewn about the base of the escarpment. Dozens of tiny, rectangular shaped mud buildings were positioned all along a narrow ledge and underneath a protective cliff overhang. We entered several of the cliff dwellings, most of which were barely larger than closets in a American home. My guide used a combination of French, with a smattering of an English word or two, and sign language to explain the buildings to me. We stepped inside both private living quarters and public buildings, distinguished by markings scribed into the mud. It really was a village! Standing on the ledge, I could see the village of Telli below and stretching beyond, the vast plains of the Seno-Gondo. I’m sure living on the ledge afforded the Tellem people protection from both the elements and their enemies. The practical side in me though wondered in awe as to how they actually managed to live up on the ledge – having to haul up their food and water every day. It’s amazing how people survive to live!

In the Dogon village of Songho, every three years, the boys are circumcised. The boys are usually around 8-12 in age and so this is an event that they will remember for the rest of their lives. Their proud families trek up the hillside to this wall and paint images that reflect the moment for them. I found the paintings to be beautiful in a very primal way. Of course, neither I nor their proud families are the ones getting snipped so a pretty painting is good enough for us. For the boys, they get a much bigger reward. The first boy to volunteer to get circumcised gets a small herd of animals, the second boy a small field of millet and the third boy gets a virgin girl. Which boy would you be?

Kani Kombolé leaves you with the memory of an oasis. The main site of the village sits surrounded by millet, baobab and tamarind trees. At the right time of year the village has a fairly spectacular waterfall. A walk through to the west side of the village leads to a substantial toguna and the hogon house. The closer you get to the Falaise, the more of the ancient Tellem dwellings you can see on the towering sheer rock.

In this small town in Mali: There are no hotels but a friendly local may offer you a free place. Everyone sleeps outside with the cool breeze because the concrete houses retain too much heat from the hot dusty days. Children stay up late to study as you fall asleep under the stars in a communal courtyard. I love Africa.

The village of Borko is an oasis in Dogon Country. While the route from Bandiagara is dry and rocky, the area around Borko is very fertile and ideal for growing various types of produce because of its location along a waterway. This lazy waterway harbors the villages sacred caimans, that legend says helped the first inhabitants reach this area by guiding them through the dangerous waters on their backs. On market days, Borko is a great place to experience Dogon culture and to buy authentic Dogon handcrafts.

Not that long ago, I was on a 5 day trek through the Dogon villages in Mali and every day I would pass by groups of villagers who, from the looks of it, had just congregated together to sell and trade food and goods. In every market space, I would shop for fruits and kola nuts, the former for me to stave off hunger on my walks and the latter as offerings to village elders. Being a complete stranger to the culture in Mali, I never knew what I would find for sale, which was part of the fun of wandering through the markets. After about the second village market, it dawned on me that I rarely saw men – neither selling nor buying. Mali is a conservative Islamic nation and at least in the villages, there is strong gender distinction when it comes to who does what work. In the case of markets, the village women were the vendors of all food items except for meat. They are also responsible for cooking for their families so food buying is also their responsibility. Off to the side of the main market, I would often see smaller groups of men selling meat. The women were naturally curious about me and I about them. With my guide as translator, we queried each other. I wanted to know about the things they were selling and they always had a ton of questions for me. Along with the serious conversations, there was also a lot of mutual giggling. I had a lot of fun interacting with the women and visits to the villages market quickly became my favorite trekking moments.

If you're a seafood-lover visiting Dubrovnik, it's worthwhile making the short trip to Mali Stone for the freshest oysters you've ever tasted. We arrived in town, with our excellent guide, Zoran, from Vacation in Dubrovnik (link below), just as the sun was setting. We pulled into the yard of a local oyster-farmer and headed to his backyard. As we waited by a rickety wooden table, he reached into the water and pulled out a string of dangling oysters. They were shucked and in our hands in no time flat. We washed down the slippery, briney goodness with rich red wine poured from a plastic jug. What a way to end the day!

This is the Grand Mosque in Djenné, Mali. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site and it holds the distinction of being the largest adobe building in the world. It is also one of Africa’s most famous cultural heritage landmarks. The walls of the Grand Mosque are made of mud bricks that are joined together using mud-based mortar. The surface of the walls is coated with mud plaster to give it a smooth finish. Bundles of rodier palm rods are inserted into the walls for decoration as well as to serve as scaffolding supports. Despite its size, the building is extremely fragile. Mali’s rainy season lasts for three months and the torrential rains remove a substantial layer of mud. The mosque is repaired every year after the heavy rains subside; it is entirely re-plastered by hand. The men use wheelbarrows to haul the mud from the banks of the nearby Niger River. The mud is cured for three days before being used. Sadly, global warming has affected the quality of the mud so it is not as easy to cure and apply as in decades past. It’s also not adhering as well so with each rainy season, a thicker layer is being washed off. I was in Djenné towards the end of rainy season and repair work on the mosque was already getting underway. It’s truly a labor of love for the people of Djenné to painstakingly maintain this building. When I saw the men hanging from the scaffolding, I realized what they were doing and I stood nearby to watch them. I only wish I could have stayed longer.

This picture has been taken at the Carrefour of Djenné in Mali. Travelling by public transport has been somewhat an important part of my journey in Mali. People were as confortable inside the bus as the animals on the bus roof. It was part of the charm using public transport. You also get the chance to talk to people being so close to them physically!

In late 2010, I spent a few days trekking through the Dogon region of Mali. The area is designated as UNESCO World Heritage site and is known for the small villages that are situated all along the base of the Bandiagara Escarpment. By the time I reached the last village of the day, usually around late afternoon, I would do what I do when I visit major cities – drop my bag and head out to the streets to check out the neighborhood. I live and work in a major US metropolitan area. Nowhere in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined entering the surreal world of a typical Dogon village. The mud structures that made up each village’s homes, school, mosque and other public buildings were like nothing I had ever seen before or could have ever conceived of seeing. Especially captivating to me were the thatched roof structures. I first thought that they were homes but they are in fact granaries. There are separate granaries men and women. Men use theirs to store the seeds for each year’s crops as well as farming implements and women use their granaries to store food and items for the home. On my village stroll, I would smell wood burning and hear a cacophony of rhythmic thumping - millet being thrashed using mortar and pestle. Women, carrying food and water in large halved out calabash gourd shells perched on their heads, would scurry by. Less pleasant was the sound of guinea fowl being slaughtered, a man’s job to do. Dinner was in the works!