Pictures

For what it's worth, I have finally managed to get some photos of Thailand up (Kenya will come eventually), so, if you wish, you can go back and look at them. I have put them in vaguely appropriate spots in my posts, but now I'm not actually sure how I feel about mixing images with my writing. Will the photos detract from the prose?

Oh, dear god, am I actually become a writer (and a snobbish, purist one at that!)??

Luckily, I am sure that you have already read all of the posts (a couple of times), and that this glance back with images will just codify things for you.

Happy New Year!

The Beach

On Boxing Day (which has nothing to do with pugilism), aka Dec. 26th for all non-Brits, Cate and her family brought me down to their beach house in Mandurah, about an hour south of Perth. (Yes, just about everyone in Australia lives near the coast, but apparently not everything is a beach house.) Her extended in-law family is here as well. I spend my days reading books, going for walks by the beach, riding a bike up the shore (which is on the wrong side here, so when I said I was going to ride south today, I actually went north), and eating. Eating, eating, eating. I now know what it must be like for people who visit us in NH. Lots of time to do whatever you want as the family buzzes around you, and meals served about every three hours. Life is hard.

John (Cate's husband) took me fishing the other night. We headed out into the nearby estuary and caught a bunch of tailor (known as bluefish at home). Man, fishing is dead easy. John puts the icky bait on, I throw the line in, reel in a fish, John takes it off and sets me up again. Then John fillets all the fish and cooks them and I eat. Look at me, I'm a fisherman!

Last night he took me (and his sisters and nieces) out crabbing. That involves going out at dusk, walking in knee deep water next to the boat (he actually had the boat TIED to him, and was towing it around) with a basket on a stick to grab the crabs. These are not the nice little crabs I grew up torturing in NH. These are big suckers with claws that stick way out to the side when they get mad (like when you come at them with a basket). And you are walking around in the mud (which sometimes sucks down as you step) and seaweed, and they are all around. Periodically you hear "BASTARD" as someone has their ankles nipped. I was good for about five minutes, and then happily passed my basket back and clambered back into the boat with the kids.

I did finally get into the water (not just crabbing) yesterday when we all went to the beach. The water was lovely, the waves huge, and oh, right over there is a dolphin. Seriously. I boogie-boarded for a bit (for the first time in about 15 years, I think), caught one really good wave body surfing, I spent the afternoon trying to get sand out of my nether regions.

Aussie's are funny about the sun. I imagined them as all having brown, leathery skin, and all worshipping the sun (getting my information from such movies as Strictly Ballroom and Sexy Beast), but no. SPF 30+ suncream for all here, and if you have a bit of a tan, you get scowled at by your relatives. I guess in countries where sun is a constant rather than a luxury, they are a bit more careful about their skin. (In Thailand, they advertise "whitening" cream, whereas at home we have tanning cream.)

One last note before I get booted off the computer (for my hour is up here at the library)... There are cockatoos and parrots who just fly around wild here. They are lovely to see, but their birdsong is not terribly melodic. Somewhat similar to a three year old enthusiastically (and loudly) imitating a crow's caw. Not my favorite.

(By the way, I have yet to be offered any shrimp from the barbie yet. They don't have "shrimp" here anyway, they have prawns.)

Cooking abroad

There are many challenges to traveling, I find. You have to figure out what coin is what. You have to decipher what it is people are saying (even if they are supposedly speaking in English). You have to try to not get run over by people who perpetually drive on the wrong side of the road. But I think my biggest challenge thus far has been attempting to cook abroad. (And not just because I have almost to experience with cooking at home. I can cook, I just choose not to if anyone else is around to do so.)

There is a candy recipe that I make every Christmas. Since it apparently was that time of year, I thought I should make it. It involves graham crackers, butter, brown sugar, and Hershey bars. Easy peasy. Except that graham crackers, normal brown sugar, and Hershey bars don't exist Down Under. Nor do measurements such as "one cup".

So I bought some biscuits that looked as plain as I could find. I thought that extra molassesy brown sugar would probably be fine. I decided that half of 500g of butter looked like two sticks.

But then there was the chocolate issue. I will be the first to admit, I am a chocolate snob. I wouldn't eat a Hershey bar if you paid me (well, maybe if you paid me in GOOD chocolate). But there is something about a Hershey bar that just makes this candy perfect (probably the fact that that is the way I've always had that candy, therefore it is the 'right' way). Not knowing what any of the chocolate here tasted like, I bought three different sorts (varying prices) to experiment with. Two of them, as my father would say, were "actively nasty". So I put those on the batches I would give away. These strangers wouldn't know that the candy wasn't right! The batch that most closely resembled the sugary goodness that I know and love (and gorge myself on annually) stayed at home with me.

It being summer here (blessed summer!), and my hosts having a lovely little vegetable patch out back, I have been eating fresh strawberries right from the garden. My mother has a wonderful Swedish Cream recipe that I have loved forever, so I thought I would make that as a treat for everyone. Again, a dead easy recipe, this one involving heavy cream, sour cream, sugar, and gelatin. My friend bought me the necessary ingredients, but got "Thickened" cream instead of heavy... like the British double cream, which I ADORE, but it just wasn't quite right. Needed more sour cream. Not bad, but not right. Oh well.

Luckily, guacamole is hard to get wrong, so at least I am happy with that.

December 25th

The calendar tells me that recently it was December 25th. That used to be Christmas in my world. This year it wasn't. I mean sure, there were people and presents and food and little Santas around, but there was also a pool and air conditioning and suntan lotion. And there wasn't my family or stockings hung by the fire with care or the smell of pine trees and mulled wine. Therefore it wasn't Christmas. Good thing, because I would have been sad if I missed it....

Exorcism needed

Lest there be any doubt that I have been possessed by someone or something this year (for I would never travel the world alone), here is incontrovertible proof: I just went to the mall... on Christmas Eve.

OZ

I flew over the rainbow yesterday, and was so happy to land in Australia. It was a bit rough going at first... I dutifully set my watch alarm for 3:30 am (!) so that I could catch the 4 am shuttle to the airport, as Thai Airways said I need to be there three hours before my flight. I shoved my earplugs in, put a pillow over my head, and went to bed at 8:30. Usually, when I have to wake up early, I sleep very lightly and check my watch constantly. Apparently, I was quite relaxed, for I slept quite soundly until... 4:24. I checked my watch, saw the time, and a deep and disbelieving, "Nooooooooooooooooo..." came out of my mouth as I dashed to the bathroom. I caught the 5 am shuttle, and waited behind one other person in line at the airport, and had an hour to spare still. (THREE hours ahead? What were they thinking??) I walked around trying to see if I could spent my last 16 Baht (about 40 cents) on anything, but no. So I left it for some child to find and be excited about.

The flight was fine, although I think the cabin air or altitude or something got to me. Not only did I watch Beverly Hills Chihuahua, but I actually got teary at parts. Good god, what have come to?? (The second movie, Bottle Shock, was much better. All about wine. But, to my credit, Placido Domingo--or his voice-- was in the first movie, so I can at least pretend in some weird way that it was cultured, although he didn't sing.)

My friend Cate's husband (whom I've never met, and who had no idea what I looked like... just like all the other people I've imposed myself upon this year) collected me from the airport, holding a little piece of paper with my name on it. Hell, I would have gone home with anyone, but was pleased to find him.

I arrived at their house in the middle of a little backyard party that Cate was giving (it was the first day of summer here, remember). Ah, I was in my element! I threw my bags in my room, donned an apron, and started making guacamole. Life was good again.

(Right now I am listening to a sound that I never thought I would be so happy to hear: the deep rumble and squeaky breaks of a garbage truck. Ah, infrastructure, you are a glorious thing.)

I am very much looking forward to three weeks of living a relatively normal life, breathing clean air, not fearing that every mosquito carries some horrible disease, and perhaps even going to the beach (every day). They may talk a bit funny down here, but life is grand in OZ.

One last day

Today is my last day in Thailand, and I am counting my Baht, weighing how much I need to eat vs get another massage. (At these prices, I think I can do both.)

Last night I took the overnight train from Chiang Mai to Bangkok. It wasn't first class Kenyan service, but it wasn't bad. I was tucked up in the upper berth/cocoon, and actually slept. Mind you, all my dreams involved me being on a train, but that is fair.

Chiang Mai was okay. The first day I was there I was not terribly happy. I walked around town with a horrible scowl on my face and a headache developing. I think that my body had just maxed out on the amount of carbon monoxide it could take. I tried breathing as little as I could, so as not to inhale all the exhaust, but that didn't work terribly well. I have a new understanding-- no envy-- for those people who walk around with surgical masks on. So I didn't do too much sightseeing that day.

Day 2 in Chiang Mai was better. It started off at the Women's Prison. No, nothing you need to worry about. They have a little spa at the prison so the women can earn some money for when they are released. So I had a foot massage from a Thai felon. Who knew what adventures this year would bring! From there I wandered into the shopping district and went a little crazy (or so it felt at the time). I was actually feeling giddy at one point (could have been too much CO again) with the crazy low prices of silk. But, remembering that I am not actually EARNING any money this year (and in fact probably rapidly LOSING it, although I haven't seen a newspaper in a while), I tried to curb myself.

As this is my last day here, I will share with you some random impressions that I have about various things. No particular order (and possibly not much sense) to them:

The Thais have a thing about feet. You can't point your feet at anyone, and you need to take your shoes off when you enter a house. This is actually understandable, given how absolutely dirty and disgusting shoes (and feet, because everyone wears sandals) get in this country. But here's the thing... pointing your toes at someone is right out, but it is perfectly acceptable to hock a big loogie on the ground, and today I actually had someone blow snot on the sidewalk in front of me.

As to food, I have eaten some very strange things since I've been here, and I think it is better that I do not actually have any idea what they were. (The other night, when my meal was getting cold and particularly gelatinous, I wondered aloud, "Is this squid?") Once you know what your meal is supposed to be, you have certain expectations. For instance, when eating chocolate chip ice cream (as a special treat for having walked to the train station rather than taking a tuk tuk, and therefore not adding any more CO to the city), you might expect there NOT to be a frozen whole kernel of corn in your ice cream. (No, I didn't eat it. I chucked it over my shoulder onto the ground for the rat that was scurrying about the place.)

Granted, in the States various appliances have odd names, but I saw a toaster the other day that said "Love King" on the side.

I was walking through a particularly large and crazy intersection today (the same one that the bus sat at for 18 minutes last week), and noted that there were policemen standing on the sidewalks waving traffic on, always following the traffic signals. Now which is easier to see... a little man four lanes away, or a brightly illuminated light up in the air? Thai tax dollars at work, I guess.

Part way through a nine hour bus ride, we stopped for lunch. With six hours to go, and no bathroom on the bus, I hoped that my strong stomach remained as such. (It did.)

When you are on a long distance bus journey here, the ticket checker changes about every half hour, and therefore needs to check everyone's tickets again, despite the fact that he (or she) is the only new person on the bus.

Many Thais have, quite sharply, called out to me, "You!" to let me know I need to pay, or roll over, or pick up my meal. It sounds rude, but then I realize that they are making the effort to speak in my language, and all I can say in theirs is "Hello" and "Thank you" (and sometimes I get them mixed up), so I am thankful. (Khawp khun kha. Which for the first week I kept mispronouncing as crap khun kha.)

I have come to realize that I like cities where I am self-sufficient. If I can walk to and from the train or bus station, then I am MUCH happier (and have a better sense of orientation) than if I have to take a taxi of some sort. (Thusly, I walked for an hour and a half from the train station in Bangkok this morning, big pack attached. I will, however, take the shuttle to the airport at 4:00 tomorrow morning. Groan.)

I think that's it for this country/continent. Off to Australia tomorrow, to relax with someone I know, UNPACK, and find out what Christmas is like Down Under. (And, hopefully, to upload about a zillion pictures!)

Trekking

As soon as I got to the guest house in Chiang Rai the other day, possibly before I even checked into my room, I asked about doing a trek. All I wanted was to get out into nature for a few days. The owner had a friend who ran a trekking company, and he appeared five minutes later and signed me up for a trek the next morning. So at 10 am yesterday, I was ready to hit the trails.

There were two other people on my trek: a couple of guys (probably late 20s) from the Czech Republic. (They had enough English that we could talk a bit, although they did do a lot of nodding and smiling.) The first stop on the trek was a longboat ride up the Mae Kok (which, alas, is not pronounced 'my cock') River. There were some other people on this boat ride, and one woman asked me if I was going to the village. I thought for a moment and told her I honestly had no idea WHERE I was headed. I was just going, and hoping for the best.

The boat deposited us at an Elephant Camp, where a small herd of elephants were all saddled up waiting to take people for little rides. This is not something I would have chosen to do, but apparently I had already paid for it, so off I went for my 20 minute ride. It was pretty bumpy. Not much else I can say about it, except that at one point we seemed to be stuck in an elephant traffic jam. I think the elephant in front got distracted by some bananas or something. After the ride the guide told us we had and hour to explore the village. "Village" in this case translates to "series of shops selling trinkets and shawls to tourists".

From there we headed into the jungle. It was nice to be out walking through the bamboo forest... until we started to go uphill. Those nice quads I'd developed over the last 4 years of ballet are officially gone, as are all the other muscles I had, and any cardio stamina. I am, I think, becoming an old lady. Sigh.....

We spent the night with the Lahu Hill Tribe in their village. We hiked all the way up there (garbage strewn all around the path, which was quite distressing to me... guess they don't know about Pack In, Pack Out), and of course there's a road that they all drive their motorcycles up. I walked around a bit (and saw a child's dirty bottom being wiped with sticks), and noted that every house had a solar panel. (Yeah! Although it ran out at about 8 pm.) We stayed in a bamboo house. All the houses were made from bamboo. All bamboo. The main beams are small logs from some tree, and the roof is grass, but everything else is bamboo. And not thick bamboo. You can see through the walls and floor (which was a bit bouncy in parts). I believe the livestock (cattle, pigs, chickens, and loads of dogs, which I assume are pets put possibly not) live underneath the house. Anyone who tries to tell me that a rooster crows with the rising sun has obviously not slept with only a 1/4 inch thick piece of bamboo between him and said rooster.

This morning we set off into the jungle again. At one point the path forked and we went to the left. A few minutes later the guide stopped, thought, did some math, and said we would go back to the other path, because the one we were on would take four hours and the other three. So back we went. The other path got a bit small at one point, and guide stopped to rifle around in his backpack. I assumed he was looking for a map. Silly me. He was getting out his knife so he could bushwhack. What had been a small path turned to no path, and we bushwhacked our way up the side of a mountain. For some reason the words "A three hour tour... a three hour tour" kept going through my head. Eventually we did find the path at the top (which I was quite pleased about, because it was very steep going up, and I would not have liked to bushwhack DOWN!).

We stopped at a lovely waterfall for lunch, walked through another hill tribe, and eventually ended up at a hot spring. I'd never been to a hot spring before, but it sounded nice. It looked nice too. But it certainly did not smell nice. There was a little sign for the "boiling egg bath" (a gimmick for the tourists that they could cook eggs in this water). I thought that was terribly appropriate, because that is exactly what this sulphur spring smelled like. I was good for about 5 minutes in the water. (For me water is meant to be cooling, not cooking!) Then the guide said we weren't being picked up until 5 (at this point it was about 3). Ugh.

The driver did not actually pick us up until 6:30. In the interim the guide bought some hideously noxious stuff that he called local whiskey. I probably could have managed the rice based alcohol, but the stuff looked like Kool Aid, and I think they might have actually mixed some nasty, sugary, hot pink stuff in with it. Oh, it was awful. I was actually considering washing it down with some of the Czech's slibovisk (or whatever it was called... plum based booze). But I really had about had it, and was absolutely willing the driver to appear, when three self-proclaimed hippies arrived and started promptly offering us pot, and then rolling themselves some joints. That is SOOOOOOOO not my thing! Thank goodness, just as they were lighting up, the driver appeared, and I made a mad dash for the van.

The ride home had me chuckling, for there was a DVD playing. I saw the last half hour of Live Free or Die Hard, dubbed into Thai. I don't think you've really lived until you've seen Kevin Smith speaking Thai. Loved it!

Trekking was good, the long, hot shower was good, and I'm sure my bed this evening will be good too. Tomorrow I'm off to Chiang Mai (which I hear is just like Bangkok, so I'm not holding my breath about it... or maybe I will be because of all the exhaust).

(Just a few more days until Australia!!!!)

Traveling Alone

When I tell people that I am traveling alone this year their responses fall into one of two categories: The "You're so BRAVE" category, and the "You'll meet LOADS of people and find folks to travel with" category. To both, I say that is a load of bosh.

Traveling is easy when people go ridiculously out of their way to make sure you have what you need and know where you are going, even if you are pantomiming to each other. I have yet to go hungry or have to sleep on the street. (I also have yet to let the Lonely Planet guide to Thailand out of my sweaty grip.)

As to finding traveling companions, I have this to say. If you are reading this blog, chances are good that we are friends (although who knows how great my following has become!). But, if you think about the formation of that friendship, I would hazard a guess that we did not become what one would call "fast friends" (with the possible exception of my best friend's wife, but if we hadn't become fast friends, one of the two of us would have been one male shorter in our lives, so it worked out beautifully that I instantly adored her). I take quite a while to decide if I like someone or not. Actually, that is a big fat lie. I decide about 15 seconds after someone opens their mouth if I DON'T like them (so if we have not met yet, but you are thinking we might one day, you might want to seriously think about your opening sentence). But to become friends with a person I need quite a while. (Mind you, once you are in, you're in.)

I have been in Thailand for a week or so now, and I can conclusively say that I have met no one I care to speak with again. I thought that perhaps this was my fault, that I wasn't being outgoing enough, that perhaps I give off a certain "Don't mess with me... or even talk to me" vibe. So with that in mind, when I arrived here (where AM I??? Chiang Rai, I think) this evening and saw that there was a little courtyard and bar, I went outside and ordered myself a drink (alas, no Smirnoff Ice here, so I had to make due with a Bacardi Breezer), and forced myself to chat with the older man who was sitting out there (turned out to be German, so I tried out some LucieDeutsch on him, but, not surprisingly, we quickly switched to English). Later an older American man joined us. I nodded and smiled and held my breath as they puffed away on cigarettes and cigars, and had a fake smile plastered on my face as they both talked about how they liked to smoke a joint every day, and oh, I could buy some tomorrow if I wanted when I'm trekking in the hills. All the while I am thinking this, "How can I quickly and politely extract myself from this hellacious conversation and go to my room to read my book?"

So I don't think it's me. I am, of course, perfect. It's all the other travellers. The young guy in Bangkok talking about meeting the massage lady after work (midnight) and spending the night out drinking... The guy my age talking about how many machetes he has bought in various countries... And now the older pot smokers. Obviously the problem is that single men travelling in Thailand are all here for questionable (to me) reasons. Where are my people??? The people I would like, of course, are sitting in THEIR rooms reading books.

I have to say that meeting different people every night is feeling like two weeks of first dates. And honestly, I'm not that big a fan of dating....

Central Thailand

Here I am, somewhere in central Thailand. Sukhothai, I think. It is Sunday, and I am spending it the way one (who, much to her father's chagrin, does not go to church... but I would be hard-pressed to find one around here anyway) should spend a Sunday... having a lovely big breakfast, and then being completely idle. I picked up The Sex Lives of Cannibals (recommended by a friend when he found I'd be going to Fiji) yesterday, and have spent the day reading (and loving!) it... when I'm not napping.

But to recap the last couple of days...

I believe I forgot to recount the facial that I had when I was still in Bangkok. Yes, another $6 well spent. I've only ever had one facial before (a gift from a parent who was a dermatologist), and it was a mini facial, so I don't really know how these things work. In Thailand, apparently, it involves rubbing lots and lots of lotion onto your face for a long, long time. Not bad. That wiped off, some orange, I believe, was smeared around. (Not orange goop, an actual orange wedge, leaving bits of pulp all over.) After that, something came dribbling onto my forehead which felt like honey. As that got smeared around, I smelled that it was indeed honey. A few steps later, cucumber slices were placed all over my face. At this point I was getting actively hungry, and wondered if they weren't working in conjunction with a nearby restaurant to get people to go!

Back to the north... After I wrote my last post, I wandered around Phitsanulok for a while. I had decided to check out the Night Market down by the river, then stop in at an actual restaurant (which would be my first, not including the ones that my aunt's friends took me to), and for dessert (!) go to the little establishment which was called "It's a Cake", which looked awfully good. I'm not sure what I was expecting from the Night Market exactly. I suppose a Farmer's Market at night. Well, it was really just a strip of shops that were open from 5 pm to 3 am. I wandered a bit, and when a little woman said "Thai Massage??" to me, I acquiesced. It cost 100 Baht. For those who haven't figured out the exchange rate yet, that would be three dollars. For an hour long massage. Sure, I was basically lying on a mat on the sidewalk. Yes, at one point her runny nose did drip a bit on my wrist. And no, she didn't stop watching TV the whole time (but those where her Stories, so how could I expect her to not follow them??). But three dollars is three dollars, and it was good.

I checked out a restaurant or two, and then was drawn back to the street vendors by the almost intoxicating aroma of sweet corn. Oh, sweet, sweet corn (not like the horrid maize that they have in Kenya). And some Pad Thai that was fantastic. But rest assured, I did go to It's a Cake, and purchased a slice of chocolate almond something. Those of you who know me well (which most of you ought to by now, having had this lovely little glimpse into my psyche) will not be at all surprised to read that as I walked up the stairs to my room with this treasure, I did, out loud, proclaim my love for it. (And yes, I went back there for some apple crumble for breakfast the next day before heading off.)

From Phitsanulok I took an hour-long bus ride to here, Sukhothai. I had already decided that I would spent two nights here, because there were so many things to do and see in the area. I checked in to this nice little guest house, which has a restaurant, a computer, nice rooms, and a nice garden, and decided that I didn't need to see any of those things at all. I would just relax until I didn't feel like relaxing any more. (Hard to imagine that I would need to relax, given all the stress that is NOT in my life right now, but I had, for some inexplicable reason, had a dream about writing progress reports (!!!!) the night before, but even in my dream I was completely unworried that others had already had their reports checked and returned, and I hadn't even started writing mine. In fact, I couldn't really think of my kids' names...) By the way, on the back of the menu here are photos of all the people who work at the guest house, along with their names and titles. My favorite is the "Manager of Textile Purification." I don't know if that is done tongue in cheek, or if it is a translation issue. Either way, it makes me happy.

I did eventually motivate a bit yesterday, and I got the bus (loose term) down to the Old City of Sukhothai (which used to be the capital of Thailand, or the region, or province or something... I've read it a zillion times in the guide book, but obviously not cared enough to internalize it), which is now a bunch of ruins. I have to say, I did very much enjoy walking around it. I didn't walk far, for I was not on a quest to see all the ruins (there are LOTS spread over a large area). I just enjoyed the fact that it was tranquil there. I could actually hear birds and insects, and for just a moment, I could hear no cars or motorcycles in the background. It was lovely. (There had been one moment previously on my trip when I was walking around Bangkok when the lights had changed or something, and there suddenly wasn't a drone of traffic next to me. I hadn't realized how loud it was until then. The constant ringing in my ears in bed at night should have been a hint, though.) I sat on some ruins and just listened and watched. There was a group of birds near by... egrets, or herons, or possibly dodos (I'm not so good with bird identification), and I watched them. In walking around the ruins, though, I did feel like I ought to have had binoculars attached to me, and I should have been hunting for monkeys. (For any Earthwatchers reading this, there was loads of TI, but not a monkey in sight to ING the RF.) It was all very pleasant, except for the gnats which perpetually flew right into my eyes.

I caught the bus back home (almost dying from exhaust inhalation... I still don't feel like I've had a clean breath of air for a while), and did a little straw poll of the vehicles we passed on the other side of the road, for I noticed there were many trucks. In my ever so official sampling of 25 autos, the truck to car ratio was 4 to 1. But the motorcycle to auto ratio was 2:1. Translation: It's loud here.

Tomorrow I head for the hills. I probably should go rest up before the big journey...

NOT Bangkok

I flew the coop yesterday, and boarded a train out of Bangkok. I went a couple hours north to Lop Buri, a sweet little town filled with ruins of old temples (and monkeys). I wandered around a bit, so happy to have some relative peace and quiet. Yes, at one point last night I finally focused on the fact that the music I could hear wafting in my window was actually Christmas carols. There is something inherently WRONG (in my opinion) about hearing Frosty the Snowman in Thailand.

The hotel last night was great... I had a bathroom en suite, AND a TV. When I turned it on and heard American voices, I literally did a little dance and sang "It's in English! It's in English!" My joy quickly dissipated when the picture came on and I discovered that it was Fox News... the morning show at that! I managed about three minutes, and then I couldn't stomach it anymore. No TV is WAY better than that TV!

Today I took the train further north to a large town called Phitsanulok (I think). I settled myself into a corner room with a king sized bed (for $6 a night), and then started wandering around town. After finding Thai Airways to confirm my flight to Australia, I headed to a folk museum. (It has some long name like General Somebody's Thai Folk Museum.) It sold itself as a museum of tools and daily objects. Sounded right up my alley. I smiled the whole time I was in there. I giggled when I saw the display of various mouse traps. (NOT like ours at all.) I enjoyed the fish and porcupine traps. I started wondering if I couldn't volunteer my services to retranslate all of their English signs into slightly more fluent English. Just when I thought the museum couldn't get any better, I came across a display showing how to castrate a bull. I had to copy down Step 6 so I could share it with you.

"The specialist turns the fork of sticks [which have the testes between them] at the top of the ham. After that uses the hammer hit at the testicles until was broken."

Guys, broken out in a sweat yet? Ladies, trying to figure out exactly how it was done?

More later, I'm sure...

Ready to leave Bangkok!

I'm hitting the tracks tomorrow and heading north out of Bangkok. The shine is gone, and the seamy underbelly of the city is showing itself, and I've never been particularly fond of seaminess. But, besides being pretty revolted by all the white tourist men I see wining and dining Thai women, I had a fairly decent day. I needed to get my train ticket for tomorrow, so got on a bus to the train station. I noticed that the red lights seemed to be ridiculously long, so when the bus was caught at one I started to time it on my watch. At six minutes, I thought it was funny. At 10 minutes I was baffled. At 14 minutes the locals started to get antsy. At 16 minutes the locals started to get off! At EIGHTEEN MINUTES at a continuously red light (the cross traffic having had four or five turns) the bus driver gave up and drove through it. Seriously.... 18 minutes! Obviously something was wrong with that traffic light.

(By the way, you should know when crossing streets in Bangkok that actually have a crosswalk AND a crossing signal, there is no warning as to when the little green walking man will suddenly turn to red and you are half way across six lanes of traffic when they start to drive. You might have 18 minutes to cross, or about two seconds. Good luck!)

This evening I had dinner with some friends of my aunt. They took me to a place on the river, and ordered all sorts of things that they thought I should try. I had Tom Yum (?) soup, square breaded sausage things (yummy!), beef slices, cashew chicken curry, and something that was either a very large shrimp or small lobster, which was fried and eaten whole... shell and all. I dutifully followed my host's lead and ate the whole damned thing. (It was fried, so it wasn't too bad. Crunchy.)

Very full now, and looking forward to heading to the guest house and packing my backpack up again. (Sigh...)

Bangkok, Day 3

Today I played the proper tourist, and went from temple to museum to palace all day. It was a good day, but the Thai sentimentality in regards to their museums had me chuckling quite a bit. They don't seem to believe in culling anything! If one spear is good, 50 is better. Why have just one cannon, when we could display them all? And how many Buddhas do I need to see in the "stop fighting between relatives" pose? (Well, actually....) At the museum attached to the really big temple here (Wat Something-that-I've-already-forgotten, but it houses the Emerald Buddha), they had a display of tools that they used in the restoration of the temple. Yes, they had on display, among many other things, a saw, a hammer, and, my personal favorite, a toothbrush. Later in the day at the Elephant Museum (don't ask, for I don't know the answer), I particularly enjoyed seeing an elephant molar and "pickled while elephant leather" (translation: elephant skin in formaldehyde).

At all the temples and some of the museums I had to take my shoes off. Let me tell you, I LOVE being barefoot walking around museums. (Now if I could only find a museum where extraneous bits of clothes were optional...) Of course, once I was barefoot, I automatically started to practice my plies and releves. Luckily these museums weren't terribly popular. In fact at one little museum I was the only person there, so I had my own personal guard/shadow. I'm not sure if she was making sure I didn't touch or steal anything, or if she wanted to make sure I followed the arrows that were on the floors of every museum telling you exactly which way to flow through it!

Given my gourmet western meal yesterday, I decided that today I would eat off the streets. No, not Thai roadkill (which would likely be one of the zillion cats I've seen wandering around), but eating from street vendors. So here is what I had today:

Breakfast-- 3 bananas and half a pineapple (very delicious it was)
Lunch-- Noodle soup of some sort, which had some odd fish product things floating in it
Dessert (I happened upon a random street fair that reminded me of Taste of Missouri, but without all the crafts, just the food)-- Some square thing that looked like a little cake with candied ginger shreds atop. Well, the candied ginger turned out to be onion, so I was a bit dubious about the cake part. I also couldn't figure out how to get it out of the little tin, and she didn't give me (or I forgot to pick up) any fork or chopsticks or anything... So I dug in with my fingers, and was pleased to find that it was indeed sweet. Kind of like a very moist cakey flan sort of thing.
Snack-- I spotted something that looked like four crab rangoons on a stick, so excitedly got that. Unfortunately it turned out to be hard boiled eggs wrapped in won tons. You win some, you lose some.

There is a good likelihood that I will become quite ill later tonight, but for the moment I am feeling happily sated.

Bangkok, Day 2

I spent yesterday just wandering around the area of town where I am staying, getting used to all the little alleys in the area which pass as roads. (I am sure the three people sewing leather purses together near where I'm staying started keeping count how many times I passed them after about the 5th time.)

Today I got out a bit more. Well, first I had a good old-fashioned lie-in. After getting up at 6 am every day for a month, I slept until 9:30. Yes, that would be 12 hours of sleep, as I went to bed quite early. It was a good sleep, but I can't say that the beds here are comfortable. Both in the first guest house where I had the nap yesterday, and this place, the 'mattress' really is more of a box-spring with a mattress pad atop. I am pretty sure I dreamed last night of finding a Linens 'n Things here and buying one of those foam egg crate mattress covers. (A girl can dream...)

I met my aunt's friend for lunch. There was some confusion as to whether we were meeting inside or outside the hotel which she suggested. She was sitting in the nicely air-conditioned lobby, and I was dutifully waiting for her to pull up outside. Oh well! Eventually we found each other, and off we set. She suggested giving me a little driving tour of Bangkok, which I happily accepted. She said that one needs to drive defensively in this city... Well, the OTHERS do when driving near her! She plunked herself right in the middle of two lanes, and pretty much swerved whenever a car or motorbike was anywhere near her. I had to close my eyes a couple of times, but we made it out alive. She suggested stopping at her Sports Club (The Royal Bangkok Sports Club... oldest in the city and quite colonial, even though Bangkok was never colonized) for a drink first. I accepted, even though I had not actually had anything to eat yet. Nothing like a glass of wine on the empty stomach of a girl who doesn't really drink!

The drink was fine (and I didn't fall over when leaving the table), and she took me off for a 'proper' lunch (read: not Thai... I had arugula salad, beef bourgoinnone (however you spell that) and a brownie). She was perfectly lovely, and it was nice to chat with her and find out about the mess that was going on here the last few weeks. She dropped me off at the Sky Train, so I could experience that as a route home.

From there I decided to walk back to my guest house. It was probably about two miles, which I did all on the big streets (not trusting the little streets or my map). There were a couple of streets which I had to cross (with crosswalks but no crossing signals), where I said to myself, "How the [expletive deleted] am I supposed to cross this [expletive deleted]??" Once or twice I did have to lean back so my nose didn't get clipped by a passing truck. My favorite, though, was the crosswalk which went half way across the street and then stopped. Okay, whatever!

When I got back to the guest house, I walked the 68 paces (turn right out of the door, turn right at the corner, and it's the first entrance you come across) to the massage place. Yes, I went there yesterday and I went back today. Best damn $6 a day (including tip!) that I've ever spent. I had a Thai massage yesterday, and an oil massage today, and I can now conclusively say that I prefer Thai massage. (Yes, the little woman was actually standing on me at one point, and it was awesome!) I am seriously considering moving to this country, or else smuggling Ayma (my new best friend, replacing the blind woman from my dance class who thought I was 18) into my backpack and around the world with me! (I think tomorrow I might get a facial...)

One random observation for you from my wanderings through this tourist mecca last night. There is absolutely nothing more pathetic than a balding man (buff though he may be) getting corn rows.

Until later!

Thailand

I have arrived safely in Thailand (but not terribly happy at the moment, because this keyboard is HORRENDOUS, and I am paying by the minute!). I kept expecting my stomach to start doing flip-flops as I was on the plane, for this is the first place no one was going to meet me or house me or feed me. I am totally on my own. But, much to my amazement, I was totally calm. I probably was just still asleep...

Upon arriving in Bangkok, the pilot got on the intercom and said, "Welcome to.......... Well, honestly I cannot pronounce the name." I don't know why not... the airport is called Suvarnabhumi. I mean it just ROLLS off the tongue! I was delighted to find that my backpack made the 40 minute layover in Doha and was waiting for me past immigration. I hopped on the bus to the backpackers' area of town (with lots of other backpackers from all over, it sounded like), and we came into Banglamphu. I couldn't help thinking it felt a bit like the Amazing Race, as I assumed that they would also all be searching for rooms as soon as we got off the bus.

I started wandering down alleys off the main road, following wherever I saw a sign that said Guest House. I think at the 4th or 5th place they had a room. At $7, I grabbed it. So what if the window actually goes into the bathroom, or that as I was checking in at 9 am, a bunch of very drunk people were just coming home from the night out. It had a bed and a pillow (and that is ALL it had), so I crashed for two hours. Then I headed out to find some food and water (it is amazing how the whole Wants v Needs thing is forefront in my mind now), and went back to one of the other guest houses to see if they had a room yet. They did, and so in a few minutes I'll be switching to a nicer, quieter, cheaper (if you can imagine!) place.

I have a lunch date for tomorrow with an elderly friend of my aunt. She is coming to collect me at some hotel nearby. It was comical trying to spell the name of the hotel or her trying to write down my phone number. Might be a miracle if we actually meet!

I think I need to find a new keyboard as soon as this coin runs out, because I am rapidly developing carpal tunnel syndrome (or however you spell it)....

Anyway, sawat-dii from Thailand!

Random Kenyan thoughts

One last post for the day, for the country, for the continent. These are just a collection of random thoughts, observations, and anecdotes from my time here. Enjoy.



I've never eaten so much cabbage in my life. While here I have also sampled goat, ostrich, loads of mangoes, lychee, paw paw, passion (fruit, alas), and about a bushel of raw tomatoes.

Kids seem to wander free here. Rarely do I see even the youngest of children being supervised by an adult. Even at recess. (When I went to visit Materi, Sister Esther took me to see the primary school next door. We just wandered in through the open gates and were immediately swarmed by the entire school. And not a grown-up in sight.)

There doesn't seem to be much in the way of garbage service here (I asked about recycling, and received a laugh), so people burn it. It's not uncommon to see a goat atop a pile of garbage which is still smoldering a bit. There is garbage (plastic bags especially) everywhere. It makes me shudder every time I see it.

Billy Ocean appears to still be big in Kenya. I heard him a number of times on the radio or CDs. Ditto for the song Celebration. (Go 1982 World Series Champions Cards!)

On Qatar Airways, one of the graphics that comes on the screen (along with how far to your destination, where you are now) is which direction Mecca is.

On the trip to Mombasa our van driver suddenly said we needed to be wearing seatbelts (after 11 days of not caring a whit). A police checkpoint was coming up. The three of us made a mad dash, but not a one of us could find both sides of a seatbelt. I just tucked mine into the side. The guy next to me contorted himself over the top of the seats (tall seats) into the next row (leaving a flip flop and much of one leg up front) in an attempt to find one. That not working, he contorted himself back up to the front, all the while yelling "Where ARE the seatbelts?!"

On the first day of monkey chasing I thought that our leader's hair was awfully well coiffed. Possibly TOO well coiffed. My theory was confirmed when she caught a twig and her wig came off. She put it back on, but a little crooked. (After that day, she gave up and just wore a scarf. On the last morning she said she couldn't wait to have her hair done properly.)

The monkeys ate the same sour fruit that I did when visiting that family. Turns out to be tamarind.

I did my laundry today here in Nairobi (at my cousin's cousin's house). When I went to hang it on the line, it had already been done (by the "domestic"). When I went to get it off the line, it had already been folded. It had also all been IRONED! While I can quite happily iron linen napkins for hours on a Saturday morning, I draw the line at ironing ALL of my clothes. They've never looked so good (and certainly won't again for the next six months, as I cram them into my backpack!).

I kept misreading the sign "Plot for sale" as "Pilot for sale".

One day I was served stew, and I said "Thank you" to the cook. She said "Caribou". I thought to myself that I hadn't known caribou were in Kenya, but really, what do I know? Then I realized she was saying "Karibu," which is Swahili for "You're welcome."

When wandering through the woods I kept smelling butter, and wondered who had greased themselves up. Turned out to be the pollen of a tree.

The CB in the safari jeep sounded just like something squawky out of Star Wars.

I saw a restaurant that had this painted on it's windows, presumably by way of an advertisement: "Breakfast Marinated Salad".

One evening after dark we were driving through a small town and I noticed that only a few shops had lights on. One had a nice v-neck dress hanging in the window. As we approached, I realized it was actually a butchery and that dress was a goat or sheep.

Everyone and their grandmother has cell phones here. You'll see a Maasai warrior with his spear, blade, club, and a cell phone clipped to his belt.

I have been singing Hakuna Matata for two weeks.

I misread the Rift Valley Institute of Science and Technology as Scientology, and thought, Oh no, not here as well!

One day I was sitting near (not by) a river, just watching it roll by. A guy on the other side came up to it, presumably to wash, but threw a big rock in first, to ward off any crocs. I think I'd rather be dirty.



I guess that's it for Africa. Hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. I'm sure I'll have many more stories in person!

Monkey Chasing

I am back in Nairobi again for one more night before heading out to Thailand tomorrow. (I hope... see post below.) I am therefore going to deluge you with posts while I have the chance (IF the power stays on... it has been going off about every half hour for 5 minutes or so all day, and was pretty sketchy the last few days).

I spent the last 11 days on the coast of Kenya (honestly, I didn't even know Kenya HAD a coast, and certainly never realized what a tourist hot-spot it was, especially with the Italians. Kids would smile and wave to our bus and say "Ciao!") doing my Earthwatch Monkey Chasing trip (I think it was officially called Kenya's Forest Monkeys or something unexciting like that). THANK YOU to those who made contributions to my trip and helped make it possible for me to go there. Know that your money was well spent (or donated rather), and that I was the Queen Monkey chaser (dubbed thus by myself, just this second... my fellow monkey chasers might choose to disagree, but I'm banking on them losing my blog address before they read this).

This will likely be a long post detailing all the exciting things that the monkeys did for 11 days ("Resting.... Resting... Resting... Moving..."), so get a cup of something warm (for I think most of you are in cold weather places, unlike me!) and settle in for a good long read.

The Earthwatch trip began when I arrived at the Nairobi airport three hours before my flight to the coast (traffic was totally non-existent, for the first time in Nairobi's history, I think). I was just wondering what I was going to do with myself for three hours (the Nairobi airport is not filled with bookstores or shops or anything really, except people offering to get you a taxi or safari), when I heard my name. At the time I was wearing my Earthwatch t-shirt (which my mother kindly sent to me across the ocean), not because I wanted to advertise where I was going or what I would be doing, but because it was absolutely the only thing I had that was clean. (I’d just gotten back from a week’s safari at that point.) So I was pretty easy to spot. I looked up and saw a somewhat bedraggled (jetlagged) older white couple looking at me, so I wandered their way, and yes, they were Earthwatchers, too. (My first thought was “Of course… because everything I do seems to involve people 20-40 years my senior.”) They were a couple from San Francisco, who were doing their third Earthwatch trip. We spent the three hours together, finding a little restaurant and getting to know each other. (They immediately became my favorite people in Kenya when they gave me their copy of the Sunday NYTimes Crossword puzzle. I gobbled that down much like I did the chocolate bar that I had just yesterday for the first time in ages.) We spotted another guy who was travelling alone as a possible Earthwatcher, but I decided he was much too young to be on the trip (he seemed to be about my age). When our flight arrived in Malindi and we were met by our leaders, it turns out that this child WAS actually on our trip. In fact, when we all gathered, there were LOADS (relatively speaking) of younger people. We had four Brits (all young… although one did turn out to be 49, but she looked young) and three Americans. (So I guess my taste in activities is appropriate for Brits my age, or retired Americans… Not sure what that says.) We had two Kenya leaders, who were fantastically nice, but one was unfortunately named Lucy, so I spent 11 days thinking people were talking to me and asking me questions I couldn’t possibly answer.

Until then I had been surprised at the reputation that Africa had of being hot. I had been on the EQUATOR, for god’s sake, and hadn’t broken a sweat. I assumed it had something to do with it being the Short Rains (although it almost never rained). And then I got to the coast. To sea level. Apparently everywhere else I’d been had been quite elevated, and therefore cool. Not so any more. Hot and humid and sunny and filled with really nasty malaria-bearing mosquitoes. Good times! The Brits all promptly started to melt. (An aside—as if everything I write isn’t an aside already—Let’s say you were among the pastiest people on the planet and you were going to a spot that was near the equator and hot and sunny, and you were going to be outside all day. Now, let’s say you need to choose a malaria pill to take while in this environment. Would you take the one that makes you sensitive to the sun??? Three of the four of them were doing just that. Seemed a bit odd to me, but whatever.)

The place we were staying (in Watamu at the Mwamba Bird Reasearch Field Station, although I never saw one birder—or bird for that matter—while I was there) was fantastic. It was very simple… three of us shared a room (of course, I was with Lucy!) with an attached toilet (that sort of worked) and shower (that did have hot water, I discovered three days later… but didn’t use much because I was so damned hot anyway!), and we all ate together with bowls of stew or rice and beans balanced on our knees. The beach was just down a short path, and the sand was white and ocean green and blue. Not too shabby. And not an Italian in sight! (They were all further down the beach at the resorts.)

Our days entailed getting up at 6 (which, believe it or not, I did without much of a fuss… but don’t fret, this will NOT be continued in my normal life!) and being in the van at 6:45, so we could start chasing the monkeys at 7. AM. In the morning. (Those of you who know me well, why don’t you go splash some cold water on your face.) We then had to track through the woods (next to some ruins) for up to an hour trying to find the monkeys. (I was on a team which studied the monkeys whose range included the office, so sometimes we saw them as we pulled up.) Once we found said monkeys, we had to find one that we would be able to identify as it moved through the woods. (I usually used the tail… I wasn’t so good at using their nipples to ID them.) As we followed the monkey, we had to record what it did every minute for half an hour (we had a watch that beeped every minute… I wondered if this wasn’t actually a study of US to see if we could be conditioned to respond to beeps). We also had to note what the monkey was eating, and if it pooped, we had to either mark it with a flag, or pick it up (much like walking a dog), so that they could look for seeds in it. (The focus of the study had shifted from “the effects of human encroachment upon the stressors levels of sykes monkeys”—say THAT three times fast!—to seed dispersal of provisioned vs. non-provisioned monkeys. (Mine were the provisioned group, and boy could they move fast when they heard a bus of tourists coming to visit the ruins!)

Chasing monkeys was easy when they were resting (the males were particularly good at this), but when they were in the canopy and you were in the brush it was a bit harder. We were warned to look down a lot to make sure that we weren't standing in a line of safari ants (a line being about two inches wide!) or about to step on a snake (puff adders and green mambas were especially to be avoided). The leaders said that the monkeys would tell us if there was a snake near by. One day Lucy called out to us to see where we were, because our monkeys were making the "There's a snake right there" chatter, but we didn't recognize it. They chatter and all circle around and look at the snake. (That day it was a puff adder.) I did recognize the chatter on our last day when they all started chattering and looking pretty much directly at my feet. Needless to say I froze, and was relieved when they nipped to a point about 10 feet behind me and circled up. (It was another puff adder.) We also spotted a couple of green mambas (so beautiful) climbing up in the trees, but the monkeys weren't worried about them.

We did these morning and afternoon, day in and day out. (At some point during the trip I decided that I was glad I had never taken a biology class.) We had two afternoons off (I did some snorkeling at the reef just off where we were staying one of those days), and we also had the weekend off. Four of the seven went on safari to Tsavo, but I was kind of safari-ed out, so I stayed behind with two others. We had a lovely weekend though. On Saturday we went to the snake farm and found out just how many poisonous snakes were in the woods with us (but don’t worry, because they made anti-venom there), and then had a nice dinner. The walk back from dinner in the dark was kind of amusing, for every twig, oil spot, or anything else that my two companions saw sent them into hysterics. Well, mostly just the guy from the plane, who did admit that he was a tremendous scaredy cat. (Of course, he was the one who had a snake fall on his head in the woods!) On Sunday, I spent a glorious day doing nothing but reading my book and swimming in the sea. (Not bad for late November!)

We never did get to find out what the results of all of our hard work was, because as we were about to be given a presentation on the computer, the power went out. (Again.) So we crunched the numbers that we could, and then just hung out for the last few hours before we all parted ways.

I went down to Mombasa with two others (driven by Sammy, our faithful driver, who was quite a character! He wants to be mayor of Malindi someday. I think he already IS running the seacoast), ditched them at the airport, and then I was dropped off at the train station for the overnight train back to Nairobi. (One of the hottest experiences of my life.) The train (and I mean THE train) goes from Mombasa to Nairobi every other day, and it is a 15 hour journey. (The Brits we dropped at the airport in Mombasa were already in bed in London by the time I got off the train.) I took first class (because when else will I be able to afford first class?), so had a fancy (Kenya fancy) dinner and breakfast, and a bed all made up for me. I had a compartment to myself, and possibly even a whole carriage to myself… I had been in a carriage with other (white) people, but the porter decided my room was “no good” so moved me to the next carriage, which seemed empty. I’m guessing he didn’t like the security in the first compartment, because he then gave me strict instructions on how to lock the door from the inside and to close the window when I went to sleep (hence it being so damned hot), so that no one could climb in (the train moved along slower than the vehicles on the road next to us, and stopped about every half our all night long, so it would be totally possible for someone to climb aboard). I actually slept relatively well, and had a pleasant journey.

Coming into Nairobi we drove through one of the shanty towns, which finally got to me. When I first arrived in Kenya I was amazed at how people lived, but it quickly became commonplace and seemed normal. But going through the slums, seeing children in rags lined up along the tracks, with huge smiles and happily waving to us, brought tears to my eyes as I wondered about this crazy world we live in.

I'll try to get some pictures up at some point (but not in this country, apparently!).

Travails

Well, here is the travails part of "Lucie's travels (and travails?)". I was completely oblivious to everything going on in the world (as opposed to my normal state of obliviousness) for quite a while, being in the middle of nowhere in Africa with no internet or newspaper, when one day we got to go to an internet cafe. I had a somewhat panicked message from a contact in Bangkok, saying she was sure I knew about the situation there and it was really quite serious and would I still be coming?

Um, what???

A few quick emails to my brother assured me it wasn't so bad there. Six days later I finally got to see a newspaper, and looked immediately to see what the situation was. Protesters had taken over the airports, and Thailand appeared to be closed until December 15th.

Um, WHAT??????

I actually remained surprisingly calm, for really, what could I do about it? I called the travel agent and left a message, and got a call back saying that the airline still had my flight scheduled, and they expected the airport to be open by then.

In line at the Mombasa train station last night, there was an Aussie in front of me who was talking to my same airline, and they said all was well, so I relaxed. Good thing I didn't chuck the Thailand guidebook and buy a Viet Nam one (which was about to become Plan B).

So I guess it isn't really a travail yet. It's all one big adventure!

(By the way, again, don't tell my mother! I am, of course, assuming she can't figure out how to actually read my blog...)

Monkey Lessons

We are having the afternoon off from monkey chasing down on the coast of Kenya, so I have a few minutes at a cyber cafe. (One of the other Earthwatch members was sorely disappointed that there was no food or drink at this so-called Cafe.) I'll write more details later, but after four days here, I wanted to share a few lessons I've learned in regards to monkeys, the coast, and the team.

1. Do not stand directly underneath a monkey in a tree. You never know what gravity will bring down upon you. (I learned this by seeing some else get peed on, not first hand.)

2. The blustering Englishman as depicted in movies bobbing and diving and swatting when a bee comes around is not a charicature. He's real. There are two of him on my trip.

3. It's hot here. Damn hot. Like Africa hot.

4. When I have five days' worth of sweat, salt water, and dirt in my hair, I look rather like Medusa in the mornings. (And I always thought I had straight hair.)

5. The world is insanely small. There is a kid staying at the same place we are who will have one of my friends as his professor next term when he goes home.

Must dash. More later.

pix

The computers in Kenya don't seem to want to upload pictures at more than half of a snail's pace, so you may have to wait for them for a while for safari pictures. I did manage to get the photo of my bags onto the post from before I left England and images from my trip to the school, so that's something.

Safari

I just returned to Nairobi after a seven day safari to Samburu, Lake Baringo, Lake Bogoria, Lake Nakuru, and the Masai Mara. Seven days of bumping over dirt roads in a Land Cruiser (a not-so-comfortable version of a Land Rover), with plastic windows that roll up. I have never been so dirty, even when I worked on the farm! And it was so loud with the wind and the bumping and the engine. You would have thought that the dirt and dust in my ears would have done something to dampen the noise, but not so much.

On the trip there were the Kenya driver and cook (Nicholas and Simon, respectively), and two older women (of course… everything I do seems to have me in the company of people my mother’s age!) from Belgium. One of them said she knew one person from St. Louis, but the name didn’t ring a bell with me. A few days later she mentioned her friend again, and the person started to sound familiar. I changed the pronunciation, and lo, it was the mother of one of my high school classmates! Freaking small world. The Kenyans chatted in various African languages, the Belgians in Flemish (which actually is similar to German, so I could pick up bits), so I just sat quietly and thought my own thoughts a lot of the time. The one common language was English, so I wasn’t mute for seven days (as if I could be!).

The safari was great, but I now know (or have confirmed to myself what I thought to be true) that I really am much more interested in plants than animals. I spent more time asking what various flowers were than various birds. That being said, though, when we first came across a couple of lionesses with their five cubs, I did start to cry. (Not sure why exactly. Probably the same reason I cry whenever the Variety Club parade goes down my street.) I do have to admit that I really couldn’t care less about ungulates (all of those things which are up at the Red Rocks area of the St. Louis Zoo. Sorry Becky!)

I saw lions and tigers and bears, oh my! (Well, not so much of the tigers and bears…) I saw giraffe, elephants, hippos, rhinos, lions, cheetahs, baboons, monkeys—velvet and colobus, warthogs, wildebeest (not migrating), and about a zillion hoofed mammals and loads of birds. (Where’s your personal Bird Nerd when you need him?!)

Samburu was up north, and had loads of acacia trees (those thorny things) and scrub. (Remember, it’s the rainy season, so everything was actually growing.) We stayed at a permanent camp (Camp Dik Dik!) with canvas tents and cots, and were told not to wander off because of lions. Um, okay! That was the first two days. Then we drove to Lake Baringa (kidnapping a Samburu tribesman along the way… he said he needed a lift because he lost his clothes down the road, but something may have been lost in translation there). At Baringa we pitched our tents then went on a boat ride out into the lake so we could see hippos (but not too close!).

The next day we drove to Lake Bogoria, which is where all the flamingos are. That was pretty cool. Plus, the landscape around the lake was just gorgeous. From there we went down to Lake Nakuru, which has loads more flamingoes and pelicans (hey, spell-checker accepts flamingos and flamingoes. Rock out!). We stayed at a lovely campsite outside of Nakuru town (I saw some graffiti with a big picture of Obama in town). The campsite actually had real grass, level ground, and clean(ish) showers. Woo hoo!

The next two nights were spent in the Masai Mara (which you have to get to by driving through hordes of Masai women trying to sell you jewelry that they’ve made. They like to just put it in your lap in the car, and then tell you a price. Sometimes they ask to trade you for a pen. Having packed only and exactly what I need, I was not shopping!). The Mara is the Kenyan extension of the Serengeti in Tanzania, filled with huge plains of grass. It was really breathtaking.

Upon the recommendation of my cousin who just went on honeymoon there (and the guy in front of me in line when I took the bus from Boston to NYC), I splurged and took myself on a sunrise balloon trip over the Mara (with a fancy schmancy champagne breakfast at the end). I didn’t care that we didn’t see many animals, because I was just enjoying the view. When I was talking with the seven other people from my basket at breakfast, it became very clear that we were traveling in different price brackets! Whereas I was contending with beetles in my sleeping bag and carrying my own toilet paper to the seat-less long-drop commode, they were all staying in luxury tents and going on cruises down the Nile and whatnot. Oh well. I lived the high life for a few hours…

My favorite moment of safari was yesterday afternoon’s game drive. I was pretty much done with being in the car (my back had been killing me for two days), and I didn’t really care about seeing any more animals. (I believe this is called “safari fatigue”.) For whatever reason, we had a Masai moran (unmarried man/warrior… the guys in the full red garb with knives and clubs and big holes in their ears) in the car with us. Perhaps he was learning how to be a guide or something. Anyway, we were trolling along a riverbank (I assume looking for a leopard, which we never found) and saw a hippo walking along. So we stopped to look. As we were leaving, I saw a freaking HUGE crocodile (I am NOT a fan) lying on the bank above the river. Someone in the car suggested it was dead. Our driver said that the Masai would go check. (I don’t think I would have liked to have that honor.) He was not two feet from the car (still a ways off from the croc) when it came to life and was back in the river in a flash. That brave warrior just about jumped out of his skin, and was ready to jump in the window of the car. (Can’t say I blame him.)

This afternoon we came back to Nairobi, where I took the most appreciated shower of my life. I have dust everywhere. (And I mean everywhere.) I just wish I could wash all my clothes (twice), but I’m off to monkey chasing tomorrow.

I’ll try to get some pictures up before then, but I have loads to sort through!

Kenya

I am in Kenya now. Hopefully tomorrow I will be going on a safari, then off to Monkey Chasing, so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get another post up. But this one is certainly long enough to keep you busy for a while!

On Tuesday I flew into Nairobi (via Doha!) and a cousin of a cousin (translation: complete stranger who very graciously said he would host me) collected me from the airport. Two things surprised me as we left the airport. First, it was cold and rainy. This shouldn’t have been a surprise, I suppose, as it is the rainy season. Second, there was a herd of giraffe off in the distance. I guess I really am in Africa! The roads in Kenya, even in the capital of Nairobi, are what could only be described as deplorable. (Infrastructure appears not to be the forte here) so we wove and joggled along through the traffic to their suburb of Langata. They live an ex-pat existence, with a large gate that is always locked (and a gatekeeper and gatekeeper’s cottage) and two ‘domestics’. I’m not sure that is how I would choose to live, but it is kind of them to have me.

On Wednesday, my host had a driver from work take me to the matatu (van shuttle things) stand, so I could go up north to visit the girls’ school that a family friend had some connections to. (I hadn’t realized until I saw said friend in Paris, that not only had he never met Brother John, the man who runs the school, to whom I sent a letter asking if I could visit, but he had never even SPOKEN to him!) My directions from Brother John were to take the bus to 14 km short of its destination, get dropped at the Nkubu Mission Hospital, and ask anyone where he lives. This seemed slightly dubious, but earlier in the day I had met someone from that area, and she knew exactly who Brother John was, so I had faith that I would find him. Alas, the bus driver didn’t know where the hospital was, and Nkubu was slightly bigger than three huts on the side of the road (which many of the other towns along the way seem to have been). So he pulled over, asked some guy where the hospital was, told me that this man would take me there, and drove off.

So there I was, standing with a big pack on my back and little one on my front, in the hands of a stranger. But I know there is some saying about depending upon the kindness of strangers, and that is what this year is all about. The man pointed to a dirt road and said, Down there. So down I went. The thing about Kenya is that on any road of any size at any time of day there are people (many people) walking (most of them carrying machetes). So I had plenty of people to ask if that was the way to the hospital. It was. Once I saw a woman in a habit I decided I was near and started asking about Brother John. A few handlers later, I was delivered to Brother John, who was sitting in his beat up Land Rover at the front gate, awaiting my arrival. I apparently came in the back.

We drove 30 km down a dirt road (and it had rained a lot the day before, so it was a bit muddy in parts, and insanely bumpy the whole way) to the Materi Girls’ Center, which he started 35 years ago. He has 700 girls, boarders from grade 5-12, a vocational school, a nursery school, and a clinic for pregnant mothers and small kids. The cost per student per year at the boarding school is about $800, but he only asks for $400, and the rest he (hopefully) makes up with sponsors. (He showed me how much the girls all still owe… about $30,000, but he’s not going to kick them out.)

I walked around a bit the first day, being stared at by every girl. They were busy washing their clothes (by hand, with water from the pump), getting ready to go home, as school was ending for the year. The 8th and 12th graders were in the process of taking the big national exam, and there were ARMED guards standing at the doorways of the testing rooms so that no one would cheat. (Yes, with live ammunition.) Can you imagine that at the SATs??? And we make sure that the lawnmowers don’t come when we do standardized tests so that the kids don’t lose their concentration!

I visited the nursery school on Thursday and Friday. The four teachers were lovely, friendly women, who were happy to talk to me, and answer all of my questions. (And yes, I had many conversations about Obama.) Those kids were not boarders, and came for only half a day, having lunch (possibly their only meal of the day) before walking home (some as far as 7 km) by themselves. The children were children, and the classrooms were actually vaguely reminiscent of the preschool classes at home with the various centers. They just didn’t have electricity, or pencil sharpeners, or shoes, and had 30 kids in the room…

The second day I asked how much it cost for the kids to attend the school, and I was told 300 shillings and some can’t even afford that. For their 300 shillings they get school, free lunch, free uniform, and free medical. By the way, 300 shillings is the amount that I had paid the previous day to post three letters back to the US. It is about $5. And the absolute most that a teacher will be paid in that area is $50 a month. None of us could even begin to understand what life was like for the other. (When I told them how much I take home a month, after taxes, insurance, retirement, they said that no one in the whole country would make that much… and I’m a teacher with a teacher’s salary!)

To try to give me some context, that afternoon, once the sun had cooled down a bit (we were not far from the equator), the teachers took me to see the homes of some of the students. They were squatters in stick and mud huts. It was amazing, although I felt odd as I took a few pictures of them. The last family was incredibly gracious, getting chairs for all of us so we could sit in the shade of the mango tree. One of the teachers was showing me all of the fruit trees around, and the uncle brought down a few seed pod things that had some fruity substance inside. It was the color and consistency of a fig. I had been warned that it was a good source of vitamin C, but quite sour. I tried it, and everyone, including myself, got a good laugh at the expression that must have been on my face. I puckered right up, and my eyes were watering. It wasn’t too bad, though. They also picked a couple of mangoes for me, which I ate right there, with no obscene mango fork or knife to peel it, just my teeth. (Luckily, I have lots of dental floss with me.)

Yesterday, I piled into a truck with about 12 other people to head up to Nkubu (people were either going home for the weekend or going shopping in town… an hour away), and then Brother took me up to Meru (stopping at the equator for a quick picture… that is a genuine smile of “Oh my god, I am at the equator!” on my lips), to catch a matatu back to the madness of Nairobi. (Not my favorite place, thus far.) The trip was uneventful, except for the chuckle I got when twice I saw passing matatus with fish hanging below the front windshield. Real (dead) fish. Guess they would be a little stinky in what was already a pretty stinky van…

The Real Adventure Begins...

Some of you might say that I've already been having adventures, that my Gap Year/Grand Tour is already underway, but it hasn't really felt like that to me, as I've been staying with family and friends in places that I already know (or can figure out pretty easily). I've been in the first world, and able to leave bits of luggage here and there.

But this evening I fly off to Kenya with all my possessions on my back, and the real adventure begins. (Although I have to admit that I am going to be picked up at the airport by a cousin of a cousin and have two ex-pat contacts in Nairobi with whom I can stay.) My malaria pills are now with my toothbrush, and I have packed everything that I will taking with me for the next 6(ish) months in one large and one small backpack. And as soon as I can get the small backpack INTO the big one, I will! (This summer I saw some lightweight compression backpacks at Patagonia for $100 and couldn't understand why anyone would want that... But now I do!) The grand total weight of my luggage right now is 3.03 stones. That is 42.42 pounds. (And Dickie, even WITH all my luggage I weigh less than your two dogs.)

I have to admit that I am freaking out a bit, and the words "What the f*&# am I doing??" came out of my mouth today. But everyone thus far has been extremely kind and generous, so I'm going to assume that it will continue to be thus. And really, not until I am in Thailand am I totally on my own. So more freaking out will come, I'm sure.

But, as it is cold and peeing with rain at the moment, the idea of going to the equator doesn't seem so bad. So here I go...

Let the wild rumpus start!

Rennes

Going back in time a little bit (as I am now back in London briefly before heading off to Kenya tomorrow), I spent a few days last week in Rennes with a college friend and his family. He is teaching at a School Year Abroad program this year, and he dragged his family along with him.

The weather was actually lovely when I was there (they swore it was usually rainy, but I think that is only in England), so we walked about the city a bit. Jim showed me some of the gardens (think park crossed with botanical gardens), which were fantastic. I have to say that they spoiled me for when I went to Paris. I was not terribly impressed with the gardens I saw in Paris, but I've been told that they were designed not for looking at plants, but for looking at other people. In that case, they work quite well.

On election day, since there was nothing to see yet (six hours ahead of EST), we drove up to the coast to Mont St. Michel, which is a big old abbey on an island. It was pretty cool, I have to admit. Jim kept asking what I would do if I had one month to plan a siege on it; how would I storm it? Answer: I wouldn't; I just don't care enough to want to take over a church (although I did have flashes of John Cleese bashing the wall of a castle with a sword). Jim would use guile... or bile. Not sure which he said.

That evening, before we settled in to watch CNN (but nothing really started happening until 1 am, so we all went to bed), Jim and I went out to order a fancy french pizza, and go to his favorite bar while we waited for it. We actually had to go to the bar first, because when we got to the little restaurant, all of the staff were sitting outside having a smoke, and told us to come back in five minutes. So into the bar we went. It's Jim's favorite bar, having once been given a free shot there simply because he was American (the alcohol kind of shot, not the other kind of shot that Americans abroad might get). He went up to the bartender and said something in French, and the guy got down two beer glasses. I asked Jim what he had ordered for me, and he said a Carlsberg. This would be first beer that I have ever been given. I managed about three sips before passing it over to him. (I really can't stand beer.) I am thinking that that may have been his intention all along...

It was a quicky trip there, but it was fun to see them, and to be with them when the election results came out. (Kind of excited to go to Kenya right now!)