That sort of thing

Nairobi can be a very boozy place, if you're into that sort of thing.  It can be a very boozy place even if you're not into that sort of thing.  I attribute it to the plethora of things to celebrate: Birthdays, Goodbye parties, Welcome Back parties, Safari parties, We-Just-Finished-A-Hike parties, It's-Friday parties, It's-Saturday parties, Lets-All-Eat-A-Bunch-Of-Samosas parties, and on and on.

Last weekend was a birthday party at Olepos Country Club, about an hour's drive outside of Nairobi (4 hours in traffic, yes).  To get transport to the birthday party, I joined up with a going-away party who was taking a party-bus to get there.  A party on the way to a party.

Being on a party bus is actually a marvelous way to get around Nairobi because when you get stuck in traffic, no problem!  You're entertainment is already there, and your biggest troubles are 1.) How will we open the wine without a corkscrew? (No problem; it's boxed) and 2.) Is the bus aisle big enough for salsa dancing? (Yes, it is).

This type of city safari also affords plenty of chances to see exotic creatures:  "Look! Tourists!"
Inside the bus:

Savannah sing-alongs

Beer from a party straw is not as bad as it sounds.

And then when you finally hit the open road, you get this.
Outside the bus:

And then, of course, you finally arrive at the official party.  A pool-side view that's worth the drive:

Olepos Country Club

We indulgently dined

Both Seattle and San Francisco are wonderful places for outdoor activities and weekend adventures, but there are simply some things you can't do in the U.S.  One of them is jetting off to the Indian Ocean for a weekend with friends in a 3-story Swahili mansion.  First, the U.S. doesn't have a plethora of Swahili mansions, and if it did the price would be undoubtedly prohibitive.  In Kenya, you can share a place like this for about $20 per person a night.  

From the lounge area on the other side of the pool.

Stairs and stained glass.

3rd floor balcony for lagoon and Palm sunsets.

Night swims. 

From Nairobi you can head down after work on Friday (45min flight or overnight bus), spend a full 2 days soaking in the sun and sea, and return by Sunday evening or Monday morning in time for work.  For those who are local and interested, the house pictured here is Sugar House in Watamu (plot 16), and it sleeps 8 people.  

Not pictured her is the ping pong table where I almost tripped over a friendly (and large) millipede.  Nor the seafood curry and fresh crab claws that we indulgently dined upon.  Nor the local beach for sun-bathing and kite-surfing.  Nor the second mansion where the other half of our group slept in turrets.  Nor the local tuk tuks that took us for Italian gelato and dancing with fake Maasai.  Nor the fish that ate out of our hands as we snorkeled in the coral reefs.  

But I suppose these things, as with the warm coastal sun, need to be soaked up in person.  

 On our way to the coral reefs in our glass-bottom boat.

The sleep and soup

For all my big talk about activities every night, I've spent an inordinate amount of this past week sleeping.  Whenever I move somewhere new it's not uncommon for me to get knocked out with a cold at some point within the first month, so I suppose this is my due.

Days progress as such: wake up and make a valiant effort to go to work; realize I am useless and go back home; drink some mango juice; take a nap; eat some soup; go back to bed; repeat.  Of course, there is a small amount of variety... some days I eat fresh mango or a mango Popsicle instead of drinking juice.  And today I went to the store for more Kleenex and medicine.  But the sleep and soup are always the same.  I've been logging about 12 hours of zzz's a day.

 Home-made is the best-made.

Mango-tropical blend Popsicle on the balcony.

But I've rounded the corner and am now packing for a sun-filled trip to the coast.  Weekend njemi, all!

Kenyan Idol

It's been 17 days, and I'm exhausted.  Living in Nairobi feels like the first month of dorm-living in Freshman year of college.  It's like summer camp for young adults, without the counselors and without the curfew, where campfire songs have graduated into AM clubbing in a "treehouse" and the ropes-course is either safari or rock-climbing at Hell's Gate.

The social options here are relentless (not to sound threatening).  Every night of the week has standing appointments:

Mondays: Nairobi Hash House Harriers run & dinner
Tuesdays: Karaoke at Black Diamond
Wednesdays: Live band and salsa at Brew Bistro
Thursdays: Hip Hop classes

Last week's karaoke night happened to also be the annual "Kenyan Idol" contest, complete with 3 critical judges, a grand prize recording contract, a Michael Jackson impersonator, and live broadcast on a dozen tv screens throughout the bar.  

Michael.

Moonwalking.

But overlaid on top of that weekly schedule is a manifold of other options.  Within a 2 week window, I have been presented with all of the following options: Blankets and Wine event, lunch and tour of organic farms, group Mexican dinner, Go-cart racing, Wine and Cheese Festival, Rift Valley Music Festival, ravine hike in the Aberderes, weekend trip to Lamu island, and safari.

The newest plan seems to be a flash dance mob somewhere in Nairobi.

Lights, fire, flashmob!

You're walking around a volcanic crater

The best thing about living in Nairobi is, as obvious as it sounds, living in Kenya.  Nairobi might have the restaurants, bars, paved roads, and the majority of the country's currency, but the areas outside the city possess the most natural wealth.  

This is what driving around Kenya looks like:

Marsabit county, northern Kenya.

Rift Valley cows.

Pink.

Last weekend I took a third trip to hike Mt. Longonot in the Rift Valley.  It's a grueling ~7 miles, up to ~9,000ft above sea level.  I enjoy getting outdoors and hiking, but each time I do this trek it's a painful endeavor.  But I can't think of any other hike I've done that's more rewarding.  

You're walking around a volcanic crater rim in the Great Rift Valley!    

Rift Valley and Lake Naivasha left; Crater right.

Crater left; Rift Valley right. 

Same pants; better shoes. 

I learned from my experiences last year of trying to hike these places in flimsy sneakers and came prepared with legitimate hiking shoes this time around.  The traction was better, but unfortunately the shoes don't confer any additional cardiovascular fitness.  It's always amazing to see what shoes Kenyans are wearing to hike this mountain.  It's one of the closest hiking spots to Nairobi, so it attracts day-trippers who come trudging up the mountain in flip flops, plastic sandals, and high heels.  The outfits can be pretty wondrous as well:  

Blue velvet suit.  Yes.  Blue velvet suit.  

But really, this view is what it's all about.

And I'm back

Hello! It's 2012, I'm Kara, and I'm back in Kenya.

Kenya.

It's been about 8 months since I left, but everything is startlingly familiar. All changes are minor and cosmetic.  A fence was taken down; there are some new potted plants residing outside of my apartment block; one of my local grocery stores rearranged the layout of its isles. The road leading to my apartment has been paved, which is great news for taxis but makes me a bit wistful.

2011......................Infrastructural progress...................2012

But for the few things that have changed, the majority are exactly as I remember them. My cell phone not only has all of my old phone numbers and texts, but it also has an old "snake" game saved in the middle. And every time I recognize something, it's a small delight, no matter how untoward the memory. I smiled today to hear directions to our office being given, as always, in relation to the location of the morgue. And I'm easing back into my understanding of Kenyan English. It's a little polite, a bit British, and a tad terse. It makes me happy to buy dish soap that's called "washing up liquid." I'm particularly crazy about the plethora new "polite notices" and "very polite notices" that have taken residence in the women's bathroom at work.

Please for the sake of every lady desist from this habit with immediate effect!!

My motives differ slightly from the last time I was here. Last time was all about adventure and exploring a new place. This time I'll be living here for a year, and, while adventure is still valued, there's a bit more motivation to make a home for myself. I bought some bright red throw pillows for the couch and spent an hour constructing a frame for my mosquito net with 4 mop handles.

2011.......................Nesting Procedures.....................2012

In addition to nesting, my goals this year include improving my Kiswahili, taking more matatus, and visiting Lamu without getting kidnapped.  

And onward we go.

Since I've been here

It's been a while since I've been here.  Hello!  There are e-mails to answer and comments to comment on and conclusions to draw, for all of which I'm gracelessly overdue.  Please accept this blanket apology for all blog neglect.   

I last saw you here in Zanzibar.  It was lovely.  After Stone Town, I headed east to Pwani Mchangani for some Indian Ocean beaching before returning to winter in the northern hemisphere.

Palms, then pool, then sands, then ocean.

On Zanzibar's east coast, the sand slopes so gradually that, at low tide, you can literally walk miles straight into the ocean.  Some people prefer the northern beaches with less extreme phases because the patchy nature of the eastern low tides are considered less aesthetic.  I can comfortably disagree with that.  A really good sandbar is a pleasure.

Wading in towards Indian Ocean sandbars

Pwani Mchangani is a small town known, according to my outdated guidebook, for its seaweed farming.  Strings of fishing line stretch between stakes in the sand and collect drifting weeds overnight, to be harvested by the village women each morning.

Women harvesting seaweed at low tide

Dragging seaweed to shore

Then after a morning of seaweed harvest spectating and an afternoon of para-sailing on a warm island breeze, I sat on the sand and watched acrobatics and summersaults in the setting sun.

And my next night saw the sun set as we flew over the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro.  Sometimes life is very grand.

Kili at sunset

So now it's the end of December, and I'm in Seattle.  It's been a while since I've been here also.  Seemingly, not a lot has changed since I left.  Specifically, it's still overcast and drizzly.  I suppose people expect the difference to be me; they want to know how 6 months in Africa has changed me.  Unfortunately (or fortunately?), I find myself to be generally the same.  Most of the differences are surface-level:

- I find paved 4+ lane freeways a bit overwhelming.
- Brushing my hair and putting on a completely clean outfit seems like a waste of time.
- Leaf-blowers are the most ridiculous things I've ever seen... who cleans streets?
- Squirrels seem more exotic than when I left.
- As soon as my plane touched down in the U.S., I lost my desire to listen to Bruce Springsteen on repeat. Americana may have more sentiment outside of America.

Maybe the substantive changes take longer to process.  Perhaps things need to settle and absorb before I commence proselytizing.  Until then, it's time for me to start classes again, and this blog will be on respite. I graduate in June and have been loosely offered an opportunity to return to Kenya, so perhaps we'll resume again some day.  The best way to know would be to put your e-mail address in the "follow by email" box on the lower end of the right-hand sidebar here.  That way, you'll be the first to know when we pick back up.

Until then, Happy New Years and safe travels!