A story that would bring anyone back to blogging

not sure why my arms look so funny....?

PLEASE note the man in the business suit smoking a cigarette. He was there to help get us out...

This was when they used OUR Swiss Army knife to cut off OUR towrope from their truck.

The moment when they got both cars stuck in the mud, only AFTER we suggested to use the sturdy, grassy patch on the right side of the tracks. They decided to straight through the middle again...the same hole we'd just gotten out of moments earlier...

Not our hotel, only where we had lunch - the Aberdares Country Club.

When we pulled up to the gate on Saturday, the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS) worker couldn’t tell us where the waterfalls were located in the park. This maybe, MAYBE, could’ve been excused if they weren’t the biggest waterfalls in Kenya. Or perhaps if they weren’t one of the 12 things marked on the map we were holding (which had been sold to us by KWS). Either way, that was the start to our visit to Aberdare National Park... real life foreshadowing in action.

We spent Saturday afternoon driving around the southern tip of the park to check out the famous waterfalls. It was well worth the hour and half drive that took us through a bamboo forest, open moorlands, and beautiful, lush valleys. We were shocked to find the waterfall had a 100-meter drop and a viewing platform. We drove home through the beautiful late afternoon sun, had dinner and heard the history of Aberdare National Park (an event which deserves its own blog entry).

We headed out in the morning with plans to explore the western region of the park and then head home by 1:30 pm to get back into Nairobi with plenty of time before nightfall. It probably takes four hours in total to drive around the entire park. Since my roommate would be driving us for the three-hour trip back to Nairobi, I drove us through the park. It was another beautiful drive with various landscapes along the way.

This park in particular is known to be a nightmare in the mud - luckily it hadn’t rained recently…at least not enough to be a problem on the roads in the south of the park. The western region proved to be a bit more difficult. We made it with ease and a little four-wheel drive through some muddy patches and continued until about the fourth muddy patch, which literally stopped us in our tracks. There’s not much like driving, getting stuck in mud, and realizing the car ain’t goin’ nowhere. (10:30 am)

The two-feet deep mud was daunting, but we had no choice, so we strapped on our boots, rolled up our pants, and got to it (three girls and one guy). Despite our valiant efforts for about an hour, the car only went about ten centimeters. Nothing helped. At 11:30 am we called KWS to get us out of the mud. This is where I should’ve gotten out the camera…

My roommate had to speak to at least five different people and explain to each one where we were located.

On the phone with KWS Headquarters at 11:30 am: “Honi Campsite? Ever heard of it? Rhino Bridge? Nope, not that one either? Do you have a map? Okay it’s on the western part of the map, towards the mountain (there is ONE mountain and ONE road leading to it). It’s just after the turnoff…oh NOW you have a map? Okay, so do see the mountain? Now do you see Honi Campsite?....”

On the phone with the people at the park gate: “Oh great, someone is in the park and will come get us? Thank you so much! Can I have the cell number of the guy coming to get us? Oh, you don’t give out personal cell numbers? How do you contact him? Through a radio, okay can you radio him? Well are you sure he’s going to find us? Did you tell him where we’re located? Yes? Okay, tell me where we’re located so I know he knows. Where are we located? No, I’m asking you to tell me…”

A similar situation played out with various characters – KWS, the hotel, the spot we had lunch and a few other randoms. All of them said “yes, yes we’ll call you back” and as you might imagine, we didn’t called back.

An hour later we called KWS Headquarters again:

“Hi, Martha? Oh sorry, is Martha there? She’s not? Okay well we’re stuck in the Park, did she tell you about us? No? Okay, do you know where Honi Campsite is? Rhino Bridge? No not Rhino Ridge, Rhino Bridge. Do you have a map….”

“Hello? Yes, oh great! You’re coming to get us? Wonderful. You’ll be 30-40 minutes? Awesome. “[hangs up the phone and turns to us] “weird that I could hear a roster in the background?”

An hour passes:

“Hello, yes you called an hour ago and said you’d be here in 30-40 minutes. Oh…that wasn’t you? Oh that was the KWS guy but this isn’t his phone? Okay, do you know how to get in touch with him? No. Okay, we’ll try headquarters.”

“Hi, we’re still stuck. Oh, they left ten minutes ago? They told us they left 40 minutes ago. Are you sure they know where they’re going? Do you know where Honi Campsite is?...Wait..did you say what do we need them to bring? We’re stuck in the mud. They’re park rangers. Surely they know what to bring?...”

FINALLY, we hear a truck about 2:45 pm. Thankful that we’ve been rescued, we realize they’re FLYING towards us in a massive safari vehicle, when they slam on the breaks in the slippery grass they fishtail a bit before stopping in front of us. Out pops four men from the cab of the vehicle one of whom is wearing a business suit and smoking a cigarette. The relief quickly fades.

This is getting long so I’ll skip the silly details. As you may have guessed the KWS guys brought no tools…they were getting us out the mud, they’re park rangers and they had NOTHING. They almost got their car stuck in the mud, then later, as we predicted from a mile away, they proceeded to get both our cars stuck in the mud. When we finally got out they had used our towrope, broken it twice, then retied it, then had to use my roommate’s Swiss Army knife to saw off the steel rope from the car.

The comedy of errors continued, though it wasn’t funny. We were racing against time to get out of the park and get back home before dark, but the maps were poorly written and we went down the wrong road several times.

As we left the park at 4:00 pm the car was acting funny. We’d clearly burnt the clutch while trying to get out of the mud. We tried to ignore it. But had to pull into a petrol station before leaving town…THANK GOD! The clutch was destroyed and there was no way we were making it back to Nairobi. By the grace of god, the gas attendant knew a mechanic who was there in minutes as a small crowd of young children and curious passers-by stopped to see why the Mazungus (“white people”) weren’t just getting gas and going back to Nairobi. We made calls to friends, got a nice hotel, and left the mechanic to fix the clutch. In the spirit of the day, I ran out of phone credit and my roommate’s phone ran out of battery. We put her SIM card in my phone, which was brilliant, except that it got stuck in my phone. At that point I gave up and went to sleep. We woke up at 4:30 am and I went in to work around 10:00 am. We left the car in the little town with nice mechanic we hope isn’t driving it to Tanzania right now. Someone is going to pick it up tomorrow.

I thought this would be such a funny story, but in reality it’s not at all. Or perhaps it’s just too recent. Either way, I’m glad I saw the waterfalls cause I’m never going back. So many things could’ve gone wrong that I don’t even want to think about. We made smart decisions and are almost able to laugh about the entire thing, but thankfully I can check the Aberdares off my list. ~EKY V

The Monkey War has begun

We found a poop in our living room a few weeks ago. Yes, a poop.

It was quite mysterious, as I’ve never had a poop just “appear” in any former residence. This was definitely a new occurrence to add to my list of life accomplishments. After a thorough search and some thinking within in the “African” perspective, Phil quickly deduced that it was from a Sykes monkey that apparently lives in a tree next to our house. We found greasy little finger prints on the open window and most tellingly (aside from the small animal poop on our floor)…our bananas were gone.

Oh how I laughed!!! Cute that a little monkey came in and stole bananas.

The cuteness ended today.

This morning, as I was enjoying a replay of American Idol on this great Good Friday, I heard a loud noise on the window. LUCKILY the window just above my head was closed. I wasn’t sure what it was, but saw nothing, and went towards the kitchen to get some water – chalking it up to wind or a cat or a limb falling. On the way, out of my peripheral view, I saw a small creature in the bathroom.

My heart stopped as I doubled back, fueled by curiosity, fear, and not knowing what to expect. And there, sitting in the window, half-in, half-out was the banana-stealing monkey. He looked at me. I looked at him. Neither one really knowing what to do.

I yelled GET OUT! He blinked. I yelled HEY! He blinked. I banged on the wall. He blinked. I got bold and rushed toward him, yelling and banging on the wall. He left. I promptly closed the window and watched him jump to the washing line.

I rushed back into the TV room, ready to protect that room as well and he’s still on the laundry line, but sneaking towards the TV room. I grab the closest thing I could find and most logical weapon – a spray can of insect killer. Awkwardly and terrifyingly reaching out the window (waiting for him to place a bite laced with eboli-dengue-dirty-mouth-nastiness on my wrist), I give him the best spray possible.

Pshhhhhhhtt!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He moved back about two feet, and then began inching closer again. So since the spray can obviously didn’t scare, I reach for the next most logical, clearly menacing weapon at my disposal…a candle. Another great weapon when fighting monkeys right? Although I missed due to the awkward Kenyan windows, it did send him scampering into the tree – his home.

Ahhh…fun and exciting, a little scary since he was so bold and I’m sure wanted to bite me, but a good story. I settle back in to the sweet sounds of amateur singers.

Another noise on the roof – except now on the other side of the house. I look from my seat and see a little grimey paw/claw appear and disappear, moving down the gutter, headed for the open front door.

I run, literally, and slam the front door closed. Again yelling as I go. There’s a commotion on the roof and we resume our positions. He’s on the laundry line, I’m in the TV room with the bug spray (the candle is out in the yard). We are staring each other down, neither one ready to give up. So I give it another go and seem to successfully scare him. I close all the windows, except the one that’s barely open in the kitchen and safely settle back on the couch.

You guessed it. A few minutes later I hear some noises from the kitchen. I run yelling (it’s only about 15 feet away) and arrive to find him slipping out the window…with a nice big papaya in his hands. He calmly walks under the laundry line to its post at the end, jumps onto and then jumps into his tree. With me yelling all the while.

Monkey:1
Emmakate: 0

I’m sure this isn’t the last I’ll hear from him. Every few days the lamp in our bedroom finds it way t o floor when no one is home. I’m sure he’s done a tour of our bedroom and I will have serious issues if I ever wake up staring into his beady little eyes or if I ever find a poop on my pillow. I just reported the story to Phil and he says the monkey is bullying me because I'm a woman....news that takes this war to a whole new level!!!

And on a side note, I'm covered in mosquito bites because I feel asleep on the couch last night without the safety of the mosquito net.

The real africa... Monkeys and Mosquitos! ~ EKY V.

Mount Kilimanjaro

(My fellow Uhurian and UNEPer, Fanina Kodre, took the first six photos on this page).

When you ‘re planning to blog about a journey to the top of a mountain, it would seem logical to start at the beginning. I’m going to start before the beginning, then jump to the end, and the see where it goes from there. Enjoy!

Kibera, the largest slum in Africa, is estimated to be one million strong. The name Kibera comes from a Nubian word meaning “forest” or “jungle” (so says wikipedia). This infamous urban jungle is less than 15 minutes from my house in Kenya. I’ve never been inside.

How, you’re wondering, does this have anything to do with the climb?

I went up Kili with an NGO called the Kilimanjaro Initiative. Every year they bring people from the private sector, the public sector, and disadvantaged “youth” (20-somethings) from the slums of East Africa.

So how does a white girl from a nice Atlanta neighborhood interact with people who grew up in a slum with a million others, no running water, and crime around every corner? I thought my inner-city public high school experience would help, but I knew that this was a completely different level.And that’s exactly the point.

As the founder of the NGO said, “the mountain puts everyone on equal footing and it’s more about the journey than the destination”. This trip was most definitely about the journey. And my final steps to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro summit couldn’t have been a better example.

With the summit in sight, I stopped 100 yards away, content to take some photos and head back down. A few climbers approached and rationalized with me that it really wasn’t THAT much further. And it wasn’t. But MY GOD, I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes, I was sleep walking and I worried that a sudden back spasm would render me “finished” on this mountain. I think my exact words were something along these lines: “It’s just my ego that says I have to get to the top. I can see it. I don’t care. It’s right there. I’m over it.”

And then Mohamed came along.

He said nothing, took my hand, and we walked hand-in-hand, step-by-step to the summit. Mohamed Abdulahi Mohamed, is a former petty criminal who has lived his entire life in Kibera. In a pre-hike interview, he showed me with his own hands how he used to sneak up behind people, grab them around the neck, strangle them and rob them.

Now he was using those same hands to help me achieve my goal – and I was doing the same in return. We needed each other, and we reached the top together.

And it was like that with everyone. The mountain does put you level footing. So whether it was youth from Kibera or consultants from Nairobi or executives from NYC – we ALL bonded, we ALL helped each other up the mountain, and we ALL shared the experience together.

This was one of the most rewarding challenges of my life. And that same sentiment was echoed from all fellow climbers.

I have to mention the other reasons I made it to the top. My guide, Jofre, who stuck with me all week and helped carry the video camera. He also poured water in my mouth, traded gloves with me, and made sure I got to the top safely. There was also Tom, my new “Chachin” (Indian big brother) whose footsteps I followed for the majority of the final ascent. We were a train, with Tom in front, myself in the middle, and another New Yorker named Mitzie in the back. Each one continued to follow the others’ footsteps and didn’t stop because they knew someone behind them depended on them.

Okay, so enough about the emotional side of the hike.

The scenery was UNREAL!!! You begin in a jungle, then go through alpine trees (pines, etc), then through a long grass area. This is where you see Mawenzi (Kili’s little brother) and Kili They seem far off and intimidating. Mawenzi looks like Mount Doom and you dread knowing that Kili is much more daunting.

Then you reach the high altitude tundra. It’s the saddle between the two peaks. It’s a bit like what I imagine Mars to look like - reddish rocks, a desolate landscape, the whole nine yards. We were especially luckily to get a hailstorm while slowly making our way across the saddle, which conveniently offered no cover.

When you reach Kibo – the last hut, you’re exhausted and nervous. Your adrenaline is the really only thing that keeps you going. The good thing about the summit is that you go at night, so you can’t see it. But you arrive during the day and wonder – how on EARTH am I going to get up there?

Then you eat, and “sleep” for four hours from 7 pm until 11 pm. You’re told to sleep in your under layers and lay everything out so in your altitude-compromised state of mind, you don’t forget your gloves or something. The whole “pre-summit pep-talk” was really intimidating to say the least. But you’re already at 13,000 feet, where are you going to go?

So I settled in to doze and inevitably had to go to the bathroom, went outside (yes. That means into the 20 below weather) and promptly entered a thunderstorm complete with thunder, lightning, and snow. There was no way we would have gone for the summit had the storm continued, but luckily it broke and we had beautiful stars to guide us to Africa’s rooftop.

That’s the long and the short of it. The climb up Kilimanjaro was tougher and more rewarding than I ever could have imagined. I sincerely hope and believe that I will keep some of the friends I made on the mountain for a lifetime. And as a fellow climber said, “I think it might be delayed altitude sickness… but I want to do it again.”

If you’re going to hike Kili, do it with the Kilimanjaro Initiative. There is no better way.

~ EKY V.

Maybe once a month is more realistic :)

There is a certain smell that comes with developing nations. It’s not rotting garbage or sewage or anything terrible. It’s just a constant smell that is common to Morocco, Peru and Kenya (I can’t comment on other developing nations). In the mornings, it’s a bit crisp with an undertone of dust. It makes you feel like the day has potential, like maybe traffic won’t be that horrific. In the evenings, it’s dusty and full of exhaust – the smell, like you, is tired. I guess you could say the smell helps keep you in check, you always know of the possibilities ahead of you and the insanity behind you.

As a consultant for the UN, my day begins before dawn. I get up between 5:30 and 6:00 am, eat in the semi-dark and hop in the Toyota Corolla I’ve rented for the hour to hour and a half cross-city trek. I tried to find a map to accompany this description of my daily commute, but there wasn’t one small enough to show you all the landmarks. So bear with me and enjoy a glimpse at the global grind of a commute with a Kenyan spin on it. (I’ve taken some photos during my commute and will post at a later date)

To get out of my neighborhood, I literally play rally car driver and weave around pot holes, going both in the other lane and off the tarmac to avoid the car-swallowing holes. Once out of my ‘hood I go down Ngong road and see all the furniture makers bring out their handmade beauties to their roadside-dirt-parking lot showrooms. Between me and the “showrooms” is the dirt path meant for pedestrians or bicycles. Between the "showrooms" and by showroom I mean a dirt parking lot full of furniture - there are the mamas making grilled corn on the cob and various other goodies. When there is bad traffic, the pedestrian path is full of matatus, the pedestrians walk through the “showrooms” and the bikes fight for space on the road.

My favorite part of the drive is seeing the kids walking to school. They all have their sweaters and skirts or pants. Even with holes in their shoes or missing sleeves to sweaters, the children walking to school look ADORABLE and totally innocent and happy. Whether it’s two little boys walking arm in arm laughing with each other about god knows what or a big sister making sure her sibling doesn’t walk too close to the road, the children are the best part of my drive.

Occasionally I’ll see cows or goats grazing in any patch of grass their herder can find. And just as I’m gazing at the livestock, a pimped out land rover will cut me off and I’m reminded that I’m in a capital city.

Any slow corner or intersection is surrounded by flower sellers and paper boys who walk to your window and sell you the morning headlines. Luckily they understand that people want their product and they don’t hound your window. Unlike another stretch I go through where people know you’ll be stopped in traffic (and you always are) and they present kittens and puppies and toy cars and brooms at your window, hoping you’ll be their first purchase of the day. In actuality, I don’t see those guys until I’m on the way home, in the mornings, in that same trafficky, captive-audience stretch, they have young boys leading “blind” men and women asking for money. Just the other morning I heard a radio report about how they found a training camp to teach people how to pretend to be blind or crippled. I don’t donate.

I have to cross a highway on my way to work. It’s not too terrible, but on the way home, I have to get to the other side of the three lanes in about 200 yards so I can get to a Uturn area and get to the other direction. Not so fun when I leave after dark.

Another section is a huge dip. In the evenings, there is without a doubt a truck stuck on one side of the dip and if it’s raining, there’s a stuck truck on each side of the dip. I’m not sure if there is a single truck in Kenya that is fit to be on the roads. Each one has a driver and a “rock guy”. When the truck can’t make it up a hill, the rock guy gets out and puts rocks under the guy’s back tires to help him have friction and not fall down the hill. If this somehow miraculously works and they don’t have to repeat it, the rock guy grabs the rocks, throws them in the back of the truck and then chases after it until he can hop back in.

Another two person job is the matatu. I’ve learned that the door guy doesn’t just collect the money. He’s the one that smiles when they cut you off and he’s the one that jumps out at a crowded intersection, directs traffic with authority until his van is through the madness, and again, chases down the vehicle until he can jump in.

NO ONE respects any traffic laws. On a two-lane road, if it’s stopped or slow, people just drive in the other lane or off the road to get around everyone. If I see someone (normally ALWAYS a matatu) coming around the off road behind me, or coming down the wrong lane behind me, I get as far out of my lane as possible to block them. It’s great fun. Sometimes it work, more often than not it doesn’t cause they don’t care and go further off the road or further into another lane.

There are no four-way stops. If you come to an intersection it’s every man for himself, so good luck. The other day I was at one and everyone one was blocking everyone. Then matatus and buses started going in the wrong lane and really screwing everything up. So I bailed, luckily I knew another route.

No drive is complete without a pedestrian walking in front of you. At the afore mentioned four-way stop, people find a way to ALWAYS walk in front of my car JUST when a window has opened and I can scoot across. But alas, I cannot for if I do and if I hit someone who has so stupidly walked infront of oncoming traffic, I’ll be blamed and most likely subject to mob violence. It’s highly likely that the surrounding pedestrians will drag me out of my car and proceed to beat me. No joke.

So you don’t hit pedestrians.

There is so much more to tell about the commute alone, let alone the rest of my life in Kenya. It used to be a white-knuckled hour and half of hell twice a day. Now I enjoy the kids in the morning and being a nightmare for matatus in the evenings. Funny how things change. Someday soon I’ll tell you about “Obama Day”. It was great fun!

I’m home soon. I’m no longer a blogger, but I keep waking up in the morning, smelling the potential of the day, and thinking about ALL the amazing things I could blog about. And then the evening smell reminds me that I’m exhausted and no one still checks this blog anyway! ☺

~EKYV

Back so soon?
I thought I’d try to be a little more consistent with my writing, in order to not alienate the five people I’ve gotten back to reading again. And by reading again, I mean they’ve read two blogs over the last two and half months…real fanatics. ☺

Life in Nairobi is now life as normal. Not too exciting in terms of lions and hundreds of thousands of animals – but it’s exciting in other ways. I’ve joined UNEP at an exciting time, so there’s lots of cool stuff going on. Unfortunately, it’s still the UN – so every decision has to be approved by ten people and can take up to ten days…but I guess I’ll get used to that at some point. The most stressful/exciting/unpredictable part of my day, is without a doubt the commute. A solid hour long drive (or more) consists of no roads with lines in the middle, not a single curb, lots of potholes, donkey carts, people walking in the streets, cows grazing next to veggie stands on the side of the road, mercedes benzes, lots of bike riders, billboards for coke, pimped out land cruisers - we've got it all!!! And I see it all on my way to and from work.

I’m working on website designs and special events. It’s a nice mix of things to keep everything fresh and new. I’ve only been there four days so how could it not be fresh and new?

As far as life being normal in Nairobi, we went for a really nice sushi dinner the other night and the week before I went to a huge market with tiny little shops selling clothes from the states - some really nice stuff for about $5 or less, I can only assume it happened to fall off the back of a truck and these nice people are making sure it doesn't go unused.

I guess that’s about all. This season’s blogs have been LACKING and not such great writing, but alas, no one can be 100% one hundred percent of the time can they?

Upcoming highlights – wedding to go to in Mombasa on November 1, last day of work Novemeber 28, cooking a Thanksgiving meal on November 29, flying to London Dec 1, flying to Atlanta December 6 – see y’all suckas in the A!

~EKY V.

Back for real...

So, to sum up the last two months - sorry I disappeared. I got here and Phil and I had an amazing week together (the first blog) and then he left. It was a difficult time for me. Being so far away and feeling so alone made me not want to blog or keep in touch. I felt like I was on the other end of the earth. And then slowly, slowly I made my way back. Some peanut butter toast, an exploding avocado puree, and the amazing love and support of my family and friends helped me get to a good place. I got a bit bored and the freelance/be your own boss lifestyle was too much for me. I thought I needed more structure. So I gave my resume to some friends. And then I started to think, "What if I never get a job? What if I'm not good enough?" Then I a friend at the UN said they had something I was qualified for and that she had passed my resume along. Well they called. And put me through a RIGOROUS interview process that lasted over a week. And then they offered me a job for six months with great money. During the interview process, the work they made me do gave me my confidence back and also made me realize that I came here to do to the freelance thing and I came here to build PWS with Phil. And so because they offered me the job, they gave me the strength to turn it down. I didn't come here for money and I didn't come to work a 9-5. So I said no. Then they called back and asked if I would do it just for two months and that I could then still go home for Christmas and maybe we'd reevaluate things in January.

SO I SAID YES!!!! I start officially on Monday, although I'm currently already doing work for them. I'm so excited to check it out and see how it goes. It's a great position and six months would've been great except that it's more than I want to take on at this point. It would've involved either moving or buying a car, something I'm not ready for at this point. I'll work with them on this consultancy and then see how things go in the future. I'm going to work my butt off, prove myself, and see where things go from there. Phil and I will go to London Dec 1-6 and then come to Atlanta, he'll stay until Dec 15. Then I'll stay until January 16. If anyone is still reading I hope all is well. I'm posting some photos and there are also TONS of photos on facebook for those that can access it. Phil and I just spend the most AMAZING week in the Masai Mara. He's there with clients and came down to join him for our birthdays (17 and 20 of September). It was amazing. Those are the stories I should've written about, but I figured I had some explaining to do. Update me! ~EKY V

Back Again!!!

Yo pienso que yo necisito escribir en espanol, seeing as I promised in my last entry to write completely in Spanish. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give this place justice if I tried to describe my last six days solely in broken Spanish.

My emotional departure from Atlanta was complete with tears on my part, endless hugs to my parents, and a long series of waves that still put a smile on my face today. The two nine-hour flights went by relatively quickly and without much to tell. With a fake itinerary from Phil, in case they hassled me about my exit date, I nervously went through the Kenyan customs. A beautiful woman with a beautiful accent let me through without so much as a second glance.

Phil was waiting at the airport and was shocked by the “lightness” of my bags. However, upon our arrival to the cottage, as I began unpacking all my rolled-up clothing, he quickly realized that despite their deceptive weight, I had indeed brought an unfathomable amount of clothing…in his opinion (I was proud of the restraint I practiced, thanks to Nicole and Jaci and Laura).

On Sunday afternoon (I arrived Saturday night), we had a nice lunch with Phil’s dad and stepmother, Henry and Nicki. They are incredibly welcoming and very friendly. Later in the afternoon we relaxed with Ivan (Phil’s twin), Ivan’s wife Lyn, Lyn’s sister Laura, and Laura’s six-month-old son, Alistair. It was also great fun and nice to hang out with them again.

Sunday night Phil cooked us a delicious dinner and I continued to find nooks and crannies for all of my things. Monday saw us go on our first adventure. We gassed up the Land Cruiser and headed out of Nairobi for a four-hour drive to Lewa Downs, a 65,000-acre conservation area. Lewa has several houses and lodges on it, our family first met Phil when he was the manager and head guide of Wilderness Trails. We stopped on the way at a beautiful airstrip for lunch. They served us delicious sandwiches while we sat on a green lawn enjoying the sunshine. There were old, white men who looked like were straight out of the movies with there white hair, safari shorts, and safari shirts. They had their lunch, grabbed their briefcases and hopped into their little planes to fly off to their farms. I felt like I was in a movie as we barreled down the highway with African music playing past small villages, mango trees and pineapple fields.

We arrived at Lewa and everyone flocked to Phil. It’s been six years since he worked there, but his popularity hasn’t faded one bit. Lewa looked much as I remembered it and unfortunately, its beauty is indescribable. On our walk to our room, we passed monkeys and a herd of impala; we could see giraffe eating just outside our window; the food was phenomenal and the hosts were lovely. On our second day we went for a drive with Simon, a new guide at Lewa. Management wanted Phil’s opinion as to whether or not he was ready to “go it alone” with wagani (clients). So we had a great drive and saw many sites I remembered from eight and half years ago – it brought back wonderful memories and really made me miss my family. I asked Simon tons of questions, learned a lot, and Phil gave his stamp of approval.

On Tuesday evening we took a car and drove to what Phil says is one of the best views in Africa. It was stunning! The sunset wasn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen (due to the clouds) but it was a nice way to end the day. On Wednesday we got up early, had a breakfast with the family (and the monkeys who stole bananas from the buffet), and went on our way. The ride home was soooo interesting. We had an anthropology lesson about the people of Africa and more specifically the tribes in Kenya. It led into general Kenyan history and the drive went by quickly.

We’ll continue to visit friends for the next few days and have driving lessons until Monday. Phil heads off on safari and I attempt to get settled all these thousands of miles from home. I’m looking forward to reaching out to contacts and seeking work again. I just hope it’s successful, I know it will take time, but I’m ready to get the ball rolling.

Please email or comment on the blog and let me know about life. Have a great weekend! ~EKY V.