The Vagina Monologues

If you did not read the title of this post, reread it and proceed with caution. 

Although I had heard about The Vagina Monologues in the past, it was usually from my lesbian friends. The title alone produced not so appealing images of talking vaginas. Thinking I could end up being the only man in the audience was no incentive to see the play either. The last interaction I had with a vagina of any sort was in 1999, when I taught the last semester of Psych 110 - Human Sexual Behavior at the college in CA, a class I had taught for twelve years. Prior to that, my in-ter-actions with the V-word were not so in-ter at all.

Since then my life has been perfectly fulfilled without having to resort to vagina monologues, dialogues, diatribes, explorations, visualizations, sightings, or any other sensory confrontations. Who convinced me I needed to see this show was one of my former students, Dorottya Karsay. She asked me to attend this production at Central European University. Because she was always special to me and she was part of the cast and I could get Ron to go with me, I agreed. Our friend Laszlo joined us too.

The tickets were free, but based on a donation which went to two excellent causes. One recipient receiving 90%, is the only shelter in Hungary for helping the survivors of sexual abuse and assault, the Eszter Foundation. Each year, 10% of the donations from around the world go to one charity. This year it is the "City of Joy" for the women and girls of the Democratic Republic of Congo. It is said that the DRC is the world's most dangerous place to be a woman or girl.

The smallish theater was packed. My guess is that the audience was a 50-50 gender mix. Consisting of sixteen vignettes with a cast numbering more than twenty, some of the contemporary themes made it apparent that the play is rejuvenated with current vagina related events keeping it timely. A point to be made here is that the play at any time will be entirely different than the movie, which was made in 2002. The latter consists of the author as the sole performer.

Ninety minutes after entering the theater, my emotional repertoire had run the gamut. I laughed hysterically at parts. I wanted to cry hysterically at others. Some just made me sad, while others made me angry. This group of young women gave us their all while draining it all from us. Bravo and thank you!

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Volunteering and Living in Kenya

I just came across this article through the "Linked In" network. This article received a tie for 3rd place for a writing contest for Ex-Pats. Regardless, it was a great article that I wish I had read before going.

Volunteering and Living in Kenya

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Not Boring, but Boringo

At some point in the wee hours of the morning, it sounded like ping pong balls were falling on the roof of our hut, box, whatever it is classified as, signaling the rain had started. By the end of an hour, the noise changed from ping pong balls to golf balls. If it were not so hot, I would have sworn it was hail coming down, but in reality just heavy drops of rain. Joseph our first guide from Kuja Safaris was coming to pick us up at 9am, so we were showered, had breakfast, and paid our bill ready to go. Then Ron came out to tell me the minor bad news. This place did not have our reservation for when we were to return. Gosh darn, no more Jerk-in-a-Box experiences? There are two hotels right next to the hostel, so he went to check on availability there. They both had a place, but the less expensive one included breakfast, a deal for sure. Both look more than adequate.

Once Joseph had us loaded in the van, we were off on a five hour drive to Lake Boringo where we are staying at Robert's Camp. Our accommodation here is, well what can I say, pleasant, but... We have a little hut to ourselves with a double bed. It is very tribal looking in construction, but modern inside. The problem is that the bathroom is in a different building behind us. Though the bathroom is modern, with a real toilet, this camp is known for two things: bird species, over 450 varieties in this area and then there are the hippos. More on these later.

As soon as we were checked-in, they wanted us to order our lunch. The cafe is called The Thirsty Goat and looks very Out of Africa gone a bit modern. I ordered a steak dinner and vanilla milkshake; Ron chose Moroccan meatballs with rice. We had no sooner finished lunch and they asked us to place our dinner order. We were too full to think of dinner, so we asked to do it later. Birdwatchers would be in heaven here. Just while eating lunch, we were entertained by about fifteen different bird species among them the African Hornbill. Others are in glorious shades of blues, yellows, and even beautiful grays.  The rest of the day was on our own.

As a conservation area, the animals have the right of way. About one block in distance from our hut is the Lake Boringo, the home of a family of hippos numbering about twenty-five according to local estimates. When we walked down to the lake to view them, they were out of the water grazing. Hippos kill more people than any other wild animal. On land, they can out-run a man. Basically, there is nothing else to do here except relax, so we read, wrote, relaxed, drank tea, ate dinner, and waited for the morning. The lights went off at 9pm, but they did come back on again shortly thereafter. If I had to go to bed at 9, it would be a really long night. I would be up at 2am, not being able to sleep again.

All of our meals are supplied by The Thirsty Goat Cafe, so dinner was shell pasta with cream sauce and beef lasagna. How wonderfully African!

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Rock-A-By Sleeping

Sleeping for me was heavenly, with the motion of the train. Sometimes when it stopped is when I woke up. There were barrels of fumes pouring through our open window, some from our train, but others presumably from the blackened out scenery we were passing. The only hardship was having to get up in the night to use the bathroom at the end of the hall. First and second class rooms were advertised with full in-room toileting facilities. We did have a sink.

By 7am, we heard the breakfast bell being rung in the hall, reminding us to make our way to the restaurant car. First a server came around and served everyone toast, then the next one returned with a plate already containing two fried eggs, baked beans, a sausage, and fried tomato, all very British. 

At 10:15am, we heard the announcement that we were approaching Nairobi train station. How quickly we had forgotten that Nairobi is colder than Mombasa or anywhere in Tanzania. We had to show our ticket to leave the station where we were flooded with offers for taxis. One man kept pace with us, though we had been warned about hucksters, I felt for him. He was older and missing a few teeth, but looked sincere enough. I asked if he were licensed and he was. We asked the price to take us to our accommodation, which is the Milimani Backpackers Lodge. He quoted 300 shillings (3 euros), so we went and hoped that he was indeed licensed and would not take us for a ride we did not expect. Solomon was his name and he was on board. We arrived at our less than luxurious place within fifteen minutes. He was so grateful for the work, he asked for us to please remember him when we needed a taxi. We wrote his number down for reference.

The Milimani Backpackers is a weird assortment of places to stay. In the main building are dorm rooms with share showers. Outside there are combinations of little huts that share showers, tents that are permanent, sharing facilities, and little huts that are pre-fab little rooms with en suite bathrooms. This is what we have. It looks like a storage unit that was converted to a sleeping room. 

Next door to the main building is a quasi-restaurant where you can order drinks or food, but a limited menu. The daily special is 350 shillings, but tonight is some unidentifiable fish. After dropping off our things, I wanted to shower, but there was no water. They were having problems with the pump. They said they had WiFi access, but the person with the password was not around. In ten minutes was the repeated mantra. We decided to walk downtown, about thirty minutes walk. After being in Mombasa, I was not as fearful about walking around as I was before, but we did get plenty of stares as we strolled. No one made any comments, but the looks were intimidating at times, especially when we stopped at a bench half way.

Stopping at an Italian restaurant for a drink, I was finally able to try an avocado milkshake. As disgusting as it may sound, it was delicious and refreshing on a warming day. If it were not so filling, I would have had a second one. Ron was on the hunt for this Kenyan singer's albums (Eric Wainaina) who has gained popularity not only here, but the play he wrote was performed on Broadway. Asking the waiter at the restaurant for music stores, he sent us in the right direction, but no store seemed to have his work. My guess is that most of what they sold were ripped from other albums or downloaded from the Internet and they had not yet had access to his work. They said his work is not widely distributed here in Kenya, but with 2 albums out and his popularity on the rise, it seems strange. One energetic salesman promised to have albums for us if we could give him until the next day. We explained we were taking off for 2 days tomorrow with Kuja Safaris and would return for them on Monday.

Taking a taxi back, there was nothing in downtown to hold our interest, we met Som our driver. He too has two taxis trying to build up business and offered to drive us anywhere any other day if we so needed. He had cards printed up offering everything from taxi rides to marital planning. When we returned to the hostel, they had recovered the password to the WiFi, so I spent the next hour disseminating the spam e-mail from the good stuff, uploading my blog, and reading "The Queen's Fool" by Philippa Gregory. She is the author of "The Other Boleyn Girl", which was made into a  movie. It was one of a pile of books that my office mate gave me before the end of the semester. We take books that we don't think we want to save and then leave them as we finish. I thought this was going to be a desperation book, one that I read when I had nothing better to read, but I am hooked. It is one of those difficult to put down books.  

We stayed here at the hostel for dinner. We both ordered cheeseburgers with fries, which were surprisingly extra tasty. After dinner, we stayed out and read for some time, then retired to our room to read some more. By 10:30, we decided to call it a night, but the people around us were just winding up for the night. The couple right next door to us, an older Italian couple came into their pod and were talking so loudly, we could hear every syllable. It does not seem to matter if we do it the cheap way or the more expensive way, all the walls are paper thin.

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Happy 2010

We made our last trek up the mountain of stairs for breakfast today. We leave at 5am tomorrow morning for Mombasa, Kenya. Zanzibar was nice, but we overstayed. Seven nights is too long. As romantic as the name sounds, there is not a lot to do and those who come expecting beautiful beaches are gravely disappointed. Add in the electric and banking issues and it can make it extremely challenging.

Honestly, over two weeks into this trip, we planned it the way we usually plan trips, but we goofed this time around. Normally, what we do is pick the time we want to be away and then fill in what we want to do, where we want to stay, and what we want to see within that range. Up to this trip, this method has worked well for us. As I said, in retrospect, 7 days on Zanzibar is too long. Four days would have been plenty. We could have done the turtle tour to spend another day doing something, but we had the feeling there were would be as many turtles as there were dolphins, making it a waste of money. 

The beaches in Stonetown are not swimming beaches, they are for the fishing boats and tourist dhows, though there is not much of a beach anyway. The better beaches are a taxi ride away. We are not beach people anyway, but those we know who have come for the beaches swore they made a mistake. The sights on the island are limited. Today, we did go to the old palace of the Sultan. It was interesting, but in dire need of repair in every inch of the place. 

We saw the fort last night when we went to dinner, we did the spice, dolphin, and monkey tour. We toured every touristy souvenir shop innumerable times and they all have basically the same merchandise.

We have seen more of the hotel room here than we ever have on any vacation. Part of this is that the heat and humidity wipes us out, but there really is not much to persuade us to stay out for. Been there, done that. We could have cut it short, but live and learn. According to the owner of the 236 Hurumzi Hotel, Stonetown is the largest city on the island and there is not much else on the rest of the island. Even if there were, we would need to taxi there, the public transportation consists of trucks with lengthwise benches in the back. When they are filled up, they go to the destination. After arriving someone, we may never be seen again, not knowing how to return again.

A stop at Mercury's for a drink took some time today. Later, we went to another restaurant we had drinks at previously, but this time Ron had a pizza. One last trip through the shops was just to waste some time until the fan and air conditioning at the hotel were turned on again. For dinner, we went to Monsoon Restaurant, but almost didn't. We wanted to have a drink on the terrace and dinner inside. They refused to allow us a drink outside, but would serve us dinner inside. Not understanding their reasoning, we questioned it again when the manager, a German woman overheard us. She came to the rescue and said it was fine. Inside, you leave your shoes at the door and sit on mats on the floor. Dinner was good, but my chicken curry was a leg and thigh only. Ron had prawns and a healthy serving of them too.

We did our last stop at Kilude Cafe, said good-bye to Esther, our favorite waitress and went to bed for a 4:30 am wake-up call.

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Money Woes Is Me

Thunderstorms this morning, making the air feel like we are swimming around the room. Humidity does not begin to describe it with the oppressive heat. Last night, we left the screened windows open for air; the ceiling fan was working overtime too. When I peeled myself from the sheets, it was obvious it had rained in. Luckily, my computer and camera were on the shelf under the closed window.

By the time, we made our way down our 2 flights of stairs, across the hotel and then 4 flights of stairs to the breakfast room, artificial resuscitation would have been welcomed. These stairs are not really stairs, they are like climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. Each one takes a contortionist movement of the legs to reach the next step. A Slinky going down them would give up in disgust and refuse to go further than 2 steps out of fear of heights. Though, the staff run up and down them like they were nothing, but the staff is mostly under 25 years old too. 

Armed with umbrellas that we never needed, we went to explore the city. A walking tour is offered, but we did not make it in time to book it, so we hoofed it on our own starting at the seaside and working our way through the maze of streets. With the electric problems, customers need to shop and plan out where to eat early in the day or there may not be as many options past 4pm. Sunset is at 6:15pm every day and by 6:45pm, it is dark. We were told this is because of the proximity to the equator. It was the same in Kenya, too. If you are looking for a glorious sunset, don't sneeze or you will miss out. 

One of the shops we came across has a number of batiked items, jewelry and hand woven scarves. Many of the products support the Masai Women's Collective to aid them in being financially independent. One of the things that attracted my attention were wonderful lounging pants, one size fits all. The skinny salesman/artist showed us how they work for keeping them in place. I had the idea of getting 2 sets for each of the bedrooms and one for each of us. Guests can use them for lounging or to come to breakfast before showering and then we just launder them when they leave us. They are wonderful 'hang-around' on a lazy day type pants; my kind of clothing. We picked out other things we wanted to buy as gifts, but without cash could only promise to return. Supporting a women's collective and young artists makes me feel like my money is well spent.

Our next venture was to the market. Stall after stall, it was not much different than Cairo or Morocco, but smaller. Everyone has a bargain; everyone wants to sell you something. The items of choice are vanilla beans and saffron. Both are dirt cheap here. In CA, the supermarkets used to keep both under lock and key due to the expense and theft. Here you can buy either for $2.00 a pod for vanilla or a packet of saffron. I will stock up before we leave. At the market and everywhere else people are hawking bags of cashews, spices, or DVDs of Swahili top ten hits. Not that I am interested, but I am curious if there really is a DVD of music in the wrapped cover they offer.

We decided we had better find an ATM and get some cash. What we had was wearisomely low. When we found the bank, there was a long a block long to use the machines. Where these due to the electrical problems or just a run on the bank? I stood in line for over thirty minutes while Ron tried finding another bank. When I finally found the machines in eye sight, I saw the Visa logo only. This was a concern since our bank ATM is a MasterCard. Sure as there is a death at the end of life, the machine would not accept my card. But, it did not inform me of this right out. We played cat and mouse with false hopes before it flashed "REJECTED, cannot make this transaction". Two blocks away was a Barclays Bank, so we went there. Suspiciously, there was no line. We went in the door, it was air conditioned. We could have stayed there for longer if the "We are sorry for the inconvenience, but this machine is currently not working. Please try again later" message flashing on the screen was not so discouraging. Now fear was creeping in. Most places do not take credit cards, but even if they could, without electricity then cannot run the cards. They have not learned or don't want to bother calling it in the old-fashioned way.

Diagonally from Barclays a half block down was another bank. I went there, but no machine at all. The bank had closed down.  With cash concerns, we returned  to our room to think things out. Some of my best ideas come when I am on the computer and sure enough, I remembered while uploading some posts that our other bank card was a Visa debit card. This is not the account I wanted to draw from, but if push came to possibly having to steal to get money, we would do it. First, we returned to Barclays. It did say to check back later and this was later. Now the damn machine was not even lit up. Someone must have shut off the generator. Back to the other bank, with fingers crossed, it swallowed my card and spit out cash. Hope of shopping trips returned, not to mention eating another meal after the provided breakfast. 

Now feeling flush, we went to the Old Fort where there is an old fort, hence the name, but also a tour booking service and tourism information. We booked the Spice Tour for tomorrow. As luck would have it, three Swedish people from our hotel arranged the same tour and requested an air conditioned van or they would  not go. Thank you Swedes.

Across the street from the fort and on the waterfront is a large park that was refurbished and reopened this year. By 6pm, it was filled with food venders cooking on grills and selling their foods. One such was grilling a root type vegetable which we had never seen before.  There was a young couple eating one nearby. I took a chance they were tourists and asked about it. It is called a maniok (we are not sure of the spelling). It is similar to a potato, but a bit different taste. We tried one and it was good, especially hot off of the grill, but not as good as it could have been slathered in butter. Another foodsmith nabbed us to show us all of his offerings. He could have been named Neptune; he had every type of sea creature ready to grill as well as potatoes, sweet potatoes (African are a bit different from what we are used to), chicken or beef on a stick, falafel, and coconut bread. After his whole speech, we turned him down and went to our cafe next to the hotel.

The soup of the day was pumpkin with coconut milk. Could I resist? No! It was delicious; so good in fact, I could have forgotten about a main dish, but I had a chicken fajita, also recommendable. Tomorrow night, we may just may attempt the food on the go, in the park, for dinner.

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Skipping Christmas

Pardon for skipping on Christmas greetings, but the wilderness does not decorate, so I have lost track. Hotel decor has been from laughable to please stop trying. Our last hotel in Kenya was playing non-stop Christmas carols all day yesterday. There is something unnerving hearing Elvis sing about a blue Christmas when in Africa, or I am dreaming of a white Christmas. Well if I were, I would have stayed home.

So this Indian run, Chinese constructed, Tanzanian hotel gets poor marks also for sound quality. We are on the ground floor. In the bathroom, above the sink is a permanently open window with screening. Everyone walking by laughing, talking, yelling, comes filtering in. Keeping the bathroom door closed does not help since the room door is flimsy at best and not flush, so sounds vibrate it. For once and this may be a historic event to put on the calendar, I slept soundly and Ron was disturbed by the noise. Three cheers.

Anwar was ready for us by 8:30 and so were the animals. It was a fantabulous day of viewing. We found a lake of hippos, counting forty before we lost count of the rest and those coming downstream to join them. There was another leopard spotting in tree with its fresh kill in storage in the tree trunks waiting for chow time. A little leopard turtle crossed the street in front of us. Lions were everywhere. We found some in the kopjes (pronounced copies) rocks nursing young or just relaxing in shade. Kopjes are technically called inselbergs, ancient granite rocks that have cracked with erosion from sun, wind, and rain. They provide water and shelter for plant and animal life, especially important during the dry season on the plain. Other lions were on the ground under bushes.

According to Anwar, hundreds of thousands of zebras and wildebeests were spread across the plains up to the roadside. During migration time, 1.5 million of them cross the river in search of feeding grounds. This is the largest animal migration in the world. The best times for viewing is June to December. Their return migration is May and June. Needless to say, the migration causes a high percentage of deaths from trampling, drowning, or getting ravaged by crocodiles as they cross the waters. Watching hundreds of wildebeests line up to cross the plain was a sight I will not soon forget. Still thousands were spread across the plain as far as the eye could see.

Wildebeests share the same grazing area as the zebras. Wildebeests bite off the tougher grasses and swallow. They have stomachs like a cow, so they are able to ruminate the food later to chew and digest it. Zebras eat the tender grasses and chew before swallowing. Like the wildebeests, there were thousands of zebras interspersed. There were a group of six zebras all lined up with their backs to us. My first thoughts were they were having a best butt beauty pagent or they were asking "Do stripes make my ass look bigger?" Zebras are so funny. They seem to like to play this game of "Get me if you can". They will stay so close to the road or even cross it until you are very near them and then they take off like a lion is after them. Some of the less intelligent wait for us to pass them and then get spooked. "Oh, I should have run. Okay, let me do it now." Wildebeests have the sense to run as soon as you close in on them. Then they stop and turn around to look at you. "Are you chasing me yet?"

Stopping at the Serengeti Tour Center, we followed the metal wildebeest signs and footprints in cement to various levels, each offering education information about the park. It was entertaining, educational, and well put together. As we left, the sky became dark suddenly and it poured rain, the first time during our trip. Temperatures dropped from the mid-80s to about the 60s. All of the ruts in the road flooded immediately, causing our jeep to slip, slide and at some points spin like the pointer on a wheel of fortune. Anwar had it all under control, but we were concerned we would get stuck in mud that we would not be able to escape from. By the time we reached our lunch spot, our white jeep was totally muddy brown.

Tonight's stop over is the Ngorongoro Wildlife Lodge, run by the same Indian group as last night's hotel. It sits on the rim of a crater created by volcanic eruption. Tomorrow, we will venture down to view the wildlife as well as see the soda lake, which I don't know yet, what it is. Supposedly, only one day is allowed in the crater itself to keep it from being overwhelmed with tourism. The only lodges are up on the rim, none in the crater itself. Regardless, the vistas from the hotel were breathtaking, until the cloud coverage came in. Then it rained again obliterating everything.

Ron has been handing out Hungarian Christmas candies to staff member, who seem to really appreciate it. They do have some trees with lights, but only balls of cotton for decoration. At dinner, the dessert was a Royal Plum cake and Christmas pudding, but the Brits in line ahead of us disparaged both attempts. We tried both without complaints. African music and dance were tonight's entertainment. Same, same, but different than before.

Have to get to bed so Santa Claus will find me. I do hope he found that note I pinned to the door with my forwarding address.

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Passing Over

Once again, the sounds of silence were not to be had. Noise, noise, noise from next door. Six in the morning is an ungodly time to have eat breakfast. My digestive juices don't start flowing until 8am at the minimum even if we did get up at 5:15. Joseph would be waiting for us at 6:30 as we have a "long" day ahead of us, but he leaves us at the Tanzania border to be greeted and continue with a different guide/driver. The rendezvous was set for 10am, but that did not happen. For the first time, Joseph lost his way and could not find the right way to the border. Of course, since there are no street or directional signs anywhere, it is reasonable. He stopped 5 times to ask directions. People either seemed to not know or gave the incorrect information.

By 11:20, he finally had us parked in front of Kenyan Immigration Offices. The young officer had us fill out a short form and stamped our passports. A short drive across a lot had us in line at the Tanzania Immigration Office where we lined up with the rest. A young officer asked us where we were going. Duh, we are in the Tanzania office, we are coming to see you. He gave us each a short form to fill out and then told us to skip the line moving to the second window. After asking for US $100 for EACH of us, we had our one year, multiple entry Visa for Tanzania. Pointing out that there was some mistake, we were told it was $50 each and we only wanted a single entry Visa. No mistake, due to some treaty or other the US and Ireland of all places no longer get single entry, but only multiple. The cost is the same, so trying out a brogue would not have helped at all.

When we left the office, Joseph was antsy, ready to turn us over to Anwar, our new driver/guide. We moved our things from a room van to a less roomy, less comfortable jeep. Anwar showed me the sign he had ready. It showed "Run Shmitz and Ryan James". I asked Anwar if this were a transitional vehicle, but darn it all, it is all we get until we fly off to Zanzibar. Anwar is young, friendly and I am sure we will enjoy him. His English is moderate, so it takes some getting used to his accent. He was telling us that Tanzania has over 144 languages with Swahili the official one. Kenya has 44 languages with Swahili and English as the official languages.

So bear in mind, we left the lodge we had stayed at for three nights, at 6:30. We road the bumpy, rutty, pitted, roads until getting out of the car when Joseph had to fix his shock absorber, and then not again until we received immigration. Climbing back into the jeep at 11:30am, we were cramped in there until we stopped for lunch along the way. We had an hour of reprieve, before continuing onward. In Tanzania the roads are paved, a real blessing; however, there is a speed bump every fifty feet. If it ain't one thing, it's another. Ride, ride, ride, doze, chat, ride. We reach the gates of the Serengeti National Park. This is an extension of the Masai Mara National Park on the Kenya side. The two are separated by the countries borders. The Serengeti is the size of the State of Connecticut, so that will give you an idea of the size of the country. Tanzania is the largest country in Eastern Africa and includes Zanzibar, which is an island.

Once we reached the park gates, we said good-bye to paved roads and back to the bounce by the ounce. Anwar kept stopping to show us animals along the way to the lodge. We had to remind him we had been on numerous safaris this trip and others in the past. As much as we appreciated this, we really wanted to get back on two legs and out of a vehicle. Miles and miles away, we finally reached the lodge by 7:00 pm. I thought for sure if the park was the size of Connecticut, we started in NY and drove to the MA border in the time it took us to get here. We are staying at the Serona Wildlife Lodge. People here are not nearly as friendly as any of the places in Kenya. Even  driving here, we received nasty to hateful looks from those we passed on the street, but this was similar to our reception here. There was nothing warm or welcoming about it; in fact, they could not find our reservation. It finally turned out that it was due to Run's Shmitz's name being misspelled. After wiping some of the dust off with the wet towel given upon entering, it went from sparkling white to dusty brown within minutes. Later, jumping into the shower, another coating turned the tub into earthenware.

Interesting note, we found that all of the places we stayed at in Kenya as well as this one and a number of others are owned by Indians, India Indians, though the land is leased only. The properties here in Tanzania are still owned by the government, but Indians run the business and Chinese laborers do the construction. This place is huge, but still under construction. My eyes sparkled when I saw an Internet Cafe sign, but they lost their luster when I looked in the window to see there were desks, but no computers. The gift shop is empty and the fitness room has all of the newest equipment stuffed into one corner. 

We are only here for one night, so we will survive. Interestingly, for as upper class as this is portrayed, the buffet is the smallest of any place we have stayed. I also am curious how places in countries like this receive their star rating. Under normal circumstances, to reach a 4 or 5 star, certain requirements must be in place. These include a phone and a television in each room for starters. Not one place has had these, though a television would be rather pointless, but a phone would be helpful with wake-up calls.

At dinner, we had a funny event. Eating away, a young person of the staff comes to our table and stands between Ron and I. I asked if there was something she needed, but she moved her head in Ron's directions, but he was not paying attention to her in the least. When I said something, she  started in saying "Sir, you forgot to sign for your drinks from the bar." The receipt book she had in her hand had whiskeys on it and 12,000 shillings as the amount due. We both said we did not order any whiskey, nor did we have anything from the bar. She walked away confused and disappointed. You know how it is; all white men with white hair and beards look alike. Of course, she was confused.

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Masai Tribe Videos

Masai Tribal Videos

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Where the Wild Things Are for Real

At breakfast this morning, the hostess asked how I slept. I said that the walls were very thin and I could hear the French couple in the next room for most of the night. What we heard was their child singing at 9:30pm and then I heard the father snoring all night long. They could have been in our room for the lack of muffling the wall made. Although I did not go into details with Betty, the hostess, she made her own assumptions and started to giggle. I assured her we did nothing to disturb the sleep of the French people. When I returned from the buffet, she looked at me and giggled hysterically, saying "I cannot get what you said out of my mind." If I gave her a laugh, why should I correct her.

We left promptly at 6:30 for our 5 1/2 hour drive to reach our home for the next 3 nights. We are staying at the Mara Sopa Lodge inside the Masai Mara Reserve. All around us, the Masai people still have their homes and live in their traditional ways. The lodge is once again more palatial than we expected. Our room is abundantly roomy and sits in a little building with one other room next to us. Covering the walls in the bathroom are tiles that resemble elephant hide, mixed with beige vertical tiles. I cannot begin to fathom how they managed to get the supplies to this area initially to build a complex such as this when there are no roads per se. It must have been some feat. I also wonder if the land is bought or leased. The latter is my guess, but have not asked anyone.

At check-in, we were informed that we could get hot water for showers from 6am-10am and then again from 6:30pm-10pm. There is no getting around having someone take your luggage for you to the room. Every place we have stayed at so far, they insist they take your bags for you. We were asked to please take our lunch as soon as we settled in the room, though they would still be serving for another hour and a half. The restaurant is humongous with a grand earthenware fireplace in the center. The bar has one similar. All meals are again buffet. I was thinking back to our last safari where our driver and guide did all of the cooking from a drop-down leaf off of the side of the truck. All of us chipped in to clean up afterwards. I kind of miss that.

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At 4pm, it was time to meet Joseph for our late afternoon safari tour. He almost found us a leopard, the only animal of the Big 5, we have yet to see on any trip. The others are the elephant, water buffalo, rhino, and lion. Back to the almost, he did find a tree where it was obvious that a leopard had been. Hanging high up in the tree was the carcass of a wildebeast. It looked to be a calf. I cannot fathom the strength it must have taked to carry the poor animal up into the tree using his teeth and jaws. It is not like the leopard could have it delivered, hoist it up, or use an elevator, but he left and did not clean up his mess after eating. Must have been a male leopard.

We found dozens upon dozens of zebras, but I never tire of seeing them. A couple of elephants were eating in a ditch, but later we found a whole group of them with assorted sized babies. Joseph went off of the beaten path and seemed to know where things were going to be. It was a great spotting safari, but the cream on the cake was when he took off in a strange direction with no paths at all, really traveling through the bushes. There were 5 giraffes, the first we have seen this trip. Two were obviously babies; one tried nursing while we watched, but mom was not having it at all. They are such graceful and stately animals. I love watching them walk.

Back on one of the paths, Joseph kept popping his head out the window, and then he jumped out of the van. We had a flat tire. I think he may have suspected it may happen earlier. He looked at the tire a few times during the day. It was unnerving knowing he was out there fixing the tire, which of course meant jacking it up. I half expected he would ask us to get out to save on the extra weight, but he didn't. Just having the sliding door on the van was a little worrisome. One of the other tour guides stopped his van to offer assistance. I kept an eye in that direction, while Ron looked in the other. There were some water buffaloes close by and one of the bulls found us every curious. He started to walk our way, then turned abruptly and left. Other animals gathered around to see what was happening. One said what a wildebeesty thing to have happen here. Another stated that there was an auto club to call for assistance, but we knew he was a lion. A hyena just laughed at our predictiment.

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A Walk on the Wild Side

Before I begin, there are a couple of generalizations I need to make. I usually abhor generalizations, so I have to admit these are based on my limited experiences thus far. The first one is that people here are Obamamaniacs in a positive sense. We have seen dozens of Obama stickers on cars as well as numerous people wearing Obama t-shirts. When we have spoken to people about it, they respond with toothy grins while letting us know this is his heritage. His paternal grandmother is alive, well, and looks well below her 72 years of age. Apparently, the US State Department is not aware of this in their travel warnings.

Next, all of the people we have encountered as staff members, be it in hotels, restaurants or other service industry providers, have not only been extremely solicitous, but highly professionally trained. Nothing seems to be too grandiose a request for them. They will do their best to fulfill it regardless of how many stars are attributed to their establishment.

We have not encountered one person, including security guards with big-ass machine guns, who has not been soft-spoken. They all seem to speak as if they are whispering a secret for your ears only. There is a real charm to this mannerism.

Besides being non-smoking, Nairobi is clean. More than once I had to take notice of how clean the streets are. There is not a single piece of litter anywhere. Of course, the smoking ban aids in not having cigarette butts all over, but there is not a single piece of paper on the streets either. The streets are not littered with trash cans to influence this cleanliness, so my only guess is that the people take pride in their environment. On that note, a number of hotels "harvest" rain water to recycle and have solar panels to cut down on their electric usage. As a green ecological country, Kenya could teach Hungary a few things. They could teach Hungary personnel a number of things about service.

Kenya is primarily Catholic. We passed literally dozens of monasteries, convents, Catholic schools and Catholic universities. The second most common religion is Islam. In addition to these, there are missionaries aplenty with little roadside churches all over the country.

As I had written in the past, we had transferred 2,000 Euros to the safari travel agency who was organizing our entire trip. The balance was to be paid on arrival. After we had settled into our hotel, Esther, the Kuja Safaris company manager had her assistant call to say that we would finalize the payment when they came to pick us up at the start of our safari. That was today. We did not know for sure when they were picking us up, so we were nervous. Two thousand Euros were gone from our account with nothing to show for it, but an e-mail. On a positive note, Ron had bombarded Esther with questions, queries, and suggestions. With each one, she answered promptly, professionally, and with complete grace.

Today, we were able to finally meet Esther from Ajah Safaris. She is young, beautiful, and just a wisp of a woman, but a real dynamo. No one else signed up for our trip, so it will be the two of us with Joseph, our driver/guide. It could have been up to six people. We were looking forward to the camaraderie of being with others, but this turned out to be perfect. We have plenty of room to spread out in the van. On the way to our first stop, Esther pointed out a sign and said this is a non-bribery zone in government; it includes the entire downtown area. I told her we had one of those in Washington, DC too, but it was only five square feet. We stopped at her company office, which could be an exaggeration. The office is about the size of our pantry without the shelving. Each business in their office building has just about the same space, including a barbershop. As we walked to her office, everyone came out of their little rooms to greet her and us. Esther and her assistant Winnie are charming, professional, and jubilant about being of service. She made the comment that the bank is going to call her to say "Esther, where did all of this money come from all of a sudden?" This begs the question, has business been really poor?

With final payments concluded, we rejoined Joseph to start our journey. He warned us that based on traffic; it could be from 5-7 hours drive. What we were not prepared for were the roads. Once we left Nairobi, where even there, the roads are not all surfaced, the rest of the roads are primarily dirt with ruts. If you can imagine those beds that some cheap motels used to have where you insert a coin and the bed vibrates, set that in your mind. Now, imagine that vibrating bed on a small ship in the middle of the ocean during a hurricane. That will give you sense of what the drive was like. There were not potholes, but gullies. Much of the road looked like corrugated dirt going across the road, not in the direction of driving. Every fifty miles, there could have been a sign that showed "Caution: Smooth surface for the next ten feet. Drive carefully, it will not last." For the first three hours, we were shaken, rattled, and rolled, before stopping for a break where Joseph shared that we were half-way there. For me, all of that vibration is relaxing and puts me to sleep. It was never verified, but I swear my mother was a quality insurance inspector for a Pogo stick company while pregnant with me. She became so proficient, it became her main means of transportation. Movement sends me to dreamland, which is why I have such difficulty sleeping in a stable bed; I need the motion to get me in the mood for meeting the Sandman. What makes this so difficult is that any drive over an hour, I get motion narcaleptic.  

When I asked where I could have a cigarette, he laughed and said anywhere you want. Nairobi is the only place where they take that law seriously, anywhere else in the country; you can smoke where you want. So much for laws.

When we finally reached the road that announced our lodge, I had this sinking feeling that our budget accommodations were going to be really budget. Driving down this long road, I prepared for the worst, but was greeted with something out of a magazine. We were staying at the Kibo Safari Campground at the entrance to the Ambeseli Game Reserve, best known for its herds of elephants. The reception is in a huge thatched building, made with all local woods. A gracious young woman greeted us with cold wet towels to wash our hands and face, while another greeted us with fruit juice. A young man appeared out of nowhere to take our suitcases to our tent. If you have ever heard the expression "My idea of camping is a hotel without room service", it closely described my ideas about camping. I was a Cub Scout, Weblo, and Boy Scout through Eagle. I had my fill of tents, sleeping bags, and backaches thank you very much. When we were told they would bring us to our tent, I had unkind thoughts. Glory to heaven, the tent has a permanent front veranda with sun screening on two sides. Inside, there are two twin beds, a full bathroom, including a shower. Each bed has a mosquito net over it and it is equipped with electric lights including a front porch light, but we were asked not to use the electric until after 6pm. This style of camping I can handle. Bring it on, baby!

Invited to please come to lunch once we were settled in our tent, the invitation was given with sincerety. All meals are served in a dining room, similarly fashioned to the reception area. They are all buffet style, but every table is assigned a waiter to get your drink order and to clear your dishes as soon as you finish with it. They do pamper in the best sense of the word. From what I have discovered after lunch and dinner is that both of those meals offer a soup, a choice of 8 different salad ingredients, 3 entrees, and 2-3 dessert selections. Lunch service ends at 3:30, dinner is served from 7:30 to 9:30 pm.
 

At 4:30, Joseph had us meeting up with him for a late afternoon safari drive in Amboseli National Game Reserve. We were going to drive around for about 2 hours. Just want we wanted after 6 hours on the road, more roads that will test whether or not a soul can be shaken loose from its host body. The drive was productive. We saw a number of elephants, particularly what this reserve is known for, but most animals were far enough from the road to get that WOW experience we have had in the past. Hippos, Crown cranes, hyenas, jackals, 2 lions, zebras, and others were spotted, but a telephoto lens or binoculars were needed for most of them. I have higher hopes for the rest of the safaris.

As I sit on our porch, patio, veranda, whatever it is, I am watching the monkeys play in the trees about one hundred yards away. In the background is Mount Kilamajaro. There is a swimming pool with an elevated deck, but we need to get up early for a full day game drive tomorrow, so we will forfeit a dip tonight. I can certainly live with this type of camping.

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Out of Africa, But Still Here

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Before leaving home, Ron forced me to watch Out of Africa. I was only resistant because I really am not a Meryl Streep fan, but we did watch it together. I have to say, I was floored with Streep's ability to do the accent. The movie had me enthralled, but as it is Hollywood, they make changes for the movie version. Ron read the book, but I have not yet. One of the things he had on his "To do" list was to visit her house, which is now a museum.

His back is still bothering him, so we decided to do this today. It is located in one of the outer parts of Nairobi, a good taxi ride away. Since we were doing the taxi thing, we decided to combine trips. Our first stop was an African consortium of handicrafts with about 20 different vendors all in one place. Proceeds from sales either go to the support of the tribe that made the product or for wildlife preservation. We told the driver we wanted about thirty minutes here, but once inside, we could have spent more than an hour and thirty minutes.  Unlike some establishments of this nature, once you have really looked over the merchandise from one shop, you have seen it all. It was an unexpected surprise to find that this was not the case here. Each room, a different vendor, had unique merchandise not available in other rooms by other vendors. Knowing we would be back in Nairobi for three days before we return, we looked, made lists, but did not buy anything now. There was no sense in hauling it around for the next 4 weeks. Fortunately or unfortunately, they do take credit cards. I have quite the list and Ron found a number of things that grabbed his fancy too.

From here, we went to Karen Blixen's Museum, the Danish woman who wrote Out of Africa based on her life here, before returning destitute to Copenhagen. The movie really came to life as soon as we were on the property. They filmed the outside scenes using this house. The interior scenes were filmed in a different house, because this one did not yet have electricity. We were treated to have James as our tour guide. He was extremely knowledgeable, loved her books (Blixen wrote 9 total, but not all of Africa), and the movie. Though he could not have been but a mere baby at the time of the movie, he made sure he knew ever detail there was to tell. We learned which pieces of furniture were authentic, which were reproductions and which were left from the movie. We also were treated to seeing the pants Robert Redford wore during the filming. Throughout the house were paintings Blixen painted of using some of her native staff as models; she was an accomplished artist.

In the back lot, we saw the remains of her coffee works, the roaster and all. It was moved to this location for the movie, but was originally down by the river.  Everything was fascinating, but James added an infectious appeal to the tour that we would never have experienced with anyone less enthusiastic. He was charming.

Our last stop was the Ya-Ya Center, an upscale ex-pat hang-out according to Lonely Planet. It would better be described as a mall. It was a bit of culture shock, but totally appropriate that the women who served at the information desk were dressed as Santa's elves. Normally, this would not cause a second look at this time of year, except they were all black. Directly behind the elves, Santa was sitting on his throne, ringing a bell trying to get some kiddie to sit on his lap, but to no avail. He too was black. It reminded me of the movie The Perfect  Holiday with Morris Chestnut. It is a Christmas movie with an all black cast.

The worst thing about paranoia with potential crime is that I don't travel around with lots of money or my credit cards. We brought enough cash to last us for the first week or so I thought. Little did I realize that Kenya was not going to be the bargain I had anticipated, but it is the taxi costs that are eating into the budget. Before we left the hotel, I had changed 50 euros. When we said good-bye to our three trip taxi driver, I only had 1,800 Kenyan shillings left. Knowing we would need 500 to 800 to taxi back, we had little left for any drinks or snacks. If only I had brought my ATM card with me. We managed to get 2 coffees and a pastry each, so we were not about to starve. The ride back was 500 shillings, so I am almost on empty once again.

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High Alert

Our first morning in Nairobi, the breakfast buffet is complete with a cook who makes custom omelets. This is our one splurge for this part of the trip. Our room is about $140. a night, but since we arrived late at night, we wanted comfort to start the trip. 

To get to our room corridor, we need to use our room card key and then again to get into the room. Ron went back to the room to get something, but when he did not return, I went looking for him. He bend the wrong way and put his back out. This slowed our day a bit. When we did start our day's adventure, we noticed what passed us by the night before. We need our card key to leave the hotel, plus we need it again to leave the premises. High security for sure. Outside the hotel is a barrier at both entrances for cars coming and going, manned by guards toting machine guns. Our hotel has a pricier sister hotel at the one end of the road. In front of it, is a "Happy Security" sign and area with a strange roundabout, where all cars have to stop to be inspected before they are allowed to go through. It was not until later in the day that we found out that the Israeli Embassy is directly across the street, hence the high security.

What may be cause for celebration for some is that Kenya is a non-smoking country. It is illegal to smoke in public except in designated areas, which are few. I will either cut down on my smoking or have nicotine withdrawal headaches. We shall see.

What we did not take into account is the cost of taxis. Over 50% of Nairobi is slum, constituting 2.5 million people. The safest way to get around is by taxi. The fact that our hotel is in a better neighborhood also means it is not in the city center, thus a major hike via unsafe roads and areas to get to the center. Today alone, we spent about 30 euros, not dollars on taxis.

Being dropped off in the downtown area, we were told it is very safe, because armed guards are everywhere. They are too. We were used to this in South Africa, Namibia and Zimbabwe, but there seem to be even more here. To say the city is not pretty is like saying that a cold sore has appeal. It is close to downright ugly with only a few interesting, but not yet not attractive buildings scattered here and there, seemingly by accident rather than by design.

The streets are like migration times in the plains. Each block has what seems like thousands of people pushing through trying to get somewhere other than where they are, all at varying speeds. Interesting shops are rare to non-existent on most of the streets we were hustled through. Traffic jam has an all new meaning. It could be described as traffic molasses after a deep freeze or the speed of an Artic snail. If they can move 2 feet every ten minutes, they consider it progress. Thankfully, the taxis are not metered. You arrange the fare ahead of time, but hotel taxis have their fares regulated by the hotel. 

We did manage to get to the African Archives, where what we found was one man's collection of artifacts from throughout Africa. His sole concern was that the cultures throughout the continent were vanishing, so he wanted to preserve them as best he could. The guard turned into our guide, giving us a vibrantly interesting history of numerous things as we stopped to look at a piece of history. He is an asset to his community for his vast wealth of history. The only time I wanted to run screaming was when he defended female circumcision as being illegal, but "some tribes still consider it necessary to curb a woman's hot nature for sex". I could have forgiven him, but he continued alluding to his personal agreement with the idea. After listening to it for five minutes, I had to change the subject or scream "That is really called female genital mutilation and it only causes physical and mental damage." Once we moved on to a different subject, I was able to look him in the face again, but he did not get a tip at the end.

We had been downtown for about 2 hours by this point, but we had only seen one other white person, creating some strange feelings. We literally hunted for a place to sit and have a drink and snack. Most of the places we passed were stand-up only. Ron spotted a place on an upper floor, so we went there, receiving curious looks from all of the other patrons. Since we were allowed to smoke there, we probably stayed even longer than we normally would, but there was not a lot to go running off to do anyway. 

The one stop we did make was the US Embassy Memorial garden where the US Embassy was bombed in 1998. More than 250 people were killed in the blast. They now have a visitor's center with a memorial plaque listing the names of the victims in the center of the park. We relaxed on the greens in the park; all benches were filled. After I took a picture of the memorial, a guard came over to make sure I was not doing a video. He then admonished us for not visiting the center to watch the video of the historic day's events. We said perhaps another time, but it seemed rather depressing.  The ambassador must have had warning; she was on the top floor of the bank building next door 'in a meeting'.

Kenya only gained complete independence in 1963. That is not all that long ago when you think about it. We walked over to the Parliament, which offers tours by appointment, but did not pursue it. Many of the government buildings have signs stating "This is a no bribe zone. Anyone attempting to bribe an official..." I wonder how that is working out. The youthfulness of the country does help to explain the infrastructure. The roads are in incredibly poor condition. Most of the buildings downtown were built after independence and for utility, not beauty.

After a taxi ride back, we went to our sister hotel for a beer, checking menus at its 5 different restaurants for dinner options. If not there, it would mean another taxi ride to and from another place. We did return for dinner at the poolside restaurant, but it was so busy, we nary got a peek at the poolside. Dinner was magnificent. I had a Kenyan chicken dish; Ron had red snapper. Presentation is everything with food and they have it down to an art.

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