Sounds, colors and smells of Africa
Kit has asked that I describe the sounds, colors and smells of Africa, so I’ll start with sitting here on the front porch of our lodge (a duplex log cabin with two twin beds, a small desk, mosquito netting that goes over the beds at night, high ceiling with a ceiling fan that sounds like “Lift off” when you put in full speed, and a bathroom with shower).
Closing my eyes, I hear the distant roar of the wind, like the sound of the ocean a mile or so away; birds chirping in every direction; the hard swaying of branches as baboons jump from one tree to another and sometimes the crack of a limb they break while jumping onto it; the baboons’ screeching when something is amiss and the loud thud of their feet on the roof of a lodge as they jump from a tree. And I can hear the whir of our ceiling fan as Bay naps. And her screams as a lizard climbs up her bed cover.
The colors here in Samburu are definitely predominantly light khaki - the dry grass and the dry river beds, like the one in front of me (the rainy season doesn’t start for another month or so). There are green bushes and trees only near the riverbeds and the lowlands. Otherwise, the trees are leafless and look dead, like our trees in late fall. But these trees, acacia mostly, look much more fragile and definitely deader than ours. Mario tells us that when the rainy season comes, all the leaves will come back and it will be a completely different view, and much harder to see the animals. There is green grass in front of my porch but it may be watered periodically. The soil here is a lighter brown than the soil at Mt. Kenya, possibly due to the moisture content.
And the smell of Africa? B.O., according to Bay.
And the size of elephant scat? About the side of a basketball, but only an inch or so high. So I love to hear from any of you, and will try to answer your questions. Thank you Kit.
No rest for the weary
After finishing my blog, publishing it and downloading my photos from both of my cameras, I checked out the photos of the lioness and her puppies. They are really great and I can’t wait to show them to you. I am especially happy because I used my new camera exclusively on our game drive yesterday and my experimentation at Mt. Kenya and at home has definitely helped. Then off to bed at 11:30, wrestling with the mosquito netting which had already been pulled over and around my bed when my bed was turned down at summertime.
The alarm went off at 5:55 and we rushed to get our clothes on, put in our contacts, grab our cameras and rendezvous with Mario for a 6:30 departure. We headed out to look for more animals with Dave and Jackie, and Jane and Rhys, with me in the back with Bay because my head would hit the popup cover of the van. I have to lean out over the back of the van as my head is about 4 inches over the top of the cover. We saw the same two male lions, this time asleep and still on the shore of the same riverbed. We also ran into another guranuk, an antelope-like creature that stands on its hind legs to eat the leaves further up the tree - maybe, Kipling-like (or is it Darwin-like), it’ll turn into a giraffe; ostriches, which are almost as tall as me; more elephants, Cape buffalo, giraffes, impala and others I may have already forgotten. The others are great bird lovers and quite knowledgeable as is Mario, and we saw many different types of birds, some with fantastic coloring (bright blues and yellows and greens), and some eagles (one a tawny eagle). We returned at 9:00. Getting out of the bus, a penny lay on the step and I insisted that Mario keep it, and told him that the man on the coin was our greatest President, the man who freed the slaves.
Saint Patrick
After breakfast, we had about 20 minutes to brush our teeth, use the toilet, etc. before we departed at 10 for the Samburu village a few miles away. Upon our parking on the top of a hill, next to their village, we were met with Patrick, an attactive and well-spoken young man who explained that he was the Secretary of the Samburu, and he introduced the Chief standing next to him. a 45 year old man wearing a red skirt and a pinkish shawl over his shoulder and a “Ryder Cup 2004” hat. Patrick further explained that they had a school and that they raised money for the school through these presentations to visitors. So we paid to the Chief our $20 per person and watched a dance show of about 10 men who were later joined by 6 or so women, all colorfully dressed and wearing large necklaces (not sure of the proper term but collar like - you all have seen them).
Patrick then led us into the village made up of quonset hut style buildings belonging to the Samburu (so shaped because it matches the shape of their sacred mountain in the distancet, and round huts (like rondovals that we saw in SA) that belonged to the other tribe in the village. There are appoximately 350 in this village - 2000 or so total under this Chief in 7 different village separately placed on the large savannah. Patrick took us into the round house, a house for a family of 10 who eat there, but only the parents and children under 7 slept there - children over 7 slept in another house, and the grandparents had another house altogether. The hut had walls that were made wth dung, water and grass, I think, and only the women are permitted to make the houses. After a year and a half, they are forced, due to termites, and general deterioration of the roof made out of intertwined twigs, to make a new house - always made in the dry season. The village is surrounded by brush with sharp thorns on the branches to keep wild animals out, and the cattle, sheep, donkeys owned by the villagers are placed in a corral enclosed by brush as well. We saw no animals as they were off grazing. And we saw no schoolage children as today is the last day of exams for them. The community is run by a council of elders who choose the Chief and the Secretary and there is a meeting every 3 days to iron out any problems. At the end of the month, they meet to have the Chief report on the funds available and they use the funds to pay the teachers, pay for the person servicing the health clinic, buy school supplies, etc. I asked if we could contribute money to purchase mosquito nets for them, and Patrick readily agreed and stated that he had told us all this so that we could contribute whatever we wanted toward their health fund - to cover evacuations when bitten by a poisonous snake, care for malaria, hospitalization, etc. So we all contributed more money for the community. After watching a fire lighting demonstration with sticks, donkey dung being the kindling, we were treated to another dance and then we had to go to the market, more aptly described as a gauntlet of about 30 women on each side stretching 40 yards or so, each pleading with you to buy something. I made it through unscathed. Well, not really, the Chief called me “my friend” and handed me his fly swatter made with the tail hair of a giraffe, and then said he would sell it to me for $30 - I said $10 and we settled on $20. Then Patrick came up and thanked me for my contributions, and said I had really helped them out and he wanted to give me his club in appreciation - of course for another $30. I gave him $20. These encounters are tough to take but quickly forgotten as Mario and I got into a discussion about Obama, Obams’s father (who grew up in a village like this one) and Abraham Lincoln - I explained the significance of the penny he had found and how Obama patterned his run for the presidency upon much of Lincoln’s experience when he was running 148 years before. His eyes absolutely lit up when I described Wikipedia and what he could do with that. We have a lot of laughs (especially when I bring up our 400-500 meter “mountains” ) and he says, “Tall mon, you are so funny. I will not forget you when you leave.” Nor will I you, Mario.
“I will protect you.”
Bay and I put on our bathing suits and went to the pool. Of course, there was an iguana near our chaises so we had to move, We took a dip and returned to our chaises where I almost fell asleep when Bay said, “Well, I guess I’ll have to go back to the room.” I sat up. “Why?” “Because of him,” pointing to a baboon about 20 feet away. I said “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” She replied, “You said that last night with a little tiny lizard. How are you going to handle a baboon?” “Bay, you’re in Africa!” And laid back down as she huffed and puffed and uneasily sat back, calculating that the baboon had to climb over me to get to her. Then a whole colony of baboons invaded us, swinging from limb to limb, crashing down onto the hotel and the cottages. But we stayed for awhile longer.
Mario’s Mission
We were told to congregate at the front desk at 3:45 so that we could be off at 4 as “we have a long way to go.” When everyone was there by 3:50, we departed with Mario driving over hill and dale, speeding by giraffes, herds of buffalo, warthogs, oryxes, impala, a couple vultures, elephants - nothing was stopping him. We drove on and on, me hanging on in the back seat (where I am relegated on game drives), and the miles really flew by when we hit Interstate 95, a high plateau with no bushes at all, and flat.
Oh, by the way, the people at our dinner table tonight, thought Bay was in her late twenties.
Okay, continuing, after fixing the muffler which Mario had broken on the first couple miles, we just flew down the dirt road on this plateau. After about an hour we joined two other vehicles at a spot with two CHEETAHS, a mother and a baby. They had made a kill the previous day and were very logy. Mario circled them so that they would get up and go to a better spot to photograph and what a show it was! Just spectacular and the photos are phenomenal. I’ll try to send one with the blog again tonight. So Mario accomplished his mission - he had a one track mind and there was no way we weren’t going to see these cheetahs! Good job, Mario.
And did I tell you that the people at our table tonight, Dave, Jackie, Rhys and Jane, thought Bay was in her late twenties, and thinking that I must have been very wealthy and dying from malaria or some such disease that would take me away quickly to have such a babe. Sounds good to me.
And by the way, Mario said he has cancelled my flight home. He wants me to be an attorney and he will collect the money for me. So, Sugar, better start making arrangements, getting Kandi the necessary shots, etc.
Love, Nat, Dad, DB, Matt, Bwana
PS Mario calls me “T.M.” What does that stand for? I’ll start with the easy questions. First one who responds correctly will get a prize.
PPS Tomorrow we leave at 7 for Lake Nakura, a 300 km drive.
PPPS I had lamb flakes for dinner with some fish and rice. It was great as the food has been all along.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
My father's son
My father’s son; Peter’s white linen suit: Mario; Crossing the Equator; Simba’s pups
I am my father’s son, and Janet had to pee
Last night at supper, we signed up to have someone wake us anytime any animals showed up. And animals showed up, at 1:00 or so, at 2:00 or so and again at 3:30. There was a wild pig the first time (I couldn’t see it without my contacts); and deer or antelope the second time (yawn), but the third time the knock came at the door, I moved to the window while Janet headed the opposite way to the bathroom. I looked down at the waterhole flooded with the spotlights from the hotel - nothing. Then in the corner of my left eye, I detected movement. I turned and watched this dark figure slink from left to right, on the other side of the pond, hoping that it was a leopard, but not seeing clearly and wishing Bay would hurry back. But, oh no, she went on and on and on, while the shadowy figure passed across my sight, and just going into the forest at the right when Bay reached my side. At breakfast, someone asked, “Did you see the leopard last night?” Well, yes I did, but with my eyesight, it might as well have been a raccoon.
We found Peter’s white linen suit!
Several days ago, Ursula sent me an email telling me to look out for Peter’s white linen suit that he wore to meet her and a friend many years ago. He arrived in this suit, it being too small and making him look like a pimp or Mafioso. After two days, Ursula and her friend finally convinced Peter to give away, and he did to a taxi driver who was thrilled. Well, we have discovered it and I even have a picture to prove it. It is now owned by the Assistant Manager at the Hotel Serena at Mt. Kenya. His name is Titus and it looks great on him, fitting him to a “T” and making him look very professional. So, Peter and Ursula, rest assured that your suit has been put to good use, and it has finally found a home with an honorable young man.
Mario
David is our driver and I have named him “Mario” because he is an excellent driver under very adverse conditions, 3 or 4 speed bumps in a space of 200 yards every mile or so in some areas; dodging pedestrians, goats, cattle, and other impediments to a safe trip like a real pro (like Mario Andretti); and then when it got really tough, driving in the dusty dirt for hours beside the road under construction and maintaining his good sense of humor (he wants to laugh, he said, every time I speak Swaheli) and patience. David, 2 brothers and 2 sisters, grew up in the home of a “white man” in which his father was a cook. When David got to be school age, the white man told his father that it was time for David to go to school and the man saw that David was educated. David is not a cook, and now thanks the white man so that he could get a job “better than being a cook.” His father died of prostate cancer at age 67 six years ago, and his mother has moved out of Nairobi and lives with her divorced daughter. One of his brothers is a taxi driver and the other works in a hotel, and he feels they are very fortunate. He said he did not know what happened to the white man or his family. They haven’t kept in touch. As he was telling me this, we are driving by these huge farms growing acres and acres of wheat and pyretheum or something, a natural bug repellent I believe, or a farm that raises flowers to send around the world. I asked him who owned these enormous farms - each time he replied, “A white Kenyan.” As you will see, there is great discrepancy in wealth in Kenya. So I am sitting shotgun on the front seat of the van with Mario and we are having a good time kidding each other. At one point, I asked a Swaheli question, whether I should refer to this woman who had helped us as “bibi” (meaning young woman) or “mama,” meaning older woman. He laughed and said I should say, “Assante sana, Madame.” And I corrected him, that Madame was a French term. Bay pipes up from the back, “Oh, and now you’re correcting his Swaheli?”
Crossing the Equator
We left Serena Mountain lodge at 9 and arrived at the Equator an hour and a half later. There was a sign saying “Equator” and we were given a demonstration of pouring water in a pot with a hole 20 yards north of the Equator, where the two matches in the water turn clockwise, and the reverse 20 yards south of the Equator. And the water pours through the hole in a spiral as well. At the Equator, the water poured out without any spiral whatsoever. Bay and Nat, meet the Coriolis Effect. Unfortunately I also met a few other people as there is a “shopping center” at the site of the Equator, and I had promised David that I would come see his wares at Store No. 6 after the demonstration. After picking out two items, he said that the price was 6000 Ksh, or about $75. After haggling, I said I would pay him $20. He objected so I started to leave when I was surrounded by others saying “No problem.” I was then turned over to Dennis to do the “paperwork” in the next store, and while he did the papers, I was to look as his wares and pick something out to “sustain” him and his father sitting at the front entry. I declined and after some unpleasant discussion, I said I had a present for him. I left the store, got my suitcase out, took out an Obama bumper sticker that I had brought with me, and only by giving that to him was I able to leave his store with my purchases and without buying something from him. Of course, others surrounded me and wanted an Obama sticker, pin, or maybe shoes or my Harley hat. We left.
Later en route I had a similar experience, and when I refused to buy anything, I got quite a lecture about my responsibility to him and his family, They were poor, I was not, and I had a responsibiltiy to help him. Sounded right to me. Two bracelets and giving him a pen later, I was freed from my responsibility. Bay just shook her head.
Simba’s pups
We continued on, the last 1 1/2 hour over dry, dirt, dusty roads next to a new highway in the early stages of construction by ... the CHINESE. Mario did a great job, and after a slight hiccup going to the wrong hotel, we arrived at 2:30. We had lunch and then joined Mario for a game drive through the Samburu National Park or Game Preserve or something. He told us to say “Stop” when we saw something and he would stop for us. Wrong, We would see an elephant or giraffe or lion, yell “Stop” and he would keep on going because he had already seen the animal and got us to a better position for pictures. After following two male lions down a dry riverbed and watching them drink their fill in a small pool, we moved on and soon came upon a female lion with 3 small “puppies” as we were told. The puppies were playful, jumping on each other while the lioness looked on, panting in the 90 degree heat. We also ran across 7 giraffes together, a zebra, elephants, impalas, and many other types of antelope, and many varieties of birds. It was a spectacular show and will be tough to beat in the coming days.
MIscellany
There is a Mt. Kenya - I got up early and there wasn’t a cloud in the 48 degree dawn sky, and we had a view of Mt Kenya with its glaciers for much of our ride. Spectacular.
We had Mary as our waitress at the Mountain Lodge and she was great, although worried about Bay’s inadequate food intake.
It is much hotter here in Samburu and shorts are the thing to wear.
Our van has a top that pops up so that all six of us can stand up and take pictures. We can’t get out of the vehicles.
The water from the faucet is incredibly hot here so you must be careful.
We are all on malaria medication and tonight sleeping with mosquito nets around our beds.
Dave, a retired ex-Los Alamos alum, and his British wife, Jackie, are in our van. They’re from New Mexico and are very nice.
Please forgive the length of these emails.
Good night.
Love, Nat, Dad, DB, Matt, etc.
I am my father’s son, and Janet had to pee
Last night at supper, we signed up to have someone wake us anytime any animals showed up. And animals showed up, at 1:00 or so, at 2:00 or so and again at 3:30. There was a wild pig the first time (I couldn’t see it without my contacts); and deer or antelope the second time (yawn), but the third time the knock came at the door, I moved to the window while Janet headed the opposite way to the bathroom. I looked down at the waterhole flooded with the spotlights from the hotel - nothing. Then in the corner of my left eye, I detected movement. I turned and watched this dark figure slink from left to right, on the other side of the pond, hoping that it was a leopard, but not seeing clearly and wishing Bay would hurry back. But, oh no, she went on and on and on, while the shadowy figure passed across my sight, and just going into the forest at the right when Bay reached my side. At breakfast, someone asked, “Did you see the leopard last night?” Well, yes I did, but with my eyesight, it might as well have been a raccoon.
We found Peter’s white linen suit!
Several days ago, Ursula sent me an email telling me to look out for Peter’s white linen suit that he wore to meet her and a friend many years ago. He arrived in this suit, it being too small and making him look like a pimp or Mafioso. After two days, Ursula and her friend finally convinced Peter to give away, and he did to a taxi driver who was thrilled. Well, we have discovered it and I even have a picture to prove it. It is now owned by the Assistant Manager at the Hotel Serena at Mt. Kenya. His name is Titus and it looks great on him, fitting him to a “T” and making him look very professional. So, Peter and Ursula, rest assured that your suit has been put to good use, and it has finally found a home with an honorable young man.
Mario
David is our driver and I have named him “Mario” because he is an excellent driver under very adverse conditions, 3 or 4 speed bumps in a space of 200 yards every mile or so in some areas; dodging pedestrians, goats, cattle, and other impediments to a safe trip like a real pro (like Mario Andretti); and then when it got really tough, driving in the dusty dirt for hours beside the road under construction and maintaining his good sense of humor (he wants to laugh, he said, every time I speak Swaheli) and patience. David, 2 brothers and 2 sisters, grew up in the home of a “white man” in which his father was a cook. When David got to be school age, the white man told his father that it was time for David to go to school and the man saw that David was educated. David is not a cook, and now thanks the white man so that he could get a job “better than being a cook.” His father died of prostate cancer at age 67 six years ago, and his mother has moved out of Nairobi and lives with her divorced daughter. One of his brothers is a taxi driver and the other works in a hotel, and he feels they are very fortunate. He said he did not know what happened to the white man or his family. They haven’t kept in touch. As he was telling me this, we are driving by these huge farms growing acres and acres of wheat and pyretheum or something, a natural bug repellent I believe, or a farm that raises flowers to send around the world. I asked him who owned these enormous farms - each time he replied, “A white Kenyan.” As you will see, there is great discrepancy in wealth in Kenya. So I am sitting shotgun on the front seat of the van with Mario and we are having a good time kidding each other. At one point, I asked a Swaheli question, whether I should refer to this woman who had helped us as “bibi” (meaning young woman) or “mama,” meaning older woman. He laughed and said I should say, “Assante sana, Madame.” And I corrected him, that Madame was a French term. Bay pipes up from the back, “Oh, and now you’re correcting his Swaheli?”
Crossing the Equator
We left Serena Mountain lodge at 9 and arrived at the Equator an hour and a half later. There was a sign saying “Equator” and we were given a demonstration of pouring water in a pot with a hole 20 yards north of the Equator, where the two matches in the water turn clockwise, and the reverse 20 yards south of the Equator. And the water pours through the hole in a spiral as well. At the Equator, the water poured out without any spiral whatsoever. Bay and Nat, meet the Coriolis Effect. Unfortunately I also met a few other people as there is a “shopping center” at the site of the Equator, and I had promised David that I would come see his wares at Store No. 6 after the demonstration. After picking out two items, he said that the price was 6000 Ksh, or about $75. After haggling, I said I would pay him $20. He objected so I started to leave when I was surrounded by others saying “No problem.” I was then turned over to Dennis to do the “paperwork” in the next store, and while he did the papers, I was to look as his wares and pick something out to “sustain” him and his father sitting at the front entry. I declined and after some unpleasant discussion, I said I had a present for him. I left the store, got my suitcase out, took out an Obama bumper sticker that I had brought with me, and only by giving that to him was I able to leave his store with my purchases and without buying something from him. Of course, others surrounded me and wanted an Obama sticker, pin, or maybe shoes or my Harley hat. We left.
Later en route I had a similar experience, and when I refused to buy anything, I got quite a lecture about my responsibility to him and his family, They were poor, I was not, and I had a responsibiltiy to help him. Sounded right to me. Two bracelets and giving him a pen later, I was freed from my responsibility. Bay just shook her head.
Simba’s pups
We continued on, the last 1 1/2 hour over dry, dirt, dusty roads next to a new highway in the early stages of construction by ... the CHINESE. Mario did a great job, and after a slight hiccup going to the wrong hotel, we arrived at 2:30. We had lunch and then joined Mario for a game drive through the Samburu National Park or Game Preserve or something. He told us to say “Stop” when we saw something and he would stop for us. Wrong, We would see an elephant or giraffe or lion, yell “Stop” and he would keep on going because he had already seen the animal and got us to a better position for pictures. After following two male lions down a dry riverbed and watching them drink their fill in a small pool, we moved on and soon came upon a female lion with 3 small “puppies” as we were told. The puppies were playful, jumping on each other while the lioness looked on, panting in the 90 degree heat. We also ran across 7 giraffes together, a zebra, elephants, impalas, and many other types of antelope, and many varieties of birds. It was a spectacular show and will be tough to beat in the coming days.
MIscellany
There is a Mt. Kenya - I got up early and there wasn’t a cloud in the 48 degree dawn sky, and we had a view of Mt Kenya with its glaciers for much of our ride. Spectacular.
We had Mary as our waitress at the Mountain Lodge and she was great, although worried about Bay’s inadequate food intake.
It is much hotter here in Samburu and shorts are the thing to wear.
Our van has a top that pops up so that all six of us can stand up and take pictures. We can’t get out of the vehicles.
The water from the faucet is incredibly hot here so you must be careful.
We are all on malaria medication and tonight sleeping with mosquito nets around our beds.
Dave, a retired ex-Los Alamos alum, and his British wife, Jackie, are in our van. They’re from New Mexico and are very nice.
Please forgive the length of these emails.
Good night.
Love, Nat, Dad, DB, Matt, etc.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
How did Kenya get its name? Don't even try.
The Great Migration; Performance by Benson
And where do I begin on a day where so much made me so speechless. When in doubt, “begin at the beginning, and go on until you reach the end, then stop.”
After a wonderful breakfast of fried eggs, bacon and all the fixings, we met our guide, David, who would be taking us on safari, and loaded our bags in the van. He is native to Nairobi, a city of 3.8 million in a country of 38 million. The drive out of the city was much easier than the drive into the city last night, and after 45 minutes or so, we were in the countryside. I sat in the front seat with David and, despite my wish to keep up a conversation with him, I became stunned by the people - hundreds of men just sitting by the side of the road; hundreds of men walking along the side of the road, or pushing a bicycle laden with most anything (an auto tire, charcoal bricquets, whatever), or riding along on a bicycle, or stopped by the side o;f the road trying to fix the bicycle; and the women, women carrying huge loads of firewood, or goods on their backs, or digging in the fields, or dressed to the nines carrying a suitcase. And the homes - homes built with roofs of corrugated steel (is it steel?), with rust all over, the same color of the earth of the path or way leading to the home. No electricity; no plumbing; their garbage collection was to dig a hole by the side of the road and then throw their garbage in it and cover it back up. And we passed scores of schools, grade schools, high schools, colleges, teacher schools, and many, many Christian churches, all tiny. Our road turned from a 4-lane divided highway, to a 2-lane road, and finally to a one-lane road into our Serena Lodge at Mount Kenya. But it was never a 2 or 4-lane road because that is not counting the two lanes outside the road, the lanes used by those walking; usually wide enough for just one person, and some wide enough for 3 or 4 to walk abreast, but always there until we reached the Mt. Kenya National Park access road - no pedestrians are allowed in here. The wildebeests have a huge migration and what I saw today made me think of that. It’s a tough place to live for these people, and you tack on the drought they’re having and the horrendous financial situation (no one is coming to visit), and it is almost disastrous.
After lunch at our lodge (check it out on the Internet), a log cabin type structure overlooking a mud pond where a lot of buffalo were sitting around and hopefully later elephants, we signed up for the nature walk through the forest, led by Benson, a 25-30ish Kenyan. He was most demonstrative in his presentations, enunciating each syllable and speaking slowly but accenting syllables and pronouncing words in a different manner so you had to concentrate to get the information he was seeking to impart. It was like going to a play starring Benson. Among other things I learned that Kenya got its name from Mt. Kenya, the highest mountain in Kenya. And the mountain got its name from Swaheli “Kii nyaa”, meaning “place where the ostrich lay” because the top of Mt. Kenya has dark rocks with the glacier, making it look like the Somali ostrich which is supposed to be black and white. The British anglicized the name to Kenya, pronouncing it “Keenya” and then when Kenya became independent, its first president was Jomo Kenyatta so the pronunciation changed to conform to the pronunciation of his name. And I also learned that Mau Mau (as in the Mau Mau rebellion from 1952-1958) consisted of abbreviations of Swaheli words - the first MAU being “whites go back to Europe” and the second being “Kenyans obtain independence” or “Uhuru” (being the "U" in the second MAU) as we’ve learned from the movie of that name.
We’re off to dinner in a few minutes, and we will let them know in writing what animals we wish to see and they will knock on our door in the night if that animal appears. Sounds good to me - I’d like to see a leopard, and they bait a platform on a tall post just in front of and slightly below our balcony. Bring it on.
PS By the way, being the excited animal watcher I am, I took a picture of this “teal” (Bay’s word) iguana or lizard on the lawn just below us, three stories down. I had never seen one, and grabbed my camera and took a picture of it, while calling Bay. She put her binoculars on it - it was a piece of wood or bark. I guess I better not quit my day job - I’m no threat to Benson.
Love, Nat, Dad, DB, Matt and Bwana
PPS Tomorrow we leave at 9 AM for a 6-hour drive down dusty, bumpy roads but we’ll stay there at Samburu for two nights which will be nice.
PPPS And they are so worried that we will be cold up here at 7200 feet elevation, they put a hot water bottle in my bed and gave me an electric blanket. And Mt. Kenya? Haven't seen it yet due to the clouds.
And where do I begin on a day where so much made me so speechless. When in doubt, “begin at the beginning, and go on until you reach the end, then stop.”
After a wonderful breakfast of fried eggs, bacon and all the fixings, we met our guide, David, who would be taking us on safari, and loaded our bags in the van. He is native to Nairobi, a city of 3.8 million in a country of 38 million. The drive out of the city was much easier than the drive into the city last night, and after 45 minutes or so, we were in the countryside. I sat in the front seat with David and, despite my wish to keep up a conversation with him, I became stunned by the people - hundreds of men just sitting by the side of the road; hundreds of men walking along the side of the road, or pushing a bicycle laden with most anything (an auto tire, charcoal bricquets, whatever), or riding along on a bicycle, or stopped by the side o;f the road trying to fix the bicycle; and the women, women carrying huge loads of firewood, or goods on their backs, or digging in the fields, or dressed to the nines carrying a suitcase. And the homes - homes built with roofs of corrugated steel (is it steel?), with rust all over, the same color of the earth of the path or way leading to the home. No electricity; no plumbing; their garbage collection was to dig a hole by the side of the road and then throw their garbage in it and cover it back up. And we passed scores of schools, grade schools, high schools, colleges, teacher schools, and many, many Christian churches, all tiny. Our road turned from a 4-lane divided highway, to a 2-lane road, and finally to a one-lane road into our Serena Lodge at Mount Kenya. But it was never a 2 or 4-lane road because that is not counting the two lanes outside the road, the lanes used by those walking; usually wide enough for just one person, and some wide enough for 3 or 4 to walk abreast, but always there until we reached the Mt. Kenya National Park access road - no pedestrians are allowed in here. The wildebeests have a huge migration and what I saw today made me think of that. It’s a tough place to live for these people, and you tack on the drought they’re having and the horrendous financial situation (no one is coming to visit), and it is almost disastrous.
After lunch at our lodge (check it out on the Internet), a log cabin type structure overlooking a mud pond where a lot of buffalo were sitting around and hopefully later elephants, we signed up for the nature walk through the forest, led by Benson, a 25-30ish Kenyan. He was most demonstrative in his presentations, enunciating each syllable and speaking slowly but accenting syllables and pronouncing words in a different manner so you had to concentrate to get the information he was seeking to impart. It was like going to a play starring Benson. Among other things I learned that Kenya got its name from Mt. Kenya, the highest mountain in Kenya. And the mountain got its name from Swaheli “Kii nyaa”, meaning “place where the ostrich lay” because the top of Mt. Kenya has dark rocks with the glacier, making it look like the Somali ostrich which is supposed to be black and white. The British anglicized the name to Kenya, pronouncing it “Keenya” and then when Kenya became independent, its first president was Jomo Kenyatta so the pronunciation changed to conform to the pronunciation of his name. And I also learned that Mau Mau (as in the Mau Mau rebellion from 1952-1958) consisted of abbreviations of Swaheli words - the first MAU being “whites go back to Europe” and the second being “Kenyans obtain independence” or “Uhuru” (being the "U" in the second MAU) as we’ve learned from the movie of that name.
We’re off to dinner in a few minutes, and we will let them know in writing what animals we wish to see and they will knock on our door in the night if that animal appears. Sounds good to me - I’d like to see a leopard, and they bait a platform on a tall post just in front of and slightly below our balcony. Bring it on.
PS By the way, being the excited animal watcher I am, I took a picture of this “teal” (Bay’s word) iguana or lizard on the lawn just below us, three stories down. I had never seen one, and grabbed my camera and took a picture of it, while calling Bay. She put her binoculars on it - it was a piece of wood or bark. I guess I better not quit my day job - I’m no threat to Benson.
Love, Nat, Dad, DB, Matt and Bwana
PPS Tomorrow we leave at 9 AM for a 6-hour drive down dusty, bumpy roads but we’ll stay there at Samburu for two nights which will be nice.
PPPS And they are so worried that we will be cold up here at 7200 feet elevation, they put a hot water bottle in my bed and gave me an electric blanket. And Mt. Kenya? Haven't seen it yet due to the clouds.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
No "stripper pole"
No “stripper pole” nor bloodstain, just bars on the windows
So February 23-24, 2009 me of you have heard that Bay was relieved when she saw our hotel room here in Jamaica (no, not THAT Jamaica) - there was no “stripper pole” in the middle of the room, and she couldn’t find any bloodstains on the floor from a recent murder, as she found when, 2 years ago, we stayed at the Skyview Hotel (actually the only hotel in NYC without a view of the sky). Of course, here we have bars on our windows, we are in the basement, people walking by on the sidewalk can look into our room, and there was a shootout this morning at the Best Western nearby as we learned from the news on TV. On the bright side, it is a flatscreen TV. Life is good. And when the shuttle van pulled up to take us to the airport, it said “Holiday Inn Express, Best Western” but I didn’t see any bullet holes.
Big Papi’s friend
Arriving at the airport 7 hours before the scheduled departure calmed me down, and a visit from Toby helped pass the time. He looked good although his loss of a job has depressed him so spread the word, Toby needs a job and would make someone a very good lawyer (how’s that for networking, Toby?). The check-in started at 2:30 for a 6:15 departure and we were in the first 6 in line. We were unable to get exit row seating but the attendant changed my seat and assured me I would have “all that room” pointing at her computer screen showing me plenty of room in front of my seat. But when we boarded the A330, it turned out that seat 25B had the same lack of room as all the other seats and all the “room” on her computer screen was the bathroom across the aisle from me. A large man came up and said he had seat 25A beside me, but seeing how I was crammed in the seat, he took the seat in front of me. A few minutes later, he was thrown out of that seat so he came and sat beside me. We started talking - he was on his way to Zurich (pronouncing the “h”) because his sister had just died there of cancer. His mother had flown over, rented a car and driven to the hospital to find her daughter already deceased, and he was flying over to be with his mother. He had a soft smile and kind eyes, and was from the Dominican Republic ( a “Dominican Republican”?). He, Elias, was a professional trumpet player, the no. 1 trumpet in a 14-member band that had 3 concerts scheduled for this coming weekend, one of them at Madison Square Garden. So his trip would be short as he had to return to rejoin the band in time for these important concerts. He is friends with other famous Dominican Republicans - Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martinez and David Ortiz (“Big Papi” to Red Sox fans), and even had 4 autographed batting gloves in his bag that he was taking back to his son who is a developing baseball star at home. Can you find out his full name for me and the name of the band for if I get to the DR, I will want to go see him play?
I did get to change my seat to a bulkhead seat, took an Excedrin PM and actually slept 3 or 4 hours on our 7-hour flight to Zurich.
$800 glasses
And of course, after landing in Zurich and making our way through security, who was there to meet us but Peter and Ursula. They looked great even though they had just arrived from a 12-hour flight from Bangkok. They told us the story of how Peter lost his glasses in the taxi in Bangkok and he had to get new glasses when they arrived in Phuket for their vacation. He had to go to an optometrist an hour away and after taking his eye exam, the optometrist gave them a ride back to Phuket saving them a taxi fare. And when the glasses were ready 2 days later, he even drove them to Peter. “And what about the fancy pen?” Ursula asked. Peter proudly took out a nice pen that the optometrist had given him “for free.” And the cost of the glasses? $800! Translated, the glasses cost $250, the two trips to Phuket cost $225 apiece, and the pen cost $100. But the glasses look great - they say “Mercedes Benz” on them. Peter proudly told us that he had bought two pairs of reading glasses as well, the first pair being too weak (so he was saving that for Ursula for when she would need them) and so he had to buy another pair. And due to Ursula’s diligence,when they returned to Bangkok, they recovered the glasses Peter had left in the taxi cab. Apparently, the doorman at their hotel noted the number of the taxi on a hotel business card and gave them the card as they entered the taxi. Upon their return 2 weeks later, after numerous phone calls by Ursula, the glasses were waiting for them at the hotel in Bangkok. Peter exclaimed with delight, “Yes, I spent over $1,000 on glasses.” Some people buy mementoes on vacation, and Peter? Well..... It was great to see them and Peter even got our seats changed to bulkhead seats so that we would have room on our 7 1/2 hour flight to Nairobi.
I’m typing this, legs stretched out in my bulkhead seat, at our cruising altitude of 37,000 feet as we cross over from Libya to Sudan (over Tibesti Mountain as the map on the screen shows), about 4 hours to go. Our route took us over Florence, Rome, Naples, Sicily, Benghazi, and now through central Sudan and then into Kenya. The plane is almost empty, a complete surprise, but we have met several other Friendly Planet people who will be on our trip. Bay is holding up well and we’re getting pretty excited - we’re due to land at 7:05 tonight.
And yes, like you, I am thinking of the people below us in Darfur. And of Elias and his mother.
Nairobi = Swaheli for “chaos”
And now we’re here after a wonderful flight from Zurich on an almost empty plane, passing through customs and no check of our bags whatsoever to meet our guide, James. I changed some money, and then boarded the bus with our eleven others, for the trip into Nairobi, only 20 km, to take 25 minutes, an hour or all night depending on the traffic according to James. Well, the first 8-10 miles went fairly peacefully, with only four accidents en route, ambulances wailing away heading toward the airport, and dark figures darting on and off the highway. Then we hit the roundabouts - these normally work well when people give others the right of way, but not here. It’s just everyone for himself. As we waited at the roundabouts for our turn, little urchins would come up to our minibus offering us peanuts for $1 to “buy books for school.” Janet warned me not to do something “bad.” So we continued on with our stop and go and they would run along side and then when we really got going, they would dart to the side of the road and run as fast as they could to catch us at the next stop. After about an hour and a half, we arrived at the Intercontinental Hotel, and after a briefing by James, adjourned to our room where we decided we really, really needed to visit the bar. Two Tuskers later, we are both feeling much better.
And my Swaheli has been a big hit. But when I asked our waitress in Swaheli if she understood Swaheli, she asked in English, “What are you trying to say?” Well, she pricked that balloon.
Tomorrow we split up into two groups of six. I know which group we’ll be in, the group with the older lady who can’t stop talking, You just wind her up and she’s good for at least an hour of nonstop monologue. Like, as we came in from the airport, she was sitting next to Bay and after a wonderful 2 minutes of silence, she exclaimed, “You know, I don’t have a flatscreen TV.” And off she went for another 20 minutes of why she didn’t have a flatscreen TV. I heard something from Laura recently about talking, when to talk, when not to talk and we should ask ourselves, “Does it improve on silence?”
And with that I have gone on long enough. Good night. Sleep tight.
Love, Nat, Dad, DB, etc.
So February 23-24, 2009 me of you have heard that Bay was relieved when she saw our hotel room here in Jamaica (no, not THAT Jamaica) - there was no “stripper pole” in the middle of the room, and she couldn’t find any bloodstains on the floor from a recent murder, as she found when, 2 years ago, we stayed at the Skyview Hotel (actually the only hotel in NYC without a view of the sky). Of course, here we have bars on our windows, we are in the basement, people walking by on the sidewalk can look into our room, and there was a shootout this morning at the Best Western nearby as we learned from the news on TV. On the bright side, it is a flatscreen TV. Life is good. And when the shuttle van pulled up to take us to the airport, it said “Holiday Inn Express, Best Western” but I didn’t see any bullet holes.
Big Papi’s friend
Arriving at the airport 7 hours before the scheduled departure calmed me down, and a visit from Toby helped pass the time. He looked good although his loss of a job has depressed him so spread the word, Toby needs a job and would make someone a very good lawyer (how’s that for networking, Toby?). The check-in started at 2:30 for a 6:15 departure and we were in the first 6 in line. We were unable to get exit row seating but the attendant changed my seat and assured me I would have “all that room” pointing at her computer screen showing me plenty of room in front of my seat. But when we boarded the A330, it turned out that seat 25B had the same lack of room as all the other seats and all the “room” on her computer screen was the bathroom across the aisle from me. A large man came up and said he had seat 25A beside me, but seeing how I was crammed in the seat, he took the seat in front of me. A few minutes later, he was thrown out of that seat so he came and sat beside me. We started talking - he was on his way to Zurich (pronouncing the “h”) because his sister had just died there of cancer. His mother had flown over, rented a car and driven to the hospital to find her daughter already deceased, and he was flying over to be with his mother. He had a soft smile and kind eyes, and was from the Dominican Republic ( a “Dominican Republican”?). He, Elias, was a professional trumpet player, the no. 1 trumpet in a 14-member band that had 3 concerts scheduled for this coming weekend, one of them at Madison Square Garden. So his trip would be short as he had to return to rejoin the band in time for these important concerts. He is friends with other famous Dominican Republicans - Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martinez and David Ortiz (“Big Papi” to Red Sox fans), and even had 4 autographed batting gloves in his bag that he was taking back to his son who is a developing baseball star at home. Can you find out his full name for me and the name of the band for if I get to the DR, I will want to go see him play?
I did get to change my seat to a bulkhead seat, took an Excedrin PM and actually slept 3 or 4 hours on our 7-hour flight to Zurich.
$800 glasses
And of course, after landing in Zurich and making our way through security, who was there to meet us but Peter and Ursula. They looked great even though they had just arrived from a 12-hour flight from Bangkok. They told us the story of how Peter lost his glasses in the taxi in Bangkok and he had to get new glasses when they arrived in Phuket for their vacation. He had to go to an optometrist an hour away and after taking his eye exam, the optometrist gave them a ride back to Phuket saving them a taxi fare. And when the glasses were ready 2 days later, he even drove them to Peter. “And what about the fancy pen?” Ursula asked. Peter proudly took out a nice pen that the optometrist had given him “for free.” And the cost of the glasses? $800! Translated, the glasses cost $250, the two trips to Phuket cost $225 apiece, and the pen cost $100. But the glasses look great - they say “Mercedes Benz” on them. Peter proudly told us that he had bought two pairs of reading glasses as well, the first pair being too weak (so he was saving that for Ursula for when she would need them) and so he had to buy another pair. And due to Ursula’s diligence,when they returned to Bangkok, they recovered the glasses Peter had left in the taxi cab. Apparently, the doorman at their hotel noted the number of the taxi on a hotel business card and gave them the card as they entered the taxi. Upon their return 2 weeks later, after numerous phone calls by Ursula, the glasses were waiting for them at the hotel in Bangkok. Peter exclaimed with delight, “Yes, I spent over $1,000 on glasses.” Some people buy mementoes on vacation, and Peter? Well..... It was great to see them and Peter even got our seats changed to bulkhead seats so that we would have room on our 7 1/2 hour flight to Nairobi.
I’m typing this, legs stretched out in my bulkhead seat, at our cruising altitude of 37,000 feet as we cross over from Libya to Sudan (over Tibesti Mountain as the map on the screen shows), about 4 hours to go. Our route took us over Florence, Rome, Naples, Sicily, Benghazi, and now through central Sudan and then into Kenya. The plane is almost empty, a complete surprise, but we have met several other Friendly Planet people who will be on our trip. Bay is holding up well and we’re getting pretty excited - we’re due to land at 7:05 tonight.
And yes, like you, I am thinking of the people below us in Darfur. And of Elias and his mother.
Nairobi = Swaheli for “chaos”
And now we’re here after a wonderful flight from Zurich on an almost empty plane, passing through customs and no check of our bags whatsoever to meet our guide, James. I changed some money, and then boarded the bus with our eleven others, for the trip into Nairobi, only 20 km, to take 25 minutes, an hour or all night depending on the traffic according to James. Well, the first 8-10 miles went fairly peacefully, with only four accidents en route, ambulances wailing away heading toward the airport, and dark figures darting on and off the highway. Then we hit the roundabouts - these normally work well when people give others the right of way, but not here. It’s just everyone for himself. As we waited at the roundabouts for our turn, little urchins would come up to our minibus offering us peanuts for $1 to “buy books for school.” Janet warned me not to do something “bad.” So we continued on with our stop and go and they would run along side and then when we really got going, they would dart to the side of the road and run as fast as they could to catch us at the next stop. After about an hour and a half, we arrived at the Intercontinental Hotel, and after a briefing by James, adjourned to our room where we decided we really, really needed to visit the bar. Two Tuskers later, we are both feeling much better.
And my Swaheli has been a big hit. But when I asked our waitress in Swaheli if she understood Swaheli, she asked in English, “What are you trying to say?” Well, she pricked that balloon.
Tomorrow we split up into two groups of six. I know which group we’ll be in, the group with the older lady who can’t stop talking, You just wind her up and she’s good for at least an hour of nonstop monologue. Like, as we came in from the airport, she was sitting next to Bay and after a wonderful 2 minutes of silence, she exclaimed, “You know, I don’t have a flatscreen TV.” And off she went for another 20 minutes of why she didn’t have a flatscreen TV. I heard something from Laura recently about talking, when to talk, when not to talk and we should ask ourselves, “Does it improve on silence?”
And with that I have gone on long enough. Good night. Sleep tight.
Love, Nat, Dad, DB, etc.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
What does a Depression look like?
And what does a Depression look like?
Hearing the forecast yesterday for a 10” snowfall starting today and reviewing the aviation charts for today, I called Delta to see if we could change our flight from 1 PM back to 6 AM to make sure we get to NYC so we can be sure to make our flight to Kenya tomorrow (a very nervous traveler here). The Delta rep heard my story, then checked the availability on the 6 AM flight and told me to just go to the airport in the morning and it would only cost $50 per ticket to change the reservation, rather than $150 per ticket plus the price differential if I changed the reservations over the phone with him. I thanked him. And up we got at 3 AM, drove to Bangor, made our ticket change, paid our $50 per person and off we flew at 6 to JFK. Of course, going through security with my titanium knees and hundreds of electronics in my carryon made the TSA drool - Bay says traveling with me is like traveling with Gammy, except I don’t carry (and don’t even try to carry) a Swiss Army knife through security.
We had a quick flight to JFK, deplaned and arrived at Baggage Claim to find ONE bag, Bay’s. It’s a nonstop flight and they’ve lost my bag? A lady from Delta came over to help and after several phone calls, she determined that the bag did make the plane. After several more phone calls to her staff, she concluded that my bag must have fallen off the conveyer belt, and had someone check for it. Bingo. And down the ramp it came with a bound. I thanked her.
We walked toward the street, and a guy asked if he could take us to the city. I told him that we had a reservation at a local hotel and would try to catch the shuttle. Fine, he said, “you need to take the Air Train to Station C.” I thanked him and we headed for the Air Train.
After arriving at Station C, we followed the chute (looks like the kind they use to herd cattle to the slaughterhouse but it has a canvas top over it) to the “Shuttles to Hotels” area, parking our bags on the sidewalk to the right. An airport employee asked what we were waiting for, I told him, and he said we were in the wrong spot and we should move under the shelter where the shuttles come, pointing to our left. I thanked him and we moved our bags. I was beginning to see a pattern about now.
A Marriott van pulled up. The driver put his window down and asked where we were going. I told him and he said he would have taken us but it was a little too far and our shuttle would be along shortly. I thanked him.
Our van did arrive a few minutes later, and we disembarked at the Holiday Inn Express concerned that we might have to sit in the lobby for 4 or 5 hours since it was only 8:30. The desk man welcomed us, told us he had a room right away, and by the way, we could have their free breakfast. He gave us our room key. I thanked him. After a large breakfast, we are in our room ready for a nap.
So this is what a Depression looks like - people who might have ignored you in the past all doing a little extra to help you out. I mean, this is JFK! This place eats people up, and spits them out, always the worse for wear. So what’s going on?
Times are going to be tough, and I thought it would get really ugly, but maybe it’s going to be just the opposite. This is our time to prove our worth, and maybe we’re beginning to understand that. Or....
it was just Sunday morning and people weren’t busy and had nothing better to do....
Hearing the forecast yesterday for a 10” snowfall starting today and reviewing the aviation charts for today, I called Delta to see if we could change our flight from 1 PM back to 6 AM to make sure we get to NYC so we can be sure to make our flight to Kenya tomorrow (a very nervous traveler here). The Delta rep heard my story, then checked the availability on the 6 AM flight and told me to just go to the airport in the morning and it would only cost $50 per ticket to change the reservation, rather than $150 per ticket plus the price differential if I changed the reservations over the phone with him. I thanked him. And up we got at 3 AM, drove to Bangor, made our ticket change, paid our $50 per person and off we flew at 6 to JFK. Of course, going through security with my titanium knees and hundreds of electronics in my carryon made the TSA drool - Bay says traveling with me is like traveling with Gammy, except I don’t carry (and don’t even try to carry) a Swiss Army knife through security.
We had a quick flight to JFK, deplaned and arrived at Baggage Claim to find ONE bag, Bay’s. It’s a nonstop flight and they’ve lost my bag? A lady from Delta came over to help and after several phone calls, she determined that the bag did make the plane. After several more phone calls to her staff, she concluded that my bag must have fallen off the conveyer belt, and had someone check for it. Bingo. And down the ramp it came with a bound. I thanked her.
We walked toward the street, and a guy asked if he could take us to the city. I told him that we had a reservation at a local hotel and would try to catch the shuttle. Fine, he said, “you need to take the Air Train to Station C.” I thanked him and we headed for the Air Train.
After arriving at Station C, we followed the chute (looks like the kind they use to herd cattle to the slaughterhouse but it has a canvas top over it) to the “Shuttles to Hotels” area, parking our bags on the sidewalk to the right. An airport employee asked what we were waiting for, I told him, and he said we were in the wrong spot and we should move under the shelter where the shuttles come, pointing to our left. I thanked him and we moved our bags. I was beginning to see a pattern about now.
A Marriott van pulled up. The driver put his window down and asked where we were going. I told him and he said he would have taken us but it was a little too far and our shuttle would be along shortly. I thanked him.
Our van did arrive a few minutes later, and we disembarked at the Holiday Inn Express concerned that we might have to sit in the lobby for 4 or 5 hours since it was only 8:30. The desk man welcomed us, told us he had a room right away, and by the way, we could have their free breakfast. He gave us our room key. I thanked him. After a large breakfast, we are in our room ready for a nap.
So this is what a Depression looks like - people who might have ignored you in the past all doing a little extra to help you out. I mean, this is JFK! This place eats people up, and spits them out, always the worse for wear. So what’s going on?
Times are going to be tough, and I thought it would get really ugly, but maybe it’s going to be just the opposite. This is our time to prove our worth, and maybe we’re beginning to understand that. Or....
it was just Sunday morning and people weren’t busy and had nothing better to do....
Monday, February 16, 2009
Anticipation; Visas; eight plus six equals two
A great joy in any trip is the anticipation you feel as the months and days count down to D-day. I read the medical information for the countries and the CDC's recommendations, and then went to Bangor and got $450 worth of shots and medicines to keep me "safe."I ordered Pimsleur's Swaheli CD's (10 of them) and have been listening to them for at least a month, back and forth to work in my car. I am reading "Out of Africa" and will watch the movie before I leave. I ordered the Lonely Planet "Kenya" guide and have been reading those portions of it that cover the places in our itinerary, those portions providing additional Swaheli phrases, and comments on the history and literature of Kenya. I stay up late looking at maps of the places we will visit and I visit the websites of the hotels, lodges and camps where we will stay. I go to the CIA World Fact Book and look up Kenya and Tanzania and marvel at their life expectancies (younger than me in both countries!) and other facts of their existence such as the fact that the median age in both countries is about 18. I ordered "safari" pants for our safari, pants where you can unzip the bottom half of the legs to create shorts, and a safari long sleeve shirt, all to keep the malaria-carrying mosquitoes away. I created this blog so that I can hopefully make it available to those who wish to follow us on our journey.
And I got visas for Janet (Bay) and me, hiring CIBT to attend to dealing with the Kenyan and Tanzanian embassies, and that was another $500 (only $300 of which was for the fees charged by the countries for the visas). How nervewracking that was to send away our passports to some company in Washington, D.C. 6 weeks before our departure not knowing if we'd ever see them again. So for peace of mind, I added "insurance" at $12.50 per passport (I'm not sure what that got me other than the additional charge). And then came the call that my credit card would not accept their charge for these services. Guess I should start paying my bills.
And in my last two Swaheli CD's, I learned that "eight is equal to two" - in time that is. Apparently, they measure time from 6 A.M. and 6 P.M. So if you say "Sasa ne za nane" (I know. YOU probably don't go around saying that.), it literally means "now it is at eight" but what it really means is that, in our time, "it is two o'clock." Eight hours after six o'clock is two o'clock, right? Go figure.
And I got visas for Janet (Bay) and me, hiring CIBT to attend to dealing with the Kenyan and Tanzanian embassies, and that was another $500 (only $300 of which was for the fees charged by the countries for the visas). How nervewracking that was to send away our passports to some company in Washington, D.C. 6 weeks before our departure not knowing if we'd ever see them again. So for peace of mind, I added "insurance" at $12.50 per passport (I'm not sure what that got me other than the additional charge). And then came the call that my credit card would not accept their charge for these services. Guess I should start paying my bills.
And in my last two Swaheli CD's, I learned that "eight is equal to two" - in time that is. Apparently, they measure time from 6 A.M. and 6 P.M. So if you say "Sasa ne za nane" (I know. YOU probably don't go around saying that.), it literally means "now it is at eight" but what it really means is that, in our time, "it is two o'clock." Eight hours after six o'clock is two o'clock, right? Go figure.
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