Would you kiss your mother with that mouth? (or, Baby Animals!)

I am still feeling the ill-effects of Saturday and Sunday, in that I think I came down with a sore throat and runny nose – a genuine rhino virus (yes. I did make that pun. And I crack myself up). It is winter here, but still sad to have a cold in Africa.

After our marathon Art Caffe session on Saturday, it was off to dinner at Blanco’s, a posh Nouveau Kenyan restaurant in the tony Ya Ya center. One of our usual drivers, Kamau, picked us up and kept us highly entertained with a conversation about Mongolia. A major limitation of living here is that you can’t walk anywhere, so having a driver or two who you trust is key. Kamau has quickly earned a place in our speed dial list – and a lot of the shillings out of our wallets.

Dinner was great – a traditional Kenyan menu of stews and roasts that had been given a modern twist. I tried Tree Tomato juice (actually a little fruit that grows on vines and is vaguely tart), and had a yummy sweet potato and lemongrass soup, followed by carrot cake. Kenyans are big on carrot cake (or on serving it to expats), but they haven’t yet figured out that the key ingredient is the cream cheese icing.

We followed up dinner with a drink or two – the distinguishing factor here was the never-ending stream of Michael Jackson songs that seemed to be the soundtrack of choice for the world this weekend.

Sunday morning we overslept and barely made the morning feeding at the elephant orphanage. The David Sheldrik wildlife center is in Nairobi National Park about 35 minutes outside the city, and is home to about 20 orphaned elephants between 3 months and 3 years, a diva of a baby rhino, a couple full grown rhinos, and a bunch of warthogs. Every day at 11:00 AM the keepers trot the babies out in row for feeding, playtime and baths. The tourists obediently line up at the rope and clamor to pet the little ones. My major impression of the elephants was how small they were – barely up to my waist in the case of the littlest ones. They also blended into the landscape a bit since they were all covered from head-to-toe in the pervasive red dust of the Savannah.

The keepers also brought out a full grown rhino (impression – don’t get on the wrong side of that horn) as well as a baby rhino who looked like a red version of the baby ogres in Shrek. Like his ogre doppelgangers, baby rhino was a complete ham, running the length of the pen and showing off for the cooing crowds.

After the elephants, it was back in the car to go to the Giraffe Sanctuary, the main attraction of which was a two-story platform from which we could feed the semi-wild animals. They’re beautiful, hungry creatures, incredibly awkward and ungainly. They have disgusting rough tongues that they use to lick the pellets out of your hand (or grab it from between your lips if you are one of the brave folks we saw). We had a ton of fun taking photos and enthusiastically washing spit off our hands when we were done.

We finished off the day with a quick stop at the Karen Blixen museum (aka Isak Dinesen aka Meryl Streep in Out of Africa) and lunch in the Karen gardens. The entire estate is beautifully landscaped and manicured. It is the first place that I’ve been to in Nairobi whereI would consider bringing Mommy B (they have guest cottages too). The service was about as slow as we’ve seen, but the setting more than made up for it (almost – one of us had to catch a plane and it was a very close call getting back).

Livin' the expat life

This week was relatively rough at work, so we balanced it out with a few days spent enjoying Nairobi’s finer expat spots. There were rumblings of a plan to try and climb Mount Kenya in 3 days, but given my success on my DOC trip so many years ago, I decided to hold out for a 4 day climb (still ambitious timing)yet to be scheduled.

Thursday night we had a team dinner at Zen Garden, a pan-Asian complex of restaurant, bar and tea house a bit outside the city. It’s a huge compound, carefully planted and paved beyond the requisite iron gates. True to its name, it’s the calmest place I’ve seen in Nairobi yet

We only made it to the restaurant, a big open space with sliding glass doors, tastefully decorated with faux Asian fixtures. The one touch I really liked were the wooden screens separating all the tables – it gave us a sense of privacy you do not always find here. The lighting and the white walls were way too bright, but you could tell the restaurant was trying its hardest to be Nairobi’s answer to the NYC palaces of Tao or Buddakan. Nevertheless, it was clearly a Kenyan restaurant owned by Indians, staffed with African waiters wearing modified samurai gear, serving dim sum and sushi to expats.

Despite the atmosphere, the food was quite good – passable dim sum, good curries, noodles and stir fry (the Thai green curry had the perfect amount of lemongrass for the Jasmine rice), and awesome chocolate mousse. I also had one of the best juices I’ve had so far – lime and ginger (lots more people drink fresh juice than soda here).

It was also a really interesting group of people – a bunch of grizzled expats who had lived everywhere telling battle stores about life in exotic places. Nairobi doesn’t seem so exotic compared to Honduras during a hurricane or Hanoi in the 1980s or Caribbean island chains I’ve never heard of (…hmm, when do I have to return to the Firm?) This did give the dinner a whiff of the colonial that was vaguely disquieting – the modern day equivalent of British settlers gathering at the club for G&Ts and telling stories of the Bush. The ghosts of history are hard to exorcise here.

Friday night we continued our venture into the expat scene with dinner at Toona Tree, one of the restaurants in a plaza near our apartment in Museum hill. This place’s gimmick is that the entire restaurant is on a platform built around a gigantic tree. Looking through the branches, you can dimly see the cars rushing through the Museum roundabout. The major issue with the restaurant - the food was simply prepared western-style meat and fish – was that we were the only people in this massive space. Despite our sole possession of the restaurant, there was not enough chocolate mousse to go around!

Saturday morning was the same as Saturday morning anywhere – TV, manicures (done at home, alas), eggs and Challah (Nakumatt might call it braided raisin brioche, but I know what’s up). After finally giving up on the hot water heater and getting ourselves dressed, we made our way over to WestGate Mall to spend the afternoon with well-heeled Nairobi at the very Euro-trash Art Caffe. We sat out on the terrace under an umbrella and enjoyed crème brulee and carrot cake. It was a great place to write and also to enjoy the random books I’d managed to find at the two English language bookstores having sales. Currently reading a biography of British food writer Elizabeth David; next up are more Ian Rankin novels and Out of Africa.

It’s impossible to be here without feeling uneasy at the inequality, especially when sitting at Art Caffe. The very Western shopping center juxtaposes poorly with the poverty in the surrounding streets. After a few days, the prevalence – and concern for your own safety - make you somewhat immune to the inequality – you only see the worse areas from inside a cab. That’s part of what makes life here not feel all that different – we go to the same types of places with the same sort of people as we would at home. The main difference is how you get there and how early you decree last call. The guilt is balanced by the fact that we are here to do good, and our grant writing will seriously impact the lives of thousands of farmers. Still, there is an unease that comes with privilege that is much stronger than any I've felt back home.

Hump Day (but posted from the apartment!)

It’s been a very busy week in Nairobi as we’re pushing towards a deadline. The work itself is pretty interesting – pulling together everything needed for a grant proposal, but it’s a relatively high stress level for an NGO. Someone made an offhand comment about the NGO trying to be the “Africa light” version of a major consulting firm, and I kinda believe it.

I actually saw the rest of the city (besides our suburbs of Westlands and Parklands and the drive to the airport) on Monday. We had a meeting in the corporate wonderland of Upper Hill, home of glass and metal high commissions, banks, and MNC headquarters. As part of the taxi ride there, we got to experience the joy of Nairobi traffic, which is some of the worst I’ve ever seen. Total stand still at every corner, and horrible pollution as well. Wish I had a swine flu mask. We drove through the city center on the way back – a totally unremarkable collection of office buildings, shops and fast food restaurants. I’m not planning on going back there any time soon.

I had the chance to try a few new lunch spots by the office, all with their own
quirks and characteristics. They included an American Indian themed burger joint (the placemats had a folk legend about strong braves), a traditional Kenyan food court serving rice, vegetables and meat from buffet trays (filling, good and cheap), and an overpriced poolside lunch at the surprisingly nice Nairobi Holiday Inn. The owners also declared us regulars at our favorite café/curry house over a few Tuskers Tuesday night. We were the only customers both times I've eaten there.

It is also worth noting that our other roommate, Mr. T. Wit, has made himself known. “The Wit” is the smartest mouse we have ever seen. Last night he jumped the sides of the trash can into the compost-filled bag. This evening, I came home to the scene of a crime. Wit had managed to knock a candy bar off my little table (at least a foot above the ground) and had eaten it for dinner. As I walked in the door, he came running out of my room (across L.’s feet), leaving a half-nibbled candy bar and little flicks of foil all over the rug. Bad Wit!

Miami on the Nile

Sunday morning started with an English breakfast on a picaresque terrace overlooking the river. Our next stop was the pool, for sun, sleep and stories of Wall Street tycoons (somehow, Barbarians at the Gate seemed fitting reading for the weekend. Good book). The hotel itself could have been anywhere, with its palm trees, swim up bar, and the red terraced village across the river. It was still pretty empty, as the tourist season was just kicking off, and a bit pricey, but a little luxury after the rafting was welcome. The hotel was also notable as the scene of my second official trip bug bite – an ant decided to munch on me while I lazed about.

On our way back to Kampala and the airport, we stopped in the town of Jinja proper, where the Sunday market was in full swing. The scene was vaguely familiar – local villagers selling their produce and other foodstuffs. Substitute tomatoes and potatoes for passion fruit and banana and it could have been market day in Brittany or Tuscany (minus the local touch of the flip flops made from recycled tires).

The Ugandan countryside on our drive back was beautiful, and relatively well-developed. Farms, churches, schools, mosques, and lots of little general stores in huts lined the side of the road. Everything was green, with bushes and trees dotted between red flowers. The reason for this became evident, as the skies opened up a few times during the drive, delaying us repeatedly (and soaking the sleeves of those sitting by the window). Despite the rainy season’s last gasp, we made our flight and were back in Nairobi by dinnertime…which quickly became bedtime for the tired crew of team Guinea Fowl.

NB: For readers who may remember Visagate 2009, I am happy to report that not only are Visas available at Jomo Kenyatta Airport, but a Single Entry Kenyan Visa remains valid if you go to Tanzania or Uganda and then return. This happy discovery saved us all a week’s worth of lunch.

The Voyage of the Guinea Fowl

Warning: Mommy and Daddy B – you probably should skip this post, since I’m fine. Please.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early, as the walls of our tent were easily penetrable by the sounds of our camp stirring. We were staying at the campsite/staging ground of the rafting company, Adrift, that we had signed up with in our attempt to recreate Moses’ journey down the Nile. Clad in our finest grubby swimwear, we stumbled down to the breakfast lodge for a early morning menu of coffee, eggs, toast and bungee jumping…BREATHE, Mom, I didn’t jump. I just watched in awe as one of the other VolCons executed the jump perfectly and kept her collar popped the entire time.

The Nile River has some of the best whitewater rafting in the world, which would have meant more if I had actually understood what I had signed up for – you’re in a raft and go down a river, right? Adrift is the oldest company in Jinja and is a very well-run, professional operation. Renee, the owner, was incredibly helpful in accommodating our random requests, including our last minute change of plans to stay in Jinja instead of returning to Kampala Saturday night.

The short term result of this change and the resulting delay in grabbing our gear was that our group wound up with some interesting equipment. Instead of a fiberglass paddle, I had a giant oversized wooden baking spoon…I mean oar. Luckily, the rafting company took pity on us and put us in the boat with the lead guide. Tim, an American, had no patience with our antics but was an expert at keeping us in the boat and the boat right side up.

The idea of white water rafting itself is vaguely absurd. Put a bunch of giddy tourists in a glorified inner tub, give them a ton of modified kayak equipment, and shoot them down the equivalent of a Disney World ride, just without the safety bars.

The rafting itself was actually very akin to being at Disney. It was long periods of calm waiting as we floated or half-heartedly paddled our way down some of the prettiest tretches of river I’ve ever seen. A few instances of intensity were interspersed during which our raft lined up patiently behind the 8 others in the flotilla before shooting down a rapid. The best parts of the day for me were not actually the rapids – I might be in the boat, but I’m the cautious one in the back – but just floating down the Nile. It’s wonderful to be warm and toasty from the sun, lazing about, taking in the scenery, and watching the kingfishers dive bomb the massive expanse of the river looking for Nile perch.

For the most part, our group, nicknamed team Guinea Fowl after the Ugandan national bird (seriously), acquitted itself quite well. There were a few minor injuries (I split my lip by bumping into my oar and came out of a grade 3 rapid with a lovely bloody grin), but the boat stayed upright the entire time. We even kept almost everyone in the boat until the last rapid, when the boat stood on one edge. Most of us happily floated out of the boat to hang onto the safety kayakers and basically use them as kickboards to the shore.

Our hard day of rafting ended with chapattis, kebabs and cold Nile beer on a bluff overlooking the river. We then all jumped into a bus for the ride back to Jinja. Unfortunately, the campsite did not have any beds, which forced us to stay in bungalows at the luxury resort next door. We tried our darndest to negotiate a discount, but they were having none of it. Clearly, this was not a Starwood property.

After shedding our wet clothes, we wandered back down the path to the adjacent Adrift camp in time to watch the video of our voyage. This outfit is so well-run they have a guy in a kayak follow you down the river to catch every glorious moment in both video and still photos. Pretty cool, although somewhat embarrassing. After our impromptu starring role in the DVD, we moved the show to the dance floor. “Land Down Under” with an Aussie or two in a New Zealand bar overlooking the Nile in Uganda? Go Team Guinea Fowl!

Friday night happy hour…at the airport

This weekend a bunch of VolCons planned a semi-last minute trip to Uganda to go out to the small town of Jinja, a lush outdoor sports center about 2 hours away from Kampala. The planning of this trip was a logistical masterwork on the part of one of us – 6 people became 12 coming from 2 different locations at 3 different times. But it was pulled it off, with minor hiccups.

Friday afternoon we booked it to Nairobi airport for our short 1 hour flight, which was, of course, delayed. This gave me the opportunity to try Tusker, as a one hour delay turned into a several beer delay. Not a bad way to spend a Friday evening, although I would have preferred nicer settings than an airport lounge.

Upon landing at the airport in Entebbe (look at a map) the swine flu police met us, complete with white uniforms and surgical masks. After passing the honor test for symptoms (check “yes” if you have a cold), it was just a matter of another exorbitant East African Visa fee before we were withdrawing $50,000Ush from our bank accounts (exchange rate is ~2000/dollar) at the airport ATM.

Our newfound wealth went to pay our hotel driver, who arrived with a front seat passenger - a bookcase he had clearly picked up on the road. This unwieldy guest accompanied us into Kampala, along the best roads I’ve seen in Africa. In Kampala, we picked up a VolCon and some very expensive burgers at a huge, fancy, empty western-style hotel.

After stuffing our faces (we for some reason had trouble eating normally all weekend), we proceeded out to Jinja, where we finally arrived at the campsite to an almost empty bar overlooking the wide expanse of the Nile River. We gratefully fell into our little twin beds in our permanent tent, but not before my tent mates laughed at my attempt to MacGyver my mosquito net to the tent. Hey, the family saying is “sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

Eating out (and in) in Nairobi

Eating out (and in) in Nairobi

After being here almost a week, and giving my stomach time to settle (and adjust to the malaria pills), I’ve been able to expand my diet beyond coarse brown bread and peanut butter. Food here is quite cheap, with a meal out running between $5-10. Basic groceries (we haven’t bought meat) are affordable at the local Nakumatt, which resembles nothing as much as the bastard child of Wal-Mart and Tesco (NB: Dad, all that stuff I bought at CVS? They have everything here).

The best thing to eat here is definitely the fruit. Fresh squeezed tropical fruit juice is everywhere, and I’ve never had mangos this ripe and easily available (and I can tell the varieties apart!) The best part is that all the fruit has skins, so you don’t have to worry about eating raw fruits and vegetables.

Restaurant themselves are either ethnic (good Indian and Thai) or generically called by something including the words “coffee” “Café” house” and/or “java.” Art Caffee, Café Café, Java House Coffee house – been to all of them, generally for lunch. These houses are most similar to Greek Diners, with huge menus that don’t seem to follow a particular cuisine’s rules, juxtaposing burritos, pineapple pizza and tikka masala on the menu. The food at these places is a pretty close cousin of what we’d eat at home, the main difference being that your sandwich or chicken plate is enjoyed on a patio during a loooong lunch, instead of at your computer. I actually have not seen a single person have anything in the office besides coffee or tea.

The best meal we’ve had was also the cheapest, at a vegetarian Indian place across the street from the office that shows that the rule of thumb that hole-in-the-walls places where South Asians eat have the best food holds true even in Kenya. Lassis in all flavors, garlic naan (more common than bread it seems) and plates of spicy bhindi masala, followed by authentic masala chai.

I’ve yet to try the roasted meat that Kenya is famous for. The VolCons went to Carnivore, the famous barbeque restaurant that someone described as “like the rainforest café with ostrich and crocodile” before I got here, with mixed reviews. If we don’t go there, we’ll have to try a similar place. I have no need or desire to try ‘fishy chicken” which was the consensus on crocodile. But when in Kenya, why not try some goat? The other popular Kenyan thing I need to try is Tusker, the local beer. It’s been described as sweet and light, and an easy favorite.Maybe this weekend, after a hard week dealing with pokey internet and crazy drivers.

We’ve also done a bit of cooking, taking advantage of our semi-stocked American kitchen – no measuring cups, napkins and limited everything else. My parent’s old trick of dousing the tomato in boiling water to remove the skin has proved very useful for making sure my veggies are clean. Primarily we’ve experimented with the various spices and curry sauces left in the apartment by old VolCons (kidding – we bought our own). This style of cooking is very similar to the meals S. and I used to whip up in the new dorms on campus senior year – I haven’t found okra yet though.

One other note – sad to report, but I have not yet found awesome coffee. Without a coffeemaker in the apartment, I have proved that I am yet again my father’s daughter by stomaching a cup of Maxwell house at home and something slightly better at the office. After all that, it’s hard to order more coffee while out. I’ll have to ask the folks at Coffee House (we have a coffee-focused project) where to go – I wonder if the Java Houses have good stuff to go with their curry paninis served with a side of naan.

Wednesday in Nairobi

Day two in the office and starting to get a better understanding of what exactly I’m supposed to be doing. After two years at this consulting thing, all projects look somewhat the same at their basic level – define the problem, figure out the workplan, bad answer early or back solve the solution. In this case, I’m figuring out major goals, timelines and project budgets – thank goodness for the PMO work I just finished.

It is emphatically not the Firm, however – slow pace, 5:30 PM departures, 1 ½ hour lunches. Today, a bunch of VolCons went to the WestGate Mall (as someone said, the closet thing to Long Island in Kenya) and had lunch on a terrace at the very euro Art Caffe. The Paninis there could have come straight from the Italian café in the basement of my last NYC client (well, almost). It was very much an expat hang out, and could have been anywhere. The after lunch trip to the travel agent to plan various trips felt much less western – although just like many of my favorite places in the US, only Visa was accepted, not American Express.

Tonight for dinner I met friends of a friend who were working for peace-keeping and aid focused NGOs. Over brightly colored cocktails and bar food in a strip mall, they filled me in on long-term life in Nairobi without the clearly defined time boundaries and structure of my role. It sounds a lot like life anywhere else – Friday afternoon Frisbee games, movie and board games nights, dance clubs – and its very comforting to know that there is a social life here outside of work and through the same channels one would use in any US city. It was only work the next day – and the thought of taking a taxi home past a certain hour – that kept me from hookah and games.

Summer Camp…with guard dogs

Today was my first real day in Nairobi (I didn’t spend it sleeping or holed up in the apartment, and actually went to work). Nairobi is very much a city, and while everything is definitely much grittier than the West, it sometimes doesn’t quite sink in that this is Africa. My office has internet and conference rooms and cubicles and coffee breaks – it’s only when you step outside that you notice the heavy cast iron doors and barbed wire surrounding the parking lot. The same thing is true in the suburbs outside the office. The supermarkets, cafes, the great vegetarian Indian place that L. has declared her favorite new restaurant, all feel like they could be anywhere. They have English menus, world cuisine and low prices – thoroughly modern until the guy selling souvenirs comes up to your table to try and sell you assorted overpriced handicrafts (hapana asante – no, thank you in Swahili).

The upside of this is that it makes settling in easier – my apartment feels a lot like summer camp, with lumpy, single mattress beds, a tile shower with low water pressure, and laundry day. Even the nighttime porch conversations are in English, between neighbors roughly our age. It is the heavy door, TV constantly on Aljazeera (more on that later) and the guard dogs from the neighboring compounds that bark during the night that remind you that we aren’t in Kansas anymore.

The downside of not quite feeling as foreign as expected is that both adapting to differences and showing the right level of vigilance takes that extra effort. Walking to lunch in broad daylight, a 4 minute stroll, requires the extra consideration to stay single file to accommodate the dilapidated path that serves as a sidewalk. And forget about going out by yourself at night, or about walking anywhere farther than 3 minutes at lunch.

Similarly, it takes some adjusting to the fact that just because your modem gives you internet, Gmail still may take 3 minutes to load in html. And don’t even think you’re going to get Hulu or Pandora. Just because something looks like normal doesn’t mean it works like it.

Nevertheless, even if the city is an uneasy mix between the familiar and the uniquely African, it holds the promise of totally unusual experiences. Safaris, rafting, mountains, coast – all a short flight or drive away – as long as you can handle driving stick on the wrong side of the road.

On the ground...

When traveling under the Firm’s security blanket, it’s very easy to be nonchalant about snafus. If there is a flight delay or if you miss your plane, if a ticket counter gives you troubles or a taxi driver gets lost, it will be dealt with. The biggest problem you’ll encounter as a result is a meeting done by phone instead of in person or a cranky manager wondering why you are late. As a result, the need to worry about what you cannot change is minimal – there is an express help hotline and corporate card to change things for you if you call.

Traveling on your own to unknown places is quite different. Travel becomes a series of hurdles in a 100M race, each one as dangerous and looming as the first. Will they ticket my connection? Will my baggage make it through? Will I get a visa? Will someone be waiting on the other side? The answer is generally yes, and the travel smarts you’ve picked up in the past are just as helpful here. Without the armor of the business suit, however, you can look, and feel, as the grandmother on safari informs you on the plane, barely old enough to be working for anyone.

This is all a long-winded way of saying that no matter how often you travel, going somewhere new and different is always scary. But, I am safely arrived in Kenya, and settling in. I landed at night, so was unable to see the city by air. As we drove in from the airport, on the wrong side of the road, I got a sense of a sprawling, industrial city, with public parks and industrial buildings giving way to a city center of skyscrapers and then into the expat suburbs, where I’ll be living and working. I’m in a little apartment with another VolCon or two – all the comforts of home, give or take a few (water rationing, power outages, mosquito nets).

The feel of the area reminds a bit of some of the less-recovered eastern block cities I visited during the obligatory post-college back-packing tour, except more lush, green and with more animals. The birds are chirping outside my window as I write (took today to recover from jetlag and settle in before beginning work tomorrow), and Judy, who does our laundry, is singing in Swahili in the washing room next door.

It is worth mentioning that this area is quite westernized. 20 minutes after arriving, L. and R. had whisked me out the door to see Terminator: Salvation at the move theater next door and meet some of the other VolCons. After two days of travel, watching Christian Bale randomly blow up machines for two hours was quite therapeutic.

Ironic

Essay question about professional success at the expense of personal fulfillment on an exam given to people who work too hard trying to get into a grad school that prepares you to spend your life working too hard

I, Emperor Seth of Azania...

According to Wikipeda, the term Azania has variously referred to everything from a neoproterozic continent to South Africa. Most famously, Evelyn Waugh used the term for the fictional island off the coast of Somalia in Black Mischief.

Since my life today has taken on Waugh-ian tones, as my ability to get one type of Visa is hampered by the fact that the DC consulate does not have the needed stickers, I'm not sure Azania is fictional...

(Consultant's response to this problem - is it easier to get my passport to another consulate or for another consulate to send the stickers to DC?)

Update: I have been informed by soon-to-be-uber-educated sources that this is closer to Sartre than to Waugh

Feeling like a pincushion...

Protected against another 4 ghastly diseases, and prescriptions for Malaria pills all set. Taking the ones that won't make me hallucinate.

Leaving on Saturday, and still too many unchecked boxes on my personal to-do list...

Father's, brother's, nephew's cousin's former roommate...

One of the interesting things about deciding to go somewhere that seems totally foreign and exotic is that everyone seems to magically know someone who has been there/is there/will be there. Whether their friend, co-worker, or father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate, it goes a long way towards making the scary seem familiar. And in this day and age of email, everyone is willing to instantly connect me with these long lost relatives and roommates - so don't worry Mom, I totally know people in Nairobi..

Does this apply to 3 months off too?

"It is most common for the person taking the year off to use this time to travel (see Post #19 for reasons why)...If you work with this person, be sure to give them a FAKE email address on their last day on the job or you will be inundated with emails about spiritual enlightenment and how great the food is compared to similar restaurants back home. Also, within the first five days following departure, this person will come up with the idea to write a book about their travel experience. Sadly, more books about mid-twenties white people traveling have been written than have been read."

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/01/11/120-taking-a-year-off/

Thought for today...

Shots hurt just as much in your twenties as they do at age 5. And you don't get a lollipop or Scooby-Doo band-aid

4 down, 4 to go next week. Then it's time for anti-Malarials

Two approaches to reflecting diversity

Interesting non-Kenya related aside (getting back to my Opinion-writing roots):

There have been a number of articles recently about two ethnically diverse representations targeted at kids: American Girl's tenement-dwelling Rebecca Rubin, and Disney's black princess Tiana in The Princess and the Frog.

It's very interesting to see how American Girl is lavishly praised for the research that they put into getting Rebecca "right," while Disney is criticized for the many questions surrounding it's first black heroine - was New Orleans the right setting? Why does she spend so much time as a frog? Are the skin tones right?

The NYT article on Rebecca features many Jewish leaders lauding the work put into fleshing out every aspect of her background. However, noone seems to be asking the fundamental questions that underlay the NYT article about Tiana - namely, is this the right setting and representation of a culture? Just like the African-American experience, the Jewish-American experience is not universal, and is made up of many individual stories. When these experiences are condensed down so that little girls can play dress up, something is lost in translation.