Going Postal

We mentioned we were thinking of going to the Post Office to our friend, who has lived here for the past 7 years.  Her brow furrowed as she replied, "You don't want to go to the post office."

This became the repeated mantra of the end of our week last week.

Thursday morning, we received three yellow cards from the postal service in my mailbox.  They each said that we had received a package, and that we needed to go to the post office to collect it.  Ominously, at the bottom of each of them had been handwritten, "Please come in person."  The fact that we were told to as at the counter for Mr/Miss/Mrs "Fwd Cage B" didn't make us feel any better.

The Kenyan postal service (Posta, it's called) works differently than in the States, mainly in that there's no residential mail delivery.  Everybody who receives mail does so with a post office box at a specific post office.  All mail to Rosslyn's box goes to the Westlands post office.  Every day, one of Rosslyn's drivers heads over to check the box for the school's mail and any mail addressed to the staff.  If we get a letter or a card, they'll just put it in my box.  If we receive a package, the driver pays any customs duty that is due, brings the receipt back with the package, and we pay the school back when we pick it up.

When we got the yellow cards, I assumed that's how it would work, despite the scrawled message on the bottom.  However, the driver leaves for the post office at 9, and we got the cards a bit after 10, so we'd have to wait another day to get the packages.  No problem, I thought; we'll just drive down to the post office ourselves and pick them up.  After all, I'm feeling a lot better about driving here.

This idea is what caused our friend's furrowed brow.  Apparently going to the post office isn't something that you should do if you're a mzungu.

Now Audrey and I, being who we are, chafed at this a bit.  After all, we didn't move to Kenya to be cloistered on the school grounds or the diplomatic district that surrounds Rosslyn.  We want to be part of the larger community and life in Nairobi in general.  So we asked some people who have been here much longer that we have:  some Kenyan co-workers.

I mentioned going to the post office to several people who work in the main office at Rosslyn and their reactions were all the same:  "You don't want to go to the post office."  When asked why, one of them said, "Some people there are not all...straight.  Some of them don't follow the rules.  They will see you and try to take advantage of you."

"Because I'm a mzungu?"

"Yes.  But you shouldn't have to go yourself.  I'll have our driver take the cards tomorrow and pick them up for you."

And with that, understanding that it wasn't that we were being coddled, I said okay, handed over the cards and a copy of my passport, and went home.

* * *

The next morning, my phone buzzed at about 9:30.  "Hello Kirk?  I spoke with the driver who goes to the post office, and he said that unfortunately since it says "Please come in person," he can't pick it up.  Also, it's not the Westlands post office where he normally goes; it's downtown.  Are you free to go today?"

"Well, since I'll be at work during the week starting on Monday, I'll have to go today."

"Okay; I'll arrange transport for you, and I'll call you when it's ready."

"Okay, thanks."

So I was going downtown.

About 20 minutes later, she called back telling me Matthew, one of the Rosslyn drivers, was waiting to take me downtown.

I headed up to the admin building and met Matthew; we jumped into a van and were off.

As we drove, we talked and got to know each other.  Matthew has a booming laugh that punctuates his sentences almost as often as the periods.  He drives with the confidence of one who has grown up in Nairobi, all while pointing out landmarks and answering my endless questions about neighborhoods and buildings.

We drove through Muthaiga, where many of the foreign ambassadors have their residences, and merged onto Thika Road, also called the Thika Superhighway.  Heading into town, the exhaust fumes built with the traffic, and matatus grew in numbers.

Matatus are privately-owned minivans or busses that drive set routes.  In Nairobi, they are one of the main ways that people get around.  The drivers are famously reckless; one guidebook says that when matatus are on the road, all bets are off.  They are often decorated in bright colors and have pop-culture and scriptural references on them.  One that we've seen around Gigiri, the area we live in, has "Hitler" emblazoned across the top of the windshield, and a Bible verse on the rear window.  As we drove, I saw what is so far my favorite matatu.  It was a bright neon purple and had at least 12 small Wu-Tang Clan stickers all over the side.  The best part was the name:  "Drop It Like It's Hot."  A close second was bright red, had a giant decal of Rick Ross's face on the back (though it was missing both of the Rs, so it was really "_ick _oss"), and claimed, in the words of Jay-Z, "Before me there were many, but after me there will be none."

As we exited the superhighway, we hit the roundabouts of the city streets and traffic got denser.  At one roundabout there were three or four police officers standing in traffic.  One came close, started at our windshield, and moved on.  "Checking registration?" I asked Matthew.  "Yeah," he said.

As we neared the post office, Matthew pointed out a market and said, "That's a good place for vegetables, but there are many thieves."  He laughed, and added, "People who go there, they might have their wallet in their back pocket and then poof, it's gone!"  Another laugh.

When we reached the post office, we waited in line to park (because you really only need about 20 parking spots at the main post office for a city of 3,000,000), squeezed the van into a place, and headed inside.

After going through the obligatory security check, we headed into the main hall on the ground floor, stopping by the information booth and asking about where I needed to go while showing the cards that I had received.

The woman behind the desk glanced at the card I showed her and said, "You need to go to window 52."

We headed over to window 52, repeated the process, and were told to go to the 2nd floor, so up we went.

On the 2nd floor, cards were presented and examined, colleagues were consulted, and we were told that we needed to go to the 5th floor.  And up we went.

When we arrived on the 5th floor, there was a man sitting behind a desk at the beginning of an official-looking hallway.  Surely this was it.  He told us that we needed to go down a different winding hallway and through a wooden door.  When we found the door, it was closed and a sign on it read, "NO UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS."  We looked at the door, at each other, and went on through.

We found a large room that was divided into at least six different cages that each had parcels in them.  Again, we presented the yellow cards to a woman behind a desk; she motioned us to a couple of beat up chairs and disappeared deeper into without a word.

And so we waited.  For about 15 minutes.  During a lull in our conversation, I looked around at the room again, and noticed at least four different signs that talked about how it was illegal to solicit or offer a bribe and that you should report it if somebody asks you to pay a bribe.  Another proclaimed loudly that Posta was a corruption free zone.  In the Bard's words, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

Soon, a young man came out of the back, motioned us through another door that shouted about unauthorized access, and led us to a table with three packages on it.  Two of them I immediately recognized as the boxes of art supplies that we had mailed to ourselves.  The other, I had never seen before.  I looked at the address on the package, and it read "Numerical Machining Complex" at a different PO Box and a different post office (but still in Nairobi, so cheers for that!). I explained to the woman (now returned) that the third package wasn't mine.  I pointed out the discrepancies in the address to her.

"So it's not yours?" she asked.

"No.  I've never seen it, and it's not even addressed to me."

"So it's not yours." (This wasn't a question, just a confirmation.)

"No."

She motioned to the young man who grabbed the package and disappeared back into the labyrinthine cages.  She, however, came over, opened each of the packages that were mine, and inspected the contents.

She asked questions about several items, and I explained as well as I could.  She was confused for a second by the Play-Doh in its little containers, but the best moment was when she pulled out the two tiny rolling pins for the Play-Doh and said, "For chapati?"  I don't think she expected me to be familiar with chapati (which is flatbread somewhat similar to tortillas).  But chapati and I had become recent acquaintances at Jubba, an excellent East African restaurant in San Jose.

"Yes," I answered with a smile, "They're for chapati."

She was surprised.  I had told her earlier that we had just arrived in Kenya, and I don't think she thought this mzungu had any clue about the local food.  "You like chapati?" she asked, her eyebrows going up.

"Oh yes.  I love chapati."

She smiled, put the pins down, and resumed her inspecting.

And then it happened; it was what I had been waiting for, but it didn't happen in the way that I had thought it would.  I had suspected that the value of some of the items would be overstated in an attempt to raise the customs duty.  I had told the woman that the combined value for both boxes was about $70.  She picked up one of the Ziplock bags and said, "But these cost much more than that."  What?  What had I forgotten was in there?  I looked, and choked back a chuckle.

"No, those were very cheap," I told her as I looked at the children's paintbrushes that we had bought at Dollar Tree.  "Almost everything in these boxes is used."

She looked at me as if debating with herself, nodded a bit, and motioned to the now returned young man to tape the boxes back up, which he did with great gusto (and not a small amount of tape).

When he finished, he told us to follow him as he grabbed the boxes.  We walked over to a chute heading back into the bowels of the building, and he sent my two boxes down it.  We followed him back down to the second floor, where we were told to wait while the duty was calculated.  As we waited, I noticed that there were at least 7 employees behind various counters, but only two total customers (us).  There were also at least 15 rows of 12 lights each overhead, but no more that two lights were on in any given row, and most had one or none.  There were also several of the ubiquitous "No Corruption at Posta!" posters, which made us feel better.  Behind the counter, we also saw what resembled a giant playground-style twisty slide which we realized was the end of the chute from the fifth floor.

After 10 more minutes of waiting, the woman (I'm still not sure how she got down to the second floor; maybe another chute?) came by and presented me with my bill.  I had seen a big window with bars over it and a big sign that said "CUSTOMS CASHIER," so I asked the woman if that's where I should pay.  She said no, and directed me to one of the workers behind the counter.

I went over, paid her, and was presented with two receipts.  She told me to go back behind the counter to a small office where the young man had taken my packages.  Matthew and I walked back there, showed the receipts to another worker who wrote down the details in a spiral-bound notebook, collected the packages, and headed down the stairs thinking we were done.

At the bottom of the stairs, though, there was the final hurdle to clear.  An older gentleman sat at a desk and asked to see my receipt.  I gave him both, and he wrote down the information from them before asking to see my passport so that he could write down the number.  I showed him the front page for the number, but he asked me to read him the number.  "My eyes, they are not too good."  I read him the number and watched as it was recorded alongside the other info in another spiral-bound notebook.

We emerged from the post office, gave the guard some shillings for watching the van ("If you don't pay the guard," Matthew said, "you come back out and your car is gone!"), and spent the next hour fighting traffic on the seven mile drive back to Rosslyn.

* * *

"Ug," another teacher said, when I returned and was telling the story. "You don't want to go to the post office."

"But it was an interesting experience," I said.

"Yes, and now that you've had it, you never should go to the post office again," her husband reminded me.

* * *

Lessons learned:

• To avoid duties, send international packages marked as "Gift" on the customs form.
• If possible, avoid going to the post office.  Not because there's anything particularly bad about it, but because it takes so much time.

At the neighbors' house for our first Kenyan meal!

FAQs--Part 1

Habari!

We have really tried to give you a day-to-day taste of what it is like for us here in Nairobi as we continue to settle in. The more we post, the more questions we get, which is great! We love getting questions because it helps clarify our thoughts about certain things and it also gives us a chance to give you a clearer picture of what we are experiencing. So...we are are opening ourselves up to your curiosity! Send us an email with the things you have been wondering about and we will do our best to answer those questions here so, in case they are also things that others may be wondering as well.

Please keep in mind that these are only our impressions, as we adjust to a new culture and new living situation. We will try to be as open-minded as possible, but we know that the answers may change over time as we come to understand things better as we integrate into the culture. Today was the second day of new staff orientation, and we were reminded of all the stages (emotional and mental) that we have gone through and will continue to go through as we make our transition. After these two days of information and history, I can say that I have never felt so welcomed into a school or community before. The people we have met have been warm and inviting and thoughtful about the way they make newcomers feel at home and comfortable. I went to bed last night with a real sense that Rosslyn is exactly where we need to be right now, and that we are part of a group of people that values knowledge and encourages young people to make a positive difference in the world.

This first set of questions has come from my (Audrey's) parents, who will be the next guest interviewer?

1. Did they find Claire's car seat pretty quickly?
Yes, it actually came on the next flight to Nairobi. We got it after a few days, however, because the airport delivered it to the school(!) the very next day, but because we had gotten late at night the night before, not all of the guards at the gate were aware that we were already on campus, and they turned it away. A driver from the school ended up retrieving it for us the Monday after we arrived.

2. Do people barbecue there much?
Several people have bbqs on their verandas here on campus, including our next-door neighbors. Many of them resemble the type we had growing up, a welded together box that holds coals/wood and a grate that can be raised/lowered with a crank/pulley. So, as for the ex-pat community, things are pretty much as they were at home. One of the new teachers this year has ended up raising a few calves because her husband grew up on a cattle ranch in California and "the meat just doesn't taste the same." That being said, the unofficial national dish here is nyama choma (which means barbecued meat). Kenyans love meat, and this bbq is something served for company, a celebration, etc. Most traditional Kenyan food is more of the survival-variety, more on this as Audrey learns to cook Kenyan meals!

3. Is your heater/stove propane?  Do you think you will need the heater much?
Our stove is propane, we have two large tanks on our patio. This is something we are grateful for, since we like cooking with gas and since dinner can keep going, even when the electricity goes out (which can happen several times a day).

We do not have a heater. You can buy electric space heaters, but generally even in the cold seasons (like now), you just bundle up with blankets on the bed, wear socks/slippers on the tile floors and warm pjs to keep warm at night. The concrete construction of the houses keeps the temperatures pretty comfortable, and if I've been using the oven much to make dinner, the whole house will stay warm well past bedtime. We will be very grateful for the thick walls when the weather heats up as well, since we also do not have AC or ceiling fans!

4. How does your trash get picked up?
Beyond the little house in front of ours that holds the communal washing machines, there is a dumpster where we take our trash. When it is full, a company comes and empties it. It is also home to a robust family of feral cats, so we always make sure to bang on the sides of it before we throw anything in or a scared cat might fly out in our face!

5. Can you buy ice cream?
Yes, there are many varieties of ice cream and ice cream novelties (like bars or cones) available in the supermarket. Ice cream tastes different here (really all dairy products taste different); some people like it and some don't. There is one brand that is definietly closest to the creamy American type we are used to; it's called Creambell and it costs ~$12 a gallon. Our host family has treated us to this delicacy and we are grateful! We haven't craved (Breyers-type) ice cream that badly yet, but I'm sure there will come a time... :) Until then, we have been satisfied with much more reasonably-priced options.

6. Are there very many choices of milk (whole, 2%, etc)?
The most common is whole milk, you can find nonfat, but it is something you search for if that is what you prefer. We've gotten the girls a few different types, mostly around 3%, which is also sometimes called "whole," just to make it confusing. Because electricity is expensive and many people still do not have the luxury of refrigeration, not to mention the frequent power-outages, long-life ultra high temperature pasteurized milk is quite common here. That part reminds us of France, where it is common to see cartons of milk on people's shelves as part of their stocking up for shortages. And then there's the camel milk, which we haven't gotten up the nerve to try yet, but my sister tells me that it's the closest to human milk...hmm...one day...

7. What kind of cereal is available-(Kelloggs, Post, etc) and soups?
Again, most everything we are familiar with is available (though not always on a regular basis). When we went to the store with a friend she snapped up a $10 (small) box of Honey Nut Cheerios because they are rare. We are starting to understand that most things are available, for a price. There are many generics, store brands, and similar things at much more reasonable prices. But sometimes, you just really need the real deal! I have heard several people talk about bringing Grape-Nuts back from America, that seems to be one type of cereal that cannot be found.

8. Do very many people smoke there?  In stores/public places?
Smoking is banned in restaurants, bars and enclosed public areas in Kenya. Violators are subject to heavy fines. Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen a single person smoking here...Kirk jokes that in some areas everyone smokes because of the smog.

9. Alcohol-beer, wine, available?
All types of alcohol is available here. Tuskers is a famous Kenyan beer (haven't tried it yet, but seen lots of t-shirts with the elephant on them). Kenya is also starting a small fledgling wine industry (haven't tried that yet either!); many of the imports are from South Africa and Australia, but you can find a large variety of wine. However, we have learned that drinking is to be done with prudence because some Kenyans hold very negative attitudes toward alcohol.

10. Are there many choices of types of cars available?
You can have any kind you want, as long as it's a Toyota! Just joking, kind of. There are even bumper stickers and wheel covers that say, "The car in front is always a Toyota!" We have seen pretty much everything, but they have different names. The vans are called "Noah"s and there are "Pro-Box"es which are like station wagons and "Prados" which are Land Cruisers. Cars (and really everything used) really hold their value here, so prices are much more than you would imagine. We have a few good leads on getting a car and some colleagues who have offered their services to help us, so we will probably have some good stories soon.

11. Gasoline prices as high as here?
Right now, the price is 104 Kenyan shillings a litre = $4.50 a gallon

12. What kind of crops are grown nearby?  Citrus available-your elevation might be too high to grow there?
Right across the street from the school coffee is growing, on any vacant lot you will find gardens popping up, especially with corn, potatoes, and greens (Spinach, Kale, Pumpkin) because these are three of the main staple foods of Kenyans. Miriam, our produce supplier, can get us pretty much anything we ask for; she has broccoli, leeks, zucchini, mushrooms, etc. We do have oranges and mandarins here as well; they are super sweet and delicious! I have no idea where she got them, but our last basket randomly included the Pink Lady variety of apples--our favorite. Of course, tropical fruits are really common: mangoes, bananas, pineapples, etc. There is a produce store in the mall that has more types of produce than I was familiar with, so again, anything can be found, but for a price and not always on a consistent basis.

13. What Kenyan Holidays are celebrated?
Today was a national holiday! There were no Kenyan workers on campus because it was Eid (a Muslim holiday).  The school calendar also lists Mashujaa Day (October 20), Jamhuri Day (December 12), Labour Day (May 1), and Madaraka Day (June 1).  We still need to look up what those holidays celebrate.

What are you still wondering about?  Send those questions our way!

Incredible produce delivered to our door each Monday! As long as I stay organized, Miriam provides amazing food for our week.

This brought me right back to when I was 12, on safari here w/my grandparents. Such an immediate, vivid memory. Why can't coca cola make this in the states?

Hanging out by Claire's house/fort, which is apparently on CA time, because they're having dinner...

Sneaking a snack under the table on the veranda!

A Haircut at Village

So I (Kirk) decided that I needed to get a haircut before school starts.  We had seen a hair salon at Village Market, a mall close to Rosslyn.  If you have a really good arm, you could probably throw a rock from the bottom edge of campus to Village, but there are no roads, paths, or trails that go that way, so it's a 10 minute drive instead. In fact, the area in which we live is cut with small canyons, and any driving you do isn't in a straight line, which leads to nice scenery and turned around new people.

A bit about Village.  Village is kind of the default destination for shopping unless you're looking for something in particular.  Our first day here, our host family took us there to get our phones working on the Kenyan phone system and to show us some of the stores; mainly however, we went to go to Nakumatt for groceries and supplies for setting up our home.  (Nakumatt will probably get its own post sometime in the future.)  Village is an interesting place.  We've probably been there about 6-7 times, and every time that we've been, the floor has been ripped up in a different place because of upgrades.  One time the floor by the elevators was ripped up, and two days later you couldn't tell that anything had been touched.  There's also a wide variety of stores there, including the "health food" store, the only place we'd seen steel-cut oats until Nakumatt (of course) exploded with items from the Bob's Red Mill brand.  There's also Prime Cuts (an upscale butcher shop that also sells english muffins and bagels), a kiosk that plays Frozen on a never-ending loop, and a frozen yogurt place just like Yogurtland in the Bay Area.  Last time we were there, there was a high school Korean dance and singing ensemble from the East Coast that was performing.  Today, we saw a poster advertising a Christmas Pageant--on August 5th.  Random just scratches the surface.

Anyway, we and our host family headed over there today to go to Yogurt and (obviously) Nakumatt, and I went to get a haircut.

Now, I don't have a difficult head of hair to cut.  In fact, I have almost no hair to cut, which greatly simplifies things.  In the States, Audrey normally cut my hair using clippers with no guard.  Easy peasy.  This experience was not what I was expecting.  Not bad, just not what I expected.

I walked in, and there was a woman behind the reception desk, about 4 women sitting a bit farther into the shop, and a woman styling another woman's hair toward the back.  I asked the receptionist if anybody was available to give me a haircut, and she nodded to one of the women behind her, who then took me over to a chair and had me sit down.  She immediately looked at my hair and said, "Number One?"

"No; no guard," I replied.

"No guard, like bald?" she asked.

"Yep," I said, thinking about the cuts I'd gotten in the States.

She grabbed a pair of clippers, came on over, and introduced herself as Nimo. I, being a product of American advertising, immediately thought of a little clown fish trying to escape from a dentist's office with the help of Denis Leary.

She started cutting and (because I'm a mzungu) asked me if I was visiting.  I told her that I was getting ready to start work at Rosslyn, just across the valley from Village.  Her eyes lit up a bit, and she remarked that she had a good number of clients from Rosslyn.

After a couple of minutes of her working on my head, I have to admit that I was a bit worried.  I could see some small patches that she had missed, and she seemed to be putting the clippers down.  Then she got a two liter sized bottle from under her station that was full of baby powder, got a big handful, and rubbed it onto my head.  Then she grabbed the clippers and went back to work on my now even-whiter head.

She did do a good job.  In fact, the length (or lack thereof) surprised both Audrey and I when I was done.  But the biggest surprise was still to come.

When she finished cutting, I was expecting her to brush the powder and hair off and that would be that.  However, she took me to the hair washing stations and handed me off to another woman.  At this point, I was wondering what the point of washing my "hair" was.  Not to be fazed, the new woman washed my head, and then massaged my head for about 5 minutes.  Not what I was expecting.

When the mini-massage was done, she took me back up front to find Nimo, who put aftershave on my head and gave me her card, "for your family and friends at Rosslyn."

Audrey is referring to this haircut as "the most decadent haircut ever."  I'm not complaining.  And the grand total?  700 shillings:  just under $8.  This is the cheapest haircut (that Audrey didn't do) that I've had in longer than I can remember.  I could get used to this.

The traffic here is CRAZY! or...how it felt when mommy drove today.

Frozen yogurt!

Our new best friend. It doesn't keep is connected, but keeps our devices alive thru the surges. The power has been out so many times in the last few days we've lost count. Sorry if communication has been spotty!

Hey everybody!

It seems like you've been able to see our pictures from the last week, which is good. We have slowly been emerging from jet-lag and have only had the energy to give visual glimpses of our experience in Kenya so far. This is the third night of everyone sleeping (mostly) all through the night. Both girls usually wake up once, we throw them into bed with us, and everyone is back asleep. It is amazing how much clearer everything looks after a full night of sleep. Let us each attempt to walk you through our impressions of our first week in Nairobi…

It was raining in Nairobi when we landed. We got out of the plane via those roll-up staircases (I always imagine the president when we use those). We waited in line to apply for our visas and then waited for our bags to show. Kirk and 4 porters gathered all 12 of our distinctive black and yellow bins. All 19 pieces were accounted for at the end of our journey, except for Claire’s carseat. After filling out the lost baggage forms, and filling the girls up on mints to keep them occupied, we cleared customs around 11:30pm. Our hosts, the Wegners, were patiently waiting for us, and it was a relief to see them!

As we drove the highway from the airport, we saw zebras (!) on the side of the road. This is AFRICA!

By the time we got to our place (small, cute, and quirky) and got settled, we all crashed into bed. Our hosts had made the beds for us, and stocked our kitchen with food-what a relief! The girls woke up ready for breakfast at 6am, and so started our first day in Kenya. Ainsley must’ve dreamed about hippos in the night, because she was excitedly “explaining” to us about “Hippo! Hippo! Chomp!” and pointing out the window saying “shhh” because, obviously, the hippos were all still asleep. We put shoes on with our pjs and set out on a “hippo hunt” to explore campus in the cold morning. We met the guards at the front gate, who taught us, “Habari za Asubuhi,” Good morning! They have been a daily source of new Swahili words, a fun routine we have gotten into.

One thing that was a bit surprising was the weather.  It was cloudy and rainy pretty much every day for our first week here.  Almost everybody that we met was apologetic, saying that it was the coldest weather that they've had all year.  We went shopping with one of our new neighbors, and she was bundled up in long sleeves and scares, just like a lot of the Kenyans that we saw.  We kept thinking that if this was freezing, we and the weather are going to get along just fine.

Joel and the girls at the Masai market

Our host family has taken extremely good care of us, having us over for dinner (Nancy is a GREAT cook), patiently visiting stores, and answering our unending questions. Kirk went for a bike-ride with Carey through the local Karura Forest, and their son Joel is already the girls’ favorite person-giving them shoulder-rides and buying them little soapstone animals at the Masai market.

It truly is breathtakingly beautiful, both on and off campus, the pictures are not doing it justice at all. As a guest in the house across from us said, Rosslyn is an oasis in the midst of busy Nairobi.  As we've walked around campus, we've been struck by the number of small areas that we've found where a few people or a small group could just sit quietly and relax. We also found a maze tucked away on the hillside below some of the staff houses.  The variety of plants is incredible, and it inspired us to add some colorful plants (the first of many!) around our back veranda this afternoon.

We’ve mentioned bugs a few times, and we HAVE seen some impressive specimens, but overall, they are really not that bad! The most common ones are commonly called “mosquito eaters” (our family calls them “doofus bugs” because of the spazzy way they fly through the air). Claire brought her butterfly net on a walk yesterday and I heard her sigh; “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I’m frusterated Mommy--Why are there no bugs here?” Definitely NOT what you’d expect to hear! (But then, that’s pretty classic Claire.)

The Longest Day(s)

When 2 adults, 2 kids, and NINETEEN bags of luggage hit the road, you can be sure there is a story ahead!

Overall, the travel day(s) were uneventful. The flight times were just long enough for Claire to watch lots of movies, and the layovers were just short enough to keep us running from gate to gate as we cleared security (again & again).

In San Diego, we said goodbye to Nana, Papa, Taytee & Rudy. We arrived at the airport in 3 vehicles! The porters there got over their shock pretty quickly and helped us get inside to check in at the American Airlines desk (that’s where this picture is from). 

Then we waited. And waited. And waited some more. I think we were in that line for 1+ hours, so it was good that we were there early. In that time, we found out that one of our porters had lived in Kenya much of his life, working out of the airport in Mombasa. Jojo thought that was a good sign at the start of our journey, and we had to agree. Thankfully Dad & Kirk had been in a few days before to give them the heads up about us, so by the time it was our turn to check in, the wait was less than usual-and the fees for all but one (extra) bag were waived-HUGE blessing! Pre-screen at security got us through pretty fast, but we still ended up being last at the gate thanks to that long line at check-in. They announced that only small personal bags would fit on the full flight, so with a quick shuffle, we checked all our bigger carry-on bags (you know, the ones carrying all the extra snacks that we had so thoughtfully packed-at least we had diapers!), and then…we were off!

Coming into Chicago, I was struck by the amount of trees we could see. We’ve only ever been in the (massive) airport there, but the city itself looked very inviting that afternoon, so green and orderly from the sky. Everyone was in high spirits and the girls loved the tram to the international terminal (toot-toot! yelled Ainsley the whole time!). Some nice Chinese tourists offered Claire their seat, and when they asked her to sit down, she promptly did-on the floor at our feet! Everyone got a laugh out of that. The British Air ticket agent could not comprehend that we had 19 bags to our name (she was counting 2 carseats and our stroller too), but we got it all figured out.

Chicago to Heathrow was uneventful until the end when the bumpiness of the flight (or the food?) caused both Mommy and Ainsley to throw up. A lot. Mommy’s ended up in the airsick bag. Ainlsey’s ended up all over Mommy. We landed in a gloomy-skied London covered in vomit. That kicked off about 12 hours of vomiting on and off for Mommy, so the next flight was queasy as well. In Heathrow, we really noticed an increase in security. We thought of Taytee as we wound through lines and lines of people who were trying to sort through their carry-ons (ours had been checked in San Diego, so that ended up being quite helpful!).  Still, because of all the electronics, we were thoroughly searched at the end anyway. Heathrow airport had a great children’s play area (go Heathrow! Great idea!) that Ainsley took full advantage of. Claire slept the entire time; she’d been determined to watch movies straight through both previous flights, and it finally caught up to her.

We all were able to sleep most of the last flight, thankfully. As they announced our (extremely bumpy) descent into Nairobi (it was raining), Claire piped up with, “I think we’re ready!” “Ready for what?” “Ready for Africa!” Then Ainsley turned and vomited all over Daddy. So we were.

Spent some time working on the "veranda." You can see some of the new plants. The previous occupants left the curtains; still deciding if we like them up or down, so we did both!

Mmmmmmm!

Nairobi sunrise. Wish I could record the hundreds of bird noises that make this picture complete.

At the Masai Market.

Dutch baby for breakfast! Success at high altitude

We've got mail!

Playing with new friends. We love Joel!

Perfect tree for climbing in our backyard

Going down the twisty slide.

Leaf hats on a morning nature walk!

Kirk taking the wheel for the first time.

Checking out our new library!

A gift of beautiful pottery from our host family-made right on the campus! We are starting to make it look like home around here.

Early morning dollhouse session with Ainsley while sister is still sleeping!

What do you do when you're up early and jetlagged? Play HiHo Cherry-o, of course!

Swinging on one of the Rosslyn playgrounds.

Moving!

More to come, but here's a quick visual record of our trip and first day at Rosslyn Academy in Nairobi, Kenya.

Sometimes we felt like this on the plane...

...but most of the times we felt like this.

Ainsley checking out the safety announcements
for our first flight...

...and perusing the in flight magazine (in Spanish, no less).

Ainsley and Daddy napping.

Claire enjoying one of many snacks.

The new headphones worked out great!

A quick stop in Chicago!

Claire was so tired that in London, she fell asleep in the stroller.
We were able to push her through security while she slept.

Ainsley and Daddy figuring out where we needed to go next after clearing security in London.

The last flight: London to Nairobi. 

Finally home! Claire and Ainsley's room.  We're still figuring out the configuration. 

Cereal at midnight?  Sure! 

Our room.  Our host family made our beds so that they were all ready for us! 

Bath at around 1am on Friday. 

The first large bug sighting. 

Good morning Africa!  We woke up nice and early on Friday morning
and went for a walk around the campus.  This is the front of our side of the duplex.

The view from our front door.  The small building is laundry for
houses without washers in them (thankfully our house has one!).  It's also where
the back up generator for our part of the campus is; we heard it start up when the power
clicked off on Friday night. 

We're going for a hippo hunt, but shhhh!  They're sleeping.

We brought along some friends to help us look for hippos.

 We were still in our PJs, but needed some coats as well!

The pool, where we'll probably spend a lot of time.

Mommy and the girls in front of the administration building at Rosslyn. 

The high school building, where Daddy will teach.

There are so many beautiful plants!

Outside the woodshop.

There are many seating areas scattered around the campus. 

One of several playgrounds that we still need to explore.  On the other side of the wall is US Embassy housing. 

Claire outside her preschool classroom. 

All of the classrooms have little plaques with the names of the teacher(s). 

The preschool and elementary area of campus.

A crazy looking plant on the way back to the house; we think that it might be carnivorous! (See next photo.)

A spider that was crawling along our washer outside.  Kirk tried to get it
with a tissue, which it just shrugged off.  One of Claire's shoes did the trick.
(While there are bugs, there aren't THAT many bugs.)

A monkey sitting on top of the neighbors' house, probably the same
one that watched us have a picnic in our yard today.