Don't fu@k with big daddy

That's right -- you heard what I said.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't use such language. But it's no longer considered profane (thanks, Dubya!), and besides, as you'll see in a moment, this post is deserving of some testosterone-laden bravado.

I will do my best to relay this morning's activities as objectively as possible; the short version is, "I kick ass."

Deb and I were on the east coast of Zanzibar, a beautiful stretch of white-sand beach that's almost as nice as Kailua Beach in Hawaii. We'd been there for two days, and we were leaving that day, so I decided to go for a run along the beach at around 7:00 a.m.

The tide was on its way out, and I was keeping an eye out for shells for Deb. About 3/4 of a mile out, I saw one I thought would be nice, so I stopped to check it out.

About 10 yards behind me (the direction I'd just come from), a man waved and said hello. I turned off my iPod, and he came over and started chatting. (Again, you have to realize that people come up and talk to us all the time. Most of the time they're trying to sell us something, but we still try to be polite.) He asked my name, said his name was Ibrahim, and asked what I was listening to. I showed him my iPod, and he asked to see it. Again, this isn't odd -- people here are usually very interested in our gadgets (camera, watch, iPod, etc.). He started listening to it, bopping along to the music. He was maybe 25-30 years old, a little shorter than me (maybe 5'7"), and quite a bit stockier than me (maybe 160 pounds -- I'm about 135), and he was wearing a grey Quicksilver t-shirt.

He asked a couple times if I had a cell phone. I said no (mostly because, whenever I give out the number, people keep calling and calling). Plus I didn't have the phone with me.

He then looked down at the rings on my hand (right hand: $10 ring with design I got in Laos; left hand: GetDown ring, white gold, worth a little more...). He said, "Oh, silver, nice, where from? Can I see?" He bypassed the GetDown ring but started grabbing the other one (it's a little bigger), trying to pull it off.

I said, "Oh, no, it won't come off," and curled up my fingers and pulled my hand away.

(Inside voice: "Hmm. Something's not quite right here.")

He then asked how much an iPod costs, and I said, "Oh, mine's old and not very nice, so maybe $50."

(Inside voice: "Giveitbackgiveitbackgiveitbackgiveitback.")

He then asked if I would give him the iPod. I said no.

He then looked at me, looked at the iPod, then looked at me again. He disconnected the headphones, turn around, and ran off with my iPod.

(Inside voice: "Shit.")

Naturally, I ran after him. I threw down the headphones and my sunglasses (I was afraid they'd fall off or get broken in the melee that was surely to ensue). I called out, "Don't do this, man!" (Why the "man" at the end? Don't judge me.)

He then yelled, "I have a knife!"

(Inside voice: "Bullshit.")

He then started to run up a little escarpment, away from the water. (Here's a tip to all you would-be robbers: running uphill, through sand, is not the best way to make a quick getaway.)

I caught up to him and grabbed the back of his t-shirt. I then through my left arm around his neck and tackled him to the ground.

That's right. I chased down the robber and tackled him to the ground. Boo-yah.

He immediately handed over the iPod, so I didn't have to bruise my delicate hands. I was actually a little surprised, but hey, that's all I wanted, so I got up and left. I went back to get my things, and the guy just kept standing on the little escarpment. He started pointing and saying, "My phone"; not sure if he was trying to point me in the direction of my headphones (I actually walked past them at first), or if he'd dropped his phone while fleeing in terror.

I tried reporting this to the police, but two hotels -- including the one where we were staying -- claimed not to have the phone number for the police. But they assured me they'd report the incident for me.

(Inside voice: "Bullshit.")

***

We're off to the jungle for a few days to swing from vines, kill animals with our bare hands, and eat raw meat.

Belated Photos

We've finally been able to post a few more pictures -- here's one from Lake Baringo:

Biking around Hell's Gate National Park

When our Masai hosts "made" us try on their clothes -- they thought it was hysterical and who wouldn't want to play dress up?

We're in Zanzibar at the moment (one of the "spice islands" off the coast of Tanzania). Turquoise water, white sand beaches, and lots of cardamom. More photos to come soon.

We'll be at the beach for the next few days, probably without internet, but we'll check in again next week.

On our way to Zanzibar

We're leaving Kenya tomorrow on a short flight to the Island of Zanzibar. After a 7 hour bus ride yesterday down the coast of Kenya to Mombasa, we just couldn't face another 10 hours of bumpy roads with blaring Indian music (yes, they love Indian music here, and I'm very, VERY afraid for our India leg.)

Last night we stayed with a woman named Salama from Global Freeloaders.
Salama was great, (a social worker at a children's home). She made us a wonderful dinner and we had a nice time talking.

However, Salama's house was less than ideal, by our wimpy, spoiled, western standards.
Her house was one room (about the size of an average American bedroom) that she shares with her sister. The house was neat and clean with a bed, a few chairs, a coffee table and a tv. The bathroom is shared by about 25 people who live in the complex and consists of a squat toilet (this is also the shower room --- just grab a bucket and go). Outside her door is a small ditch where all the sewage/garbage goes and eventually finds its way to the ocean.
The "kitchen" is a small propane stove they use inside the room. Dan and I got to share a single mattress on the floor, while our heads pounded with propane fumes, we roasted with heat and we could hear at least one rat munching something near our heads.

Needless to say, this morning we said, "thanks so much for hosting us!" and promptly checked into a cheap hotel.

For Kenya, Salama lives in a pretty nice place. It was safe, dry, had electricity and water and was mostly quiet (except for the rat, and the neighbor who kept playing "the Gambler," followed by Dolly Parton).

Hardly anyone here has a single modern appliance like a refrigerator, microwave or washing machine. It's rare to find a western type of stove. Most houses are still built with sticks, rock, thatch and cow dung... maybe, if the family is wealthy they have a tin roof. I entirely expected to see some houses like this...but I'm still shocked that it is the norm.

We'll talk to you from Tanzania -- perhaps the internet will be faster and we can upload photos.

P.S. For all of you reading Harry Potter -- I want NO hints until I can get my hands on a copy.
P.P.S. I'm fully stocked with a variety of secondhand books again -- thanks to everyone for the recommendations.

Lovely Lamu

We've been in Lamu about a week now and may never leave.

Lamu is an island near the border of Somalia with tons of donkeys, no cars (except for 1 tuk tuk which serves as the ambulance), loads of dhows (a kind of sailboat), beautiful beaches and great, I mean GREAT food. We've been gorging ourselves on garlic crab, coconut fish and chai......we literally schedule our day around the next feeding frenzy.

We've become odd, white regulars at a chai house where the proprietor speaks only swahili, acts like a Muslim Nathan Lane and calls everyone "boss." Dan has become a chai junkie -- it think it's all the milk and pound of sugar they add to every cup.

Lamu also feels like another country from the other parts of Kenya we've been to. It's almost entirely Muslim. Picture women in burkas and men in printed kikoi skirt (like a sarong or lava lava). The swahili people who live here are a mix of black and arab. The town feels like someplace in the middle east more than in africa with maze like, narrow winding streets.

P.S. for all of your who voted in our first poll. The answer is that we have been in a 14 passenger with as many as 23 people crammed in....we'll let you know if we hit 36.

Several quick notes of thanks...

To Shellie Park-Hoapili, who bought Deb and me a bunch of travel goodies, most notably a travel-size roll of toilet paper in a hard plastic container. We've since used up the paper, but we've repeatedly refilled the container it came in (because you don't want to carry a whole roll of TP with you all the time). Thanks, Shellie!!

--and--

To Alison Kunishige, who bought me my hat (the only baseball-type hat in the entire world that fits my unusually small head). My hat nearly became the first casualty* (lost, stolen, broken) of our trip: I came perilously close to leaving the hat behind, but luckily we hadn't gone too far from where I'd left it. As Deb will surely explain, the hat is the only thing (apart from my (sadly) thinning hair) protecting my scalp from sure solar annihilation. Thanks again, Alison!

--and--

James, Staci, and my brother Mike for providing us with a whole heap 'o podcasts and tunage. Our favorites so far: Stephen Colbert at the White House Correspondents' Dinner (I have more nerve endings in my gut than in my head. It's true. Look it up.) and Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Thanks, kids!

Many more thanks to come when we have some more 'net time with slightly less sticky keyboards (like to Robin, who's currently shopping for a washing machine for us, and to Blaine&Becky for the snacks and baby poop, and Joy for the travel games and KAC gossip...).

*Deb's green pants are on track to become the first true casualty: the unfortunately placed hole is growing too large for even Deborah's limited sense of modesty, and the pants will be discarded soon.

I am NOT an 8-year-old girl

Deb and I decided to splurge for a night, staying at a fancy Italian resort (I say "Italian" because the place is owned by Italians and because 95% of the guests are Italian) in Watamu (on the coast of the Indian Ocean). We ate at the hotel restaurant the night before (pretty good pizza), and figured we could spend $100 for a night (dinner and breakfast included) after spending $9 on accommodation the night before (mosquitoes and cockroaches included).

Deb and I were very excited about getting our lounge on. But we were rather disappointed -- the food was mediocre (different food for hotel guests), there wasn't enough hot water, and loads of Kenyan staff perplexed at our inability to speak Italian (beyond "gelatto").

After lounging by the pool today, things seemed a bit brighter, but I was still a little unsatisfied. I said to Deb, "Maybe it's just because my expectations were too high. Kind of like the time Ramona's older sister saved up all that money for her fancy haircut, but then it came out all wrong, whereas Ramona had no expectations at all -- she wasn't even planning on getting a haircut -- and so she was really happy with her new 'do."

Deb's response: "What are you, an eight-year-old girl?" Like most 31-year-old men don't go around referencing Beverly Cleary novels or something....

A cheeky monkey stole my juice

But I saved my honey.

They monkeys here are pretty brazen. They will unzip your tent, rifle through your stuff and steal any food they find. Thankfully my brother mike gave me some little padlocks which I thought we'd use to keep pickpockets out of our things....

I have discovered that honey bought on the side of the road is best drunk straight from the bottle.

I Slept in a Masai Warrior's Bed

Dan and I spent the last week far away from internet camping on beautiful Lake Naivasha.

Our first day there we cycled into Hell's Gate National Park on a pair of crappy rented bikes. My butt hurt for days.....
This park is really cool because you are not in a car. The giraffes, zebras, warthogs etc. are really really close to you, but there isn't too much that will eat you aside from the leopards --- so it is pretty safe.
In the park there is a huge gorge with hot springs and you can hike around it with a Masai guide. We had a great time in the gorge and even got to see where some parts of Tomb Raider 2 were shot (they love Angelina around here.)

At the end of our hike, one of the other guides invited us to stay a while and have some food he was making and that would be ready in "5 minutes." Our answer was simple because of the improv rule. Dan and I decided at the beginning of the trip to use the "improv rule." In good improv, one is never allowed to say "no" to a suggestion. If someone says "look at that huge purple crocodile" you can't say "I don't see any bloody croc!" You have to say "it's at least 30 feet tall and it's coming to eat us."

So, of course we said "sure we'll eat."

I'm not sure we've mentioned the sense of time in Kenya. Generally, we triple the amount of time that someone says something will take. But after 30 minutes, I went to check on the status of the food. Needless to say, the food was going to take 2-3 hours, so I tried to politely say how about we just have some tea since it will be dark soon.

Over our sweet milky tea, our guide Seret invited us back to spend a night in his village and see how Masai live.....Improv rule applied again here.

A few days later we were back on another pair of crappy bikes with our bags filled with gifts of sugar, salt, and school supplies heading to the village. Seret's wife came down several hours from the Highlands just to cook for us. We didn't get to eat many Masai dishes because the village elders specifically decided that we should eat Kenyan food so we wouldn't get sick.

We stayed in Seret's house....and by house I mean hut made with sticks and cow dung. The houses are really dark inside and have a bed and a place to cook on an open fire. It's hard to be in the houses for too long because they are so smoky. The cows and goats sleep in the middle of the compound.

The Masai really live integrated with nature.
The night before we arrived, Seret fixed a leopards injured paw.....The leopard just came up to him and held his paw out to show him it was injured....I would have crapped my pants!!!!
The night we were there a hyena was near the village trying to eat a goat. The dogs went crazy and woke us up and the Masai boys all went out to chase away the hyena.

Plus we got to play dress up. PS Dan wants you to know that the Masai outfits were NOT our idea...the Masai insisted that we try on their clothes. photos will be posted ASAP

The joys of transportation

Folks, with limited email access, it appears that you'll get blog posts in spurts.

When in developing countries, getting there is half the fun.

I have never been a big fan of organized tours -- in my opinion, the best and weirdest things happen on the way. Not much happens on an air conditioned bus with comfy seats and a movie.

So, a few of my favorite things to happen en route so far.

• An old lady with no fingers sat on my lap and ate grilled corn on the cob
  
• We had a 2 hour journey by "boda-boda" as we left Kakamega Forest-- guys with bicycles with a seat on the back through tea plantations. The trip was supposed to be "20 minutes" and Dan and I had to walk a lot of the way uphill.
  
• A Matatu -- mini bus/other vehicle crammed with people. Matatus are the reincarnation of cars that should be dead --- and we were in one that got stuck in some serious mud...Dan got to push.
• From Iten we had a Matatu journey that we both thought would end in death. We reached speeds i didn't think possible. The whole thing felt like a roller coaster. Plus an old guy with stretched out Masai earlobes elbowed me in the ribs the whole time.
• See dan's story about running out of gas yesterday.
  

Lake Nakuru

Deb and I visited Lake Nakuru today, where we (unfortunately) didn't see many good animal poops (we did, however, witness a rhino farting). We also saw some fine baboon copulation (according to our driver/guide, the baboons go at it "every five minutes"), along with millions of pink flamingos. Literally millions. You can see a swath of pink along the lake shore from miles away.

Getting here was a bit of a hassle, though -- we left Lake Baringo for Nakuru yesterday morning at about 10:30; the 70-mile journey took us about seven hours. Our matatu ran out of gas after about 10 minutes, and no one who drove by wanted to spare any. So the matatu guy (not the driver, but the guy who takes the money) ran off to get petrol. He returned with about a gallon roughly 2 hours later. We then drove by numerous gas stations, until (surprise!) we ran out again. Luckily, we were able to coast downhill for awhile until we got to a station (actually, we coasted until we reached the fourth station. Apparently, when you're out of gas in Kenya and you've delayed your passengers by about 3 hours, you're still allowed to be choosy about where you shop).

After we coasted in, the driver put in a whopping 3 liters (about 3/4 of a gallon). Deb and I got out.

Getting High with Runners

After we left Eldoret land of cheesy goodness, we decided to head to Iten. Iten is a tiny town in the middle of no where, but it is the home of the High Altitude Training Center (HATC.) HATC is where many of the super-crazy Kenyan runners train -- and it's at 8,000 feet elevation. I was convinced to go for 1 reason......they have a sauna.

It was a great place. The athletes training there make Dan look obese. These are the men and women who do the NYC Marathon and plan to win -- they train for a living. There were also 4 American teens staying there for the summer (1 spent a day video taping what goes on at the local butcher...but more about him later), one marathoner from Wisconsin and a crazy dude from Holland who didn't seem to run all that much but wandered the town meeting people.

There was a phenomenal gym and the sauna was amazing. Dan and I got to teach the Kenyan trainers some basic yoga to fold into their afternoon stretching/strength class.

We were at the HATC for the 4th of July -- and this is where Hugh comes into play....

Hugh just finished his Sophomore Year in High School in New York.
Hugh also decided to read the entire syllabus for AP History while simultaneously running many miles at high elevation each day....

That gives you an idea what this guy was like, and we had the privilege of seeing

Hugh's 4th of July production extraordinare........

Highlights included:

1. Select readings of the Declaration of Independence to enthralled Kenyans.
2. The unveiling of the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Henhouse, which he and the Chef constructed and painted.
3. The slaughter of 3 traitors. The Traitors were roosters that he named "King George," "The Duke of York" and something else. (yes, Hugh himself killed one chicken, and yes, the chef then prepared them for dinner.)
4. The singing of the national anthem -- where only Hugh, Dan and I sang since the rest of the audience consisted of teenagers who wouldn't be caught dead singing and Kenyans who thought the whole thing was insane.

God Bless America

puzzling puzzles

So in my last post, I wrote how I'm enjoying the puzzles in the newspaper. I neglected to mention the mystery of the crossword puzzles here. At home, I enjoy a good crossword. I'm not spectacular at them or anything -- the Honolulu Advertiser is about my speed, the NY Times is far beyond my intellectual capabilities.

The Kenyan crossword puzzles make no sense. Here are a few recent clues...perhaps those of you word geniuses can help...maybe someone can call my grandma jackie who is the crossword queen.

1) Father returns to a small French woman as he had a strong desire to please (8 letters)
**I swear I'm not making this up
2) Three dimensional reproduction of sound obtainable when you steer zero maybe. (6 letters)
3) What happens after we ploughed the field? Disappear quickly. (7 letters)
4) Sort of string following us at sea in an uncertain manner. (3 words 2,1,5)

Huh?????? If I ever have a band, I'm calling it whatever #4 is.