Sunday, April 25, 2010

Of Pyramids and Pharaohs

We arrived in Egypt after a stop in Sudan, where more than half the passengers who had boarded in Nairobi got off – they were mostly aid workers doing a stint in Africa's hardest nut to crack. Despite the fact that we didn't have to even get off the plane if we weren't staying, I still felt a bit uneasy until we closed up the doors and took off again – I imagined a sudden mechanical failure and cancellation of the rest of the flight.... how do you get a transit visa for a country with no functional government?
We touched down in Cairo about an hour later, and were met by a representative and driver for GAP Adventures – Egypt was the one place where I had booked us into an organized tour; never having done one before, I wasn't sure what to expect. I had to admit that it was nice to have a car waiting at the airport, not to mention being whisked off to a five star hotel in the center of Cairo.
Cairo
We had a large suite in a hotel that was like a city unto itself – three restaurants, two pools, shops, gym, spa, nightclub and casino. We had arrived a day early, and our group wasn't scheduled to meet until the following evening. I am embarrassed to admit (though Colin, as instigator, was beside himself with joy) that after a delicious night's sleep in our lux suite, we didn't leave the hotel grounds the whole following day. After six months of independent budget travel through Asia, India and Kenya, we apparently had a lot of R&R to catch up on! At the end of the day, we met our guide, along with the rest of our group, in the hotel lobby – as an Egypt “Family Tour” the group included quite a few kids: three boys and three girls (besides Colin), all between the ages of 9 and 16. Colin was set! Our guide, Magdalene, gave us the run-down for the next two weeks, then left us to scout out our dinner and prepare for our departure the following morning.

Our first full day of touring was stellar! To kick things off, we headed straight for the Giza Pyramids – a trio of mind-bogglingly huge monuments to the pharaohs once entombed within, sitting right on the outskirts of modern-day Cairo
(they were once, apparently, far off in the desert, but the expansion of Cairo over the years has them now just a stone's throw from the KFC across the street).
At the foot of the rise the pyramids occupy sits the Sphinx – quintessential symbol of all things Egyptian. We had a couple of hours to wander around on our own (this was not a hit-and-run style tour, thank goodness!) and enjoyed watching the camel-hawkers as much as marveling at the pyramids as we scouted it all out. We entered one of the pyramids that was open to visitors, crouching down to walk through the stone tunnel stretching deep into the center of the structure, sloping down, then back up again to emerge in a small room once hosting the sarcophagus and the Pharaoh's treasures. The air in the center was thin and stifling – we had to breath slowly and shallowly as we realized how little oxygen gets into the middle of a pyramid. The contrast between the cramped and claustrophobic space inside the tomb and the enormity of the external structure made the grandeur of the pyramids even more striking.
It was also the first inclination (of many to come) of the egos of the pharaohs who ordered them built! Each pyramid was constructed of tens of thousands of enormous rectangular stone blocks, the smallest of which weigh ~2 ½ tons. It was an incredible sight, and a great introduction to Egypt.
We also had a not-so-stellar moment, when Colin ran off to find a bathroom and disappeared into a small alley between an office building and a sand heap – when I followed his path, he was nowhere to be seen. I climbed the sand heap and yelled for him at the top of my voice, but got no response. I ran around another building which housed the exit of a museum and started to run inside when I was stopped by a guard. The guard and two onlookers sitting outside told me a boy matching Colin's description had gone inside to use the bathroom. Calming down, I sat outside and waited... and waited, and waited. As I became more agitated, they kept assuring me he was inside, but the guard wouldn't let me go look. Finally, Colin emerged, and I dragged him off for a lecture on not disappearing among pyramids in strange countries. As we walked back through the alley I had followed him through, the guard approached us from behind. There was noone else in the alley, the guard was armed, and he had his hand out, demanding “baksheesh” for 'finding' my son. !!!! I whirled on Colin once again, with steam coming out of my ears, and must have looked more funny than menacing, because I could see the guard starting to laugh out of the corner of my eye. Ignoring him, and his outstretched hand, I tightened my grip on Colin and marched out the other end of the alley, leaving the laughing (and empty-handed) guard behind us. I then collapsed on a rock and let all the fear and outrage of the previous half hour drain from me before I could stand and walk again. I would pay a guard “baksheesh” before leaving Egypt, but not yet, and not for blocking me from finding my son!
The afternoon had more treats in store for us –
we stopped at a papyrus shop and perfumery, both of which came with demonstrations and (I'm sure) commissions for our guide, but the highlight was a visit to Cairo's National Museum. Outdated and cramped, the National Museum is still an impressive treasure, containing whole tombs (typically two layers of sarcophagi housed within three “coffins” of increasing size – including one on display standing 10+ feet high and 20 feet long and gilded in gold). The treasures of Tutankamen's tomb (one of the only not raided by thieves before being discovered) are housed there, along with remnants of countless archaeological sites throughout Egypt. The contents of the museum are overwhelming, with many of the treasures stacked unlabeled in cases reaching from floor to ceiling. The construction of a new National Museum with about triple the capacity is currently underway to properly organize and display the museum's contents.

That evening, we boarded the overnight train to Aswan, falling asleep to the swaying of the train and waking to views of the Nile and mud houses passing by the windows as we sipped our morning coffee.
The middle part of the day, after checking in to another great hotel and when the heat was at its peak, I gave over to Colin's desire to stay tethered to the outdoor pool with a view of the Nile. Most of the other kids had the same notion, so after months of having minimal playtime with other kids, Colin was in 7th heaven. As the tour progressed, there would be at least a couple of hours like this every day.
Aswan

We finally gathered ourselves together around 3:00 and boarded a boat with our group to head off for a camel tour through the desert on the other side of the river (Aswan's “West Bank” - every Egyptian Nile town has one). Unfortunately, the wind was whipping – specifically into Colin's eyes: just as we were disembarking, a torrent of sand flew into his face, blinding him and scratching his eyes horribly. At the same time, the dry air took its toll and Colin's nose erupted in a gush of blood that wouldn't stop. We had to sit out the Camel ride, but enjoyed a quiet and scenic Nile cruise with the boat to ourselves while the captain floated downriver to pick up the riders at the end of their tour.

The entire group was then transported in the back of two pickup trucks up into the hills for dinner at a homestay with a Nubian family. We sat around a long table on the floor, enjoying hibiscus tea and a buffet of traditional dishes as the sun began to set over the desert hills – it was the most unusual sunset I can ever remember seeing: a stark white setting sun, while the sky gradually darkened without any color, but with the most incredible quality of light.
We bounced back down the road in the pickups after dinner, motored back across the river, and were deposited back at the hotel to wind down and rest up for the next day's adventures.
Day two in Aswan, we were left to do as we pleased.

Colin and I got up and headed to explore the souk (market), an easy couple of blocks from our hotel. We spent several hours perusing the local crafts, spices, and food shops, scoping out prices and honing our bargaining skills - “first” prices were often 10x higher than a reasonable final price, even with the ubiquitous “tourist tax” taken into account. We bumped into others from our group on and off throughout the morning, and gathered with a group of them for a simple lunch at a rotisserie that was swarmed with kids on lunch break from the local school – it was cheap, delicious, and amusing, as many of the Egyptian girls took a particular interest in Vic, the 10 year old daughter of Syzan, a single mom from Canada doing the trip with her son (Jack, 14) and daughter. Post-lunch afternoon was given over to the hotel's pool again, until early evening when Magdalene took us all back to the market for a bit of a guided tour, and introduction to the souk's best spice shop. The rest of the group headed off to an evening light show at a nearby temple, to be followed by a few hours of sleep before a 3 a.m. wake up call to go to a more distant temple in the desert, requiring a convoy escort. Colin and I decided to forego both, in favor of some more solo time in the market (I caved and bought a pair of silver earrings with a traditional Nubian design) and a quiet evening – sleeping, instead of sitting in a bus caravan through the desert.

Early in the morning, we took in the Temple of Philae, where the previous night's light show had been, while the rest of the group was driving back from their excursion.

The temple sat on a small, rocky island only accessible by boat, and was gorgeous in the morning light. We were able to wander freely through the grounds, admiring the relief carvings on the walls and the enormous statues honoring the gods.
Our favorite was a small, dwarf-like god – depicted playing music with a group of musicians in a closed-off part of one of the lesser temples on the grounds. A sign prohibiting access to the temple interior due to restoration work was summarily dismissed by a guard who signaled to Colin that he should follow the guard inside to see the carvings. I followed behind and dutifully shook the guard's hand – with a 10-pound note (~$2) – to thank him as we left: I was learning that “baksheesh” was an accepted way of life here. In fact, I suspected that the “no access” sign may have been falsely posted just to ensure some “tips” for the guards on duty that day.....
Luxor
Once everyone was back at the hotel that afternoon, we piled into a van for the drive to Luxor, our next destination.
Once again, our hotel sat on the banks of the Nile, with extensive landscaped gardens, two outdoor pools, and a lovely little sheesha bar (light, flavored tobacco smoked in colorful water pipes), decked out with tapestries and cushioned benches hanging over the riverbank. We arrived too late for the kids to inaugurate the new pools, so they spent the evening playing President (a card game) – the new pasttime of choice everytime they had 5 minutes to plop down on the ground while waiting for a something to happen.
The first morning in Luxor brought fantastic delights!

We were picked up by a cushion-bedecked long boat at our hotel's breakwater and crossed the Nile to the West Bank, where we mounted 16 donkeys for the hour-plus journey to the entrance of the Valley of the Kings (no photos allowed). The Valley of the Kings is where generations of pharaohs built their tombs: a replacement for the ostentatiousness of the pyramids - which screamed out “Here I am!” - the tombs here were constructed underground, where they'd (theoretically) be less of a beacon for grave-robbers seeking to steal the treasures the Pharaohs buried to take with them into the afterlife. Over time, most of the underground tombs were raided as well, but a couple did survive, including the tomb of 14-year old Tutankhamen, a minor pharaoh now known the world over because the treasures of his tomb - buried slightly beneath another, larger one that was stripped of its contents - was still intact. The treasures of Tutankhamen's tomb now sit in Cairo's National Museum, but his mummy remains in his tomb in the Valley of the Kings (thanks to an overzealous archaeologist who partially unwrapped him to satisfy his curiously upon discovering it, causing damage that has forced Egypt to leave the mummy in place in his tomb – lucky Tutankhamen! He's the only one who hasn't been removed from his chosen place of burial). We entered several of the tombs, marveling at the construction of the complex and the intricate carvings and paintings remaining on the walls – after 2,000+ years, the colors are still vibrant and give a hint of the adornment of the tombs when they were built for their future occupants (pharaohs had their tombs constructed while they were still alive – if they procrastinated and their tombs were unfinished when they died, they stayed that way forever, and the pharaoh was buried in an unfinished – a.k.a substandard – tomb).
Following the Valley of the Kings, we drove to the nearby Hapshetsut's Temple – Egypt's first female pharaoh... and literal Drag King.
In order to gain acceptance as a female ruler, Hapshetsut went to great lengths, including marrying her brother (to “borrow” his maleness in an effort to legitimize her rule) and having all of her likenesses – statues, paintings, etc. - represent her with a beard and in men's clothing.
The temple itself is in an unexpectedly modern style, and also distinguished by the fact that most of the images of Hapshetsut herself are “erased” - rough, chipped stone shows the outlines of where she was, but were all defaced by her son after her death. She continued to rule after her husband's death in lieu of handing the reins over to her then young son – apparently, by the time she died, he had some serious “mommy issues.”
We headed back across the river to the hotel again for the requisite daily pool time before heading out again for a night on the town of Luxor.

Climbing into horse-drawn carriages, we clip-clopped down the waterfront road for a visit to the Mummification Museum, catching the sunset along the way. The horses then took us for an evening ride through the city, crossing over the Avenue of the Sphinxes, around the Luxor Temple, and into the Old Town before dropping us at a lovely traditional restaurant that our guide had selected for dinner.
We sat at outdoor tables in a quiet alley and feasted on the kind of Egyptian food that our hotels – nice, but tourist oriented as they were – could not provide for us. Delicious! We could glimpse the local souk stretching off into the alleys near our restaurant, but were too tired and satiated by the time we finished dinner to take it all in. Colin and I decided we would return in the morning....
(zzzzzzzzzzzz interlude)

...and explore all the old and colorful booths and alleys. Colin spent the morning in hard-core bargaining mode. He'd decided on a couple of things that he really wanted to take home as his mementos of Egypt and was on a mission. Finally – after three hours of scoping and eventually narrowing his choice down to two competing shop owners – he bought himself an alabaster candle lamp. Proud of the price he had negotiated, and immensely pleased with his purchase, we headed off to meet Syzan, Jack and Vic for lunch. After rejecting a restaurant that had been recommended by a friend (we had a disappointing appetizer while waiting for Syzan), we squeezed into a small hole-in-the-wall behind an open grill just outside the souk and munched on Egyptian falafal, grilled sausage, and french fries (ubiquitous in Egypt – even at our traditional Nubian village dinner!).

The afternoon was given over to poolside lounging, and for Syzan and I, an after-dark visit to the sheesha bar to sample apple-flavored tobacco, smoked through an ornate water pipe while watching dhows sail by on the Nile. Perfect.

Our final morning in Luxor, I rose early and left Colin sleeping in the hotel room while I snuck off to the Temple of Karnak – lauded as a sight on par with the pyramids. It did not disappoint.
Connected to the smaller Temple of Luxor by the Avenue of the Sphinxes (which is still being excavated and renovated), the Temple of Karnak was built by Pharaoh Ramses II (and Luxor for his wife) in the 1300s B.C.
Covering many acres and including several additions constructed by subsequent rulers over a period of many centuries, the most impressive part of the temple is the Hypostyle Hall - a walled courtyard filled with 134 columns, up to 60 feet high and nearly 10 feet around, with ornate tops representing papyrus plants (the whole installation was meant to mimic an enormous papyrus forest). Standing in the midst of it and looking up, I had the sensation of being completely overwhelmed by the intensity of it, in a way the open desert of the pyramids obscured (the pyramids exist in a scale that matches their grandeur, while the closed in feel of the hall made the heft and bulk of its column/forest that much more impressive).
Looking up also afforded a view of the underside of the stone arches linking some of the columns – the painted designs there had been protected from the sun and rain by their positioning underneath the arches, so were still vibrant even from a distance of 70 feet and after more than 3,000 years.
After wandering through the rest of the temple grounds, I returned to the hotel in time to wake Colin and rejoin our group for the next leg of our trip – a five hour drive through the Sahara Desert to the beach resort town of Hurgada, on the Red Sea.
Hurgada
We had essentially nothing planned for our three days in Hurgada – after a whirlwind week and a half touring through Egypt, GAP Adventures had decided to just leave us alone. Everyone decided they hadn't had quite enough, though, so asked Magdalene to arrange a snorkeling trip for the following day. Part of the decision was in response to the strange starkness of the town itself – like Cancun, it had been plopped down (with a lot of assistance from concrete) in a place where previously nothing but desert met nothing but water. Half the buildings in town were unfinished – the result of a building boom interrupted by the global financial meltdown. The hotel's four restaurants (breakfast and dinner were included), beach cove, swimming pool, nightclub, spa, and assortment of shops was designed to encourage guests to stay within its walls, but most of us weren't so much that type. The resort's mostly Russian package-tourists also encouraged us to flee at every opportunity – they took cha-cha dance lessons by the pool, sent their children to the nightly “mini-disco” to ring-around-the-rosie, piled huge plates of roast beef and pastries on their tables at the restaurants' buffets, then drank themselves silly in the hotel's lobby bar(s). A day out snorkeling was just what the doctor ordered – an antidote to the sloth threatening to engulf the end of our trip.

The Red Sea was choppy and cold the day we set out, motoring past the offshore islands, but a bright crystalline blue that made up for any discomfort. The kids couldn't have cared less about the waves and the temperature – they dove in and chased the gorgeous tropical fish schooling around each of the three reefs we stopped at.

I made it through two of the three before the chill in my bones made me use the excuse of wanting to photograph everybody else in the water to sit out the final splash-fest. The fish were fantastic, though much of the reef looked to be struggling to hang on (apparently the last reef was more healthy and vibrant than the others). Colin went with the snorkel guide on the last swim since I stayed on board, and had a blast following him down on every free dive, checking out deeper coral and scaring the shyer fish out of their hiding places. It was a fantastic day, but didn't substitute for the daily pool swim – the kids headed straight there as soon as we got back! While they splashed, I headed for a local coffee house with Magdalene and a couple of the other parents (Canadians Janice and Greg – a physiotherapist and geologist). Surrounded by Egyptians smoking sheesha, we enjoyed Egyptian coffee (same as Turkish – a thick layer of coffee grounds in the bottom of the cup, meant to be drunk black and sweet) and marveled at the layered three-flavor fruit smoothie topped with fresh kiwi and pineapple that Greg ordered. We determined we had an ethical obligation to return with our kids to taste one of those concoctions before we could leave Hurgada.
The final day in Hurgada, we finally gave in to the sloth. We lounged by the pool, dipped our feet in the ocean, and overindulged at the buffets, but did manage to get out long enough to return to the coffee house and fulfill our parental obligations to treat our children to ambrosiacal fruit smoothies.
Cairo Redux
The end of the trip began to loom as we boarded a small plane the next morning for our return to Cairo, but we still had one more day of touring Cairo to look forward to before we were done. Thoroughly enjoying a great meal at the highly recommended yet economical Felfela in Cairo, we headed to bed knowing that the next day would be our last in Egypt. In addition, Cairo had become cold enough in our absence to make swimming in the hotel pool unappealing even to the kids (!)
We woke and were whisked off by Magdalene to the “Pharonic Village,” a Colonial Jamestown-style reproduction of Egyptian towns and life in Pharonic times. This was the first and only misstep of the entire tour – aside from the slightly interesting narrated boat tour that brought us to the village itself, and one fairly well executed reproduction of the inside of Tutankhamen's tomb as it was originally found, it was a loooong three hours trapped in a 3rd-rate touristic disaster. Fortunately, the day was saved by the afternoon visit to Khan-El-Khalili, Cairo's oldest street market, still going strong in the narrow twisting lanes of the old town.

We wandered for a couple of hours, getting lost in the maze of lanes and admiring stalls of silverwork and gemstones, before it was time to find the square where we'd been left off (easier said than done!) - at the last minute, I once again caved and bought a small blue-glass and metal sheesha pipe (completely impractical!) in a padded carrying case (giving me hope of actually getting it home safely) for $4.
We finished off our Egypt excursion with an unabashed tourist dinner cruise on the Nile, to celebrate Vic's birthday.
Colin danced his touchas off to live traditional music (he had an interesting interpretation of the rythym, but the musicians seemed indulgent enough),
Jack thoroughly enjoyed the belly dancer, Vic

was thrilled with the whirling dervishes, and we all enjoyed the lights of Cairo from the upper deck. Even the food wasn't bad.



When we got back, Colin and I returned to our upgraded top-floor view suite (our partying neighbors
the night before had set off the hotel fire alarm three times in the middle of the night - I wasn't up for a repeat performance and the hotel manager was trying to keep me from taking the matter into my own hands) and Colin made a pearl and bead bracelet for Vic as a departing/birthday gift. We delivered it before saying goodnight - and goodbye - to her and Jack and Syzan – they had a 3 a.m. flight, so would be leaving in the middle of the night. We had the relative luxury of sleeping in until 6 a.m. before rising and heading to the airport. The next leg of our trip would take us to Greece, where my good friend Susan and her son - Colin's buddy Liam - would be meeting us to celebrate Susan's 50th birthday....
but that's another chapter!

Next up: Road tripping with Zeus and Aphrodite

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Colin's Wildlife Haiku


Graceful, bulky beast;
elephant slowly loping
across the grasslands.




and other poetry...

Hartebeeste posing,
posing on a mound.
Hartebeeste with horns,
twisted spiral horns.
Hartebeeste with beauty,
strong graceful beauty.

Kenya Part 2 – Mama Lucy & Mohammad's Birthday


We flew from Nairobi to Malindi, a mid-sized coastal town renowned as an Italian resort destination, and apparently providing a vacation spot for money-laundering Italian expats with mafia connections.








It is also home to “Mama Lucy” and her 30 charges – orphaned children ranging in age from one to seventeen, living together in the simple but wonderful Heart Children's Home.
Mama Lucy (aka Nuru Said Mohammad) met us at the airport with the orphanage's “public relations” volunteer, who with her four year old daughter spends every weekday afternoon at the orphanage, but was on her way to Nairobi the next day to check in on her business and her clients – she is one of Nairobi's (Kenya's?) only two sex therapists, and a hoot to talk to. Her daughter would stay behind in the care of Mama Lucy for the five days she'd be gone, and unfortunately we'd be leaving just hours before her return. The following morning we were scheduled to meet Cocky, the director of the small volunteer placement organization that matched us with Heart Children's Home. Until then, we settled into our small apartment off the back courtyard of the orphanage and began to get to know the kids.
Within minutes, Colin was deep into the game of soccer raging in the dustbowl that is the side yard – Moses, age 13, was the best soccer player of the bunch and quickly became Colin's new best friend.
He was an amazingly talented athlete, a caring big brother to the younger kids, and a warm and friendly boy who seemed mature beyond his years. All of the kids, in fact, displayed the most incredible caring for each other, helpfulness in all domestic chores, and responsibility for themselves and their (very) few belongings. I couldn't help but compare them to the kids we know and have at home – how much easier parenting would be if all kids behaved this way! Considering the difficulties these kids had been through in their lives – the types of stories that are behind so much of the delinquent and criminal behavior among young people in the U.S. - it struck me as even more amazing.

Many of the children had lost their parents to HIV/AIDs; some had been abused or neglected by their relatives before arriving at Heart; and none of them had anything more than a notebook, some shared clothes, and their bedsheets to count as their personal belongings. The home had one soccer ball, on its last legs, a few additional balls made of bound-together plastic bags, and a few puzzles as their entire “toy” stock for the 24 resident children (the remaining six were at various boarding schools, coming home only on holidays). They shared five bedrooms in the common house, which also housed the office, the preschool, and the kitchen. Mama Lucy slept in a back room in the adjacent landlord's house, and the small apartment off the back was reserved for visiting donors, volunteers and other guests, as well as serving as a reception room and an overflow kitchen area. Ugali, cabbage and beans serve as the home's staple fare, and the kids walk 12 km on their two roundtrips to school and back each day.

When we first arrived, trying to help “around the house” was a loosing battle, so we laid low and assessed the situation, trying to figure out where we could fit in and be of some help. While meeting the kids and wandering around, we sussed out what needed doing, and where we could provide some value. When Cocky arrived the next morning, we asked if we could make dinner for the kids and crew one night, and suggested taking the whole group for a field trip to a place of their choosing over the weekend. Both suggestions were enthusiastically received, so we headed out for the local markets and left Mama Lucy to find out where the kids wanted to go and to set up transportation. Colin also discovered that they had been trying to create an online presence, and hadn't yet figured out how to create a “group” page for the orphanage on Facebook, so he had his work cut out for him. Over the next few days he created a Heart Children's Home group page on Facebook and trained Mama Lucy and Steve, the oldest boy, on how to use it, upload photos and develop their network of “friends.”
It was a huge success, and Steve became an instant Facebook addict. ;-)


Over the next few days, I developed blisters hand washing laundry, we cooked up spaghetti bolongese to feed 30, and generally pitched in here and there washing dishes and looking after the younger children while the older ones were off at school.
Noone could resist taking turns entertaining Lydia, the youngest (age 1), who compelled me to sing “Lydia, oh Lydia, oh have you seen Lydia; Lydia the tattooed lady!?” (sung a la Michael Jeter, the homeless cabaret singer in “The Fisher King”) over and over again. We capped off our visit with the promised field trip - the kids hadn't been anywhere except home, school and church since last summer, so were beside themselves with excitement.
Filling two matatus with children and chaperones we headed off to Gede – the ruins of an ancient Swahili village –



and then to the beach, where we picnicked and played in the surf till the late afternoon.
The next morning, Mercy – a brilliant 13 year old Masai girl who had lived at the home for just over a year – asked to speak privately with us. We had decided to sponsor one of the children, and asked Mama Lucy to decide how best to use the contribution. She had decided that we should send Mercy to a private school – she had tested at the top of her class at the local government school since arriving at the home and needed a more challenging education that would open up more opportunities for her. Mercy hoped that we could increase our contribution so that she could attend as a boarding school student, allowing her to escape the distractions of so many children in so small a space at the orphanage in order to focus more on her studies. We sympathized with her request, but explained that we were contributing the most that we could and that if we were able to raise more funds at home we would once again leave it to Mama Lucy to decide how it should best be spent. We hope to be able to continue to cover her tuition for the five or so years until she completes high school, so if anyone is interested in contributing or sponsoring another of the home's children, be sure to let us know!
We'll also be sending periodic care packages of soccer balls and children's clothing, so feel free to drop your seconds off at our place. :-)
Our five days at Heart Children's Home sped past, and it was suddenly time to head back to the small airport a few minutes down the road and catch our flight to Lamu, a small island off the coast, in time for the annual celebration of Mohammad's birthday – a weeklong festival marked by donkey and dhow (sailboat) races, bao game tournaments (a complex variation on mancala), and music and arts exhibitions.

Arriving by prop plane across the channel from the island of Lamu, Colin and I walked our bags along a short path through the trees and then out a long dock to the waiting boats serving as informal ferries to Lamu town, the hub of the island. Lamu boasts all of two cars – one for the “chief” and one serving as the donkey ambulance. The rest of the island's transportation is by donkey (thus the need for the ambulance), bicycle, boat and foot.
The town's winding lanes are too narrow for anything wider than a donkey cart, restricting the two existing vehicles to the seafront road, which also served as the donkey race track for the Maulindi (aka Mohammad's Birthday) Festival. We arrived the day before the official start of the festival, without a reservation for a room, but since that was 24 hours earlier than most Kenyans' make plans, we had no problem taking our pick. By the next night, the town was full and rooms were getting scarce, and by the day of the donkey and dhow races, the squeeze was on. We picked a room in a private home owned by a Lamu native, now living in Amsterdam, who was visiting home for the holiday. He was one of Lamu's many easygoing rasta men, who incongruously live side-by-side with the island's strict Muslim majority without any obvious rancor.
Colin demonstrated a knack for making friends with most of the rastas in town, learning to play several variations of the bao game from them, and exploring their art galleries and other local haunts. He also picked a silversmith in town to set a stone (containing raw ruby and zoozite) that he had found in India into a ring for him, which he says I can wear until he grows into it. ;-)
Dana – the Czech we had met in the Mara (see Kenya Part 1) arrived on Lamu the same day we did, and joined us for a visit to Shella Beach the next day. We hired a skiff to ferry us to the beach and walked far enough to leave most of the other sun worshippers behind us.

We plopped down in view of a pair of camels lounging by the sea and splashed into the bathtub temperature water. After Colin had had his fill of surf and sand, we wandered down to the camels and found their owners – Colin negotiated a price for a ride and enjoyed a leisurely saunter down the beach on the back one of the quirky creatures.

Most of the rest of our visit to Lamu involved watching donkeys and dhows race (respectively) along or offshore of the seafront, and wandering the charming narrow lanes while marveling at the juxtaposition of a woman in a full black burka passing a Masai man in a short red toga while sauntering past talking with one of Colin's newfound rasta buddies.










Lamu is interesting.

We had one last weekend to enjoy in Nairobi after leaving Lamu, but only had one night with Candace and Bob before they left for the weekend to pick up two more Methow neighbors from their Mt. Kenya climb, so we headed for the home of a “friend” we'd never met: Flora Okuku was an old graduate school buddy of my mother's neighbor Scott. He had connected us through Facebook months earlier, and we'd written back-and-forth/off-and-on during our travels. She had invited us to come spend the weekend with her and her family – husband, son and daughter (her kids were a little younger than Colin, but still in peer-to-peer playing range). What a great connection! Flora is funny, irreverent, and completely comfortable to be around. She was born in Kenya, went to graduate school (graphic design) in New Orleans, moved to Zimbabwe when she was first married, and had been back in Kenya for a year when we arrived.
She had a beautiful old colonial home along a green belt, with plenty of space and a lovely lawn for picnicking and sunning ourselves while the kids all played outside.
They let us cook for them (not one of our most stellar efforts at pasta with unfamiliar ingredients, but the kids seemed to love it), were hugely enthusiastic about the bottle of red wine I shyly brought out (the majority of people in the last three countries Id been in had been fairly judgmental about alcohol of any kind), and made us a couple of lovely meals of Kenyan traditional dishes that we ate on the floor of their living room – including a meal featuring fried ants (Colin was thrilled!).
It was just like being at home, but not! Perfect. We adored their company, their hospitality, and the comfort of being at someone's home, if not our own, though they made it feel as though it was (thanks Flora!). On our last day, they dropped us at the local mall to see the morning screening of The Lightning Thief at the cinema before heading off to the airport – our next stop was Cairo, to begin a two-week tour of Egypt (my first organized tour – ever!). But that's the next installment.....

Up Next: Of Pharoahs and Pyramids