Snorts under the Stars

Doing a little catching up, here, but last month we finally went camping! It was big on my list to be out under the big sky far away from city civilization. When school got out we drove up to Lake Baringo, one of  several lakes that dot the length of the Rift Valley in Kenya. We took a boat ride, which revealed birds and crocs while we floated over submerged lake islands - there had been a lot of rain. We didn't have to venture further than the shore edge, a few dozen feet from our campsite, to see the hippos.

Yes, this is where we camped. The closest hippo was just to the right of the sign... but too much in the bushes to get a good picture.

After dinner at the covered-patio restaurant (gotta love roughing it in Kenya!), we gazed at the stars, demurred on the campfire, and crawled into our sleeping bags as the deep and rumbling hippo snuffles and snorts carried us of to a 9PM sleep (yeah, we've been tired!).

The next day we drove to Lake Bogoria. We were very impressed with the state of the tarmac. (Yes, tarmac, and it was in great shape!) We went in the northern gate of the park and were almost immediately treated to lots of flamingos, beautiful scenery, and hot springs.

Flamingos, mountains and lakes, oh my.

Despite what the ranger had said, the road to the south gate wasn't actually passable (at least, we weren't willing to try without having a winch, and someone to winch us). Instead of backtracking we decided to go out the western gate. It was on the park's map. It was on the GPS.

Note to self: If you find yourself saying "This road should work" when you already know another road is perfectly good, DON'T TRY IT. Just suck it up and backtrack.

After a journey that resembled a cartoon car going up and down hills, on a very rocky, bumpy, dirt track, we finally made it to the gate. Which was at a wee village. The gate was closed and locked. And the wee village was very, very quiet. Andrew got out of the car, and walked around looking interested in the gate. This process sends up the muzungu alert. Soon enough, a little boy came running up to Andrew, and stood there looking at him. Andrew pointed at the gate and asked a question. After a bit the boy smiled and went running, and soon enough an older man came to the gate, reached down and unwrapped the chain and still-locked steel padlock from the posts, and opened the gate. Er, thanks.

Note to self: If you find yourself saying "How do we get through this locked gate in the middle of nowhere" always try to simply open the gate. It just might work. 

After what seemed like hours and hours, very few cow/sheep/goat sightings (which just shows how middle-of-nothing we were for a while) and several exclamations that went something like "This is really on the map?", "This isn't a road, it's a river bed!", "You've gotta be kidding me!" and repeated renditions from the back seat of "are we there yet?", we finally reached the highway. Another four short hours through death-defying traffic and we would be home. Andrew would have kissed the tarmac if he wasn't so anxious to push the car above 15 km per hour.

And then, I got to deliver the news to the wee one that 1) yes, she could watch a dvd now, and 2) when we got home, we were going to babysit two kittens. After 5 weeks with us the kittens went home last night amid many tears (from the child) and sighs of relief (from the curtains and my office chair).

Cutie faces, loud purrs, funny pounces, sharp claws.

Footprints on the wall

What a delightfully slow Easter weekend we celebrated. The wee one was gratifyingly excited for Easter and celebrating Jesus' love for us. We died eggs (brown, though they are, we tried) and hung kindergartner-made decorations.

We also had some bug issues. A swarm of dull witted winged things seemed to have congregated on one wall in our house.

Warty, being our Easter egg tree.

It was a bit deflating to have no one to celebrate Easter with (the bugs were summarily squashed and evicted). We've been swamped with figuring out house help and vacation and me temporarily switching jobs and cast-related medical visits, we did not get around to inviting anyone, and nobody invited us. Not to be daunted, however, we had a lovely day, and celebrated the wee-one's first complete week without casts on Easter Monday with a quick safari. (Hubby wanted to get the car muddy. Check.)

When we arrived home in the afternoon, the kiddo seemed a bit warm, but she was acting fine and I didn't take her temperature (the next day was my 5th day on the new job....She'll be fine in the morning! Totally!).

Ahem. Morning temp: 102.7, with a headache.

Afternoon temp: uuuh, that can't be right...? Her temp was so high that I think my digital thermometer wasn't correctly calibrated. Off to the doc we went. Despite the embassy clinic saying it is closed, we got in. No wait!

We came home with a diagnosis of strep throat, two bottles of penicillin, one bottle of "motrin" to alternate with Tylenol and one bottle of generic Benadryl (in case she's allergic to penicillin.... you should just have it around anyway, you bad parent).

The kiddo crashed for the afternoon, and roused asking for dinner. Good sign?

An hour later, the husband was cleaning toast vomit off the kid and I was cleaning toast vomit off the chair, the carpet, the stool, the wood floor, and the bookshelf. Oh, and my jeans. As I'm walking between the vomitorium and the laundry sink for the third time, I notice the shoe print on the wall.

No bugs though. Just keep slapping them down, one at a time!

Our first boat safari

It was about 10 days ago now, but we took the car out to enjoy the new heavy-duty off-road struts and springs (standard options for regular old in-town driving). We ended up on a boat safari, mainly to see the hippos, like these guys:

We also got to see a kingfisher, swooping in for the (well-staged) kill. And I enjoyed these guys all in a row:

After, we had a picnic in a spot where giraffe had been munching earlier (note the artiste, struck by sudden inspiration, is about to abandon food in favor of crayons):

As we were leaving, we couldn't help but notice a little bit of a ruckus amongst the zebra and buffalo, in fact, the ruckus was such that we didn't think we should continue to drive:

After the stampede passed by, a few zebras left behind were quite literally belly-up, feet twitching in the air. Once we noticed the Kenya Wildlife Service rangers walking around, we ruled out the possibility of lions in the area and, naturally, got out to investigate. On rare occasions, I really love how the safety/lawsuit craziness that so permeates US culture has very little foothold here. We got the up close and personal view of KWS tranquilizing and moving these zebras to another locale:

When I made conversation with the other tourist couple in the photo above, I was especially glad there hadn't been a lion. That adventuresome couple are 85 years old if they are a day. They wouldn't have stood a chance with a lion. (Flash forward: I hope that's me and Andrew 50 years from now! On safari, that is, not facing down a lion.) A guy who had been horseback riding, from a nearby lodge, jumped in to help. Much like my dad at our local mechanic when he was here visiting, this is not an every-day developed world experience:

Let me tell you, that zebra was HEAVY. Makes me wonder how they manage the elephants.

My dad, looking at zebras, with Lake Naivasha just beyond. Just another weekend in Nairobi.

My parents came out for 3 weeks at Christmas, and we had a great time while they saved my tukus once again on the child care front. Swimming, endless games of pretend, computer games, books, the park, they really wore her out.

A couple months ago the kiddo came home from school with her weekly journal, where she had noted that mommy went to the track over the weekend (lovely picture too). I exclaimed to dearest hubby: "We took that child on safari [any self-drive in these parts is stress inducing] and she writes about me going for a jog???"
He answers, "Really, which is more unusual?"
Ouch.

Reading Lesson

The wee one's teacher sent home a note over the break asking parents have the kids review their phonics. She didn't say where.

Driven Crazy

We have rented a car to keep us moving while awaiting the arrival of ours from Japan. First non-embassy trek: the local market less than a mile away. A very easy trip, if you don't consider the crazy matatus zipping down the street; front-tire-swallowing potholes; curved, hilly, bi-directional roads that are - I swear - less than 2 lanes wide; and the occasional bicyclist or cart driver pulling impossibly wide heavy loads given their mode of transport. While driving is not stress-free, it's better than walking along the same road.

Additionally deterred from braving Nairobi traffic to see "animal stuff" by the fact that our GPS is still somewhere in the mail and we are not sure we could get both there and back, we headed the closest direction out of town and went to Hell's Gate National Park. After navigating a too-narrow, truck-clogged, matatu-ridden drive clinging to the edge of the Rift Valley wall, driving in and around the park was cake. The biggest challenge was this steep grade, rocky hill where we were met by shepherds sheep and goats, and an oncoming safari vehicle. Andrew handled it like a pro and I actually enjoyed it, except for worrying that our rental car tires would pop.

Safari Song

I always thought "going on safari" was a trek undertaken with ages of planning and executed with mysterious methods of communing with nature. We weren't here a week when an individual from the general expat community was impressing us with the sheer volume of safaris they had done. It turns out, you call a guy up (at least when you are car-less like us at the moment), and he comes and picks you up and takes you to see animals. It's a day trip. Or more, if you want.

Our first safari was this weekend to Lake Nakuru National Park. Holy flocks of flamingos, Batman, that was a lot of animals! As impressive as seeing them was hearing them, especially at the lake where the thousands of flamingos are softly honking, birds screech across the water, hundreds of pelican wings beat overhead, and winged critters of all kinds splash their wings against the surface.

On the way back we stopped in a downpour for some good old fashioned roadside nyama choma - grill-roasted meat. We had goat - a little tough but tasty. Our guide was impressed at how easily the 5-year old adapted to this foreign culture of eating with her hands. Yeah, she's a natural.