I’ve learned that if you assume the worst, you’ll be much happier with how things really turn out. That’s why as soon as I started feeling sick over the weekend I went ahead and declared that it was either Ebola or Leprosy that I had come down with. I’m now happier today because I can honestly tell you that it was neither of the two, and was more of a mild cold than anything, but at least I planned for the worst. Can’t be too careful in Africa.

The Idahoians have come and gone, and are currently back on a plane to the States, which means that the house has been pretty empty over the last couple of days. I was afraid that it’d be weird and lonely not having anybody to talk to, but I quickly realized that I was more fun to talk to than I previously thought…and that’s what worries me. Luckily, new roommates arrive Wednesday so the house will be full again soon. Before the Idahoians left though, we did have some good times. 

Thursday we were set to head to the Maasai village, but before we could go we had to first go to the market and get food for the villagers as a greeting for having us. I had never been to the market in down town Moshi before, so it was interesting to see exactly how everything was set up. After walking through two gates on either end of the market, there was a covered area that housed the majority of the booths where vendors had their goods for sale. When I walked in the first thing I noticed was the strong smell of fish that had been sitting out for hours, and the booths immediately to my left were used for butchers and people selling fish. I did a little walk through in that section with a couple of the Idahonians and was tempted to once again try some of the meat that they had hanging from the hooks, but one of them Idahonians almost lost their lunch to the smell so we had to get out of there as quick as possible. The booths on the other side of the meat and fish section had huge bags of rice, spices, grains, beans, fruits, and vegetables all over the place. While everyone was gathering supplies for the Maasai, I decided to take a little field trip through the market myself and see what I could find.

           

And as I’ve discovered with any market I’ve been to thus far…find something I did.

At the far end of the market there were a row of shops set up that caught my eye, and I immediately walked up to them and stared at what I saw. The vendor walked up to me and grinning said, “You want a machete, don’t know?”

I looked at him surprised, How did he know? There was no way it was a shot in the dark, it’s not everyday you ask someone if they want a machete and turn out to be right, and so I asked. That’s when he pointed at the bandana around my head and replied, “Rambo.”

Bandanas speak louder than words.

He asked how long I was going to be staying in Tanzania and I told him 5 more months and he threw his arms up and exclaimed, “Well then you have to have a machete if you’re here that long.” Quite right he was, but I held off on getting my man machete for a later day. I was hoping the Maasai would have some awesome lion skin rug for sale that I’d need all the money I had on me to get, so I politely declined the gentleman’s offer and returned to the car.

             

            You would think that in order to get to where the Maasai are we would have to follow some complicated directions, but quite the contrary. All we had to do was drive out on the main road towards Arusha until there was nothing around but brush and mountains, and then just take a quick left out towards the nothingness. We did get lost along the way, but luckily we ran into two Maasai riding a motorcycle out in the brush (weird, I know) and we asked to follow them to the village that we were going to, but there it was.

            It wasn’t necessarily a village, but instead a few huts out in the middle of the brush where the family lived. We met the husband when we arrived and gave him the food we brought, and he introduced us to his wives and children. That wasn’t a typo either. They sang some of the traditional Maasai songs and taught us some of their dances where they jump up and down and it was a bit surreal. A couple days before I left I watched the Amazing Race and they were in Tanzania and they had the contestants doing the Maasai dances and jumping up and down with them, and literally there I was doing it just as they were. You see things on television and never expect to actually see them for yourself, and even though I knew I was going to be there in a couple of days, it’s still hard to imagine what it’s actually like. It was just barren brush land all around and in the distance were mountains and the sun setting behind them, and here we were jumping with the Maasai and being shown into their homes and, of course, taking pictures of their kitchens.

After we experiencing some of their culture, we had to introduce them to a little bit of ours. For the last half hour that we were with them we formed a circle of Idahoians, Maasai, and myself and threw around the Frisbee. We taught them how to throw it and after a while they got the hang of it, and everyone was laughing and having a good time, even when the Frisbee hit someone in the face.

At one point the grandfather Maasai (I say that because he was at least 70, but probably older, he didn’t know his age) walked up to me when I was standing against the car and he was grinning and laughing to himself. I didn’t really get what was going on, until he pulled his cell phone out and pointed at it with a prideful smile as if saying, “Check it out, dude.” I threw my hands up and said no way and pulled my cell phone out and showed him and we both just kind of laughed at really nothing, except the fact that we both had cell phones and that I imagined him saying dude to me. It also just reminded me of in middle school when kids were first getting cell phones and showing them to everyone, and I realized that being so old and a Maasai, the cell phone literally was brand new to him, and something he didn't have at all until probably recently. So, I understood his excitement, I could relate in a way.



The Maasai were awesome, needless to say.


              Friday we spent most of the later part of the day at the orphanage with the kids because it was going to be the last time that the Idahonians would get to see them before they went home. As always, it was a great time and we played games, had a dance off, egg hunt, another riveting game of red rover, and the kids and everyone got to say their goodbyes. Friday was when I really started not feeling well though, and I think I’ve learned my lesson on telling the kids that you’re feeling under the weather because this is what happens 

            I’m good now though, so nobody freak out and start claiming the vest I got last week. And if nobody happened to notice I did not mention getting a lion skin rug from the Maasai, because I did not get a lion skin rug from the Maasai. They did not have any.

 Also, my hair is fine now. Thank you for reading.

Mt. Meru from the village

And once again, a promotional spot. Please don't forget about the fundraising page, and any amount would be greatly appreciated by both me and the orphanage!

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/kyletaylor/kilimanjarofundraiserclimb

One month in

Well, I’ve been here a month, who would have thought the day would come. To celebrate I drank a Guinness and left the bottle in my room as a sort of marker, and then I buzzed my head, and let’s just say only one of those things ended up how it was supposed to (I’ll give you a hint, half my head is buzzed right now). No one tells you about the voltage differences with plugs around here, and no one tells you that the result of the voltage difference will be the clippers basically exploding in your hand. No one was hurt in the incident, except maybe my self-image for the next few days, but I’ll live.

            Crazy to think that I’ve been here a month, that a month ago I was sitting at Taco Mac with my parents before boarding my flight and eating a Philly Cheese Steak and drinking a Dr. Pepper. I am here though, and doing awesome. The Canadians have all left, Kate off to Rwanda and Hayley to the great barren moose country known as Canada. In their place a group of five from Idaho (I shall refer to them as “the Idahoians” hence forth) have arrived to keep me company so the house was not empty for long. We went to the used clothing market last week, or as I named it afterwards, “The Place Where Thrift Stores Go To Die.” It was a huge outdoor market where literally anything that was not bought at the thrift stores (mainly European ones) ended up here. You would think that the clothes that didn’t make the cut abroad would be shabby and unwanted here, but let me just tell you, there were some gems in this market. I for one, found a nifty sweater vest for only a dollar, and I’ve already proclaimed myself the winner of the tacky sweater contest at this years Christmas party. It rained right before we got to the market and so it was mud as far as the eye could see, and half the battle of finding the little gems around the market was trying not to slip and fall. We lost one Idahohian to the mud, a causality of bargain shopping.

While everyone finished up their shopping I decided to be bold and go into a small outdoor restaurant at the entrance of the market to try some of the cooked goat that was being grilled. I didn’t actually know it was goat, I just assumed it was by the look of the meat hanging by the grill, but who can ever really tell what raw meat really is when it’s just hanging there. Come to find out, it wasn’t goat. It was a cow, but still delicious. I didn’t know exactly how to order it so I kind of just pointed at the grill and nodded at the guy cooking, and he pointed back at me, and nodded as well. No matter where you go, it’s universal that when a man points at grilled meat, another man knows exactly what he’s talking about.

            There’s no language barrier when it comes to cooked meat.

            And there’s no language barrier when it comes to stomachaches after eating foreign cooked meat, but I’ll leave it at that. I’d do it all over again I tell you!!

            I spent a couple days at the orphanage with the Idahoians over the last week. A lot of fun, as always, but there is one highlight that stands out from it that I just have to share. Throughout my 23 years of life I’ve noticed a correlation between the older I get and the chances of running into people who have never heard of the Beatles diminishing. The more years I put under my belt, the less likely it is I’ll meet someone who’s never heard of the Beatles, simple as that. That’s when Tanzania will surprise you. I brought my Ipod to the orphanage one day and was letting Christopher and Juma listen to some of the music on it so I could see what kind of music they have been exposed to. Michael Jackson seemed to be their favorite, and when I put on Billy Jean they both went a little crazy and almost pulled the headphones out when they wanted to dance to it. I stumbled across the Beatles though, and kind of half serious (figuring everyone had heard of the Beatles) I asked if they had ever heard of them.

            They said no.

            I was shocked, but a prime opportunity had just come out of this situation.

            I never thought the day would come when I would get to see the reaction on someone’s face when they heard the Beatles for the first time, but I did this day. I played Help and Come Together for Christopher and Juma, and the sight was priceless. Both their faces lit up and smiles ran across their faces, and they started bobbing their heads to it and tapping their feet to the music. Christopher even stood up and started air drumming with his fingers. The greatest rock band to ever live struck again in Tanzania, and it was a really kind of surreal, but awesome experience seeing it happen.

            The Beach Boys were a hit too.

            We visited Mary’s home village as well the other day. We had to drive on muddy dirt roads up into the foothills of Kilimanjaro to get to it, and I strategically positioned myself next to the van door so that just incase we went careening back down the mountain and the breaks failed I’d be able to jump out before any serious damage was done. I felt bad that that was my game plan the entire time, but I made it a point that as I was leaping out I would at least yell back to the car, “I’m sorry!” That way there would be no hard feelings between the Idahoians and me. We made it, obviously, but at least I had a contingency plan in place.

            When we made it to the village you could tell that the air was much thinner and cooler than what I’m accustomed too. We were basically almost up in the clouds, and the village was hidden amongst the banana trees and foliage. The village was small, and the houses were just one room rock and wood buildings. One building was the kitchen, not much bigger than a bathroom back home, and the living house wasn’t much bigger than the kitchen. There was no running water or electricity and it was crazy to think that people actually lived up there in almost isolation. Mary’s relatives and the other villagers were excited to see us, and were very welcoming. They showed us how to cut down a banana tree and gave us the bananas as a gift for the rice and flour that we brought with us. It was definitely something that I had never seen before, but of course, I found myself laughing at a private joke. As we walked through the village the Idahoians and myself were snapping pictures of all the houses and pictures of the villagers and I just couldn’t help but think, “What if people were doing this at my house?”

            I just pictured people showing up at my house and walking into my kitchen armed with cameras and being like, “Oh, this is your kitchen? Can I get a picture of it?” and walking down to the basement and seeing me watch TV and saying, “Oh, look at that. Kyle in his natural environment, we gotta snap a photo with him,” or just walking into my bedroom and giving me candy and taking a photo of my reaction to receiving it. I know we were just interested in how others lived, but I couldn’t help but crack up at the irony of it all.

Muzungu, I tell ya.

            Alright, that is all for now. I’m going to go try and negotiate a half priced hair cut since half the deed is already done.

            Mom, the clippers you bought are broken by the way, just in case you didn’t realize which ones I was referring to. My bad. But I learned a valuable lesson from it all and that’s what counts.

Happy Mother's Day as well!!

And all future guests will be greeted like so

           
And please, do not forget the fundraising page I created as well. Any little bit would help! Thank you!
http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/kyletaylor/kilimanjarofundraiserclimb

           

When it rains it pours here in Tanzania. It’s the start of the rainy season, and the name is aptly given. It’s pouring outside now, creating a steady drum against the roof of the house. I shaved the moustache, too. I gave up on trying to join the moustache club just to spite how sick I’ve felt lately. I’m convinced the moustache heard me talking about shaving it off and to get even it turned against me and made me feel under the weather the last couple of days. I showed it though.

            Before the shaving of the moustache though, I had a really great day at the orphanage last Saturday. Theresa, Hayley, Kate, Ema, and I all went there for the day and brought with us two bikes for the kids to ride and a bunch of beads so the kids could make jewelry. Ema and I had to go out for a little bit though to get air put in the tires, but once we got back I went outside and tried to teach some of the kids how to ride a bike. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually ridden a bike, but like the old saying goes, it came back naturally. I asked Gift if he had ever heard of the phrase, “Just like riding a bike,” and this was the response I got. 

            Teaching someone to ride a bike is a whole lot tougher than actually riding one I learned. At first I just tried running along with them, keeping them balanced and straight, but after a while I got pretty worn out from that. It wasn’t until Kate came out and gave them the instructions of push hard down on one pedal and then immediately do the same with the other did most of the kids start really getting the hang of it. Shabani and Juma were a big help though in the whole teaching process since they already knew how to ride, and so they actually showed a bunch of the kids how to ride better than I could. It was still exciting though seeing how happy learning to ride a bike made them. Gift ran up to me at one point and was jumping up and down yelling, “I love riding a bike!” I swear it took me longer to learn to ride a bike than it did with them, and I had training wheels to help, whereas they just had to hop on and give it their best shot. After helping with the bike riding we went inside and worked on a few letters for sponsors, and then the games really began.

            Here we have the events of the most epic game of red rover I’ve ever played. It was a riveting game. Back and forth teams were losing and gaining key players in the chain with every hard fought assault. Eliona began the game on our team, but then the chant rang out from the other team, “Red rover, red rover, send Eliona on over.” He was nervous, I could tell, but up for the challenge. Together, we inspected the opponents chain, looking for weaknesses and the best location for his attack.  After much deliberation, we sent him on his attack, all cheering behind him.

           

Alas, we lost a good man.

           

Back and forth the teams went. Grueling battles were won and lost, but then the chant began. It started off quiet, almost at a whisper. I was even uncertain as to if it was really happening, but then it all starting coming in clear, “Red rover, red rover, send Kyle on over.” They had made a dire mistake.

            I pointed out the spot of attack, calling my placement like the great Bambino.

            Still, I had to consult with the team. Strain was on all our faces, worried that I might not come back.            

We came up with a plan of attack.

Fear wins before the battle begins.

I charged headstrong into the enemy’s defenses. I could smell the fear, and it smelt like...

                                                              

                                                                         Victory.

           

We all walked a little taller after that day.

           

            After a long day with the kids and much sweat and tears shed in the Red Rover War, there was only one thing left to do…the next day of course, because I went right to bed as soon as we got home.

Hand wash my laundry from the past couple of weeks. I really appreciate washers and dryers now that’s for sure. By the end of it all I had blisters beginning to form on my hands from ringing out all the shirts and pants that I washed. I might just give up on doing laundry for the next 6 months if this is what it entails. In place of wearing my moustache with pride, I now substitute that caterpillar of fur with the dirt and grime of unwashed clothes. The decision has been made.

All in all a really good weekend. I went on my second hash on Sunday. We started off in Shantytown, a suburb of Moshi where more of the white families and wealthier residence reside, and ironically named as well. The hike was pretty simple, we started off walking through the neighborhood and then went into some more jungle covered areas where we had to avoid prickly bushes and thorns for a little bit, but then it turned into a nice stroll through some farmlands with some breathtaking views. Had another Serengeti at the end of it.

I’ll close this blog out though with a little promotional ad for myself. I’ve set up a fundraising page for an event that MAD is doing, The Kilimanjaro Fundraising Climb. Any donation would be greatly appreciated and will be going to a great cause so if you could just take a quick gander at it that would be awesome. Thanks!

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/kyletaylor/kilimanjarofundraiserclimb

A wise man once told me, “The wisest of men all have moustaches,” and since I was saying that to myself in the mirror it has to be true. Needless to say, I’ve got a wicked nice moustache going on right now. Moustaches and Tanzania, gotta have it.

The weekend has come and gone and I’ve entered my second week.

We spent Friday at the orphanage where Hayley and I helped Kate with a leadership training class with the kids. After an introduction where we had the kids list off the qualifications that leaders shared we went into different activities and games that were meant to be fun and informative for the kids. We started off with a lovely game of Simon Says, and I got to be the Simon. After not playing the game for a long time it was definitely harder than I remembered to give out commands, and at one point I just told them to say hello over and over again until I could think of something new to go with. In the end it was Christina who came out the champion. We moved outside after that and we introduced a game that originally was called Mingle, but quickly turned into being called Mango by the kids. Basically, everyone was told to “mingle” and walk around until the person leading it yelled out a number and the kids had to get into a group of whatever the number was. I felt like a mother duckling walking around to the say the least, because the kids all would slowly creep behind me or Hayley until the heard the number, and then regardless of what it was they would grab onto me or Hayley and scream and cheer…until they realized they didn’t have the right number and would start pushing kids out so they wouldn’t lose. All the while, I just stood there and let them figure it out, and in the end I always found myself to be the last man standing.

The kids didn’t know what mingle meant and thought we were saying mango, so they would walk around and act like they were eating mangos the entire time. That is how the game came to be called mango, and I remember seeing Benny marching around with big high steps and swinging his arms while taking huge bites out of an invisible mango and being so proud of himself for it and I was just cracking up.

We did a few more games with them, one in which they had to use scraps of paper and only materials that we gave them to build a nest for an egg that I dropped later on in the hopes that the nest would protect the egg from cracking. As we all know though, no egg is safe from the outstretched arm of Kyle, and they all broke. The kids weren’t sad though, more excited actually, and ran to the fire pit and started cooking all the egg yolks and made scrambled eggs. Then we had them do an obstacle course blindfolded and one of the other kids had to lead them through it, and afterwards we had them sit around and discuss everything we had done that day so that they could get the lessons from it.

All in all it was a really good day though, and I think the kids took a lot out of the lessons that Kate prepared for them.

Saturday we drove two hours to Arusha to go to a place called Shanga for a fancy lunch and a heritage center that they had there. I quietly sang to myself as we got in the van, “Arusha, Jamaica, oh I wanna take ya...” Except for the occasional gas station or row of shops the countryside was mainly just farmland. What was more amazing about it was the fact that the acres and acres of farmland that seemed to be everywhere was entirely worked by hand. There were no tractors or plows and the people were out there working it all themselves. Pretty remarkable.  Now I feel guilty for not wanting to mow the yard. My Dad’s reading this and briefly nodding his head like I’m actually going to mow it when I get home, but slowly realization is washing over him and he’s now shaking his head and laughing because he realizes that I’m not actually going to and I was only getting his hopes up so I could crush them immediately. J

…don’t cancel my return flight, please.  

Anywho, we arrived at Shanga and it was straight out of Alice and Wonderland. There was a large field with a tree offset the middle of it with a cushioned cage hanging from one of the limbs and lanterns around it. There were couches and tables set up all around for people to relax it and we were given champagne once we sat down. We had a three-course meal prepared for us: carrot stew to start, followed by samosas, a salad and barbeque main meal, followed by dessert and coffee at the end. It was all very good, and we were seated under a fancy hut like building while monkeys were scurried around and tried to steal food from the other tables and the waiters threw rocks at them to get them away. We were then given a tour of the area and found out that Shanga is actually an establishment for disabled people to find work recycling old glass bottles, tires, and fabric. The workers were all either mentally disabled, deaf, or mute and they took the crushed glass and melted it down to make glass beads for jewelry, vases and cups, plates, and what have you’s and what have you nots. They also spun their own fabric and designed their own clothes for sale and there was a shop that sold everything they made. The footpaths and grounds throughout the whole place were broken glass mixed with gravel (or vice versa, if that makes it seem safer) and from all of the trees hung the glass beads that they made, and walls of some of the huts were just glass bottles strung together. It was pretty surreal finding a place like that and not something I expected before I arrived. It was also neat the fact that the whole operation was run by the disabled and served as a place for them to find work and make a living.

                        …seriously, don’t cancel my flight

Because we spent so much time at Shanga, it got too late for us to head over to the heritage center like we had originally intended, so instead we went to a market in the center of the town that everyone called the Masai Market.

…almost had a panic attack while we were there, but then I kept my composure. You gotta keep your composure. 

It was very overwhelming being there because it was just rows of shops and it was non-stop all the shop owners trying to usher you into their stores to look at what they had. Once you walked out of one another owner was there saying hello and trying to bring you into their store, and some of the times when you were in there they made it very difficult for you to leave. A rule of thumb Theresa told us before going in there though was, “Whatever price they give you, try and go down to half that,” because they immediately raise the price because you are Mazungu (white person). I was only planning on just walking around and seeing what all they had because I wasn’t planning on buying souvenirs this early in the trip, but I realized after the first few shops that everything in each of them was exactly the same. So, every time I got ushered into a new shop it was all the same thing that I saw in the last, but because they were so persistent in getting you in there I felt like I had to go in only to have to explain again why I didn’t want to buy anything. By the end of it I just had to go stand by the car because it was too overwhelming, but at least I got my first taste of what it was like so I won’t be as shocked the next time I go.

They kept trying to sell me a spear? The reasoning behind it, “None of you Americans have spears.” Touché sir.

Had a bit of a language barrier incident the other day too.

Hayley and I were on a dalladalla heading back from the orphanage and it quickly became apparent that the conductor did not speak any English, and was not in a good mood. The language barrier became apparent after he asked me for the fare and I told him that we had paid the other conductor, so I just looked away and considered the matter closed. He tapped me again a minute later with his hand out and kept gesturing that we still owed him money. I kept telling him we had paid, but he really didn’t get what I was saying so I just kept pointing at his friend until the guy finally turned around and asked him, at which point he turned back to me and said something else and everyone else in the dalladalla laughed…except me, because I missed the joke.

The conductor was angry the entire time and I could tell that much because he was yelling about something and using angry hand movements, but hand gestures aside it became truly apparent when a local lady in a red dress next to me said, “He’s angry.” I asked about what and she just laughed and said, “Everything,” which gave me a little chuckle. It was tough though sitting there and neither of us had any idea what either was saying and I just kind of had to laugh about it. Somebody on the bus had to tell the guy when we needed to get off because my English just wasn’t going to cut it.

I did trade Hayley for a Canadian two-dollar coin, a twoonie, if you will, because I figured when is a better time to amount my fortune of foreign currency that I won’t ever get to use than here in Tanzania. Cool coin though. I’m going to try and trade currency with all the people who come and stay at the house in the future so at the end of this I kind of have proof of all the different cultures I got to live with. I’m running low on ones though, don’t really want to start trading 20’s so I might just have to do it the old American way and politely ask for things. 

So far, I’ve read two books and going into a third. I read 50 Shades of Grey (meh) an the first book in the Game of Thrones series (awesome) and I’m starting into the second book already. When you have no television or Internet, why not read, and it’s been nice actually being able to. 

I’ve been having cravings for bacon lately…the good news is, unlike my Dr. Pepper cravings, I can go to a butcher and get a slab of pig and cut my own if it really comes down to it. I’ll keep ya posted on if I acquire bacon at any point, and at least now you’ll know how that came to pass.

So, my first full week in Tanzania has finally come to a close and already I’m having a great time.

On Sunday I went on something called “Hashing,” where a group meets every two weeks and goes on a hike together. The group is primarily composed of white people who live in the local area, but they are from all around the world. There were French, Spanish, Dutch, white Africans (I know, threw me off too), Canadians, and people from all over taking part. Hashing is basically, every two weeks the group meets, and the person who is leading the hike goes out before everyone else gets there and drops handfuls of flour along a trail that they create. At each fork in the trail they make a big X, or hash (hence the hashing) on the ground and you have to decide which way the trail goes by seeing if there is flour along the path you choose. And then at the end of the hike there are coolers of beer and food for everyone to sit around and enjoy and talk. The local beer is not bad at all either, I had one called Serengeti. The scenery was beautiful though, we walked through farms where locals were out in the fields working and then down into a river basin where a bunch of cows and goats were being herded and all the while the mountains and Kiliminjaro were in the background.

In total the hike was about 6.4km, so I’m told. And yes, I have to learn the metric system since apparently the U.S. is the only place that doesn’t use it. Everything is in liters, Celsius, and kilometers down here. So, when I was told it was 22 degrees outside you can imagine how shocked I was at first. 

I was in the office Monday morning and into the afternoon before we went back to the house for lunch. The office is about a 30 minute walk from the house and we go through downtown Moshi to get to it, and I’ll say the first Swahili I had to learn was “Hapana Asante” which means “No thank you,” because everyone tries selling something to you as you walk through town. I did hear my first ever Muslim call to prayer on the way to the office too, since half the population here is Muslim.

We went to the orphanage though for the first time and I got to meet the kids and they are AWESOME. I was nervous when I first got there because I didn’t know what to expect, but they walked right up to me and introduced themselves very formally and politely. They were all smiles and energetic and after they saw me pull out a bag of Dum Dums they were even more so. At one point I used the word “y’all” when talking to Mwenda, one of the older kids, and he just stared at me dumbfounded. I forget not everyone says it, as a matter of fact, for the first time in my life I’m surrounded by people who never use it so that’s weird. We spent the afternoon with them and read and played in the yard and it was just a neat and humbling how excited they were over a new person and a few new toys they got from sponsors. I gave out a lot of high fives because hip kids deserve high fives. They also said pizza was their favorite food, but they never get it…you know what I’m getting at Mellow Mushroom. Mail it.

The food here, which will surprise my Mom, is actually really good. Each morning we usually have passion fruit (which is my new favorite fruit), avocado, eggs with green peppers and onions, and fresh whole grain bread with peanut butter and jelly. The coffee here is probably the best I’ve ever had. Lunch and dinner are usually local dishes, if I could remember the names I’d tell you, but it’s usually a lot of corn based things, rice, chicken, spinach, and salads. We’ve had banana stew a couple nights and one night we had Mexican, which was a surprise, but it was fresh salsa and beans with tortillas. It’s all very good and there isn’t anything I haven’t liked.

The two Canadian girls I live with, Hayley and Kate, are very nice and fun to live with, but I do feel bad at times when I talk about Chik-Fil-A and Zaxby’s and they have no idea what I’m talking about. They don’t say aboot, which is peculiar.

Cold showers are not as bad as I thought either, especially when it’s 90 degrees and humid outside. And not having air conditioning…. I’ll get used to it. I haven’t been sleeping that well lately though, just because I’m still adjusting to the time zone shift and I keep waking up throughout the night and only sleeping a few hours at a time. Oh, well.

One of the most surprising things that I’ve seen down here are the stars and how I didn’t think before I left that there would be different constellations than from back home. I haven’t seen the big dipper at all since I’ve been here, and you know what, I kind of miss the big guy, I took it for granted and now I’m sorry. You can see so many stars out here, especially out near the orphanage where there aren’t many lights around at all.

I rode a daladala for the first time, that was a cultural experience right there. Daladala’s are their form of busses here, and they’re basically just vans that stuff as many people inside of them as possible. While they’re driving down the road a person hangs out the window and yells out where the bus is heading, and if anyone on the side of the road waves them down they will pull over quickly, stuff them into the van, and be off again in a matter of seconds. Personal space isn’t as respected here as it is back home, so it’s not uncommon for people to be almost sitting in your lap when it’s really packed in tight. Before I actually rode a daladala I had no idea what to expect and was nervous about getting on one, but now I realize there’s actually a system and order to the entire operation, and it wasn’t as bad as I previously thought.   

Still haven’t ridden a lion…one day.

Swahili…let me tell you about Swahili. For some reason I keep wanting to speak Spanish to the locals instead of Swahili, and I don’t really know why. Every time I’m about to try and practice Swahili with them all that pops into my head are Spanish phrases and they just don’t know what any of them mean. Also, when I actually do speak Swahili it sounds Japanese to me, so every now and then at the end of a sentence I’ll quietly say, “Hi” (picture an Asian person saying it and it’ll make sense) to myself. I get a chuckle out of it. AND since I can’t speak Swahili, whenever a conversation is taking place in Swahili around me I make up my own conversation of what they’re saying in my head. I really get a kick out of that, too. I’m learning slowly though, I have lessons about twice a week with Ema and he helps me with a lot of the vocab and phrases.

Sorry for the long post, but it’s only because everything is new right now so I feel like I have a lot to tell. I don’t really know who I’m apologizing to specifically though, I guess it’s more of a general apology. It’s just out there. I don’t actually mean it, if we’re being honest here. 

…send Dr. Pepper

Have no fear, I'm here.
I've made it to Tanzania after a long and sort of grueling flight. The first leg to Amsterdam was pretty bad because the guy sitting next to me didn't speak English very well and so I didn't really know how to make the hand gesture for peeing so what can you do. I did watch four movies though so can't complain. The second leg of the flight though was awesome because I got an entire row in the very back of the plane to myself so I just laid down and tried to sleep for most of it. I would have slept better if this little kid an aisle over didn't keep grabbing my toes.I watched Meet the Parents at one point though, and they actually edited out the bomb on a plane scene at the end which I guess is appropriate. Enough about the flight though.

When I got off the plane at about 8:30pm local time it was still 80 degrees outside and just as humid as it was in Georgia. The airport was essentially just one runway and we walked down stairs that pulled up to the plane doors. No problems going through customs, I paid my entrance and filled out the paper work and that was that. The Make a Difference Now organization had a driver pick me up at the airport with a sign with my name on it so that was neat because that's never happened before.

They drive on the left side of the road here, and from the looks of it they have no traffic laws, stop signs, or stop lights. We were flying down the road and passing vehicles left and right and at one point I swear I saw a lion on the side of the road that looked suspiciously like a donkey. I got to the house in one piece though and it's very nice and I have my own room, but I am sleeping on a bunk bed. There's no air conditioning, but I do have a fan. There is no hot water though, but the cold showers are actually refreshing.
It's all very beautiful here and I'll talk more about it later, but seeing as how I've only been here less than a day I don't feel like I can talk about it. So, that's it for now.

They don't have Dr. Pepper here btw....