It was almost like getting a warm welcome-home-hug when I arrived in Kenya after a long sleepless night travelling from Qatar to Nairobi. It was a night filled with too many airplane meals and a heavy load of homesickness. I arrived weary and drained in Nairobi with tears still stinging my eyes. I filled out my visa application and waited in line. I walked up to the counter and handed over my papers and passport.
“How long are you staying in Kenya, madam?”
“No longer than 30 days, sir”
“Well, I’m giving you a visa for three months and you’re not allowed to leave before it expires”, said the man handling my papers with a big smile and a laugh. “Welcome to Kenya, madam, I hope you enjoy your stay”.
Could Kenya give a better first impression? Absolutely not! I walked out to collect my bags and went to figure out how on earth I could make my way into Nairobi. I was called over by a smiling man in a transportation booth who wondered if I was in need of a taxi, which obviously I was. I told him where I needed to go and he gave me a price. Still being skeptic by nature after a month in India I was certain he was ripping me off based on my skin color and my ragged backpacker-look. I dismissed his offer as overprized and with no further a due pulled out my new Bible, the LP East Africa. To my surprise the price they had listed for a taxi from the airport to the city centre was higher than what I had been offered, and I felt extremely stupid when I looked up at the man, who was still smiling, and had to admit that he had given me a good prize. The deal was made and I gave the exact address to where my hostel was located. It turned out that this was a distance outside the centre which would cost more, but the friendly gentlemen decided to overlook this small detail. He thereafter walked me out to my taxi, introduced me to my driver and welcomed me to Kenya. My driver turned out to be a very chatty and pleasant man, and the 40 minute drive was over before I knew it.
I arrived at the hostel and was once again greeted by a Kenyan with a big smile which beams of friendliness and warmth. She helped me settle in a dorm before she gave me a tour of the premises which included the bar, the leopard-draped lounge area and the “watchdog” Scooby who prefers a belly-rub. She finished off by saying: “Welcome to Kenya, and make yourself at home”.
My homesickness faded as my heart grew fonder of Kenya and its ppl. Maybe the reason is as simple as it seems; that it hasn’t really faded but has been satisfied. Because I did very much feel at home after just a few hours, and I have ever since.
Looks like I may have found a third home in Kenya
21 December 2010
08 December 2010
Three days of sanity
“You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone”. Nothing could be truer, I’ve concluded, after spending three months away from home. Therefore spending three days in Doha, Qatar has been as close to home as it gets – at least for now. It’s a breather betwixt and between past-chaos (India) and expected to be chaos (Africa).
Words cannot start to describe how wonderful and almost foreign it felt to be in a country where things actually function in a known structure and system. Where the cars drive on the right (in double sense) side of the road, are equipped with seatbelts and only use their horns to wake up a driver who has fallen asleep on a red light or to signalize to the pedestrian wandering in the middle of the road that this is its territory and he better get out of the way. What I normally would have considered noisy traffic was now close to silence. No trash flooding the streets, ppl are not staring at you as if you were from Mars and therefore not stumbling over the none-existing garbage lying around and credit cars are widely accepted. You can also look completely lost and even pull out a map trying to orient yourself without anyone offering you assistance (ahh, just like home), whereas in India before you even knew you were lost everyone else seemed to have picked up on it and were gathering around you wanting not only to point you in the right direction, but actually follow you all the way. The only thing giving away that I’m not as home as I feel I am, are the long white robes the men are wearing and that I hardly see any women (literally due to their completely black covering outfits). Also the minarets towering into the air – amongst the enormous futuristic skyscrapers – tells me that I’m still quite a distance from home.
Doha actually had a Floridian feel to it with the SUVs being the king of the road, palm trees wherever you look, warm climate, ppl constantly exercising and no pedestrian crossing (all the pedestrians are in a SUV). It is also a city where business and money flow, and there are ppl from all over the world having business lunches dressed in their suits and ties in the staggering Qatari heat. Thou some seemed to have found the perfect solution, much to my amusement. In the middle of the waterfront park there were several businessmen in their black suits sitting on blankets in the shade either working on their computer (free wi-fi park) or talking on the phone. I had to admit that it wasn’t a bad idea and decided to join them the next day, thou I left the suit-part out of it. Also, the car brands are luxurious and I was more likely to spot a brand new Mercedes, Lexus, Cadillac or Porsche than any other car.
The days in Doha were much needed and well spent. I slept in and ate late breakfasts (that meaning 9 am), enjoyed having a king-size bed with soft and clean sheets, watched BBC and finally felt updated on the world. I spent most of the days in souq waqif (the old market place) where I drank great coffee, smoked apple hookah and watched ppl and the world go by. I even got an educational boost thanks to a random Swede I ran into. I feel reenergized after a Western boost and a few days of luxury.
Bring it on, Africa!
Words cannot start to describe how wonderful and almost foreign it felt to be in a country where things actually function in a known structure and system. Where the cars drive on the right (in double sense) side of the road, are equipped with seatbelts and only use their horns to wake up a driver who has fallen asleep on a red light or to signalize to the pedestrian wandering in the middle of the road that this is its territory and he better get out of the way. What I normally would have considered noisy traffic was now close to silence. No trash flooding the streets, ppl are not staring at you as if you were from Mars and therefore not stumbling over the none-existing garbage lying around and credit cars are widely accepted. You can also look completely lost and even pull out a map trying to orient yourself without anyone offering you assistance (ahh, just like home), whereas in India before you even knew you were lost everyone else seemed to have picked up on it and were gathering around you wanting not only to point you in the right direction, but actually follow you all the way. The only thing giving away that I’m not as home as I feel I am, are the long white robes the men are wearing and that I hardly see any women (literally due to their completely black covering outfits). Also the minarets towering into the air – amongst the enormous futuristic skyscrapers – tells me that I’m still quite a distance from home.
Doha actually had a Floridian feel to it with the SUVs being the king of the road, palm trees wherever you look, warm climate, ppl constantly exercising and no pedestrian crossing (all the pedestrians are in a SUV). It is also a city where business and money flow, and there are ppl from all over the world having business lunches dressed in their suits and ties in the staggering Qatari heat. Thou some seemed to have found the perfect solution, much to my amusement. In the middle of the waterfront park there were several businessmen in their black suits sitting on blankets in the shade either working on their computer (free wi-fi park) or talking on the phone. I had to admit that it wasn’t a bad idea and decided to join them the next day, thou I left the suit-part out of it. Also, the car brands are luxurious and I was more likely to spot a brand new Mercedes, Lexus, Cadillac or Porsche than any other car.
The days in Doha were much needed and well spent. I slept in and ate late breakfasts (that meaning 9 am), enjoyed having a king-size bed with soft and clean sheets, watched BBC and finally felt updated on the world. I spent most of the days in souq waqif (the old market place) where I drank great coffee, smoked apple hookah and watched ppl and the world go by. I even got an educational boost thanks to a random Swede I ran into. I feel reenergized after a Western boost and a few days of luxury.
Bring it on, Africa!
06 December 2010
A touch of home
After finishing yet another book I ended up going hunting for a new one, even thou I had made up my mind not to buy one until I got to Qatar. But as the minutes passed and I had read the main sections about Eastern Africa and Kenya in my Lonely Planet book, I understood that there was no postponing it and I popped into the first book store I could find.
Not knowing what I wanted to read I scanned the shelves to see if my eyes landed upon something that might catch my attention. And they did. It wasn’t a book I was looking for or a book I wanted to read for that matter, but a book that you seldom find amongst all its big brothers. It was the Lonely Planet Norway. I took it down to do some further investigation on what these ppl seeing Norway inside from the outside had to say about it.
I read thru the introduction and took a quick stop by Kristiansand which made me chuckle with amusement. As I kept flicking I eventually stopped at the small selection of pictures the book provides. There were pictures from Ålesund, stavkirken, Lofoten, bryggen in Bergen and many others. I turned another page and was faced with a close-up picture of Nidarosdomen. As my fingers ran across the picture I could almost feel myself standing in front of it looking up at the enormous cathedral from that exact angle like I’ve done many times. To my surprise I felt a tear on my cheek.
I guess the heart longs for home, thou the mind seek adventures
Not knowing what I wanted to read I scanned the shelves to see if my eyes landed upon something that might catch my attention. And they did. It wasn’t a book I was looking for or a book I wanted to read for that matter, but a book that you seldom find amongst all its big brothers. It was the Lonely Planet Norway. I took it down to do some further investigation on what these ppl seeing Norway inside from the outside had to say about it.
I read thru the introduction and took a quick stop by Kristiansand which made me chuckle with amusement. As I kept flicking I eventually stopped at the small selection of pictures the book provides. There were pictures from Ålesund, stavkirken, Lofoten, bryggen in Bergen and many others. I turned another page and was faced with a close-up picture of Nidarosdomen. As my fingers ran across the picture I could almost feel myself standing in front of it looking up at the enormous cathedral from that exact angle like I’ve done many times. To my surprise I felt a tear on my cheek.
I guess the heart longs for home, thou the mind seek adventures
04 December 2010
Thali
I went to see a movie in Mumbai and when it was done it was about dinner time and I was starting to get hungry. I knew I would pass several restaurants along the way back to the hotel, so I didn’t see the need to go out of my way to find a decent place to eat. I walked by several places that didn’t look tempting, but ended up stopping at a place which was filled with mostly Indians, but I could also spot some white heads amongst the Indians. The place looked quite nice and I feared that it would turn out to be pricy. I found a table in the AC section upstairs which was filled with the same mix of ppl. I almost feel overwhelmed when I see the Indian menus because there are usually somewhere close to 200 dishes to choose from and the combinations even more numerous. I thought I’d make it simple and go with a dinner thali, which to my surprise was no more than Rs 100 (14 NOK). Little did I know that this was going to be my highlight mealwize in India.
When they brought the platter out my facial expression must have given away my surprise since the waiter asked me in an uncertain tone “Ma’am, this was what you ordered, right?” I nodded and smiled. Before me was a huge round plate with nine small bowls on it. In the middle lay a papadum and a spare place arrived with three rotis. Before I could get started yet to more bowls arrived. The dishes consisted of one curd, one soup, one sweet, one fruit salad, one mix veg salad, two masalas, one curry, one dal, one paneer, rice palau, papadum and rotis. Needless to say the dish was huge and I had no idea where to start.
I gave everything a taste and for every bite I took the more frustrated I got. It all tasted so wonderful and I couldn’t believe that I was sitting eating alone with no-one to express my joy to. I felt like singing, chatting and laughing which would have complemented such a great meal perfectly. The waiters kept looking at me trying to decide whether I was displeased or stunned speechless by the taste of my food. The more I ate the more annoyed I got because I wouldn’t be able to finish even half of the meal. There was so much food and even thou I was hungry, I’d had to skip lunch and coffee if I would stand any chance of finishing the thali. Also I wished that I had my camera with me (not allowed to bring to movies so I left it at the hotel) to capture and savor this wonderful meal to show and tell and as a heavenly memory. I paid and chewed on the mouth-cleansing combination of aniseeds and sugar which they usually give you when you pay the check. I’ll bring my camera tomorrow because I’m coming back.
I needn’t worry about where to have dinner the following days, which are also my last days in India. Why change a winning team?
02 December 2010
The country that defies understanding
The days go by so fast and my days in India are coming to an end. It’s been four long, strange and interesting weeks filled with every emotion possible. I have cried out of frustration and sadness, I have laughed off and with India. I have questioned the world I know and been grateful that I can return to it. I’ve been embarrassed over my ignorance and enlightened by ppls effort and willingness to teach and guide me. I’ve been amazed by ppls persistence and perseverance, alas also angry and annoyed at the exact same things. I’ve cursed, yelled and insulted Indians; I’ve complimented, embraced and honored Indians. More than once have I been frightened, but every time have I been brought to safety. More than anything else have I been overwhelmed and stunned in shock, amazement and disbelief. India is hard to put into words and utterly impossible to explain. After visiting India I’m certain everyone has a small lump in their stomach and a fraction of their heart filled with feelings which cannot be put into words, only experienced. One of the books I’ve read, Holy Cow, is spot on in describing this exact problem:
“[…] foreigners attempting to figure out India. I’m beginning to think it’s pointless to try. India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It’s rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It’s all the extremes. India defies understanding.”
For this reason it seems like there won’t be a lot of blog posts about India (that’s at least how I see it at the moment). Maybe a couple of days rest in Qatar will let me start processing it and something solid and grasping might come out of it.
At the moment, this is all there is to say.
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