Mail Race Updates and Such

OK, I found out that I can still recieve mail/packages at the old address:

Turkmenistan, Ashgabat 744000
Merkezi Pocta
Abonent 258 Krugozor
Parahatcylyk Korpusy/Turkmenistan
Katheryne Kramer, PCV
Turkmenistan

If its something you really want me to recieve, you are marginally better off sending it to Ashgabat.

Otherwise:

Afghanistan 1
USA 1

My dad sends letters via the APO and through the local Afghan systems on the same day. Afghanistan beat USA the first time around by 5 days. The second letter arrived from America first. He must write again for the tie break.

Africa is still holding strong, although sans packages. I am told not to worry overmuch, as a package recently arrived here nine years late. I got a bonanza of letters last week and want to say a GIANT thank you to the following people who rocked my socks.

Howard and Nora
Mummy
Daddy
Uncle David
Kathy
Anna
Anne
Kat
Norm
Father Keenan

Making those connections is amazing! Its also the end of PST and tomorrow I will be sworn in as a real peace corps volunteer. More letters to get me through what everyone swears will be the longest three months of my life...alone in my site and dealing with life in Turkmen.

New Address

Turkmenistan
Mary Welyaty, Mary Saheri
Merkezi Pocta, Abonent 24
Parahatcylyk korpusynyn Meyletinciler
Kramer, Katheryne

WRITE ME LETTERS. Make my life

Oh, and the 9 cool things post...probably not going to be finished

if you are at all interested in them, send me a letter!

Just Because I've Been Silent Doesn't Mean Nothings Been Happening

So, just about every small village in kenya has an enterprising young man with a 10 year old laptop and a wireless signal. This is decidedly not the case in Turkmenistan where communications are just getting off the ground. But, as the title suggests, exciting things are happening here.

1. I got my permanent site. I am in Mary Velyat (google Merv) in a town called Nyyazow (formerly lenin, but we're not red anymore). I work at a house of health that has its own little childrens hospital and birthing room. So far it seems like a good deal. I also have a pretty chill family, and I am moving up in the peace corps world. I still have an outhouse, but I've got a real shower, hot water from a boiler, a washing machine (no dryer...bummer), and a sauna. Really, a sauna. It is a wood panelled room with three levels of benches, a natural gas heater surrounded by stones...its a sauna. Although, my family uses it to dry shoes and clothes. They will be given some cross cultural education on that.

I spent most of last week (wednesday-monday) in Mary getting to know where I will live, work, and function for the next two years. It was strange to be out of Yalkym and by myself. I didn't speak English from Wednesday morning until Sunday, and my Turkmen is really not that good. So it goes. There was a lot of charades going on.

On Sunday we bonded with the rest of the Mary volunteers, and they showed us the useful sights (American corners where internet lives, bars, and restaurants). They seem like a pretty good group, as are of course those of my group who are going.

2. Returned to Yalkym to a family that is amazingness personified. And, exciting family going-ons were happening. there was a saddakah and a new baby, both of which required much festivities and goats dying. One took place last night in Ashgabat which means I have a sweet hour on the internet before my Hub day. I love handy little coincidences.

Ipod Flash Drive Failure or 9 cool things KTs done in Turkmenistan

So, still the ipod doesn't want to do its thing. Thats fine. I will try to write it from memory, or as close as I can. Here are 9 COOL THINGS KTS DONE IN TURKMENISTAN in no particular order.

1. Death Moo: My family a few weeks ago slaughtered a cow. I am way closer to my food here than I have every been before. So, back to the cow slaughter. I got to help (in that sort of way that a two year old helps to bake a cake. I mostly cleaned up). It began the day before with the digging of a giant pit for the cows blood because we are in a muslim country here. Then the morning of, (vegetarians might want to go to peta.org now) the cow was trussed up and its throat cut. I did not actually witness the death blow because I am a woman and according to Turkmen supersition, seeing the cow die would cause infertility. I did hear the death moo though. And, I learned several important things, namely that a cow has large stomachs and an amazingly large portion of the cow is edible, despite my thoughts to the contrary. Since death moo, though we've had more meat and more things cooked in beef fat. I'm not above steak; bring on the next cow. (Actually I think the next death will either be our thanksgiving turkey or a ram that will be killed for a muslim holiday in december.)

2. Toys: Turkmen love having a party. I have been to a party for the purchase of a new car, for the return of a relative from the army, for the 41st day since the death of a relative, and for weddings. Weddings are a big deal here, and generally a rocking good time. Here is the break down of most of the weddings that I have attended. Hour 1 is spent testing the band, deciding if we like it, and waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. Hours 2-3 are spent on food. Wedding food goes all out. There are delicious plates of russian salads, bread, sodas, olives, and cookies. Also, usually stuffed peppers or cabbage leaves. Delicious all of it. Hours 4-5 are dancing. Wedding bands and singers can be like rock stars, and weddings are their concerts. I lack the graceful delicacy of most turkmen dance steps, and I have a terrible propensity toward a hip swing (not cool here), but I have a good time. Also when you dance, they hand out hand towels, plastic bags, fly swatters, and occasionally money. Yay for party favors that are actually useful!

OK, so running out of time on the computer so the other 7 cool things I've done in turkmenistan will have to wait, but a sneak preview: 3) Kow Ata, 4) Garasslyk, 5)Freedom 6)ECA 7)Technical Training 8)Other People 9)Something Else that I will remember later.

Oh, and for those who are interested: Kate and Noah are the best site mates ever and Lale greatest most adorable teacher on earth.

Things to Send

There has been some mentino of fun and exciting things that I will need from the states. I am keeping a list on the right of the blog of things that will be useful and if people want to send them, great. Otherwise letters and best wishes are the best thing ever.

Disclaimer

last post irrelevant as i moved my disclaimer to be more prominent

Prominent Disclaimer

Please scroll down to the bottom of the page to read my prominent disclaimer and take note

Slowly Updating and Early Mail Race Results

There will be a much longer and indepth post of my life and times in turkmenistan when I can figure out how to get my Ipod to be a flash drive. But lots of cool stuff has happened. There have been weddings, cow slaughters, bat guano, and beer! Stay tuned.

Thanks to everyone who wrote to me, and please keep doing it. Letters make my life. We sit around at our site and read them to each other. It is nice to know that somewhere in the world, two weeks before someone sat down and thought of me. I am loved in the world.

On to mail race results: Nigeria is the surprise front runner. 8 days from lagos to Ashgabat. Freaking weird. Kenya averages about 10 days, so does most places from the states. I still havent recieved any packages and I am pretty sure that I was supposed to have a few. Anyway, keep sending stuff.

Turkmeni Where?!?!?!?!

I am writing from Turkmenistan, from the peace corps office which is basically the only time I will get internet for the next few months (next three months to be exact). I am mostly at my training site, which is a crazy small village. (I dodge and angry sheep on my way to the outhouse.)

Langauge is still slowly coming and increasinly frustrating. I have the skills of a drunken mongoose at the best of times, but my host family has the patience of many many saints. They seem to get that the American is a little bit "special" and needs to be coddled. I am definatly outclassed by both my host sisters, given that I can't get a full bucket of water out of the well. I also can't mix dough properly, wash my clothes, or generally anything else that makes turkmen women the "pearls of the east."

Of particular note, I slightly illegally went to the bazaar with my family. Peace Corps didn't want us to go. But i bought some material for my koinek (traditional dress with rockin' awesome embroidery around the collar). The bazaar was crazy. There were russians, Iranians, and carpets that spill out of stalls. I was in way over my head, but it was pretty cool.

Otherwise all is good. WRITE ME LETTERS

Welcome to Miami...

Its that crazy time when I feel like something has ended and something else has not yet started. I'm in a mixed up world of limbo, purgatory, and Elysium fields with a frightening mix of Target thrown in. Its weird to shop for things to need in a place I've never been. I decided to buy sharpie pens, but did not take the jumbo box of dryer sheets.

I've mostly just been drifting with my sister for the past few days. I want to go back to college where the most difficult challenge of the day is where to find 3 more girls to play intermural dodgeball. I know I am selling my sister short because she is amazing and is one of those people who does absolutely everything and then some (currently she is an active member of 3 intramural teams, is an engineering major, works at the gym, tutors calculus, and still has time to train puppies), but I'm feeling nalstalgic for college. It was a place I understand, though it would be strange to still be there when all my friends have moved on.

I'm off to New Jersey tomorrow for some extended family bonding. I will be in the city on Tuesday (probably sipping mango mojitos at Papillon with Mikey if anyone cares to join) Then its off to DC on the 27th in preparation for Peace Corps craziness.

The Speedy Forces of the Bureaucrat

Peace Corps just sent out a little e-mail detailing what I should do to ensure my mail gets to me during training. It is however different than what they sent out earlier this summer, so everyone who is getting the awesomely nifty change of address card has it slightly wrong. If you want the correct address, e-mail me or check it out on Facebook.

Born in the USA

Actually the title of this post is a lie. I was not born in the USA, but coming back is still a real homecoming. I am currently at la casa fenbine, where I share surrogate daughter responsibilities with my sister. It is also a reassuring stop off before peace corps because the fen of Fenbines was Peace Corps Venezuela with my father. They have been amazonian river rafters, compatriots and good friends for longer than I've been alive. Its impressive and a strong reminder of the good things I can get out of this experience are worth it.

Now I am off to do battle with the bureacrats fo of the world. I have a machete to cut through red tape, so I have high hopes. The schedule for my stateside stay is DC today, Shepherdstown and Miami tomorrow, NYC on the 24th, and back to DC on the 27th. Turkmenistan on October 3.

Oh and Kenya had a promising start on the mail races. it took less than a week for a package to go from Nairobi to California. I will have to stop insulting the Kenyan postal system.

I Miss the Rains Down in Africa

Toto was half right with his song. I will definately miss Africa generally and Kenya specifically, although I could have done without the weeklong thunderstorms. But I am leaving tonight, perhaps forever or until I can find a way to come back again. It is time for new adventures and insanities.

I celebrated my bon voyage in proper expatriateness with Hilary, who I will thank endlessly for being in Nairobi, being a friend, having gentleman callers, and our shared obsession with Jack. (She also gave me some mystery CDs to get me though Turkmenistan). Friday was a rocking evening at Havanas where we stumbled into the SA versus England Rugby Match. For the Americanos amoung us, the Rugby World Cup, which is kind of a big deal, is ongoing. New Zealand are the strong favorites, but SA did it in '94, so I have high hopes. The beers were excellent, the crowd loud and rowdy, and victory to the RSA. It was actually an anihillation (20 something to zero).

Saturday was a proper night on the town. Mercurys to start because we like to pretentd we are swanky and classy. They also make an excellent Manhattan Jack with bitters. Too fabulous for words and its pink. Then we went to Gypsies because boxes of bars can never be a bad thing. We ran into macedonians and generally made a ruccus of ourselves before heading to Casas. I will miss sheesha bars, bonfires, and sandpits. Lenana road is definately where its at.

So, I'm off to pack my carry on bag, get a last supper (Sierras), and leave on a jet plane. Little tragedy to be sure.

Ciao Kenya and Farewell Nairobi

Mail Races:

This is largely just a shameless ploy to get addresses of friends and family, but also for my own amusement. I am planning to race mail to see how fast mail gets from turkmenistan to various points across the globe. So far destinations are kenya, uganda, ethiopia, USA, and potentially Nepal. There will be no prizes other than the joy of recieving an actual piece of mail (you know with a stamp).

If you want to compete, please send me your address at katheryne.kramer@gmail.com

Matatus, Pedestrians, and Exhausters, Oh My

I have never driven in the first world, and i am terrified of what to do in a situation where you simply trust that everyone will drive according to the rules at 70 miles per hour. Driving in Kenya requires an incredibly cynical nature. You must take as given than no one has insurance, a driver liscense, their vision, or brakes.

The most violent offenders are the matatus. These are 14 seater vans that barrel along predetermined routes, racing to collect the greatest number of passengers. It is not atypical to see a matatu cut across two lanes of traffic and then immediately stop. They also tend to drive with their indicator lights (sometimes even their hazard lights) on all the time. I am assuming it is to warn other drivers that they may pull over unexpectedly.

The indicator light is another of my pet peeves in African driving. It indicates many things, but rarely does it indicate an actual turn. As i mentioned, the matatus constantly indicate a turn, but it becomes irrelevant after a while. You have to look ahead to see a possible passenger to figure out where and when they will turn. Many drivers use an indicator light to indicate that you may pass them; however, other drivers use it to indicate the reverse. I've also been behind a truck that used his hazards whenever he pressed the brakes, because his brakelights were out. It took me a while and a near collision to figure that one out.

Riding a New Wave

My first experience with couchsurfing involved neither my own couch nor my own surfer. I was staying with a friend in DC, crashing on her couch. She went to work, casually saying, "oh, and if a french guy with a backpack comes. Let him in. He's my couchsurfer." Ummmmm...Whatever I thought and watched yesterday's rerun of the daily show. Sometime later that afternoon Juls shows up. He is French and does have a backpack. Washington DC is his first stop on a 5 week cross country train trip. Lauren's other roommates showed up and decided that every frenchman needs to eat proper southern barbeque with hot sauce until your eyes water. So we all piled into cars and went to Rockland. At Rocklands Juls tried chili potato salad, briskit, and the ubiqitous rice crispies treat. Fine dining to be sure.

I was hooked on the idea of couchsurfing. There is something great about someplace where someone, especially a stranger, is waiting for you. There is a undeniably a level of sketch to it. Strange people connect with you over the internet (Music from the twilight zone plays onminously in the background), and they stay in you house/apartment/cardboard box under the interstate overpass. Explaining the security was a big selling point to my mother, who graciously agreed to let me host travelers this summer (yay for mommys). Mostly its on you to read profiles carefully and question references. But I've been a member since the middle of June, and I have hosted about 12 people and shown 4 or 5 others around Nairobi.

In terms of being a host, there really is no better place than Nairobi. It is everyone's transit point and nobody's destination. This basically means I never have to worry about the length of time people will stay with me. Everyone is always too excited about safaris and trips to the coast to bother too much with Nairobi. This is also good because most of worth seeing in Nairobi as a tourist can be done in a day and a half. (Nairobi is a great place to live, and a good place to visit if you have access to a car.) It is doubly good for hosting because the kind of people who spend their holidays in Africa are kind of by defintion people that I would want to know. If they aren't safari trekkers, they go off and volunteer in parts of kney I've never heard of.

Everyone that I've hosted has been phenomenal. Many of them brought me little gifts (not required) and left proper thank you notes. They've cooked me dinner and done dishes. They are neater and more polite than I am. They've taught me about everything from demographics in Scandanavia and its impact on education policy to the going rate for medical experiments in Argus. (I also learned that Canada grows wine. Who knew?) It can still seem a little bit creepy, but hospitality is a trait to be nurtured. I fully plan on surfing couches during my peace corps travels, and I only hope that I can be as good a guest as mine have been.

I encourage everyone to check it out: couchsurfing.com

WTF South Africa?!?!?!?!

I love South Africa. I spent a blissful year in Cape Town studying and experiencing a part of Africa that seemed to get it. There was rule of law, nonviolent protests, and an energized economy. This is not to say I was blind to the flaws. There was rampant poverty and incredible wealth next to incredible poverty. A friend in Cape Town said it was a microcosm of the world where the first and the third world mix. (I refrained from telling him that it didn't really matter if the capitalists and nonaligned mixed anymore, but his point was well made.)

For the past few weeks, though, it seems that South Africa has gone slightly round the bend. Mbeki fired his deputy Minister of Health ostensibly because she went to an AIDS conference in Madrid. Hallelujah for that...a health minister from South Africa doing something about AIDS, besides of course curing it with beetroot and garlic. I'm sure there were more particulars kept out off the media, but its ridiculous. The current Minster, manto tshabalala-msimang is a crackpot nutcase, and possibly an alcoholic who got a new liver thanks to presidential connections. (http://www.guardian.co.uk/southafrica/story/0,,2152333,00.html). Currently 5.5 million people in south africa have HIV/AIDS, life expectancy is 47, and less than 1/3 of the people who need treatment can access it thanks to the Comrade Coffin (Mbeki) and Dr. Beetroot (Tshabalala-Msimang). South Africa only started providing ARVs after being taken to court by the Treatment Action Campaign.

The Deputy minister who was fired for her unauthorized trip to Spain recognized there was, in fact, an epidemic and responded. Her 5 year plan for HIV/AIDS is quite brilliant and focuses on getting treatment. With her gone, its back to the quagmire of AIDS denialists, no drugs, and raising death rates.

Adding insult to injury (but with a silver lining), Jacob Zuma is back in court. Hopefully this time the charges will stick. Zuma was accused of raping a family friend. Ultimately he was found not guilty, but not until he explained that he consensual sex with an HIV+ woman but was safe because he took a shower. Zuma is a presidential hopeful in the highest levels of the ANC. Now he and his lawyer are trying to avoide facing corruption charges in relation to an arms deal with French Arms manufacter Thist.

And for the grand finale, several million of the government distributed condoms are being recalled. A health inspector was bribed to approve substandard condoms for distribution. I want to smack that guy. How much money is it worth for millions of people to get infected with an incurable disease that will leave 10 million orphans, kill 14 teachers a week, and basically destroy the social fabric of your country?

Score One For The Tree Huggers and Non-Insecticide-Treated Bed Nets

As a health consultant, particularly one focused on simple and effective preventative health measures, I have the deepest and most profound respect for mosquito nets. They are the primary reason that I have never had malaria despite more than 8 years in rabidly endemic areas. Insectide treated nets are seemingly a pancea. They give pregant women and children under five the best chance for good health. And they are an incredibly marketable commodity. Check out more at WHO.

Although bed nets are altogether fantastic, mozzie nets have a new role in the Kramer/Loughran household. Kenya is joining the ranks of countries that have banned or will soon ban plastic bags. In Kenya sometime in December or January, using plastic bags will be illegal, and good for them. The ubiquitous plastic bag is a blight practically everywhere you go. They litter sidewalks and trash heaps across africa. Kenyans make thses fantastic, durable, and beautiful woven baskets out of grasses and sisal. They are way more economical and fashionable. We use reusable bags for most of our shopping. The main exception, however, was the green grocer. The shop attendants put the veggies into their individual plastic bags to make it easier to weigh them before putting them in our eco-friendly baskets. In response, my mom commissioned re-usable mesh bags out of mosquito netting. Yesterday was their first test run and they were an unmitigated success!

"Intergenerational Sex Stops With You" and other life lessons from Uganda

It seems strange that after 9 or so years in East Africa this was the first trip ever to Uganda. I largely went for work related reasons. The WORTH program has some savings groups in Mbale, Uganda and that was my first destination. Henry, the Salvation Army driver, collected me from the airport and drove me the three hours to Mbale proper. I had the beginings of what would become a raging head cold, so i was not the best company one could imagine. Henry didn't seem to mind, though.

Once in Mbale, I was introduced to Meddi and Dorothy, who are the assistant WORTH coordinators for Uganda. They are both the most amazing and creative women. great fun was had, minus my fever, head ache, and stuffy nose. I checked into the sunrise hotel at with a fantastic view of Mt. Elgon and promptly slept through the night.

Thursday morning saw my first site visits. These women mean business. Its amazing watching 25 women bring what amounts to pennies to their meetings and watch them accumulate. I was also audience to the generosity and hospitality of Ugandans. Getting visitors, particularly of the mzungu variety, was special for them. The women were delighted to read drafts of my dialogues and give me input, although I think there were a bit taken back by my desire for their input. I need to practice my pre-tests. Malaria for children and STI for women are the big concerns in these areas. We stayed with the first group for several hours and then heading further up the mountain ridges for the second. Again, the women saved together, made some loans, and told me how exciting it will be when the loan cycle ends. At the end, the women divide up the interest paid on the loans as 'dividends.' The chairwoman at this particular group refers to herself as the Bank Director because she says thats what she's doing. It had rained during the meeting, and our truck was stuck in the mud. They wouldn't let me help push and eventually the car got going. Mud driving is not my favorite activity.

Friday morning I went to one savings group and then I drove back to Kampala, where i was meeting up with my study abroad roommate. She is working for an NGO in Kampala for a year, and when far away friends find their way to not so far away places, its best to track them down. We were supposed to go out to dinner, but that was rudely interrupted by a purse snatcher, who grabbed my bag. I lost all my money, my cell phone, and my passport. Part of it is on me for being absent minded and forgetting that the passport was in there, but mostly it was on bastards who steal other peoples property.

Thus began my stay in Kampala. After the robbery, we went to the Jinja Road police station where I had to make a statement. The first officer taking my statement had terrible handwriting and a slightly lacking grasp of English. He spelled my name Katherhain Krachmher and said i was 42 years old. He also said I lost my UK passport. it improved when they were taking my statement, probably because my blond host attracted the eye of the officer in charge of the station. After all this went on, we were trying to get out of the jinja road police station, which was harder than we thought it would be. Eventually, the officer in charge told us some transport was coming. Shortly thereafter, a chinese man drove up in an electric blue beetle, followed by another chinese man in a pick up truck. Thus our ride had arrived. Ten minutes of chinese pop music and stilted conversation later, we arrived at the house and i went to bed.

Saturday morning began the round of chores that needed to be done in order to get my life together enough to leave. I had to get an official report from the Jinja road station. The consulate was closed until monday, so i had to change my flight out of Uganda as well. I also went and got several US Visa sized photos taken. Then we went and got touristy. We took boda bodas (small motorcycle/scooter taxis) to the Buganda tombs. Its the worlds largest thatched hut and a world heritage site, and then we went to the craft markets. Craft markets in africa are suprisingly homogenious. Most of what was in Kampala could be bought in nairobi for around the same price. We had lunch at an indian restaurant nearby and ran into two other ex pats. they were in town for the release of the ugandan demographic and health survey. it is like my bible. We had a lazy, lazy lunch that stretched for hours. I learned from them that 84% of ugandan women thought that wife beating was acceptable, and that a journalist at a workshop thought that deserved the headline "Women Like to be Beaten." I think he missed the point. Health and such in Uganda is a seemingly big thing. it pioneered ABC, but people say now that low prevelance rates have more to do with fewer people being tested. There are also adds all over the place warning against sugar daddies and IG sex. The radio spots are great if you are ever in the region. the day ended with a run to the internet cafe that was quickly aborted because the internet is lazy and slow and bootlegged DVDs.

Sunday was brunch at the serena, expensive but well worth it considering I didn't need to eat for two days following. We lazed around by the pool at the serena, gawked at the security measures, and watched the Aga Khan fly in on helicopters. Monday I went to the consulate and basically want to thank god and my parents that i am an american citizen. I was placed at the head of the cues and was generally hustled though the whole process. I got a brand new (temporary) passport in less than 30 minutes and was free to leave the country, which I did at 8 pm that night, following some eating, some television, and the 45 minute drive from Kampala to Entebbe. All in all, I am delighted to be home.

Trachoma, Masaailand, Company Towns, and Technical Difficulties

This trip actually happened a while ago, but I just got the photos today. Magadi is a region of kenya known mostly for its alkaline soda lake (Lake Magadi which was featured in The Constant Gardener as Lake Turkana). I went out for work to visit some AMREF self-help groups in the Masaailand of Magadi. It was quite cool. They have a great community health component which focuses on the control, treatment, and eradication of trachoma in the area. trachoma is passed through flies and contaminated water. AMREF supports the women by training them as community health workers, teaching them to build VIP latrines, and changing water behavior uses. Visiting the groups was probably the best part of the day.

Then we toddled off to the town of Magadi. Magadi has one industry of note, a soda bottle factory. They use some of the salts from Lake Magadi in the processing. Magadi town is entirely owned by the Soda Factory. it has a very odd west virginia coal mining vibe. I kept hearing "15 tons and what do you get, another day older and deeper in debt" as we wandered around looking for food and water. It was sort of strange to see old masaai mzees sitting by a heated swimming pool.

Our last site invovled a 2.5 hour drive through hell to the more inhabited part of magadi. In the foothill of the mountains there is lots of water (not so in the rest of magadi which is unbearable dry and dusty), and there is a very nice clinic nestled up there. Although the clinic was very nice and a very good place to go if you ever find yourself ill in Magadi, it was not quite worth the bumps, dust, and bruises sustained on the drive out there. The roads were made worse by the repair work. Every 20 feet or so we had to offroad around a culvert repair. it would have been fine had we been warned to take the 4 wheel drive vehicle. We got stuck on the way back. The effort in the image was ultimatly unsuccessful. We dug out the tires with our bare hands, jacked the car up to put rocks under the tires, and eventually escaped. I haven't been that dirty in a long, long time.

Its Hard to Be An Ass on Lamu: The Adventures of Captain Mango, Pineapple, and Kikoy

Nairobi is cold! Damp, gray, drizzling, and cold, so I was beyond delighted when some friends suggested that we run away to Lamu for the weekend. Lamu is a pole pole type island off the kenyan coast. It has 40 some mosques and about 2 cars. Our entire point for being there was to sit in the sun, shop for silver, and eat fish in as many varieties as possible.

We flew down because otherwise its a 9 hour bus to mombasa and another 6 hours to the mainland by lamu. We landed at Manda airport, which is so laid back that its scary. Thatched roofs and a sand runway. its a short walk to the jetty and then a 10 minute ride on a "ferry" or anything that potentially floats with an outboard motor. On our flight, I met Coconut, a fisherman with a dhow. He arranged ferries and took us into the morass of Lamu town to find a cheap hotel for the next few days. Ultimately we stettled on the Archipelago Hotel by the waterfront. Lamu is fantastic for the lack of real pricing. "3500 for 3 people" says the proprieter. We gasp in shock and outrage and the price is lowered a bit. Then the haggling begins. We get the room for 3000, which is a bit more than we wanted to pay, but the sun is setting and there is wandering to be done. To fit in, we dubbed ourselves with Lamu-style nicknames. Captain Mango, Pineapple, and Kikoy were born.

We wandered into and out of sliver smiths (2 rings), tropical boutiques (yet more kiloys and kangas), and cafes (mango-passion juice, and chai tangawezi). Prices were given and negotiated, and compared to the shops of mombassa, everyone was very chill. If you didn't want to buy, you walked out and the proprietor said, "come again." its a refreshing change. we also found our way to the hotel Bahari at the far end of Lamu town. The rooftop verandah was spectacular, the lamu beds were beautiful, and the price was cheaper. We made arrangements to stay there the next night.

Dinner was had at Miraa, a rooftop restaurant with swahili food and swahili prices. Prawn curry and coconut rice was great; less so was the TV blaring an old episode of charmed, so we left shortly after getting food. Then we wandered back via Petley's Landing, for a beer. It is muslim island almost exclusively. So beer, wine, and booze can only be bought from some select locals. Petleys din of inequity was our haunt. We wrapped up the night with the wine we brought from Nairobi and an entertaining game of Kings.

Day two was our adventure with Coconut and his crew. Its a typical tourist adventure, but one definatly worth it. we set sail on the dhow at around 10 and set off for the channels. We were going fishing. I managed to catch a juvenile yellow snapper, which was beautiful, but hardly worth eating. It was fun. Then we were off to the beaches on Manda island for the more sun, sea, and sand. Coconut, et all cooked up a lunch for us. Coconut rice, salad, fruit, and fish cooked in hot coals. It was a basically perfect day. We came back and some more tuskers at petleys. More fish for dinner, and a lazy evening sitting on the roof of the Bahari. We saw scorpio and the leonids star shower.

Day three was our last day. how sad! We wandered and ambled for a bit. Found a man who swore his wife did the best henna on the island. So I got my hands done. I will have the memory of heat and tropics on my hands for the next two weeks. Eventually though, we had to make our way back to Manda airport. Upon arrival we were told that the plane was delayed for an hour. Captain mango and Pineapple changed into swim suits and went off for a swim. I wandered around a bit and read. There is not exactly a whole lot to do on manda island, particularly on that end. Also, I got rabidly sunburned on my shoulders on the dhow trip. So any sun was painful.

Unfortunately the plane was only delayed and not cancelled. We went off at 4:00 and were back in Nairobi at 6. Que barbaridad! Nairobi is slightly warmer than a remember, but that might be the heat that my shoulders are generating. Pictures will be forthcoming!

The Blogging Begins

In preparation for my peace corps departure, the blogging begins. Easier I suppose than mass e-mails, where invariably i will forget someone, and better for Turkmenistan where internet is rarely available, I have high hopes for this endevor.

Currently, i am an international consultant, which sounds far cooler than the glorified intern that I am, writing health materials for a women's microsavings and literacy program in Nairobi. Its fantastic to be home with the mother, the dog, and Africa. Its a refreshing break between the hectic demands of academia and the future demands of Turkmenistan.

I will be heading back to the states on the 15th of September for two frantic weeks of good byes and then to Turkmenistan on the first of October.