For most of my adult life I've battled quite an aversion to clutter. This aversion has manifested itself mostly in frustration and occasional house purges or Goodwill trips. But nothing has really fixed it. That's going to change. What I've learned is that those things that "have sentimental value" in fact have no intrinsic value at all, and most of those things lie around for years gathering dust in some box that can no longer be picked up because it has partially disintegrated. That which has value gathers no dust.

Certainly it is no coincidence that for the last year I've been actively studying Buddhism, or that more recently I've become captivated by The Minimalists. And I am certainly not unique in my quest to simplify my life and focus on my dust-free valuables, 99% of which are intangible. So where do I go from here? Well, I'm still waiting on 33 books to sell on Amazon, I have a dozen more to list, a bunch of other miscellaneous stuff to sell, a pile of trash (another's treasure!) to donate, and much more. In February, Allison will travel to South Africa for a residency rotation, and I plan on  giving up TV for the month.

Inevitably, this minimalistic effort will take many forms. Ultimately, it's about reclaiming my space, my time, and my life. To celebrate, I had a "pitch party" by myself.

Pitch party

Donation pile

Crap to throw away

Crap thrown away!

Last Thursday night some amigos and I headed up to Mariscal (north of old Town, a lively bar scene) for dinner. Quite an amusing evening, powered by seco de chivo (a goat dish) for dinner, and cold (!!) Pilsener, the first of three stops was some karaoke bar. Probably the most curious element of this establishment was its screen displaying disturbing gymnastics bloopers along with song lyrics. The first hint of something peculiar is that my song choice for karaoke was Gangsta's Paradise, no "singing" required.

For a reprieve from the horribly mangled gymnasts and the what-the-hell-are-you-crazy-Americans-singing stares, we chilled at Strawberry Fields, a relaxing establishment with walls practically built of Beatles memorabilia. Upon reuniting with more volunteers (and more drinks), we high-stepped it over to a dance club to, well, dance!

There we met just about every other UBECI volunteer, including the founders, and danced the night away. 3am: sleepy time.

After graciously passing on my work opportunity the next morning (hint #2), I managed to make it into my final Spanish class at 2pm. Though my voice sounded more like James Earl Jones than one would suspect my appearance could produce (hint #3), I finished. Twenty hours of Spanish: check!

Road to Otavalo

On Saturday, about 15 volunteers headed to Otavalo, where we could shop till we dropped in the country's most popular market. To say that the streets were peppered with vendors would be like saying you might find a Catholic or two in Rome. No, these streets were heavily seasoned, even slathered with vendors, selling everything from stone carvings and hammocks to handbags and armadillo guitars (charangos). The whole group naturally split into individuals, and we spent about 4 hours roaming, struggling to find the outer edges, then later struggling to find each other.

Larger (though not only) plaza in the market

Deliciousness from the mercado

Spices

Charango

The bus home dropped us off around 8:30pm, where I struggled (not emotionally - hint #4) to say goodbye to a few parting volunteers. And that is where it ended.

The night, you ask? Well yes. And my trip. What I would come to recognize, after another 4 days of bed rest, is that what started as a mere tickle in my throat on that crazy Mariscal night, what stole my voice in the following days, and what epitomized itself as uncontrollable shivering and stomach cramps, was in fact an infection I had developed. Yesterday I visited a doctor and was treated to a shot of Penicillin...in the ass! Painful? Not really. Strange? Hell yes.

The decision to end my trip a week early was a difficult one, one that was made through torn emotions, flickering travel dreams, and a bit of eye sweat (okay, tears). However, I must remind myself that our greatest disappointments come as a result of our own false assumptions. And this trip was planned with the assumption that I would be squeaky-clean healthy. Not so. And we all know that to assume is to make an ass out of u and me. Well, this time, it's just me. And my ass. And to twist the knife, an injection in my ass.

Tonight, I'm bound for the States and will land exactly one week early tomorrow morning. See you on the flippity-flop.

Street in Old Town

First on our list was lunch (of course). After learning that most places wouldn't reopen until 3pm, we landed in a nice little restaurant where we ordered two of each empanada served - con queso, de verde, and...well...something else that we never did identify. It would have taken quite the appetite to devour these culinary treats. And as Adam Richman would say in the battle of Man vs. Food, on Monday, the empanada was the victor.

Restaurant serving empanadas and secos

Regardless, we were sufficiently fueled for some serious hiking through these hills, and our first stop was the Cathedral in La Plaza Grande. Here lie the remains of Antonio José de Sucre, a colonel who won the decisive battle in the liberation of Quito from Spanish control, and was subsequently the first president of the Quito provence. Two of us opted to pay $1 for a guided tour, which was entirely in Spanish. However, an Argentine couple joined us early in the tour, and they were able to translate our confusion into, well, less confusion.

Cathedral courtyard

Where in the world is Chris?

Plaza Grande

Our next stop was the Basílica del Voto Nacional (Basilica of the National Vow), a gorgeous church whose construction began in 1892. Though the church itself will not reopen to the public until July 5th, visitors can pay $2 to ascend the towers and behold the incredible views of Quito. And that is exactly what we did. Behold...

Basílica del Voto Nacional

Basílica side view

Basílica Sanctuary

Quito and La Virgen de Panecillo from the Basílica

Basílica Towers

Quito from the Basílica

Our exit from the Basilica led us down the hill to the monument of Simón Bolívar, El Libertador of Latin America from Spain, and president of Gran Colombia from 1819 to 1830, following his defeat of the Spanish Monarchy. Not surprisingly, he and Señor Sucre were friends.

Monument of Simón Bolívar

Though there is much more to see in Old Town, it will have to wait for another day, or maybe another trip. As for this coming weekend, a trip to Otovalo is planned, where we're excited to partake in the craziness of the festival of St. John the Baptist. Until next time...

After pulling into Tena and paying a nickel to empty our dangerously overfilled bladders, we hoofed it to Atlantis, an Amazon tour company and hotel that came highly recommended by fellow volunteers. This company is essentially the love child of an Austrian woman and Ecuadorian native. Forty-five minutes and $45 later, our haggling was complete, and we had booked a caving expedition, a 2-hour night rainforest hike, 6-hour day rainforest hike, one night in the rainforest lodge, and two meals. $45? Yes please!

Because we were all so wretched starving and needed fuel for caving, we bounced over to the nearby Café Tortuga and gobbled some delicious hamburgers and plantain fries. Bellies full, we headed back to the Atlantis office and hopped into the bed of their truck for a ride to the Jumandy Caves.

Though we were told to wear suits because we'd probably get wet in the caves, we didn't anticipate the torrential downpour that began a bit before we arrived. Soaked and still quite excited, we hiked up a trail then dipped back down into the rainforest and quickly into the cave. Unfortunately the water was too high and the rapids far too strong to cross in the cave so we had to turn around. Round 1...ding!

Upon our return to the entrance, we noticed that we could no longer discern the pool, as the entire area was one massive flood. Even one of the owners of Atlantis said she had never seen the water that high. Lucky us! After a 45 minute wait or so, our guide took us back into the cave where the water seemed equally high and rapids equally strong. But, our guide seemed to think that it was passable so we each placed our lives in his hands and followed his directions. Holy crap.

With each traversal of the cave rapids, we fully understood that a misstep could sweep us into a cavernous waterslide, kind of like an underground washing machine that takes no prisoners. The most difficult part of traversing the rapids was that, with each step, the water would quickly wash away our feet so that they wouldn't have a chance to land on the rocks beneath. At one point, we were climbing along an 18-inch rock shelf next to rushing rapids. At another, we were told to dive into the water and swim toward a flashlight that our guide placed ahead of us. Needless to say, upon our exit from the caves and into the open air, my feelings of invincibility were tempered with a deep reverence for this powerful natural force.

Now it was time to hop back in the truck for a half-hour drive to the rainforest lodge where we would feast on a quick dinner and head back out the door for a night hike. We were first shown several spiders around the lodge, all of which were larger than most people like to acknowledge exist. Yes, I did choose to hold a tarantula-looking spider, fully equipped with 8 furry legs.

In the rainforest, we saw many odd-looking grasshoppers, stick bugs, and snakes. Yep, I held one of those too! On this hike, I learned of the vast abundance of cacao growing in the Amazon, and our guide happily chopped up some fresh cacao with his machete for us to taste. It was delish!

If the extreme caving wasn't enough to wipe us out, we were thoroughly exhausted following our hike, so we all retired to our bunks for the night. I've never had such a musical night of sleep (no, I'm not talking about the kind of music following a Mexican dinner). The sounds coming out of the rainforest were quite bizarre, and I couldn't wait to explore by day the areas producing all those curious noises.

Atlantis Rainforest Lodge

When we awoke the next morning, the weather was a far cry from the previous day - the sun was shining brilliantly and it was already feeling a bit toasty. What began as a leisurely stroll along a gravel road quickly turned into an up-and-down grueling hike that left us drenched in sweat and smelling quite...um...natural.

Our rainforest guide, outfitted with hat & machete.

Oh, but the beauty of El Amazon! While climbing and descending the ever-changing terrain of the rainforest, we learned of medicinal plants, 2500-year-old trees, and countless edible delicacies, such as the canela leaves we chewed as a mid-morning snack. The most impressive part of the rainforest is simply that it is seemingly infinitely lush. At the parting of trees sitting atop the crest of mountain, one can look for miles and observe nothing but the vast green that acts as a blanket for the natural intricacies that lie below.

The lush, green Amazon

Ants marching, collecting leaves

Rainforest shelter

Centipede

Cacao

Coffee beans, though not mature until red

River in the Amazon

Our return to the lodge was bitter sweet, knowing that the time had come to return to our over-developed, concrete lives, but also knowing that a shower would bestow much peace upon those within a mile radius of our nastiness. And with a final ride in the truck bed, we bid our Austrian and Ecuadorian friends goodbye. Until next time, Amazon. And there will be a next time. Adiós.

My home in Quito! (the white building)

Speaking of my homestay, ´tis excellent! I live with a family of 4 - Susana and Julio, and their two 30-something sons, Efraín and Edwin. There are also two volunteers from Cornell University, Bree and Alex. It´s quite amazing how the presence of just a handful of English speakers can feel less like a conversation than a refugee camp for non-fluent speakers. The food has been pretty basic so far, some pasta & rice with either chicken or beef, and maybe some beans or veggies. However, what has truly knocked my socks off (though I don´t wear any to begin with) is the fresh fruit juice Susana makes for every meal. She has made us papaya, passion, mora berry and strawberry juice. ¡Más por favor! (slurp)

My private bedroom in the homestay

The view from my bedroom

As for the language, whoa Nelly! The 7 years of Spanish I took in high school and college doesn´t get me very far. However, I think it provides a good foundation upon which I can build during my 20-hour Spanish lessons that started today. They run from 2pm - 5pm, Tuesdays through Fridays. And let me say that 3 hours of one-on-one language lessons was intense! Imagine attending a class in which you were expected to answer every single question the teacher asked - no relying on other students! The teacher, María, is extremely helpful (and patient!), and I know that this time will pay serious dividends if I wish to return home unmamed.

A fine display of public art

Yesterday was my first day working as a volunteer. At 9am, all 15ish volunteers boarded a bus bound for the Chillogallo markets a bit north of where we live. Here our job was to gather children who are working with their parents as vendors in the market, and organize activities for them. We played fútbol, painted, played with Legos, and read books. I find the language barrier in this setting is better described as a Great Wall. Because, as it turns out, 3-year-olds don´t adjust the speed (or articulation) of their speech based on the country of origen of whoever´s lap their sitting on.

Sculpted musicians

Well that is all for now. This post has taken me much longer than expected considering I had to install the USB drivers myself to connect to my camera in this internet cafe. Not too technical...unless everything is in Spanish. Next time I hope to tell you about the rainforest I´ll be exploring this weekend. ¡Hasta pronto!

Sculpted dancers on the way to work

At any rate, I'm quite excited to return to my passion of global volunteer work, a passion I discovered only last summer. This trip represents a commitment to a new life trajectory set into motion just last year. Fortunately I have a loving wife that whole-heartedly supports these endeavors. And for that, I am truly grateful.

After pondering my goals for this journey, I'm able to sum them up in two goals: (1) to engage, and (2) to be engaged. The first refers to a deliberate outward approach in helping impoverished children see the light in themselves. My work this year takes me to the streets of Quito in the Street Children Program, organizing activities for kids who would otherwise be working as street vendors with their parents. The second goal is more an attempt at vulnerability, allowing myself to be changed by the culture I experience and the people I encounter. While I recognize that there's no way to objectively measure my achievement of these goals, I try to convince myself that enduring changes in this world are much sooner felt than quantified.

"Semi"-permanent tents

The following morning we were  whisked away to the Great  Rift Valley for some quick picks and a souvenir  shopping spree. I caved and filled my bag, though had fun bargaining. From there  we made way to Massai Mara, where we were  welcomed into semi-permanent tents in a safari camp. I'm not sure what's  so "semi" about tents  with electricity and  flooring. No complaints, though - they were excellent!

Zebras are a dime a dozen in Africa

Soon after dropping our bags in our tents, we headed out for  a 2.5-hour evening game drive. The animals welcomed us with open...um, legs. Weird. There were zebras, gazelles, impala, giraffes, and elephants. On our  way out, we even spotted  a solo lioness chillin' on a rock. The blurry photo I snapped  of that would become laughable after much closer encounters with those royal cats.

Our evening game drive was topped with a tasty dinner at the campsite, dessert being a warm Guinness that tasted more like a secondhand cigar. And with electricity hours ending at 10pm, we all turned in early to prepare  for the next day's all-day game drive.

Saturday brought us more gifts  in the form of cheetahs, much closer elephants, and the wildebeest migration across a river. This was spectacular! To see hundreds of these animals stampeding across the water, dodging hippos and narrowly escaping a lurking croc was surreal!  Our day close with hopes of a pride of lions hunting some wildebeest. We sat  for about 45 minutes while the lions patiently but confidently advanced on their prey. Unfortunately, the park closed before we could witness the kill. But, we left sufficiently satisfied by the anticipation of such a primitive form of survival. Craving our own form of survival, we once again hit the campsite "dinning" hall for some grub. Guinness, no thanks.

Elephant. Duh.

Yes, they exist outside of zoos.

Must be tired from running 60mph.

Lion cubs playing like kittens

We had to rise early the next morning for a sunrise game drive that turned out to be the best of all the game drives. After admiring the sunrise, we soon stumbled upon lion cubs that truly resembled a litter of kittens, except that their mother could devour a planet. We sat mesmerized while the mother watched over her cubs, and while the father sat at a respectful distance.  To see the mother was quite a sight, but there is something about seeing the father walk, toting his dark mane that is truly stunning!

The majestic beast. Hungry fella? There ya go!

This man is important - check out his vertical!

The next destination would be a Massai manyatta (village), where the locals gave us a peek at their way of life. Though the Massai typically fear cameras as thieves of the soul, they have grown accustomed to curious outsiders like myself and have allowed  photos. Of course, a little money provides some extra motivation for tolerance. In the manyatta we were treated to traditional dances by  both men and women. The men's dance included a jumping contest, whereby a man's importance is proportional to his vertical jump. Let's just say that I'm not very important.

Drawing cow's blood to give Massai warriors power.

We were then exposed to the Massai ritual of drawing cow's blood by bow and arrow, and immediately drinking it. Unsatisfied as a mere spectator, I jumped at the opportunity to partake. I was surprised at its lack of taste, but my blood-stained teeth gave me a somewhat savage look that is either badass or extremely disturbing.

Our time with the Massai concluded with a beadwork market where we could purchase the signature attire for these people - beaded everything, you name it. We then vanned-up  for quite some time while we drove to Nakuru, stopping only for the occasional pit stop and an overheating van. Upon arrival, we had to high step it to the hotel  restaurant so that  we could watch the world cup final. Viva Espana!

The rest of the evening was such a blast - a bunch of us went clubbing - cheesy, Kenyan style. The Tusker beer flowed and the Kenyan people weren't shy about approaching us, and some armed with marriage proposals. It was enough entertainment to keep us out till 4am, which was long enough to afford us 2 hours of sleep before driving to Lake  Nakuru.

At Lake Nakuru, the two main attractions were flamingos and rhinos, both of which were exquisite! The flamingos were  so numerous that the lake appeared pink from afar. And the rhinos were so large and dinosaur-like that their power seemed to scream even in their idle state.

This is not a dinosaur.

Pink lake.

Upon reflecting on the weekend, I realized that I had been subconsciously educated that  these animals exist only in zoos. To see them in their natural habitat is breathtaking in a way that can't be even partly conveyed in visiting animals behind caged enclosures. I can't help but laugh at the turned  tables on a safari - we as humans cage ourselves in vans as we parade like a mobile zoo through the African savanna. Funny how that works.

Upon arrival at the train station, an officer not-so-kindly informed us that we missed the train and the station is closed. However, a much more helpful gentleman helped us get the world's most highly trained stunt driver to take us, as the crow flies, from the Mombasa train station to the Athiriva station. Never before had any of us felt a sense of relief that a train had derailed. It was the train in front of ours that derailed, which delayed ours enough to allow us to catch the train. (sigh)

Sunrise on the night train to Mombasa

The train ride was kinda fun. We dined on unremarkable beef, rice & veggies that somehow tasted a bit of alright on the train. The night's sleep was broken only by the rocking of the train that made it clear why its friend had derailed. At 6am, I anxiously awaited the bell ringing for the first seating of breakfast. And at 6:15, my stomach's prayers were answered. This time, food was served with an amazing sunrise and some trainside elephants to boot. Hells yeah!

Mombasa ferry

Thirteen hours after boarding our missed train, we pulled into Mombasa feeling extra greasy but ready to hit the beach. The ferry ride over to Mombasa island gave us our first substantial glance at the glorious waters of the Indian Ocean. Our taxi driver took us all the way to Diani Beach, where we would stay at Diani Beachalets in a cottage right on the beach. If I learned one thing on the drive to the beach, it is that "monkey bars" are named for actual monkey bars. About every 100 yards there was a ladder strung across the trees, traversing the street. The first roadside baboon sighting was quite exciting. Their mannerisms have a remarkable resemblance to humans!

'Ello baboon!

Yours truly rockin' the whiteness with Mama Lucy

After taking care of bid-ness with the Irish cottage owner, we immediately hit the beach. I had to constantly remind myself that I was swimming in the *Indian Ocean*! Crazy! Also, as a gift to our house mom Lucy, we paid for her to come with us to Mombasa for the weekend so she could see the ocean for the first time in her life! Upon seeing her awe-struck face at the sight (and feel) of the ocean, I was reminded of the first time I saw it in Siesta Key with Grandma and Grandpa. It was awesome just to see her experience the ocean for the first time.

Unfortunate view from patio.

And while we were soaking up the equatorial rays on the white sand beaches, the local cook was whipping up some tasty goodness in our kitchen. So, for dinner we were treated to red snapper and barracuda with chips, veggies and a salad. Yum-oh.

Our cook...cooking. Duh.

We had planned on hitting some local hotspots for the evening, so while Stevie & Lucy got ready for the evening, Jessica and I hopped a matatu to the local supermarket for some essentials. Fast forward to post-shopping. We were standing outside in the dark street, waiting unsuccessfully for a return matatu when a motorcycle taxi pulled up. Jess and I looked at each other, and as the devil on her shoulder I suggested that we take it. And take it we did! However, about 15 seconds after pulling onto the road, we were pulled over by the police for failure to signal (and for cutting off the cops). About 4 officers jumped out, big-ass guns drawn and Jess puts her hands up while I just sat and held the groceries. Luckily, they let him off without arresting him and without demanding a payment, which is a common practice of corruption in Kenya.

Chalking it up to weekend excitement, we continued on our evening ride and successfully made it back to the cottage. The evening turned out to be a bit of a let down, as the restaurant suggested was merely a tourist trap stuffed full of under-dressed chicks and over-drunk dudes. No thanks. On a tip that a walk back to our cottage would take only 15 minutes, we marched off into the darkness, with nothing but the sound of the ocean and the light of a cell phone to guide us. Sixty minutes later, we got home. "Kenya time" they call it.

That's where our night ended, and the next morning we made some chai to enjoy during the sunrise. And it was exquisite! The sunrise, that is. The chai was, too, but the sunrise trumps all. And unfortunately, our time on the beach came to a close as we made way to old town Mombasa to check out the city. Bad idea. It was hot, sweaty, and everything was closed because it was a Sunday. Thankfully, we rode the high of our time on the beach long enough to get us back on the train.

Sunrise over the Indian Ocean. (drool)

Overall it was an excellent weekend, with a bit of relaxing and some eye candy delivered by white sand and the marvelous Indian Ocean. I would love to have spent more time there, but our unfinished business at the school called us home like the street lights of childhood. Goodbye Mombasa, I will see you again.

Just another game of football, Spain v. Ghana

This past weekend was a roller coaster of experiences, ranging from awe-inspiring nature-scapes to foreign dogpile-style transportation. Our Outreach Weekend started with an unremarkable BBQ that included loud, Irish frat boys and quadruple-shot drinks. You do the math. The next morning we departed for a KCC Project, which is a school setup by volunteers to educate a sorely under-served area in Kenya. And with yet another game of (real) football, we departed for our next adventure, Hell's Gate.

This excursion began with a leisurely bike ride along gravel and dirt roads, riding through a massive valley filled with amazing wildlife. Though there wasn't much wildlife on the ride there, we did pass by Pride Rock, the famous rock modeled in the Lion King. It was there that we wept for Mufasa.

Canyons of Hell's Gate

The wind quickly dried our tears as we pedaled the rest of the way to Hell's Gate. There we grabbed our water and cameras and set off on foot on the single track trails. The rock formations were absolutely gorgeous! With the canyon walls dropping deeply and narrowly into the ground, it isn't hard to imagine how quickly and dangerously flash floods occur. After maybe an hour of meandering, we approached a 15-20 foot wall we were to scale. The nostalgia of my climbing days quickly overcame me, and upon reaching the top I realized why I miss climbing so much - because I freakin' love it!

Scenic overlook in Hell's Gate

The ride back from Hell's Gate was the prize of the day. Because we were nearing sundown, temperatures had cooled, and wildlife was emerging...like really emerging. As in, we had to stop our bikes to wait for crossing zebras, warthogs & impalas. We also saw giraffes and watched baboons climb the face of an enormous cliff. What an amazing experience it was to be within 30 feet of these animals, in their native habitats! The feeling was indescribable.

After a celebratory meal (and finishing the meals of those around me), we hit the hay in the Naivasha Hotel. On Saturday morning we awoke to a full breakfast of bread (which they call toast), sausages, and (of course) chai. It seems that here in Kenya, chai comes after oxygen in the list of basic human needs. But I digress...

Tents in IDP camp

From our full bellies came a sense of irony as we packed food to distribute to starving families. Our next destination would be an IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) Camp. After the 2007 elections in Kenya, violence erupted due to the opposition of the two main tribes of Kenya. Six hundred thousand families were displaced, tearing families apart and leaving them homeless. The U.N. responded by providing tents, and the Red Cross helped channel food and other resources across the country. However, their support has dwindled. Therefore, the organization Marafiki recruits volunteers from our organization to purchase and distribute food.

Little boy running with his favorite toy, an old bicycle tire

This experience was both heart wrenching and uplifting. The former is obvious - starving families of 12 living in a single tent. Nuff said. The latter, though, came through in the children's attitudes despite their harsh living conditions.  They exhibited a form of resilience that I've never seen before. It was enough for me to forget about the fact that my stomach was grumbling for a late lunch. Some of these kids haven't eaten since yesterday.

We were ealso able to help paint a new school in the IDP camp and sand the desks that would seat those very children, so eager and appreciative. I don't think I truly understood the word "perspective" until Saturday.

Now we're back in school and things are looking up there as well. Instead of reviewing a recent mid-term exam, I've been able to teach new material and it's going very well. There are still the issues of about 90-95 kids per classroom and 35-minute class periods, but I'm trying to roll with the punches.

Our next excursion will be to the Indian Ocean in Mombasa where we hope to relax and check out some chill night life. Until then, kwaheri!

Street outside of our house.

After an inadvertent tour of Nairobi medical facilities, I'm back in the classroom getting my teach on. As you may have heard, my stomach went to battle with little Kenyan critters, and sadly lost. What started as a nauseous feeling at the end of the school day on Friday quickly turned to a need to vomit while napping by myself at home. My bathroom pursuit quickly turned downward, literally, as I got light headed, fell, and smacked the back of my head on the concrete floor. Blacked out for a second (or a few minutes...who knows), I finally came to, seemingly lost in the house. My thought to find my phone on the bed to call my housemates took me on another ride to the floor, this time smacking the front of my head on the floor. That's where I threw in the towel, laid on the floor to wait for my housemates to return, and began to sweat like, well...like something that sweats a helluva lot.

My roommates returned from the supermarket and rushed quickly to me as I lay there a soaking mess. A cab was called, I was hauled into the car, and we drove to Shalom Hospital near Kitengela. We were greeted by hospital staff with blank stares that seemed to silently say, "We don't see sick people here." Though unimpressed, I desperately needed help, so they pricked my finger and that was about it. At least until some members of Fadhili Community (our organization) called and told us to go to the Nairobi Hospital.

The smile on my face contrasts the civil war in belly.

Once again, I was whisked into the cab, laid down in the back seat and tried to subdue my growing urge to vomit. The "fresh" air of car exhaust and burning rubbish outside sure didn't do me any favors. Upon arrival at the Nairobi Hospital, I fought the cab driver's suggestions that I stay in the car and crawled out onto the parking lot. When my British roommate, Stevie, placed a bag under my face, it seemed to serve as a cue to vomit...so I did, filling the entire bag.

The Dream Team, from left to right: House Mom Lucy, Fadhili Worker Christabel, British Roommate Stevie, Yours Truly

The rest of the story I will abbreviate - we arrived at 8pm and I wasn't admitted until 4am. I had an IV put in that fed me fluids and a pretty nice cocktail of other house specials. All in all, I was in the hospital for just under two days with a bacterial infection. The saving grace of the colossal waiting time in the observation room was the private suite I was admitted to. The one they tried to charge me for twice. Bastards. I showed them.

Home, sweet home!

It was great to come back home on Sunday and sleep on my malformed sponge mattress whilst tangled in the spider web of a mosquito net. Even better was going back to school today, to teach the kids math and have them give us a "propuh" lesson in Kiswahili.

On our walk to school.

Happily back in school.