It's Buddha Time

So, it's about time I explained the picture from the previous post. While in China, we went to a National Park/UN World Heritage Site called Jiuzhiajou (valley of nine villages) (prounounced Jew-Jhi-Go), and it was pretty incredible. I can't really equate it with any place that we've been. You all will think that we played with the colors when you see the pictures. It was that pretty. The first night there, we went to a small restaurant with "rabbit" in the name. Brac and Ceci speak pretty decent chinese, and we learned that there special sounded like it had "head" in it. We figured, "Why not? Let's try it." Then, Ceci figured out head and rabbit sound pretty similar. "Oh, so we'll just be eating rabbit," we said. Turns out we were right both times as wok-fried, cloven rabbit heads appeared in a bowl, complete with tongues, eyes and brains. When in China....... The taste wasn't so bad as the consistency. Firm, then soft, then firm. Cheek, esophagus, tongue.

After dinner, Brac was wandering down an alley, and found what looked to be a cool bar. So, we went in. After we were asked to wear a silk scarf and spin the prayer wheel, I figured it was a Buddhist tea house. They sat us in a colorful room and served us tea with yak butter. Ten minutes or so later, we heard singing from the next room, so Heather and Ceci went to investigate. Next thing Brac and I know, we were all invited over to that room for a party. Seems it was a karaoke room flowing with homemade alcohol of some sort. It tasted like apple cider vinegar that had been sitting in the back of the cupboard for a few years. Chinese honor and custom requires that, if someone toasts you, you have to chug the contents of your cup and show it to the other person. As a result, I slammed about 8 glasses and Brac slammed probably 10. I can't describe how surreal it was, as I'm sitting there full of vinegar alcohol, listening to Brac sing Folsom County Blues to a bunch of Chinese dudes in a Buddhist tea house/karaoke bar.

Anyway, here's some pics.

The Chinese Chicken

So, I've been wanting to write for a bit, but we were in China where they block blogs, facebook, and other such things. Our last couple weeks in Hawaii were great. We found a great sushi place, we ran across the Haleakala volcanic crater a couple times, and got a bit tanner.

Well, we are both now pale, but had a great time in China with our friends, Brac and Ceci. I'll write some more about China in a bit, but have to relate one of the funnier conversations I've had in awhile.

We were headed to the Great Wall, so we booked a reservation with a local travel guide to drive us to the wall. The problem was the bus left at 4:30 a.m., and, well, it was on a bus. That likely meant other people, a schedule, and a megaphone (used by all guides in China). Last minute, we cancelled the bus tour after we found another driver to take us at a reasonable hour and on our own schedule.

After cancelling, the guide nevertheless called us for the next 3 days trying to reschedule us. After eating a huge meal one night, Heather, Ceci, Brac and I decided to go for a late night foot massage. Remember how I said we had a great time in China? Hour long foot massages cost $6 bucks and they are open til 1 a.m. I went ahead and got 7 while there.

Continuing along, it was about midnight, we are all getting our feet worked on, and the phone rings. Brac recognizes the number as the guide, yet again. He chooses not to answer it, it goes to voicemail, and then immediately starts to ring again.

"You gonna answer that?" I say.
"No, just let it go to voicemail. It's the guide for the Wall again,"Brac tells me.
"Ok," I say. Then, I go ahead and answer the phone anyway. "Hello?"

No hello, ho how you doing, no nothing. Now, forgive my broken english, it's not meant to be stereotypical. It's just broken english.

"You go to Wall tomorrow?" The guide cuts right to the chase.
"No." I respond.
"You want to got to Wall tommorrow?" The guide continues.
"No." I respond again. Now, I'm guessing people typically offer excuses, but I chose not to. I think this threw the guide off her game a bit.
"No?" She was now unsure of herself.
"No." I said flatly.
"No?" She was disbelieving.
"No." I said again.
Then there was a long pause, followed a very, very quick, "Yesorno?" She was tricky.
But, I wasn't falling for it. "No."
Again, there was a pause, then a long, gutteral, "HHHHMMmmmmmmmmmm."
Then we both hung up. I'm not sure that I accurately conveyed this, but it had all of us cracking up. Then again, maybe it was just real late.



Mmmmm. Squid.

Would you take a ride with this guy? Seriously?

And, I'm gonna have to tell you about this whole thing next time.

Flintstones

Ok, people. I need your help to settle and argument. Growing up, I watched a lot of Flintstones. However, I think it was only about a week or two ago that I realized this giant clamshell was a rack of ribs. It kind of changes your childhood a bit when you find out something like this, doesn't it? Literally, I thought for my entire life that this waitress was bringing outsome sort of clamshell looking ordering tray. Never thought it could be a rack of ribs. Never, ever. My buddy Richard is in the same boat. We were talking about it the other day when we were discussing bbq.
"Did you ever realize that was a giant rack of ribs that toppled over Fred's car on the Flintstones?" I ask Richard.
"Nope. Not a clue." Richard replies.
"What'd you think it was?"
"No idea. I never understood what it was until recently. Then, one day....I just kind of knew." Richard crinkled his brow, expressing a look of understanding as he tried to wrap his hands around this life changing experience.

And, here's where the argument begins.
From the next lawn chair, Heather chimes in,"I knew it was ribs."
Stunned, both of us swung our heads her direction, to show our disbelief.
"Seriously, what else could it be?" Heather added, twisting her superiority into our guts a little.
"As a 4 year old, watching the Flintstones for the very first time, you knew the car was flipped over by a rack of ribs? No way." I'm not falling for this.
"Of course, I did. As I said before, what else could it be?"
"Maybe a tray. Maybe, agiant clamshell. Could be an enormous 'C'. " I'm full of ideas. Richard still has nothing to offer as he never had a clue what it was to begin with.
I'd like to say this is over, but it's not. Going on 2 weeks now, and I still don't believe her. So, here's where I need some help. Did anybody else out there, as a child, the first time you watched the Flintstones, ever realize these were ribs?
kk

Pi

So, we haven't been posting too much because not much has been going on. More things tend to happen while living in third world countries than when living in the U.S. Also, I've been working on a kid's book. Yeah. Me. Working on a kid's book. Go figure. Nevertheless, Heather is very artistic. As long as my story if half ok, Heather will be able to pretty it up. When I was writing on the blog more, I wasn't writing on the story enough. That being said, I know a bunch of you have kids about the age that I'm targeting (probably 3 to 7ish). So, here's the first chapter. It still needs some work, but do me a favor and read it to your kid. If they like it, I'll send you the next chapter. If they don't like it, lemme know what they didn't like. If you have comments, I'd love to hear them. Being a lawyer, I'm used to having my work torn apart. Anyway, the story is about this guy, Emmitt (aka Pi):

I've got another one planned for Elvis, but we've gotta get one in the books first.

And.....here's the first chapter:

Pi, The Merdog

Chapter 1
Pi lived on the edge of a huge, crystal blue lake with his mother and father. More than anything else, Pi loved to fish in the lake with his mother. Each morning, Pi’s mother pulled on her tall leather boots, took up her fishing pole and bobber, along with a package of golden fishing hooks, a carton of worms, and a snack for the two of them. Pi’s mother strolled through the twisted oak trees and open meadows, while Pi chased grasshoppers and birds, his tail bobbing up and down as he ran. Once his mother began fishing, though, Pi became very serious, and he would lay at his mother’s feet as she cast a golden hook into the water of the lake.

Pi loved the bright orange bobber that floated in the clear water, and he imagined that the bobber was a bright sun floating above an underwater city. In the city lived fish of every size, shape and color. As he looked into the depths of the lake, Pi envisioned forests of aquatic plants, and underwater houses built into the algae covered rocks. Pi even thought he saw a cobbled fence curving along the silt-covered bottom of the lake. As he lay in the sun, Pi dangled one blonde, hairy paw into the cool water as his mother caught beautiful fish after fish – bright red sunfish, steely blue catfish, and emerald green trout with silver speckles. Sometimes, his mother told Pi to kiss the fish before she released it back into the blue water. Pi often wondered why his mother never kept or ate any of the fish. Pi had many friends that ate fish for dinner- as fillets, and casseroles, sticks and salads. Not his family, though, as each fish that was caught went right back into the soft waters of the lake.

Now, it should be known that, while he tried very hard to listen to his mother and father, Pi often got into trouble due to his powerful imagination. For example, there was the time when his mother’s garden was attacked by dimpled, red aliens from a distant planet. Left alone, Pi was forced to defend the garden by himself, the lone soldier who could save the earth. Late that afternoon, his mother found Pi lying on his back in the garden, red juice staining his white muzzle and paws, his belly so full he could not stand, and all of her prized strawberries had been either eaten or trampled.

Then, there was the time that Pi borrowed his neighbor’s kite to fly in the meadow. Many hours later, his mother found both the kite and Pi high atop a twisted and gnarled oak tree. Pi was a battle weary knight defending the queen’s land from a vicious dragon. The tail of the kite wound tightly around almost every branch in the tree, as Pi, the knight, led the dragon around the kingdom, tying it into knots during the battle. Pi was so startled on hearing his mother yell his name that he almost fell from the tree. Roused from his imagination, Pi looked sorrowfully at the tattered and broken kite, no longer seeing the dragon. His mother looked at his sorrowful eyes and sighed, “Pi, you have a wonderful imagination, but you must be careful with it. You saved the kingdom from the dragon, but destroyed Mr. Martinson’s kite in the process. If used correctly, your creativity will get you out of trouble, and not so often into it.” Pi slowly climbed down from the tree. “Sorry, Mama,” he said, his tail hooked between his legs.

The end of Chapter 1.

I've got about 10 chapters so far, with probably 3 more to go. Lemme know what you think.
Kasper

July

This past weekend we had a chance to visit someone's home and spend a beautiful morning on the beach. After living in a small hotel room for a month and a half, I can only try to express how good it felt to be in a real home. Aaahhhh ... ;) Not to mention that the home was beautiful, full of food prepared for the party (complete with morning coffee served on the beach), with a view like this:Needless to say, we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. I arrived with the early group to snorkel, and was rewarded with a clear view of thick red sea urchins, colorful coral, a big pufferfish, trumpetfish, and schools of other fish. Just below the house a small jetty protrudes into the water, and it is beside these rocks that we snorkeled. Kris arrived later, having decided to RUN all the way from Haggai to the house. He's in training for his first marathon and is doing a good job keeping up with his training schedule. As you can imagine, he was happy to jump into the cool ocean.

Speaking of Kris, he failed to mention his part in the huge FIRE that nearly burned the Haggai building a few weeks ago. Haggai is located next to an empty lot full of dry grass, trees, and the occasional, (well, ok, permanent) vagrant. A few weeks ago, the fire alarm went off, and it turns out that a large part of the field was ablaze. The wind was blowing like crazy, moving the flames directly towards Haggai at a rapid pace. People jumped into action, and started gathering the Participants, moving cars that were directly in the fire path, and trying to slow the flames until the firemen arrived. I got to move a car (the older folks we work with didn't know how to start a Prius, but thanks to my friend, Laura O. and Ted V., I do!) but Kris was right in the middle of all the action and smoke working for over an hour. Eventually, the blaze was quelled, but firemen stayed for the next day or so to catch persistant smolders trying to burst into flame.

Everything smelled like a big BBQ for weeks (making us miss Texas ... mmmm ... meat), and the other ladies and I cleaned up ashes from the rooms until just a few days ago. Fun stuff. The cause for the fire was never determined, and we saw the homeless man come and stare at the big burned patch for a long time. Poor dude. The bush chickens made it though. (Did anyone else know that there are a hundreds of chickens living wild all over Maui and living in the bushes? It's the craziest thing, and those roosters have a funny idea about when to crow for morning).

This isn't the Haggai fire, but a blaze in the sugar cane fields. They often set fire to the crop when it's time to harvest in order to burn off the extra leaves. This produces "Maui Snow," a nice ashy soot that blows away and settles all over the island. Notice the red sun peeking through the smoke.

Brown Bear

So, I'm working outside everyday, maintaining the fish ponds. Heather is working inside everyday cleaning bathrooms. As a result, I'm slowly evolving into a Maui brown bear, while Heather is more of a Kihei polar bear. I tell her this constantly. I have found throughout my years of experience that women really like it when you tell them that they are pale. It's truly amazing that I'm married, isn't it?

I really enjoy working outside each day, but I have to wade around in recycled water scrubbing out algae from the ponds. I got a cut on my toe the other day, and it blew up like Jim Brown's bunion in I'm Gonna Git You Sucka. I know that is a pretty little known movie reference, but if you saw it, you know how nasty.

Speaking of movies, I was somehow woman-handled into seeing Sex and the City 2 the other day. It was either that, or go see an action movie with Jake Gyllenhall. To me, the choices seemed about the same. Don't get me wrong, I think Jake is a pretty good actor- Donnie Darko is one of my favorites. I even liked him in Bubble Boy, for that matter, because I'm a nerd. But old Jake as a Persian superhero/thief/timetraveller/acrobat......Persian.....seemed a bit excessive. Unlike the old westerns, don't they try to actually use people from the ethnicity that they are playing. You know, like Tom Cruise in The Last Samarai. I'm glad that I could make Heather happy by finally going to see something she wanted to see, but I'm so sad that I had to waste $20 bucks on that el stinko. I don't have to tell you all how the movie went - boy trouble, lots of clothes, and Kim Cattrall hooks up. We got home, and I had to see how much it has made, and - to date - a quarter billion worldwide. That is billion, with a "b". I guess people just getting easier and easier to please. I did get to pick the next flick though, so we rented Book of Eli with Denzel. I had to get some marks on my man card, and figured a post apocalyptic, sword fighting Denzel would do the trick. Thanks, Denzel.

Swollen toes notwithstanding, things are going really clipping along well. The island is absolutely beautiful, but the weather is bizarre. The city of Kihei, where we live, gets 10 inches of rain a year, but drive a half hour, and it rains 400 inches a year. Makes for some pretty scenery, as you will see below.

Sweet.

This is the view from my buddy Richard's back porch. Sweet.


Things are going well so far. We are enjoying our time at Haggai quite a bit, and have stayed nice and busy. I've probably vacuumed and mopped one hectare of commercial grade carpet and tile. I have no idea how many rooms Heather has cleaned in the past week and a half. When I say clean, I mean real, real, real clean. We are talking clean the A/C vents with a toothbrush kind of clean. Heather is talking about us giving our house a deep clean like this when we get back to Texas. When you're talking about cleaning a house with a toothbrush, baby, there is no us. I'm out!

Some of you all have asked what we are doing here, and what kind of missionary work can be done in Hawaii. To quote my buddy Hobbs, "Maui, huh? That's struggling for Jesus." From its website "Haggai Institute was founded in 1969 to equip Asian, African and Latin American Christian leaders — who will train others — to reach their own people for Christ." In a nutshell, as a volunteer, we keep the place clean so that the men and women who participate can focus on learning more. The participants in this program are pretty incredible. It's pretty cool to see three ladies from Ghana, Phillippines and Brazil all sitting around a table having dinner together.

Here's some Hawaiian pics:
This is just a really big tree with a hot chick sitting under it.
On our trip up Mt. Haleakala, our van broke down.

Twice.

Sunset from our building.And, she's happy to be here.

My backpack's gone

Heather and I just landed in Hawaii to start work with our next program at the Haggai Institute in Maui. We are really excited to get here, and it seems like it will be very interesting work. There are something like 20 different countries currently represented here. Pretty cool.

Anyways, I realized that due to sheer laziness and sloth, I never got around to writing about our last couple weeks in Kenya and Tanzania. After arriving in Zanzibar, I got a text from Merle (that's my mom's nickname, but only I can call her that) asking if I'd packed up my guns and put them in storage before we left for Africa. My first thought was, "My backpack's gone, my backpack's gone, my backpack's gone." And, obviously, this requires some explanation.

After college, a big group of my friends backpacked Europe for 6 weeks or so. By backpacking, I mean we rode the train all over the country. My buddy Matt, took a side trip away from the rest of us to drop his then-girlfriend off in Rome, so that she could catch a flight back to the states. On his way back to meet up with us, the entire car he was in was gassed by thieves. Sadly, this was, and I think still is, relatively common. The thieves run medical tubing up the hall of the train car, and slip it under the doors of the individual rooms. Then they pump laughing gas under the door, and knock everyone out. Old Matty Cakes woke up to find himself alone and sans backpack. Matt told me his first words upon waking were, "My backpack's gone, my backpack's gone, my backpack's gone." His Italian thieves were a relatively considerate group. They took his camera, but left his film. Took his walkman, but left his CD's. Dude, we had CD's then, and no mobile phones. I, and most of you, dear readers, are getting old.

Soooo, Merle's second text let me know that our house outside of Georgetown got robbed while we were gone. Luckily, I hand put many of our valuables into storage. The Texas thieves were not as considerate as Matt's Italians, though. They stole the Kawasaki mule, but also took our trailer to load it. They also stole the hitch to steal the trailer. They also topped the mule off with gase, and took the air compressor to pump up the tires. They hit Mom and Randal pretty hard by stealing their custom cowboy hats and boots. You want to see a former West Texas DPS office get pissed, take his size 14 custom alligators. Who does that?

Two days after finding out we got robbed in Texas, we got robbed in Zanzibar. Two robberies in two countries in two days. Luckily, they did not get too much, but the circumstances were kind of a kick in the junk. We had some cash and traveler's checks stolen out of the hotel safe......at the church hostel that we were staying at. Hopefully, we've met our theft quota for the next couple years.

The rest of Zanzibar was incredible, though. It is a predominately muslim city, so we were a bit nervous being westerners. However, our fears were a bit misplaced, as we were robbed by the christians. The food was incredible- seafood, curries, and spices that were non-existant in Central Kenya. Most definitely a place to go back to.

Finally, we then took a short flight back to Nairobi and took a van to the Masai Mara in western Kenya. It was like going to the zoo and knocking down all the fences. You could look out at any one time and see an ostrich standing next to a Thompson's gazelle and some warthogs, while a couple hyena ran around in the background. Absolutely unbelievable. Our guide, John, from Best Camping Tours, on the other hand, was kind of a shizaster. The extent of his input would be to say "buffalo," together with a nod of the head as we drove through a herd of a couple hundred. John also got hammered drunk most nights, chain smoked in the van, and managed to get us stuck in the mud next to a cheetah. All the other vans mysteriously drove around us, as we got out and pushed. John then topped it off by getting detained by the park rangers and was denied service at our hotel. More like, Kind of Marginal Camping Tours.

That's all I've got on Kenya. Talk to you about Hawaii soon.
kk

Up a Tree

Second Installment:

At Diani, we found a little “eco-lodge” place to stay for a couple of nights. Our room was up a ladder in a little basket house set on concrete stilts. Mosquito nets covered both the little twin beds and helped to catch the peanut shells spread all over the room by a mysterious visitor the second night. (Kris took a great picture of the little animal that is suspect in this case). The lodge had an open main area where all the visitors gathered to read, eat, and talk. We met some interesting characters there, and enjoyed the proximity to the beautiful beach about a five minutes’ walk away. There, we sat at on comfy chairs at Forty Thieves, the local – and rather cool – bar, ordered decent food and drinks, and watched skydivers land on the sand in front of us. We watched people take camel rides and even shopped, as locals will come and offer their wares repeatedly from a safe distance.

Two nights at the eco-lodge was enough for us, and we finally headed toward our last destination on another ten-hour bus ride. This ride, which we ended up taking without any food or water, led us to make the decision that we were flying home. Remember: when travelling in any third-world country, ALWAYS bring your own bottled water, a snack, and toilet tissue. There is no guarantee any of the above will be provided.

At last, we reached Dar es Salaam, a bit too late to catch the ferry to Zanzibar. We crashed in a little hotel and had a great dinner at a place called Chef’s Choice. They had the best fresh chapati, and we enjoyed some good - and spicy - chicken and beef, which had been scarce during our stay in Kenya. We also ended up sharing out table with an interesting Swedish lady who owned a store in Zanzibar. Both of us liked the fact that people aren’t afraid to ask if they can share a table when the restaurant is crowded.

The next morning we boarded a sleek modern ferry for the ride to Zanzibar, and finally, we arrived on the spice island. What a great place. The only regret we have is that we didn’t have enough time. We needed about four more days to explore the northern part of the island for scuba diving and the beaches. As it was though, we enjoyed a snorkeling trip and several days of winding through the narrow streets of Stone Town, the old part of Zanzibar. We stayed in an old church hostel – one of the last sites of the slave trade. The pulpit in the church behind the hostel stands exactly in the place where the shipping post stood. Our room had old tiled floors, high ceilings, and doors out onto a balcony where we could watch people passing in the street. Most of Stone Town is traversed on foot because the narrows streets prevent cars from passing through, so we walked every day. Women walk by in traditional Muslim and Indian dress, or in brightly colored fabrics called kangas. Most of Zanzibar is Muslim, so early in the morning and again in the evening we heard the eerie and beautiful call to prayer. Combined with a hint of incense and sea salt in the heavy air, we felt ourselves in a mysterious and foreign land, and we loved it!

Zanzibar has wonderful spiced tea, and they even spice the coffee. A tiny place near the hostel served local Swahili food, pastries and drinks, and was our favorite place for tea. There we ate a good-sized meal (and I had the tastiest bowl of coconut octopus soup!) for less than three dollars. It’s like they’re giving it away!

Since Zanzibar is a spice island, we went on a tour to see how spices are grown. It was cool to see a clove tree and lemongrass, and all the other spices in their natural state. Sometimes the entire tree smells like a familiar spice. The only mishap was when an evil plant stung me (and I’m writing this so that Kris can post another one of his favorite pictures here). It hurt like fire for about 20 minutes. The guides were like, “Hmmm … we’ve head of that, but never seen it. You must have soft skin.” Thanks, guys. They later rubber on another plant to make it feel better… ish.

Drink irresponsibly. Nice motto for people living in trees. Safety first.
Pretty cool, but lacking an A/C.
Nom, Nom, Nom.

BACK IN THE U.S.

Well, we have made it back. We've been dying to write about our last month of travels. Heather has been working on the last writeup, which, I think, well need to be broken apart into a 3-part miniseries. You know, something like Lonesome Dove but without horses and guns. Here's her first crack:

After our wonderful trip up and down Mt. Kenya (which didn’t involve AS much falling as the previous posting might have suggested), we went back to Tumaini for a few days to say goodbye. At our last weekly Fellowship, Kris and I got up to say a few words and let the kids know that we were finally leaving. As Kris spoke, I started looking around at all the faces we’d grown to know in the past couple of months. I tried to think of some sage advice to help inspire them after we left, but as I looked at them I suddenly got all choked up and started to bawl. It didn’t stop for the rest of Kris’ speech or when we sat down, and began with renewed vigor when the little girls surrounded me and started singing a goodbye song with tears in their eyes. Wow. Leaving was definitely more difficult than we expected. We wished, as the kids requested requested, that we could fit some of them into our bags and take them home. By the next morning we (me) had it under control, and we packed into a cab, said some final goodbyes, and left for Nairobi. Though sad to leave our home and new friends of two months, we were very excited to start exploring more of the country.

Since we’re not scared to travel like the locals (and it fits nicely into the budget of the purposefully unemployed), we took matatus, which Kris has described in an earlier blog, shuttles, and big buses down to Mombasa. It was about a 10 hour trip down to the coast. We spent one night in Mombasa in a nice hotel with a/c and a fantastic Chinese restaurant located just around the back. It was so good. After two months in Central Kenya, Kris and I were craving some spicy, tasty food, and this place satisfied both. It was also interesting to watch a large party of Chinese boat workers, who were personally seated and catered to by the owner, party it up after a day of hard work. Assorted bottles of alcohol were placed, family style, on the lazy susan in the middle of the table, and they took shots between Tusker beers and tasty food. We were tempted to join in, but our Mandarin is a little rusty, and we were too worn out after our daylong bus ride.

The next morning we headed out through the streets of Mombasa led by some man who attached himself to us as soon as we stepped off the portico of the hotel. At first it was a bit irritating, we having had our share of “helpful” people on the street. Near the end, however, we were both thankful to have had him along, as he warded off other “guides” and aggressive local salesmen. He led us around Fort Jesus, a thick-walled Portuguese fort built right on the beautiful coastline, through the spice market, and then through the meat market where they sold live chickens along with bits of goat and camel for a good price. We purchased a few spices, said goodbye to our guide, and decided that it was time to head on down to Diani Beach.

hjk

That's it for now, we'll pick it up again soon. Here's some more pics.
Fort Jesus - Don't mess with the Jesus.
Spikes to keep off the elephants. Seriously.
Tried to get Heather to act out Blue Lagoon, but she was not down with it.

Spices. Not used anywhere in the Central Highlands.

The Tiredest Leg in the World

So, most days, my wife is one of the most graceful people that I know. Athletic, great dancer, light on her toes. Yes, I'm kissing up. Because she does not want me to discuss those other days where balance and grace seem to evade her. Coming down Mt. Kenya was one of those special days. To her credit, the guide said that she hiked better than anyone he had in recent memories. We'd also been climbing up and down Mt. Kenya for 5 days. Nevertheless, I chose to lag about 10 feet behind her and our awesome guide, Hiriam, and watch the show. As I've said before, it cracks me up when people fall, especially when those people are my hot wife.

First, Heather walked into a large clump of strawish grass that was about chest high. Hiram said it was some type of mountain heather, actually. It was just a bit off the trail, and she hit it with half her body. I giggled a bit from the trail behind her, so she stopped to explain that she was just wiping some mud from her boot. Next, she managed to hit some scrub brush with her left arm and shoulder hard enough that it spun her 180 degrees. Again, I laughed, and she stopped to explain that her rain gear was dirty, and she was just cleaning it off. Apparently, she likes to clean her coat off as hard as possible. My sister used to do the same thing when we were kids. She'd slam into the frame of a doorway as she walked through it, then deny that it ever happened. I never understood it, but apparently many women have this gene.

The walking then got pretty slick and the three of us took our turns slipping and sliding down the moutain. We hit a dry patch once we got down into the jungle and started to pick up the pace some. Suddenly, I watched as Heather's left leg just gave up, curled under her body, and she straight bit it. There was no water, mud or inclement condition. She was a victim of the tiredest leg in the world. Heather popped back up again almost as fast as she went down, walking as if nothing had happened.

"You're hoping that I didn't see that, right?" She looked back, and started cracking up.

The mountain is beautiful. We miraculously had great weather, actually missing a storm on the top by about a half hour. And, our guide fed us as if we were 4 people and not just the 2 of us.
If ever in Kenya, call up Hiram Munuhe and go for a hike up the mountain.

Big mountain. Little Heather and Hiram.


One of the huts with Nelion Peak behind it.

Tea at 16,500 feet.

So happy and full of energy.

Then so tired you pass out cold on a table. That bundle on the left is Heather.



Then on a bench.

Going on a Hike

It is crazy, but our 2 month commitment to the home is already up. We've hugely enjoyed working here, and I could easily see us coming back at some point. Just have to figure out a little thing called MONEY. Our plan now is to travel around for the next month and see some of the country. We leave today to hike Mount Kenya. The rainy season has officially begun, though, so we'll just have to see how it goes. I'm sitting here in shorts and a tee shirt, but it looks to be snowing up on the mountain. So please go tell your local weatherman to predict cold, rain and snow for the area. That way, we'll be sure to get some sunshine.

Here's a few pics from our last couple weeks.



It was potato peeling day the other day. Interesting to watch. First, peel the potato. Second, scratch your legs and feet with the knife. Third, resume peeling the potato. Fourth, dinner.
One of Heather's art projects. You, too, can have your own little Hannibal Lecter.

I have a really, really hard time looking at this one. It weirds me out.


We had a surprise birthday celebration for Zach. He liked the cake. Really, just look at him.

Briefly in the lead.
Things are done a bit differently here.