Heather And Kris Ville

It's Buddha Time

2010-09-29T11:22:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-14T02:43:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-29T19:43:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-24T19:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-11T16:11:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-26T20:42:00.001-07:00

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.

2010-06-08T20:51:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-27T19:11:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-01T17:38:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-19T13:16:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-19T06:04:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-09T23:27:00.001-08:00

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.

There's a Slight Hill Next to Moshi

2010-03-02T22:17:00.000-08:00

Turns out, there's a slight hill next to Moshi called Kilimanjaro. So, Heather and I headed to Moshi, Tanzania last Thursday so that I could run in the annual Kilimanjaro Maratho. It is called the Kilimanjaro Marathon, but they offer a half marathon, which I happily entered. So that we would not have to travel at night, Heather and I left a day before Titus and Douglas, the two coaches that I work with here at Tumaini, along with their good friend, Phabius. There have been a rash of car jackings around Nairobi lately, and it is not the greatest place to be traveling after dark. Reputation of "Nairobby" aside, Nairobi was great. I ate a decent knockoff of an American cheesburger at the Nairobi Java House, and even split a vanilla and chocolate chip milkshake. It was an even split - 80% mine and 20% Heather's. Bless her, she knows my sweet tooth is not to be trifled with.

Titus, Douglas and Phabius arrived early the following morning, and we hopped onto the bus for the 9+ hour ride to Moshi. The crossing into Tanzania was to cost anywhere from $25 to $50 for Americans, but was free for Kenyans. Nevertheless, upon our arrival, we were informed that the cost for Americans and Irish was now $100 per person. By contrast, Kenya had only cost $25 to enter, and, stupidly, I assumed the cost for Tanzania would be similar. Seemed just arbitrary enough to be real. I have since verified that this new law has been in effect since 2007 through some sweet U.S. legistation that requires a flat fee but allows multiple border entries. Other countries have the option to request a multiple entry visa, but can choose to purchase a much cheaper single entry pass. Hmmmm. We scraped together a mix of American dollars and shillings and made it across, much lighter in the wallet.

We loaded back onto the bus and made our way to Moshi relatively uneventfully. We did blow out a tire about 30 km from the town of Arusha. It didn't bother us much though, as the driver chose to continue driving as if there was no problem. We switched buses in Arusha, got into Moshi and found a hotel.

The next morning, we rose early to do some warmup jogging (running for me, jogging for my Kenyan friends), ate at another good coffee shop called the Kilimanjaro Coffee Lounge, and walked around the town some. I was a bit nervous for the race, so I couldn't rest or relax completely. Plus, the warmup run of 5 miles, together with a walk around town of 5 more miles was more than I should have done.

Our alarm sounded at 5 a.m on Sunday, then again at 5:15 a.m. All the guys were competing in the half, so we met outside. Heather wanted to take pictures of us, so, like a trooper she loaded up our camera gear and valuables and walked the 2 miles to the start of the race.

My race last November was difficult because it was my first half marathon, it was hot, and there were 30,000 people running in it. This was difficult because the race organizers chose to begin the race with a 6.55 mile climb up the lower slopes toward the base of Mt. Kenya. My Garmin says the race started at about 2900 feet, and rose steadily to 4,128 feet in elevation. At the end of the 6.55 miles, the runners turned 180 degrees on a 2 lane road and ran back down hill. The last mile or so before the turn was a particularly rough climb, then to turn and immediately run back downhill was brutal on the legs, but the change of direction felt so nice. Right before the turn, I was on a 9:33 mile pace, but almost instantly after the turn, I was on a 5:51 pace. I was briefly worried that my feet were going to go right out from under me. Things felt pretty good for the next 5 miles, but I started to tire around mile 12. Unluckily, at about that time, I passed an open air butcher on the roadside. Freshly cut goat is not a good smell at mile 12. But, luckily, shortly thereafter a group of Tanzanian school kids chose that moment to run with muzungu for a quarter mile or so. It gave me a needed push to the end.

The times aren't posted yet, but I think I finished in about 1:40, about the same time as I ran before, but on a much harder course. My Kenyan friend fared much better. Titus finish in about 1:11, Douglas in about 1:20 and Phabius in about 1:21. Titus looked completely fresh after the race, and was heartened by his performance where he had only intended a nice "jog".

The morning we headed back to Nairobi. After an 11 hour return ride, Heather and I decided to stay another night in Nairobi. Our friends hopped on a matatu and completed the trip back to Nyeri. While in Nairobi, we visited both the "Animal Orphanage" and "Elephant Orphanage". These are two good projects displaying Kenya's ever increasing support of their wildlife. If ever in Nairobi, check it out.

Three Kenyans all smiling in one photo? Has to be a first.
Douglas likes to strike a pose.
Somewhere around the fifth muzungu across the line. I would venture to say there were a few hundred Kenyans and Tanzanians as well.
Happily finished with my lady friend.
Clouds cleared for a nice view of Kilimanjaro. It was hard for me to see with all the sweat and tears blocking my view.

Crowned Heron at the Animal Orphanage.
Little guy sliding in for some water.
Terrible two year olds.

Field Day

2010-02-23T23:34:00.000-08:00

We held a field day for about 170 kids on Saturday. Unbelievably, we made it through without any injuries. Heather, Zach and I may have done some damage to our vocal cords, but that would be the extent of it. There was a 5k race, field events (composed of sack race, wheelbarrow race, and 3 legged race), sprints, relays and a soccer tournament. The kids were additionally arranged on teams to compete against one another, with prizes given to the winners.

It has been raining by the pound here lately, so it was a pretty muddy 5k course. Nevertheless the winning boy came through in 18:24, and the winning girl in 21:05. The sack race, though, was the crowd favorite. I find it hysterical when people eat it, and I don't seem to care if they are kids or not.

As usual, we took a ton of pictures. Also as usual, we had a computer crash that ate about 600 pictures. Fortunately, we were able to download a program that recovered about half the pics. Here are a few.

Two Muzungus (White People) in a Matatu (Taxi)

2010-02-19T05:15:00.000-08:00

This is kind of a long one. Our friend, Virginia invited us to travel to Nanyuki, see a local wool-weaving cooperative, and then visit a trout farm. The ride there was pretty uneventful, but it was our longest matatu ride to date. A matatu is the Kenyan crossbreed of a bus and a taxi. The breed is not often pretty. Minivans are used to transport people along set routes. Matatus typically come in 2 sizes – 14 person matatus and 10 person matatus. Occasionally, you will see a 7 seater. The 7 seater is like a smart Aggie. I hear they exist, but I've never seen one.

So, it was interesting to see the different plants that the weavers used to dye the spun wool. The cooperative provides a way for single/widowed women to earn some money and have a steady occupation. Nevertheless, there is only so much wool a person can look at.

After Nanyuki, we explored a group of shops situated on the equator, which is kind of a tourist spot. In a flash, was as if I had become my mother, Ron Draeger or Gerarld Kurio. Everything instantly became negotiable. I remember being on a trip with Draeger one time and we were buying some groceries at a large grocery store for a camping trip. This is in the U.S., mind you. Draeger attempted to negotiate down the price of the groceries. “I’ll give you a dollar for that bread. C’mon, what do you care?”

My conversations with the various dealers echoed in a similar tone. “That bracelet costs 750 shillings ($10.00)? Really, how about 150 ($2.00)?.....Now 600 shillings, how about 150? 500? Here’s 150. Ok, deal.” Kinda spooky.

After shopping, we headed to the trout farm in yet another matatu. We were dropped off on the side of the road generally in the area of the farm. After following Virginia for 20 minutes as she traipsed through a cow pasture in high-heeled shoes, I began to doubt that we were in the right spot. The bells ringing from the necks of the cattle around us made me question our path. Nevertheless, a short time later, we ran into the road to farm. Virginia was right on the money. Turns out the farm actually has an amazing restaurant that goes with it.

The restaurant is built around an ancient, giant fig tree. Colubus monkeys hopped from branch to branch eating figs. We took a seat and had our best meal to date. Smoked trout, grilled trout and masala trout. Soooooooo good to have a meal without corn. The trout reminded me of our trips to Montana when I was a kid. Fish fresh out of a stream, covered with salt, pepper, lemon and onion, wrapped in foil and thrown in the coals of the campfire. Again, soooooooo good.

We finished up, and headed for home. I was supposed to run with the kids at 4:30, so we left the restaurant around 3, figuring we had plenty of time. We hiked back to the road, and were met, almost immediately, by a matatu. The three of us hopped in. Heather and Virginia in the back, and I took the position next to the sliding door. Matatus are typically manned by a 2 person team - the driver and the solicitor, who gets people to take the ride.

The solicitor slid into the seat behind me. The driver punched the gas. We lurched forward, with the sliding door wide open. We rode for about 50 meters, and the solicitor pushed the door shut. The door, however, did not comply, and ground to a halt about half-closed. The driver continued over the protests of the solicitor. I must say that I did not mind the breeze. Finally, the driver stopped to address the open door. Likely, the police would not have let us continue, or, more likely, would have extracted a large fine from the driver. The solicitor and a buddy jumped out and went to work on the door, which, in turn, immediately fell off the matatu. I was curious how we would continue. Heather laughed from a couple rows behind me.

After 10 to 15 minutes, with the driver, solicitor and their buddy working and conferrig, the door was somehow placed back onto the van. It looked shaky, to say the least. The solictor asked me to slide over a spot, and he took my seat. He then reached into the front and fetched a piece of homemade rope, which was looped through the door. I cracked up.

On trips of this sort, I have often had a moment when I realize that things are out of my hands, and others are in charge. Backpacking Europe, I had a strict regimen of countries to visit and cities to explore. Except, trains rarely showed up on time. After a couple weeks, my friends and I would drink wine, play cards, and hop whatever train actually did show. In Peru, our van blew out a tire on the first day travelling to the clinic. I think we piled 12 people, plus medical supplies into one small SUV. Obviously, I was not going to make it back in time to run with the kids.

We continued in this manner. I was certain that the matatu would not take more people on due to the door. At the next stop, three more got on, bringing our total number of people on board to a record of 22. After a few more stops, the solicitor worked on the door for a while more. It appeared his buddy was able to pry the bent rail to allow the door to slide shut. Everyone clapped and laughed. Confident, the driver stomped on the gas. 200 meters down the, the door fell off completely. Sparks flying on the road, and the solicitor hanging on to the door for dear life.

Again, the door was pried on to the rail, and it somehow managed to stay that way the remainder of the trip. We pulled in to the home at 6:15p.m., just missing my scheduled time of 4:30. Some pics for you. Again, click on them to enlarge.
kk

A typical 14 seater matatu.

A typical number of passenger (inclusive of muzungu).

Heather thoroughly enjoying the pleasant ride.

My riding companion.

I'm sure this complied with U.S. car manufacturing standards.
Just like home at the Texas Shop.
Those two buckets show how the water twirls different ways at the equator.
Spun wool.

Trout Tree Restaurant.

Sooooo good.

Little Bit of Fun

2010-02-09T23:22:00.000-08:00

SO, we've had some fun lately. A week or so ago, I showed the ladies in the kitchen how to make tortillas, which they loved. They asked for more that afternoon and the next day. Tortillas are very similar to the traditional Kenyan "chipati," which are cooked in oil on the “jiko or giko” a little charcoal grill. Not quite as healthy, but mighty tasty hot off the grill. Every Kenyan woman seems to know how to make them, and we have had them at two different houses, as well as on special occasions here at Tumaini. A few days later the kitchen was full of students and cooks plucking bits off a mountain of dough and rolling out chipati. Kris grabbed the camera and took some great pictures, some of which you’ll see below.

Later that week, we were invited to one of the cook's houses for lunch. Mary is one of the sweetest people here, and we were happy to go for a visit. We met her husband, Stephen, and four kids, and she and a friend had cooked us mokimo, rice, stew, chipati, and cabbages. It was quite a spread, and the stew had the tastiest – and most tender – meat we've had so far. The living room was set up with all the sofas and chairs lined around the room and covered with white doilies, which were nicely offset by the red velvet couches. Mary’s kids and others from neighboring houses ran back and forth in front of the house, peeking in at us, just a little shy of the visiting white people. After eating and conversing for quite a while, we went outside to the back of the house to see the chickens and goats and explore the shamba (garden). I fell immediately in love with the three little two-week old goats, none of them shy. They nibbled at my shoes and I scratched their backs as they hopped around. Then, with Stephen as our guide, we went back into the field behind the house and traipsed through corn and coffee plants on the way to visit his parents. They, along with his brother, all share the shamba, whish has some of the tallest corn plants I’ve ever seen, as well as an avocado tree that must have been way over 25 feet tall.

After the tour, the oldest son brought out plastic garden chairs, where we sat to watch Stephen as he took at ten-foot pole of sugar cane and whacked off the skin with his panga (a big, heavy, general purpose knife). Then he cut foot-long pieces of cane and handed them to us to knaw on. We sat in a semi-circle chewing on the cane, sucking the juice out, and spitting the remaining fibers into a flat basket on the ground. It was great!

When the clouds that had been gathering about us finally released a sprinkling of rain, our party moved the veranda. More conversation ensued, and then we noticed that Mary had gone into the kitchen to start dinner. Wait ... more food? Turns out that they wanted, and expected, us to stay for another meal! It was very kind, but we had to leave and get back to the home. They lock the gates at six, Zach had been reprimanded one time when he was late. (The other time he climbed over the fence). Stephen kindly offered to drive us back, so Mary, the littlest boy, and we three climbed in the car and headed home.

This past Saturday, we took another trip to a trout farm and a town called Nanyuki with a friend, Virginia, who teaches at the secondary school. Either Kris or I will write about it soon.

hjk
This is one of the market stands were we get our fruits and vegetables.

Thought you may need a close up.

Showing off some chipati.
Hot Potato!
Our friends Rachel and Grace.

Ngai, But Krees, Ah'm So Tyahed!

2010-02-03T11:29:00.000-08:00

So, I feel as if it's been a little while since I wrote anything. I feel like talking about my experience running with the kids over here. I remember first talking to people about the Hope Runs program, and how Heather and I were going to help coach the Kenyan kids to run. I do believe that the most common response I received was,"Ha! You all are going to teach Kenyans to run?" Again, more often than not, there were squinty eyes and a smirk behind the question.

First of all, I was usually careful to say "help coach," and not "teach." I do understand my limitations as a 35 year old former real estate attorney. Second, yes, many of these kids are fast. Real fast. One of the Grade 8 kids ran an 18:30 five kilometer race last year as either a 12 or 13 year old. That's crusing along at about a 5:58 per mile. There's another kid who ran a 9:47 in the 3000 last year when he was 16. That's around a 5:14 per mile average. Um, yes...again, I say this is fast. As in, "Damn.....did you see how fast that kid is?" Third, and I think what most everyone, including your humble blogger, forgot is that these are kids. I don't care what country you are in, there are kids who will hate to run, especially when it is mandatory.

I'm going to give you an example. This Christmas, my inlaws were unbelievably kind, and gave me a Garmin GPS trainer. I'm using the thing non-stop. (Except for last week, when I caught a stomach bug/worm or microbe). Here are two workouts I've done in the past few days on the exact same trail. One is with the kids, and one is by myself. Guess which one was with the kids. Remember, it is the exact same trail.

Garmin Connect - Activity Details

Garmin Connect - Activity Details

You may first note that on one map, my route shows thicker in some areas, indicating that I was running back and forth repeatedly over the same trail. Or, you may have noticed that while one trail was 4.59 miles, the other was 5.7 miles. Again, for the same trail. Others of you may have noticed that one trail took approximately twice as long to complete. Finally, the more adept of you may have seen that I entitled one Big Loop by Self, and the other Big Loop with Kids.

Anyway, the point is that we are working with children. As a result, while some kids may be flying through the workout, I'm at the back hearing, "Ngai, but Krees, Ah'm so tyahed. " I hear this a lot. Ngai is Kikuyu for God, by the way.

Obviously, all of this is said jokingly. It is interesting, though, that across cultures, kids are still kids. And, these kids just started their running training right when we got here. Over the last month, the kids at the back have dropped about a minute and a half to two minutes from their mile times. Even those that don't want to are improving in spite of themselves. Makes me feel good about our time here :)

As usual, here are a few pics.
Kasper

My feet post-run. Please note the redish hue and stubby toes.

Heather's feet post-run. Please note the redish hue, but dainty ankles and shapely calves.

The Kenyans like to eat a tortilla-esque flatbread called "chipati." It is really good. Unlike tortillas, it is cooked in oil. The kids made a batch of it a few days ago out of this torso-shaped mound of dough.
Cooking of the chipati.
Our good friend Elizabeth, tired from getting 30 kids to cook the chipati.

A Break

2010-01-29T06:41:00.000-08:00

We got to take a break yesterday, and went to the Solio Ranch Reserve. This is a breeding ground for most of the rhinos in Kenya's National Parks. Turned out to be a very lucky trip as we saw 4 of the Big 5 of Africa - rhino, lion, leopard and buffalo. We did not see elephants though. One often thinks of taking a safari in a big old Land Rover. Not us, though. How about a moderately used Corolla. Sure, sounds good. 4 Wheel Drive was probably necessary, but we made it, remarkably, without a flat. Here's some pics. Click on them to enlarge.

Buffalo and Mt. Kenya
Now, giraffe and Mt. Kenya.

We did disrupt his nap.

Black Rhino that was easily twice the size of our Corolla. Our driver had his foot hovering over the gas.

Siesta with flies.

This guy was huge. We had a zoom lens, but he was so close I couldn't fit him in the pic.

The Apartment

2010-01-27T00:43:00.000-08:00

This afternoon I boiled eggs. Somewhere among the brown eggs bumping against each other in boiling water, there was a connection to home, where I learned how to boil a perfect egg just before we left. These eggs, 30 of them, we bought fresh for about three dollars. They are as brown and speckled as the farm eggs I had at my grandma’s growing up, but with pale yellow yolks.

It is almost two weeks since our arrival in Kenya, and I’d like to describe my first impressions, starting with our arrival at the orphanage.

We drove in from Nairobi in a cab with a nice driver. In our Kenyan experience thus far, there seems to be an inclination toward the name Francis among drivers. The scenery along the drive was beautiful, with fields of coffee plants and pineapples, and orchards of bananas and mangoes. After three hours, we turned onto a dirt road, slowly bumped our way down to the Riamakurwe Parish and pulled up to stop at a turquoise metal gate. The driver honked the horn, and the gate was opened by one of the Matrons of the home. Zack (the other American volunteer), the manager, and an assortment of other people greeted us warmly and helped us with our bags. Not knowing what to expect, we were happily surprised to see that the grounds of the orphanage are well kept and colorful, with solidly built structures and beautiful landscaping. We’ve come to learn that most of the landscaping is done by the children, with intermittent aid of other workers. After some minutes of greeting, with a variety of handshakes and much enthusiasm, we were led into our apartment, shown around and invited to the library for a welcome lunch.

We splashed water on our faces and headed into the library. A surprising amount of literature, though in disarray, stocked the shelves. The staff had prepared us a large meal, with a kind of beef and zucchini stew, rice, mashed potatoes, and chipati, a kind of oily tortilla. We dug into our first Kenyan meal, and I only had difficulty with one particularly gristly piece of meat. Not wanting to offend, since we were constantly under observation, I went for seconds and later took an opportunity to stash the impossible piece in a napkin and later, the trash. We were given the remainder of the meal to take into our apartment for later.

First and foremost, let me say that the apartment far and away exceeds our expectations. Kris and I had excpected our living quarters to be more third, but things are very nice. There are some nice quirks to it, though, like with any place. Upon entry of the living room, six large tiger-striped pillows lounge on the blue and gold striped and squared couch, love seat, and chair that dominate the living room. There is also a coffee table, dining table, and bookshelf, which I have quickly covered in art materials for the kids. The apartment has high ceilings, tall turquoise doors, four bedrooms and a kitchen, all with florescent lighting. I found one white light bulb in the pantry, and that has been moved to our bedroom.

We slept on the bed one night (wood frame with wooden slats) before I went to the other bedrooms and gathered the blankets to pile under our mattress. Mattresses here are made of foam that is covered in a sort of flowered pink panty hose material. Over time, they tend to compress in the middle, rolling the occupants into a sort of Kenyan sleeping taco.

It took us awhile to realize that we could enjoy more than tepid water from our shower. All of the outlets here have individual switches, and the shower requires two to be switched on, the light and the heater, which is located in the showerhead itself. Zack warned us not to touch the electric showerhead while the water is on – he’s been shocked once before. After about a week of cool showers, Kris was all soaped up in mid-shower when the water shut off, quickly going from full blast to a slow trickle. Our practice was to turn the water onto full blast immediately (blast here being defined as random spray from 16 of the unclogged shower holes). When the water shut off on him, he realized the water was becoming hotter. What a happy discovery he had made! Too bad he had to finish rinsing with a bottle full of cold water. What we still can’t figure out is how to make the shower stop dripping. We regularly fill and replace big bottles under the showerhead, saving them for the occasions when the water isn’t on.

The toilet closet doesn’t bear much description other than the lack of lid on the tank, which, when flushed, proceeds to spray and utter strange (and loud) noises.

Our kitchen is filled with the most pleasant natural light, as the windows are the only ones lined up with the outdoors. Our living room windows line up with the stairwell leading up to the girls’ dormitory, as a result, all day we hear amplified talking, laughing, stomping and singing. Our bedroom in the back of the building has windows that open over the wash area where kids scrub their clothes several times a day. We also hear the roosters crowing in the morning, and the neighboring dogs barking and yelping throughout the night. The kids tell me they’re just hungry.

Back to the kitchen … We have a nice big pantry, which already contained the leavings of prior mission trips. Sauces from 2006, old spices, half a bottle of soy sauce, and assorted leftovers litter the shelves. We hesitate to throw anything away, worried of looking wasteful in a place where people lack. A little boy presented us with another good reason to sneak it into the burn pile when we found him munching on three-year-old Skittles we’d thrown away. Zack is still not such where his two-week-old and moldy Clementine orange went.

Anyway, the kitchen is a good size, with a small fridge, table, and tiny stove. Thankfully, we now have a new stove, switched out from another apartment. It only has one burner that doesn’t work, where as the first one only has one burner that worked. Much improved. We have plenty of silver ware, stamped out of a single piece of thin metal (they just fold when you try to mash potatoes), one good knife that someone left (thank you) and several pots with rounded lumpy bottoms that we balance on the burners with coffee cups. So far we’ve eaten with the children at least two-thirds of the meals, but githerie lethargy has driven us to make pasta, boiled eggs, experimental leftover dishes, and flour tortillas.

hjk

Got a few pics for you, as well.
Powered by Burro.
Our daily fresh milk comes from here.
Some of the kids - Hannah, Mary Ann and Rhoda.
Two little guys walking.
Goat and soccer.

The Kenyan Diet

2010-01-21T08:06:00.000-08:00

I'm not saying that this is country wide, because I don't know. In our area though, we are eating a lot of bean, rice and corn based meals. A lot of runners asked me to write about the diet, so I figured I'd give it a whirl. For a couple that ate meat most meals of the day (an occasional burger for breakfast is nice), we have transistioned to a mostly vegetarian diet. The three main meals we have eaten are:
1. Githeri - This is kind of like a stew without the broth. It is made primarily of beans, corn, potatoes, kale, cabbage, and carrots. It is boiled in water. I belive, just barely covering the food. The water boils down, then let simmer. It has been served hot, and in something of a paste form. Not bad with hot sauce. I'd kill for a bottle of Cholula. Seriously.
2. Ugali- Maize (corn) flour boiled in water. Once it becomes firm, you eat it in pieces. Kind of like a large potful of a corn dumpling. Yummmy. Kinda tasteless.
3. Porridge - I still cannot figure out the name of the porridge. It is chock full of stuff though. Mix maize flour, wheat flour, soybeans, sorghum, water and milk. Boil it and serve in a cup. Mmmmmm. Kinda tasteless.

Here's a few more pics for you.
Drying out the running shoes. I have found that kiosks make the best dryers.
My new desktop.

The farmer's market. Word is Whole Foods is going to buy them out. I mean that in all seriousness.

This is Robert.
This is Lucy and Ann.

Let's talk again soon.
Kasper

Got a few Pics

2010-01-19T04:36:00.001-08:00

Football and laundry.
Supercuts.
Some of the kids.

One wing of Tumaini home.
Little goat in the restaurant window to draw in the customers. Mmmmm. Goat.
Burro catching a breather from all that wagon pulling.

Jet Lag.Fighting Jet Lag.

One Week

2010-01-13T11:28:00.000-08:00

One Week 1-13-10
Our first week in Kenya has flashed by. We are stilling dealing with jet lag, and are still frequently waking between 4:30 to 5:00 a.m. The internet has been down our entire stay so far, so forgive our lack of postings.

Back to our arrival - Another driver took us on the 3-hour drive from Nairobi to the home. As I mentioned in the last entry, he was a couple hours late in arriving. The drive was relatively easy, though, with the only traffic and obstacles being in Nairobi. Neither of us really knew what to expect on our arrival at the home. What did the home look like? How are the kids going to react to us? How will our proposed programs be implemented? The kids were in school as we unloaded our things, giving us some time to look around. The Tumaini home was constructed in 2003, so it is relatively new. The house and grounds are meticulously maintained by both a small staff and the children. The day before we left, we found out that a large portion of the yearly budget was cut as donations have decreased due to the poor global economy. A number of the staff was let go prior to our arrival. Additionally, a number of older kids (between high school and college) had to find other living accommodations. You would not know it by looking at the home; sadly, this may actually work to their detriment, as people would naturally assume that the home does not need the money.

The children started to drift in from school, and we began introductions. I believe that Heather’s name must only be used in America, as we have not yet been in another country where it can be pronounced. “Heavah…..Heevah…….Heehhaah.” The kids are getting better with it. My name, on the other hand, sounds so much cooler in other countries than it does in America. “Krees.” Drag out the e’s a little. Krees.

Heather has held 2 art classes so far, and they have been a large hit. The kids are really enjoying them. I began running with the kids a couple days ago, so I don’t yet have a feel for it. I am still getting to know the two coaches – Titus and Douglas. Titus has a 2:16 marathon under his belt, and Douglas is currently trying to make the Kenyan national team. Obviously, they are a wee bit above my level, and appear to be watching how I relate to the kids first. My other intended program was to pair as many kids as possible with a pen pal in the States. I’ve got a few things working against me on this one. The internet has been down the entire week that we have been here. The budget cuts make paying for normal post impossible. Finally, very few kids are allowed on the computers, making this hard to sustain once Heather and I leave. We will see. I am discussing ideas with the manager, matron, and our extraordinarily helpful friend, Zach. Zach is a fellow American who spent 8 months here last year, working to implement an introductory business course in the high school.

I will post some pics later when the network here isn't so funky.
Kris and Heather

We Made It

2010-01-13T11:15:00.000-08:00

We Made It 1-10-10
For the amount of time it took, I would say that we made it to Tumaini (pronounced Too – Mine –E) without much of a problem. From the time we left our house in Texas to our arrival in Nairobi took about 28 hours. It was another 3-hour ride to Tumaini the next day. It is about 5 a.m. (8p.m. Texas time) on our second morning at the home. Never really had “jet lag” before. I recommend a name change to “Jet Throws Your Body Into A Complete Tailspin Lag”, as it seems more apropos to me. I would consider requiring that it be written in all caps, rather than just initial caps, as well. I’ve been waking up between 3:30 and 4:30 a.m. so far. Heather has been doing a little better, but not too much.

After our bags arrived at the airport, we hopped into a car with our driver, Francis. Francis would best be described as crazy nice. When he heard we were from Texas, he immediately proclaimed his love of Clint Eastwood movies, and his fear of snow. Heather in her fashion assuaged his concerns, telling him that it rarely snowed at our home in Texas. She then delved in the beauty of a fresh snow, and, after an evening snow, the miracle of waking up in a brand new world. Francis responded, “If I were to have to step in it, I think I would just die.” Interestingly, Francis was just the first of a number of Kenyans to reiterate this fear of snow. If only I could make it snow, I might rule all equatorial countries. Our first night was spent at Karen Kottage, just outside of Nairobi. If anyone every makes this trip, I highly recommend crashing there. This is a very nice family run bed and breakfast. I will be using the word “nice” and other iterations frequently throughout this writing. Most of our interaction was with the family’s son, Michael, a freshman at Oklahoma State University. Michael made the stay very easy and pleasant. The next morning, while I was inside reading, Heather wandered around the grounds. She came back in to tell me that she had just met very nice man name Tahnlee while walking around. Soon thereafter, Michael came over with breakfast, and we chatted awhile. Michael asked if any of his family had come by. Heather repeated her pleasant conversation but could not remember the name of the man she had spoken with. “His name begins with a T. Maybe Taylee, or Tahnlee?” Michael appeared confused, ”There is nobody that lives here with either of those names.” We bounced around other possible names for a bit. Finally, Michael figured it out. “I believe that you met my father Stanley!” Yes, we are both having some difficulty with the accent right now, but getting better every day. The next morning, we were to be picked up at 9:30 a.m. to begin the 3-hour drive to Tumaini. We were also introduced to the flexibility of the Kenyan schedule when our driver arrived at 11:30a.m. It is now 6:15a.m., and I am feeling a bit tired. I am going to try to grab some more sleep before we head to church.

Due to internet problems, I cannot get pictures to post. I will try again later.
Kris and Heather

Muy Slackido

2009-12-15T13:03:00.001-08:00

Hello, folks! First of all, we have a correction from the last entry ... I'm pretty sure that "sans" is French, not Spanish.

Anyway, Kris and I are excited to be heading to Albuquerque and Santa Fe for tomorrow Christmas. It has to be one of the most wonderful places to be during the holidays. The adobe houses are lit up with lines faralitos (luminarios) along the roofs, walls and driveways, and on Christmas Eve, everyone crowds together for a cozy walk down Canyon road to look at all the art in shop windows, drink hot cider, and maybe squeeze into a restaurant for a bite to eat. The smell of piñon and fires will be in the air, and we'll get to eat at one of my most favorite (and colorful) restaurants, the Shed (I order the #10 with garlic bread and a sangria!)

To catch up on the past month or so ... We went down early to San Antonio for Kris' half marathon to stay with our friends, Lindsay and Paul. We were so excited to find out that Linz is expecting twins! Yeah! Kris did a great job in the race, averaging a 7:40 per mile, even though the day turned out to be much hotter and more humid than expected. In fact, many people who intended to do the full marathon dropped down to the half. Here's a video of him finishing (his bib number was 10707): http://san-antonio.competitor.com/features/finishreplay/. Please note the sweet beard. I was so glad to have this video, because despite my efforts to see him go by at the beginning of the race, then at the 8 mile marker, then around 11.6 miles, I NEVER succeeded in seeing him! We both were totally bummed, but had a happy reunion under the "K" sign after the race. Now Kris is re-addicted to running (he ran track in high school) and looking forward to a real marathon. Then I can buy him the 26.2 sticker.

We are both ready to go to Kenya. The support we have received from friends and family in raising money for the kids' scholarships and the orphanage has been incredible. We have almost reached the goal! Kris has planned the kids' running program, and I've got some fun art projects planned. We've been speaking with one of the girls who started Hope Runs, and she's been relating stories about the people who run the orphanage and how life runs on a daily basis there. She said that the kids are going to be SO excited to have real art classes and new people to meet. I can't wait myself! We will be putting pictures up and hopefully adding to the blog ever few days. I'm sure we'll have stories of our own soon enough, and once we get a quality camera, some photos that capture the kids personalities and surroundings.

Besides all the prep for Kenya, we've been helping to remodel some of the house we're living in, dancing at the Cotton Club, and visiting with friends. Oh, and a fantastic trip to Chicago for our one-year anniversary. What a great city! We had so much fun. We saw several friends who happened to be there, ate at some GREAT restaurants, went to a Browns vs. Bears game at Soldier Field, and spent about two days in the Field Natural History Museum. Love that place.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

This is our gooey deep dish pizza from Giordano's. MMMM ... but we're still thin crust people.
Kris, me, Michael and his grrrlfriend.
Introspective silver bean picture. Big Kris, little me!

We loved the colors in Chicago!

Yeah, friend!

Kris' friend from the Field Museum, our second home in Chicago. Nerds.

I've been slacking

2009-09-18T09:59:00.000-07:00

That has been a quick 3 weeks since my last post. It's strange because, I've always said that my mom is the busiest retired person I've ever seen. Not that I'm retired, but Heather and I have stayed pretty busy even though we are sans jobs. Little Spanish there. Anyways, after Bryce Canyon, Heather and I headed to Zion National Park, probably our favorite of the parks. Luck was with us on the first night, as we picked a great camping spot with a nice breeze (as it was 105 degrees). Luck was not with us on the second night when a rather wheezy couple from Las Vegas parked upwind from us, and chain smoked Camel Wides for the next 36 hours. Nothing like blue gray cigarette smoke floating though your tent. Notwithstanding, Zion is beautiful. We took 2 incredible hikes - Angel's Landing and the Narrows. I am not a fan of heights, but Heather had no problems. Angel's Landing is all about height. Over the last half mile, you walk a spine with a 1200 foot drop to one side, and a 1900 foot drop on the other. The park has installed a nice chain for hikers to hold onto. After we finished, a ranger told us that some guy had fallen off one of the cliffs the week before. Apparently, it is pretty common. Ugh. The Narrows were created by the Virgin River cutting though sandstone plateaus. In spots, the river is only 20 feet wide, but the cliffs rise up 2000 feet on either side. We were some of the first people in that morning, and got to hike with a well read and well written park ranger. Coming out was strange, though, as we must have passed 1500 people. It was like exiting a rock concert. Ahh, the recession. Allowing millions of Americans to visit their National Parks.

Little view to get started.
I'm a slave to fashion. And, white knuckling the chain.
That's Heather's boot. Those little white boxes in the upper left are a trolley bus.
Sup?Heather is always smiling. I'm still white knuckling the chain.
So good they are gerd.
Yep, it's narrow.

Heather's Path of Destruction

2009-08-27T13:20:00.000-07:00

There is one thing I need to mention about our trip. Heather trailblazed a path of destruction over the course of our 6 weeks. On Day 2, she lost her wedding band (not the engagement ring). We went on a hike to the Window in Big Bend. It was cool when we left, but was pretty humid on the way back. Heather vaguely remembered having the ring on, but wasn't sure. So, ring was gone. Next, she was wearing a necklace that I gave her when we started dating, first nice gift kind of thing. That broke and disappeared. Keeping on, she then walked in to a river in Colorado with her phone in her back pocket. Glug. Then when we got to Idaho, as she was taking pictures of all the "pretty" freshwater mussels in the Selway River, she forgot that she was in the river and dunked our camera underwater. Luckily, it dried out quickly, so, just to make sure, Heather dunked it about a foot underwater a second time (within an hour) as she was taking pictures of a fish. At this point, I figured the cost of our trip had roughly doubled. And, for those of you that know me, I was not the happiest camper.

Strangely, though, almost everything resolved itself. The camera and memory card dried out a second time, and somehow is still working. The phone also dried out and is still working. Then, for the weirdest thing, we got a flat tire outside of Denver a few days before we got back. I had to pull out the jack from under the back seat, which was sealed in a little plastic cubby area. I grab the jack and am working on the tire when Heather walks up and flashes her hand in front of me. The ring is on her finger. Somehow, the thing had worked its way under the seat and into the jack box. No idea how.

We had some stock market-style swings, but all that she officially lost (or broke) was one necklace. Pretty good overall.

Anyway, here's some more pics.
Little Heather looking out over Deadhorse Canyon.
The rarely seen, and hardly elusive Fatmunk.

Dr. Seussville. This is Bryce Canyon.

More Bryce Canyon.

HONESTLY WE HAD NO INTERNET

2009-08-17T15:04:00.000-07:00

Ok, it has been a little while since my last post. I didn't really think that anyone was reading this, but in the last few days, I've had 3 or 4 people tell me that we needed to post something. We just got back to the farm on Monday, and the last week and a half of our trip was through the mountains. Honestly, there was no place to blog, and then our computer had a minor breakdown. So, I think that in order to catch up, I need to do a little photo montage. To quote the Team America song:


Show a lot of things happing at once,
Remind everyone of what’s going on (what’s going on?)
And with every shot you show a little improvement
To show it all would take to long
That’s called a montage (montage)
Oh we want montage (montage)

And anything that we want to go from just a beginner to a pro,
You need a montage (montage)
Even Rocky had a montage (montage).

Clear Lake.  Beautiful but tiny fish.

Looks like a Chevy commercial.


Finally caught some nice sized rainbows at Miramonte Lake in SW Colorado.

Interlude for smoking hot wife picture.


After leaving Colorado, we headed to Moab and the Arches National Park. 
Home of the Double Arch and the $160 Dollar a night Motel 6 (we camped).
I was feeling artsy.

This was the Broken Arch.  I was a little nervous walking under the thing.
Um, I have a joke here, but Heather has disallowed it. Again.

This is the main view as you come into and leave the park.  Lightning was cracking like
crazy in the storm.  I think Heather took 150 pics but couldn't catch the lightning.

Damn. I can't even catch up in a montage.  I'll post more now that we are back.  Good news-
Heather and I got picked to go to Kenya in January through a great group called HopeRuns.
 Check it out at www.hoperuns.org.
can.

Ken is a Speeder

2009-07-28T08:07:00.001-07:00

Well, we've made it up to Montana. All in all, we have driven about 4500 miles since the first of July. Heather is down fishing in the Bitterroot already, so this may be a short entry. So, I think my last entry rested on the bosom of Carlsbad Cavern. After wandering around in the 65 degrees of the cave for a few hours, we staggered out into bright sunshine and 103 degrees (yeah, but it's a dry heat). I'd already made reservations at the KOA campground outside of Carlsbad. The campsite was touted as New Mexico's No. 1 rated campground, and we were excited about using our new tent. Mom gave me one of those cool tents that fits right into the back of my truck. Turns out, we were more excited about air conditioning. Heather made an executive decision that we could forgo our reservation fee at the KOA, and, rather, drive straight through to Santa Fe.

Quick sidenote.... we drove past the campground that we were supposed to stay at, and I'm sitting here trying to think up a real witty acronym for KOA but failing. However, I bet it stands for "sucks" in most languages. Apparently, New Mexican campers must enjoy a nice tumor, as well, because the No. 1 rated campground sat beneath about 3 acres of electrical power substation. In our 4500 miles, we have passed a lot of KOA's, and the vast majority have been el stinko.

Anyway, we arrived in Santa Fe, overjoyed at the prospect of a nice air conditioned room at Ken and Cindy's house, Heather's aunt and uncle. God does have a sense of humor, the AC was broken. Nevertheless, it was probably 25 degrees cooler out, and we slept more than comfortably with the doors and windows open.

Ken had been looking at some land in Colorado outside of Montrose, and the four of us decided to a little side drive of about 800 miles. The next day, we hopped into the car and headed north. If I had driven the whole way, it probably would have taken 16 hours, as we were going over some pretty steep passes on shoulder-less roads. If Ken had driven the whole way, I'm guessing it would have taken 8. Cindy agrees with me wholeheartedly. Ken likes to drive and he likes his driving fast. I may have white knuckled a few times, but overall, we had a great trip through Colorado. Ended up staying in a little hotel in Telluride, then coming back to Santa Fe and Albuquerque to see Heather's cousins- Jeff, Julie and Jaquelyn- for a few days. Jaq- I'm betting I just butchered your name. While in Albuquerque, eat at Sadie's.

After a week, we left the Johns family and headed to the Vallecito Reservoir in Colorado. Vallecito is also known as the land without fish but great scenery. Heather and I pulled into the National Forest campground at Vallecito Creek, and were met by Calvin, the camp host. Turns out, Calvin used to live about 3 or 4 blocks from our old house in Austin. Here's a few pics of Vallecito:

A pic of Heather not catching anything.

A pic of the valley next to Vallecito Reservoir.

And yes, that is a Ken Johns' Lincoln Towncar.

The Caverns

2009-07-21T09:30:00.000-07:00

We are "borrowing" wifi from the Best Western next door, so thought we'd have time to do another quick post. After leaving Big Bend and Marathon, Carlsbad Caverns were the next stopping point. The Davis Mountains are along the way, and a wonderful part of Texas that I hadn't been through. Dancer, Texas was filmed around the Davis Mountains; if you haven't seen it, rent it sometime. Unexpectedly, there were a group of 6 to 8 elk standing on the side of the road outside of Fort Davis. As you come out of the mountains, the springs at Balmorhea are worth stopping to look at. This kid didn't come close to landing his flip.

After this, Texas got real ugly for awhile. The next major town was Pecos. It is typically a bad indicator when the welcome sign is missing half its letters. Google said it would take 5 hours 20 minutes from Marathon to Carlsbad; we made it in 3 hrs 45 minutes.

It was 103 degrees standing in the parking lot of the Caverns. After a 750 foot ride down the elevator, it was 65ish. Heather and I had taken about 10 steps off the elevator when all but a couple lights went out. We thought it was part of a presentation, but after seeing a few rangers go scrambling, we realized it was a power outage. So sad for the people that just got on our elevator. After 10 minutes or so, they got the backup generator going, and this cute ranger nerd took us on a tour. In general this lady was overly excited about caves, but, after the tour, I could understand her excitement better.

And, apparently, the cavern is a her. Heather just gave me a look of disapproval.

Once out of the caves, we hooked it for Santa Fe to see Heather's family.

Sans Wifi

2009-07-19T14:03:00.000-07:00

When we decided to quit our jobs, and experience some of the world, a number of friends and family asked that we do a blog so they could follow along. Well, we are coming up on 3 weeks in and here is our first post. Seems like once we got out of Austin, wifi has been a little bit hard to come-by. So far, we have been to: (i) Marathon, Texas; (ii) Big Bend; (iii) Carlsbad Caverns; (iv) Santa Fe; (v) Montrose, Colorado; (vi) Telluride; (vii) back to Santa Fe; (viii) Albuquerque; (ix) Vallecito Reservoir outside of Durango; (x) the South Mineral Creek/Clear Lake outside of Silverton, Colorado; (xi) Miramonte Lake outside of Norwood, Colorado; (x) and finally, we sit here sweating in Moab, Utah. I think we've covered around 2,900 miles so far. We've covered a whole lot of ground in a short time, but are really enjoying ourselves. And, thankfully, I finally caught a couple of keeper-sized trout this morning. Heather says "Yea!"

We started off at the Gage Hotel in Marathon, and, like everywhere else, it was hot. Luckily, though, they also had really good food, wine and a pool. Try the sweatbreads when you go there. I'm not sure what they are, and I refuse to look it up. They are, however, very tasty.

On our second day in Marathon, we were debating going to Chinati Hot Springs or Big Bend. To get to Chinati, you need to have 4 wheel drive, and Big Bend was supposedly 110 degrees. Luckily, you can see for 300 or so miles when you stand in front of the Gage, and a storm was blowing in down south. So, Heather and I hauled down to Big Bend. We arrived just as the storm hit and hid under a tiny cedar. It rained so hard that we thought it was hailing, but they were just really fat drops. The storm passed and the temperature dropped to 60 degrees. I wanted to hike to the Window since I hadn't been there since I was a kid. Waterfalls popped out of every cliff face. Really beautiful.

I'll try to catch up on the other towns and places over the next few days by typing them into Word as Heather drives. BUT, that means that Heather has to drive, and she drives creatively.
Kris and Heather