Thankful and Redundant

We make it to Voi, and as far as civilization goes, I feel like I’ve stepped into the real Kenya for the first time. It’s a busy town—lined with shops that sell all kinds of goods. People

everywhere on the streets, walking up and down, across and over bumps in the fiery orange road that intersects the heart of Voi town. The open-air structures burst with goods: shoes, clothes, toys, belts, mangoes, avocados, and other vegetables. It’s an overload on the senses, potholes filled with standing water, trash on the ground, yet beauty and richness of color binds the people together.

We check into the

Silent Guest Resort—its right in town, small white building with an open court at the center of the rooms. It’s basic, but clean and safe. Mosquito nets cascade down from our two twin beds, and we’re elated to see the shower/toilet combination. It’s super hot and humid, and we soon realize the value of a cold shower or two throughout the day.

Patrick takes us to the Red Elephant Lodge to eat. He’s very concerned with our vegetarian needs—and seems to know tons of people around town. Feels so good to eat—rice, pasta, veggies. We venture out around the lodge and in the distance see a Thompson’s gazelle grazing on grass, Ververt monkeys hopping in trees, and then a large group of ndovus (elephants) out in an open plain. Ah, can’t wait to get into Tsavo and Masai Mara on our game drives.

Back at the room, we divide up books, supplies, sports equipment and the clothes we brought. It’s a giddy excitement to see how much we have. I am once again thankful for everyone back home and how much they’ve contributed to help the people here. We hear stories of the poverty, and realize that one pencil can really and truly change lives.

We’re not anonymous as we walk through Voi town, but people do smile or say jambo and hello to the mzungu. We stop and buy adapters for the computers and visit the tiny, raging hot internet room within one of the markets. After we buy juice and ice cream and cruise through the open market. I take pictures of two kids—one who’s made a car from a water bottle and four caps. They’re sweet and enjoy me showing them their images on my camera. I wish I had stickers or pencils at that moment to thank them. It’s hard to know the balance between an appreciation or an intrusion into a life so different—from us as foreigners on the outside. I look forward to getting closer to the village and the people from the inside.

We have a nice dinner at the hotel and share two Tuskers. It’s New Year’s eve, but absolutely quiet as we sit out in front of our rooms, watching geckos on walls and listening to the bats chirp around us and the cats call down at us from the roof. Nic and I realize it’s the perfect way to start the New Year. Filled with hope, possibility and connection. And we are thankful.

We shop the next day for the New Year's celebration at Patrick's home. Rice, beans, veggies, flour--all the makings of a delicious vegetarian meal. The markets are busy--bustling places filled with texture and color and richness. The weight of our purchases remind us of how lucky we are to be welcomed into such a big community to usher in 2011. We pass a huge "Christmas" tree--a massive tree blooming with red flowers--how lucky am I to be celebrating the holidays here in Kenya. I love being yanked out of my world; have the blinders dissolve and brand new experiences poured into my brain. I know it's redundant--but man, I'm thankful to be alive, to be seeing and learning and touching things like this for the very first time.

Floating Markets and Purple Urchins

In Curacao, we head past the high-end shops (tailored for cruisers--jewelry, watches, etc.) in search of the markets and the bus station. The shops are actually built around and old fort--stone walls still in place which gives it a bit more charm.

At the Central Market--we cruise past island fruits and veggies--a tangy, clean scent. Whole & chopped fish for sale--a not-so-sweet-scent, and by a make-shift internet cafe :) I buy sticks of cinnamon from a sweet lady inside, and we talk in Spanish. She brightens up and I'm thankful once again for the language. To be able to connect makes me lighter.

Outside, at the "floating" market--more goods inside boats that float along the canal. The colors astound me. Yellows. Oranges. Reds. Fruit so lush. A climate so warm, so rich. We buy a hand-painted scroll-type piece of art that depicts the people and the goods. Just a slight reminder of the dynamic energy here.

We find the bus station and hop into our "bus." It's really a small, mini-van from the '80s and we're stoked to be able to get to Mambo Beach for $3 each. The two women driving are friendly, engaging. I use my Spanish, but quickly am told that she speaks English. They speak three languages: English, Spanish, and their native Papiamento. It's a language derived from Dutch, Spanish, English, French, Portuguese and African tongues. Spoken here in the Dutch Leewards, it's a beautiful, energetic language that I wish I could speak! We cruise through neighborhoods--modest, colorful cottage homes-- to drop people off, and we're loving the feel of being away from anything touristy. We know right away that Curacao is somewhere we'd like to spend time.

At Mambo Beach, we find crowded shores (resorts and all,) but secure two lounges on a quieter corner on the sand. Snorkeling is great. Tons of coral, schools and schools of fish--big and small, all colors of the rainbow. There's something magical about swimming through or alongside a school of fish. It's like you become one of them, if even for just a mini-second. The highlight for me is watching tall, spiny purple urchins creep across the ocean floor. And they can move!

We end our day at Mambo Beach--filled with sun--more ocean waves and smiles (and a little taste of green Pistachio liqueur--Curacao is famous for it! Yum.)

So lucky to experience this island life.