In the beginning...

One week in Africa

I have started this first blog entry many times, and each time it has felt inadequate. Please be patient with me while I improve my storytelling capabilities.

My African morning commute:
Walk down the road to the outdoor market
As the smell of yesterday's old fruit fills the air, watch many many people rush buses attempting to get a seat. (as my Scottish friend Ally says, no one has taught Africans the fine art of queuing).
There is an intrinsic rhythm to this that I certainly cannot find, so I stand awkwardly.

Eventually realize that there is no way I am going to be able to get on a bus, So I take a moto. (vespa like scooter that seats two).
Rough directions, broken English and French later, I have a ten minute, mostly pleasant slightly life threatening ride to the office.
A harrowing walk down a steep red mud road.

Accidentally go to the wrong gate. I am very confused when the guard doesn’t let me, and he patiently walks me to another gate, one where he has seen other mzungus enter. Of course it is the correct one.

And that begins the day.

things I have already done that I did not think I would do:
eat raw veggies (oops)
ride a moto (not oops, a great and cheap way to get around)
sleep without a mosquito net (oops)

What I brought that I already know I will never use:
My new tinkerbell travel alarm clock- broken!

What I wish I had brought:
Books. these are traded among the ex-pat community like gold.

What I never imagined I would ever experience:
Avocados the size of watermelons
Aerobics to a combination of African music and techno 80s american pop. I think we owe the world a collective apology for consistently exporting our bad taste in music.


I like this moving to places.