Remember That Town Where I Only Had Mangos and Wine

"I didn't mean to treat you so bad
You shouldn't take it so personal
I didn't mean to make you so sad
You just happened to be there, that's all
When I saw you say "goodbye" to your friends and smile
I thought that it was well understood
That you'd be comin' back in a little while
I didn't know that you were sayin' "goodbye" for good

But, sooner or later, one of us must know
You just did what you're supposed to do
Sooner or later, one of us must know
That I really did try to get close to you"

I picked that song for you, Elliot. You better get it.

In keeping with my "Hostile Hostel Owner" theme, in Nairobi, I found yet another backpacker joint with yet another totally psychotic ex-pat owner. He found out I would be in Kenya for another two and a half weeks, so he invited me to stay and work for him. He explained that the hostel needed "a woman's touch". I am not really sure what he meant by that and frankly not too sure if I want to find out. It crossed my mind to take him up on the offer, as I would get free accommodations and meals and a flight out to Lamu the next weekend. Then I heard him go on one of his many rants to one of his employees and I quickly changed my mind. I had actually heard about this guy from other travelers back in Rwanda and came knowing about his lunacy to some extent. I guess I've developed some sort of morbid curiosity toward crazed hostel owners.

I stayed in Nairobi for a few days. I found it to be a nicer, less threatening city than I had anticipated. Or perhaps people don't bother me because I might be walking around with a grrrr on my face. During my freshman year of college, I remember my History of Music professor telling the class about riding the Seattle Metro bus into work and noticing that the seat next to him was the only unoccupied seat. He brought this up because he is African American and he felt sure that this was the reason the seat next to him remained unoccupied. (I can tell you all from too many personal experiences on the Seattle Metro that having an empty seat next to you is actually very desirable, given the characters that may join you.)

I thought of this professor's story because the exact same thing happened to me one evening in Nairobi. I was being brave and decided to take the bus from downtown back to my hostel, even though it was the evening. I went to the main bus stop and boarded the appropriate bus. Being one of the first people on board, I waited quite a while until the bus was full. I was sitting near the front in a row of three seat and I had moved all the way over to the window to free up the other seats. After a while, I noticed that people were cramming two people into the rows on the other side of the bus, which only had two seats per row, rather than sitting next to me. I felt sure this was happening because I was the obvious foreigner; granted I also may not have showered for a while and I did spot a cockroach or two on the seat next to me. Eventually, when all other seats were full, two women sat down next to me. They didn't give me a second glance. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. Or maybe they thought if they didn't look at me I wouldn't notice them. I hear some parents tell naughty children that mzungus will come and take them away. Great, now not only am I pale, I'm also a boogy man.

All joking aside, this really didn't bother me at all. I just thought it was interesting. I suppose people are most comfortable with strangers that most resemble themselves. Theoretically, when I get on the bus, I would feel most comfortable sitting next to a Caucasian woman, or any woman for that matter. In actuality, I tend to skip that 7 second size up (check out my friend Elliot's blog on this) and end up sitting next to the homeless man who has drunk so much he has peed on his seat and the air around him is so full of alcohol, I'm drunk by the time I get off the bus too. But that's just me

Today, I went diving off the Kenyan coast. It was warm and beautiful. I spotted many turtles, a few eels, rays and even octopus. This evening I have been invited to a local politicians house to have dinner. He is currently out in search of fresh fish! Watamu is a beautiful little village, that happens to be an Italian resort location. Since the Italians bring good coffee and ice cream, I don't mind the crowds of them so much. Beside, it seems the locals are more inclined to invite me to dinner, perhaps because they are thinking, "at least she is not part of a huge group of Italians". I have a fabulous hotel room with a bed I could fit five of me in, a hot, private shower, my own porch and a pool. After dinner I plan to sit on the porch, eat a mango and drink some red wine. I have no corkscrew, but with Sharlee's help, I have become pretty good at pushing corks into wine bottles. The only problem with this technique is that I then must drink the entire bottle before moving to another hotel or village because I can't get the cork out of the bottle.