Spoke Too Soon...

It would appear that I have jinxed myself on this whole "mosquitoes don't exist in Kenya" thing.  Or at least with my haughty "Kenyan mosquitoes can't touch me up here on my high Nairobian-elevation pedestal" attitude.  Maybe it's
because we're moving from winter into spring, and this week is the first week that it's been decently warm before lunchtime.  Maybe it's because the cleaning lady left my kitchen window open yesterday, and I didn't realize it, so it stayed open all night.  Whatever the reason, I have now learned the hard way that I am indeed not mosquito-invincible in Kenya.  Ah well.  The delusion was fun while it lasted.  But you know what they say.  All good things must come to an end... 

Why is that anyway?  Why do  they say that?  What a horrible thing to teach little kids.  Sure you can't live in perpetual fairytale land, but I don't want my eventual children thinking that someday, there will be no more cute little old people holding hands and that all of the ice cream in the world is going to eventually be gone.  Not all  good things must come to an end.  What kind of nonsense is that?  I'd like to meet the grouchy, "not only is the glass half empty; the glass has a hole  in it" person who came up with this bunch of bollocks and put him in a room full of pre-schoolers as you hand them a litter of squirmy new puppies.  What a room full of happy that would be.  You couldn't possibly  walk away from that and remain so jaded with the world...could you?

But I digress.  Sorry...I'm suddenly very distracted by this terribly disturbing notion of negativity and gloom.  Well, that, and the thought of no more Ben & Jerry's makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.  Anyway, back to my mosquito conundrum...

So I'm scurrying around my apartment this morning getting ready for work, just like any normal day, and I feel it.  That familiar, itchy tingle on my right arm.  I scratch my arm and move along, more concerned with the fact that John is going to be here in 12 minutes, I'm still wearing a towel, and my hair is soaking wet.  Then, I feel the tingly itch again...this time, on my left elbow.  No way,  I think.  This is not happening to me.  Four minutes and four more tingly itch locations later -- left knee, right shoulder, right cheekbone, left ankle -- and it's confirmed.  It's 7:52 in the morning, my hair is still dripping, I'm still not dressed, and I am at war with an insect. 

As I'm standing in front of my closet, I finally hear that horrid whiny humming sound that I've come to despise over the course of my mosquito-infested life, and I see the culprit land on the sleeve of one of my shirts.  Ahh hahaha.  Gotcha.  If I've learned anything in all of my tormented years of being attacked by these blood-sucking, disease-carrying monsters, it's how to exact my revenge.  I may lose the battle -- my scar-laden arms and legs will prove that more often than not, this is the case -- but I rarely lose the war.  After many years of practice, my clap-and-kill method is deadly accurate.  It still makes me mad when they already have blood in them, though.  Grosser still is the thought that it might not even be mine.  ICK.  Not a good thought path for a public health person to go down...

Bottom line: Someone, please, tell me ONE good purpose that these flying demons serve.  Anyone?  Do I know any entomologists?  They don't pollinate anything.  They don't eat any other bug that's bad.  They aren't anything's sole source of food.  They do nothing but spread multiple deadly diseases (i.e., yellow fever, malaria, dengue fever, West Nile virus, Japanese encephalitis.  I could go on...) and make people itch.  Oh.  And they nearly killed my dog.  My sweet, beautiful Gracie Pup.  Yes, that's right.  Heartworms come from mosquitoes too.  RUDE.

But I refuse to let them win.  So today, rather than focusing on all of the toxic, draining CNN/Palestine/Troy Davis/Somali famine/Fed rate drama & sadness (and evil mosquitoes), I'm choosing to ponder the delightful idea of the squealing pre-school class playing with fuzzy, squirming puppies.  It doesn't change anything, of course, but sometimes you just have to choose to dwell on happy thoughts.  So here's to pre-schoolers and puppies!  May their shrieks and giggles and yelps and snores drown out some of the talking head-yapping and politician-bickering, at least for today...

Faith: 1, Mosquito: 0
I may be covered in bites for now, but I told you I always win in the end!

The Haves & The Have-Nots

Whenever I travel to a new place, I try to do so with an open mind -- appreciating it for what it is, without a pre-conceived notion of what it will be like, compared with home.  Nothing drives me more insane than traveling alongside a person who is constantly "educating" the locals, saying, "Well, in the States, bla bla bla."  Newsflash:  You're not in the States.  That's the whole point.  Why are you even traveling, if all you want is air-conditioning, your cushy Barcalounger, and a Starbucks on every corner?  No wonder the rest of the world thinks we're all spoiled and ignorant and ethno-centric.  I spent my first couple of weeks in Nairobi cringing, listening to a well-intentioned, but still very much Open-mouth/Insert-foot colleague actually SAY to multiple Kenyans that he "can't believe how civilized it is here" (?!) and how he "couldn't get over how developed some parts of Kenya are," that he "really was expecting dirt roads and mud huts with thatched roofs."  This, of course, after inquiring several times as to whether or not it was ok for us to walk around in perfectly normal, crowded areas in broad daylight or "if we would we get kidnapped at knifepoint." Oh. My. God.  Turn off the National Geographic Channel already.  Sure, it's a good idea to be aware of your surroundings and to take the proper precautions, but any person with 2 brain cells to rub together is already doing that anyway, regardless of where you are.  Hell, parts of Atlanta aren't exactly a picnic in the park either.  And we've all seen how insane the soccer moms at Target can get on Black Friday.  I hate to burst your Stepford Bubble, but you're aren't 100% safe anyhere, people.  There are crazies all over
the place.

Anyway, since I arrived in Kenya with very little idea of what to expect, I have been constantly surprised at the little things I'm finding out -- either things that they do have here, or things that they don't.  So to that end, I give you my ever-expanding list of Kenyan Haves & Have-Nots:

The Haves...

• Fancy Shopping Malls -- We're talking Phipps Plaza fancy.  This is Westgate Mall.  It's Israeli-owned (and therefore massively security-obsessed...i.e., they search your purse before you walk in the door, search your car before you drive in the parking deck, and have rifle-toting guards patrolling the inside.  You should see the Israeli Embassy!) and super nice and shiny and clean.  It's also home to one of our favorite lunch spots, the best grocery store, the big movie theater, and a few other of the beloved places which I'll mention in a minute.

• American Pop Culture/Music -- It's everywhere.  Some new, some old.  Some decent, some hilariously bad.  My spinning teacher the other night had a hysterical techno remix of Kansas' "Dust In The Wind" on his iPod.  I nearly died.  I think my personal favorite is that John, my driver, is obsessed with Dolly Parton.
  OBSESSED.  As in, I'd say 3 out of 5 times that I hop in the car, her CD is playing.  He has her as his ringtone on his phone.  I asked him the other day if he'd ever seen any of her movies, and he said no.  I have GOT to find a way to get this man a copy of Steel Magnolias, stat.
• Traffic -- SERIOUS traffic.  Not sure why it never occurred to me that they would have traffic before, but sweet LORD can the roads get backed up around here.  I won't say it's worse than Atlanta, but the lack of infrastructure definitely doesn't help anything.  There are no real traffic lights to speak of, tons of troublesome round-a-bouts (which are frequently controlled by cops who stand there and do whatever they want, or whatever someone is paying them off to do, or nothing at all), and no lane lines painted on the roads, so at any given time, there may be 2 lanes, or there may be 12.  It just depends on how crowded the road is and how badly people are trying to pack in.  There are days it has taken us literally 2 hours to go less than 4 miles.  It's amazing.  And you can forget getting anywhere if the President is going somewhere.  If that dude is on the move, the rest of the city effectively shuts down.  They should seriously consider getting him a helicopter...
• Trivia Night -- Aaron and Kaarli participate in a terribly competitive weekly trivia tournament with other ex-pats who are here working either at the Embassy, at USAID with Kaarli, as diplomats, etc.  At first, I was really stoked about this (I love trivia!), but after hearing about the kind of nonsense that goes on at this shin-dig, it seems to be far less fun than it should be.  Basically, the teams are made up of career foreign service people, and the previous week's winner makes up the questions, so it seems to be a chest-puffing contest of See How Much Smarter and More Worldly I am Than You.  An "average" score is evidently around 50%.  (How is that possible, by the way?  That's a failing grade in school.)  At any rate, definitely NOT your typical "pick on the drunk fools at Mellow Mushroom" Thursday trivia night.  Example:  Categories this week included Currency, Airport Codes, and Sports.  The Currency round was a picture round.  None of the pictures had ANY Roman characters on them...either Arabic or Asian languages.  The Airport codes were all of those little things in Eastern Europe that no one can keep straight.  You know, all of the things that end in -via and -stan.  And Sports.  Aaron thought he'd hit the jackpot, except that most of the questions involved horse-racing.  Their team answered right around half of the questions correctly and was 6th out of 17 teams.  What fun is that? 
• Hustle Men -- If you aren't familiar with this term, you're not the only one...but you know what they are. Shout out to my friend Ricquel who taught me that the "hustle man" is the guy who hangs out on the street corner selling random stuff: sunglasses, shoes, boiled peanuts (YUM), umbrellas, whatever.  Just hustlin'.  Well the hustle men here take it to a whole new level.  On any given day, you'll be sitting in the car, and you'll see guys in the middle of the road selling maps, placemats, toy cars made out of twisted wire, giant teddy bears, bananas, bootleg movies, fire extinguishers, flowers, fuzzy kittens and puppies (I am unable to handle this one and have to look out the other window), whatever.  It's the most bizarre conglomeration of things you've ever seen.  I think my favorite so far was the day I looked up and, immediately outside my window was a guy holding what looked like the giant plastic barrell-ish container that cheese puffs come in from Sam's, full of water, with a goldfish in it.  I should have asked him how much it cost -- it could've been my Kenyan pet -- but John and I were too busy laughing about it.
• Trouble-Making Kids -- This is clearly no change from anywhere else in the world, but for some reason, these particular kids make me very sad.  There are the normal, sit-around-and-do-nothing kids.  There are the beg-on-the-side-of-the-road kids.  And then there are the ones who either sit and do nothing or wander aimlessly, because they're high as a kite.  But not because they've been smoking weed like any other normal 15 year old who's skipping school.  These kids lay around in the grass in the middle of the round-a-bouts and sniff glue until they can barely keep their eyes open.  You can see them holding the bottles under their noses and then stuffing them in their pockets as they walk towards you.  Some of them pass out face down in the grass and lie there so still that you're not sure if they're dead or alive.  The ones who are up and moving are really the only people around here who make me nervous.  They're actually the only people Aaron's even warned me about.  When we drive through the places where they hang out, he rolls our windows up and always tells me to "be careful around those kids; they're dangerous."  And if Aaron doesn't take an opportunity to use something to play a joke on me, it must be bad.
• Hibachi -- My fellow UGA alumni will understand what I mean when I say it's no Inoko, but they do have a pretty decent hibachi/sushi place here.  What's funny about it is that it's owned by the same people who own Westgate Mall, where it sits, and it's home to a weekly Salsa night.  An Israeli-owned Japanese restaurant that hosts Cuban dancing night.  In Kenya.  Sure, ok. 
• Fro Yo -- The build-your-own frozen yogurt craze has made it to Kenya.  As of now, there's only one store open in Nairobi, which results in massive lines all the time, but Aaron and I did spot a "Coming Soon -- Planet Yogurt" sign in Westgate Mall the other day.  The phone call to Preggo Kaarli could not be made fast enough.
• KFC -- They may not have Starbucks (which would do remarkably well here, by the way), and McDonald's has somehow shockingly not yet taken over the Kenyan world, but they do have 2 new Kentucky Fried Chickens.  And they LOVE it...to the tune of lines out the door that are an hour long.  It is also rumored that Westgate Mall will be getting a 3rd KFC location at some point in the near-distant future. Fro yo and KFC?  They aren't going to know what's hit them.

• British Special K -- The first day I was here, Aaron and Kaarli took me to the grocery store, and one of the things they warned me about was how gross most of the cereal is.  They said not to even bother trying any of the Kenyan cereal, just to go ahead and get the absurdly over-priced ($7-$9 US/box) imported cereal.  Now, this will make sense to almost no one reading this, but just so you know, one of the few things England actually DOES do better than we do is make Special K.  (They will tell you they do everything better than we do).  I don't know what it is, but their Special K is heartier, and crunchier, and more flavorful.  Everything about it is just...better.  It was one of my favorite things about living in London, and I was so stoked to discover that the Special K they have here is imported from the UK!  I just may have to see about smuggling some back home with me.  Shhh...
• Nestle Quik -- Yes, I still drink chocolate milk with my dinner almost every night of my life.  And yes, I'm aware that I'm no longer in elementary school.  Judge all you want.
• Skippy Peanut Butter -- I really didn't care what kind; I was just glad to see American peanut butter of some sort, because I forgot the jar that I meant to bring with me.  Word to the wise: if you're a peanut butter lover and you ever plan on spending any significant amount of time in a foreign country, I highly recommend taking your own with you, just in case you can't find normal peanut butter.  More often than not, the peanut butter you buy there will be weird, and it will likely taste like Play-Doh.  And, as it turns out, it's a good thing they have an imported option here, because Kenyan peanut butter (along with a whole bunch of other things) is suspected of being contaminated with high levels of aflatoxins.  I could give you a science lesson, but I'll spare those of you who don't care.  Read HERE if you're curious.  Bottom line: not good.
• Spaghetti Sauce -- This isn't something I'd normally get terribly excited about, but it took me literally a month to find it.  As in, I just found it at the store yesterday.  There will be some yummy dinner in this house this week.  And finally NOT of the grilled cheese and (powdered) tomato soup variety.
• Ramen Noodles -- Again, not anything I'm throwing a parade over, and not anything I'd have ever even given a second glance in the store, but when Emily and her friends were here, they were really stoked to see them, so I caved as well.  And let's be honest...who doesn't like to re-live their middle school years every now and then?  What's funny is that the color code still rings true, even in Kenya.  Orange pack = chicken flavor.
  Red = beef.  Pink = shrimp.  Don't lie.  You know you know them.
• Nature's Valley Granola Bars -- Variety pack!
• Babybel & Laughing Cow Cheese -- Music to a cheese addict's ears!
• Nutella --  I don't believe there is any elaboration necessary here... 
• Oreos -- Ditto.
• Kit-Kat -- Ditto again. 

NOM NOM NOM...

Notice a trend with the things that stand out as important to me??  Give me edible food and the occasional delicious treat, and I could probably be happy just about anywhere.  And I promise I don't always eat crap -- if you look past the pile of high fructose corn syrup, you can see my fruit/vegetable bowl in the background  :)

The Have-Nots...

• Sidewalks -- Yeah.  Not so much on the concern for pedestrians around here...which is kind of surprising because there are a LOT of people walking, all the time.  That goes for any sort of crosswalks, or even a place where it makes sense to cross the street too.  You just kind of make a mad dash for it whenever there's a break in the aforementioned hellacious traffic (AKA, find a pack of locals crossing the same street and follow their lead) and hope someone doesn't kill you.  It's a miracle there aren't more casualties of street-crossing.
• Soup -- I mentioned powdered tomato soup earlier.  It's true.  And it's only semi-edible...as in, dip your sandwich in it, but don't bother with a spoon.  I don't know what it is about this country, but there is not a can of soup to be found anywhere.  Only these weird little packets where you boil water and then mix it in.  Not recommended for anyone who actually likes soup.
• Egg-Crates -- You know, the things that make your bed squishier.  I'm used to it now, but let's just say that my apartment mattress feels a wee bit like I'm sleeping on a conference table.  One day early on, I poked my head into Westgate Mall's version of Bed, Bath, & Beyond (it even looks the same!) to see if they had an egg-crate-ish thing to remedy my problem.  Nope.  Nada.  No egg-crates.  No mattress pads.  The best I could've rigged up was to get another duvet and just sleep on top of it like a feather bed, with it all rumpled under my fitted sheet.  I guess everyone around here just sleeps on conference tables...
• Streaming -- Of ANYTHING.  TV show episodes.  Radio.  Live sports broadcasts (sound or  video).  Pandora. Nothing.  It's like, "You're in Africa.  Therefore, you're not allowed to see/hear/do anything.  Sorry.  Get back to us once you're re-joined the real world."  Rude.  Unless, of course, you're an IT genius who knows how to spoof IP addresses to trick the internet into thinking that you're actually somewhere else.  If you are indeed one of these people, do let me know, will you?  All of my shows are starting up for the fall, and I am rapidly running out of DVDs to watch.

"The video you are trying to watch cannot be viewed from your
current country or location" -- Welcome to my life.

• Mosquitoes -- This one makes no sense to me.  I'm currently taking a giant $10-a-dose pink pill every day so that I don't die of malaria.  My bed has a MOSQUITO NET around it, for God's sake.  Yet, I have not seen ONE mosquito since I've been in this country.  And this is coming from the QUEEN of mosquito bites.  I mean, if there is a mosquito within 5 miles of me, it will seek me out, and it WILL bite me.  Probably 4 or 5 times.  And then, it will go get all of its family members and invite them along to the picnic.  At home, I can't walk to the mailbox and back without bug spray on, or I'll get 10 new mosquito bites in the 45 seconds it takes me to get the mail.  Sometimes I get bit while I'm still in the shower.  It's that bad, people.  So I really don't get my good mosquito fortune here?  Maybe it's the Denver-esque elevation, but I could definitely get used to this not-being-mosquito-food thing.  It rules.
• Formal Trash Pick-Up -- I'm not sure of all of the details on this one, but so far as Aaron explains it to me, there's really no "garbage man" situation here.  I don't know what normal people do with their trash (maybe they organize it privately?), but you will quite commonly see tiny piles of burning stuff on the side of the road.  Just burning, by itself.  Usually unattended.  That's awesome.  My favorite is when the people who hang out on the side of the road down the street from my building decide to burn their stuff.  Every night.  And all of their smoke comes billowing in my not-so-adequately-sealed windows.  I may or may not have actually used my sleeping mask as a surgical mask-ish nose shield on more than one occasion, simply because I couldn't breath.  In my own house.  Stellar.
• Sports -- As we've addressed, I have a bit of a ESPN problem.  Particularly when it comes to football.  Thus, I am none too thrilled to be in a country where no one cares about anything but soccer.  YAAAAAWN.  And not even their own soccer.  It's all the British Premiere League or the European Champions League.  Every now and then I'll notice a game with Nigeria or Uganda or Ghana playing, but overwhelmingly, they seem content to watch people in countries thousands of miles away play a game that's as slow as Christmas.  And then, every now and then, my soccer-only TV will sprinkle in a cricket match.  Oh, hooray!  The only thing worse than an overdose of soccer!  A "sport" where people dress up in sweater vests.  Oh man.  Get me back to the land of real sports, before my brain shuts down completely...
• Milkshakes -- Ahh, the Great Milkshake Debate.  Aaron's specialty.  Also one of the very first things he taught me when I got here:  "Do NOT order a milkshake from anywhere but Java House.  They will all tell you that they're good, but they're all lying.  The rest of them SUCK.  They're thin and runny...basically really cold chocolate milk.  Java House is the only place who makes a proper milkshake, because it's owned by an American."  Apparently, Aaron has ordered a milkshake off of just about every menu in Nairobi and had an extensive pre-ordering conversation with the server about the proper thickness of a milkshake, the difficulty one should have in getting the milkshake up through the straw, etc. on each occasion.  Every time, they guarantee him that "ohh yes, our milkshakes are very thick, like ice cream," and every time, he walks away livid.  Java House has yet to be de-throned as the Nairobi Milkshake Mecca, but we discovered a new cafe last week who gave Aaron the same song and dance about how good theirs are.  We'll see how that goes.  I don't think they realize they're dealing with an official Milkshake Mensa...  

OH!  One last thing to add to the Have column -- Baby Sundsmo!  Kaleb Wesley Sundsmo made his debut yesterday morning at 1:30 am, weighing 7.9 pounds...just in time to make his due date.  Aaron's assessment is that, while there are traits of both he and Kaarli, so far he "mostly just looks like a baby."  I  think this is because Captain Competitive doesn't want to lose.  To me, he looks just like Kaarli  :)

Happy Birthday, sweet boy!

Chapter 5 -- Maasai for a Day

On the Sunday afternoon of our Mara weekend, we had the opportunity to go visit a Maasai village near our camp.  We were escorted there by one of the warriors at our camp, who then dropped us off with the chief of the village.  He introduced himself to us outside the fence (built to keep their herd of cows in at night, while keeping predators out), told us we were welcome, explained to us what all we'd see, said we could take any pictures we'd like, and that he was happy to answer any questions we had.  

I'm so glad we did this, as it was an experience unlike anything I've ever done.  The Maasai are a beautiful, vibrant, nomadic people who literally follow the pastures for their herds of cattle, building little villages everywhere they go.  Their way of life seems incredibly difficult, but they're gracious people, happy to invite you into their tiny huts to show you how they survive and what makes them unique.

Maasai women carrying water to the village

I just know this chick is looking at me and singing to herself:
♫ "One of these things is not like the other..." ♫

They began by showing us a few of their traditional dances.  The men of the village started with their warrior dances, which they typically use for any of their tribal ceremonies.  I wish I'd taken videos so you could hear the chanting parts -- they were actually quite scary sounding.  The second dance was more of a jumping contest, which really just seems like a way to score chicks.  From what it sounded like, the ones who can jump the highest get the most girls.  The girls then make them necklaces and bracelets to show them they're interested.  So basically, the better jumper you are, the more decorated you are, and the more of a ladies' man too.  I'm telling you -- different cultures, same story.  It really doesn't matter where you go. 

Warrior chants

The champion jumper -- Mind you, most of these guys are like 6'5" and
his hips are clearing their heads, jumping flat-footed and bare-foot off the ground.
This dude must get all the ladies.  Check out all those necklaces.

Stephen, the Scotsman (L) & I with dancing clubs of some sort.
The chief (R) also put his lion-mane hat on me.  Eww.

Next up -- The Mama Dance.  Which I was expected to participate in.  And don't you know that these ladies found it completely hysterical when they asked me "how many babies," and I said zero.  "ZERO??"  Way to rub it in, ladies, thanks.  I might as well have said 600.  That's how hard they laughed.  Apparently our moms aren't the only ones who fret over the possibility that their daughters might never give them grandchildren.

Can't get enough of these colors!

Earrings, much??

A cautionary tale on why not to wear those really heavy earrings
that you love for more than a few hours at a time...

I thought this girl was really beautiful...

Jammin' with the ladies

That's my new friend, Veronica.  True story.

Who knew they had sippy cups out here??

They also had some of the cutest little kids you've ever seen.  They all came scrambling up to us, wanting to talk to us and show us how they could dance and snap their fingers.

Homerun Champs.  Really?
Then can I please get some normal (i.e. NOT SOCCER) sports and
some ESPN somewhere in this country??

This little girl...oh my gosh.  She was such a ham!  I don't
know how I didn't end up with a better picture of her Cheshire Cat grin.
I fully expect to see her in Hollywood someday!

Not a baby doll...

See?  Apparently the lugging around of Not-Zero-Babies starts at an awfully early age around here!

The warriors also taught us how they make fire using only 2 sticks -- one carved from olive wood and one from acacia wood.  They probably had this lit in about 15 seconds.  "No lighters and no matches," they said.  Yeah, thanks.  We know. We're spoiled.

The last thing we did before we left was take a walk through their little craft and jewelry market.

Maasai men have a "limit of 15 wives," so I joked with them that maybe I'd come back and have a limit of 15 husbands, which they thought was beyond hilarious.  Shudder.  Absolutely not.  No way in hell.  Not even a little bit funny...  But Mom, I do promise that I'll try to do something about that grandbaby thing for you someday, so that no more Maasai women will chuckle about me having (gasp) "ZERO BABIES?!"

Chapter 4 -- Fodder for Elephants

fod·der - (noun)  feed for livestock, especially coarsely chopped hay or straw

Ok.  So they may not be livestock, and we may not be hay, but we were most DEFINITELY almost elephant food. Apparently wild Mara elephants aren't near as snuggly and cute as the ones at the orphanage!

Our first elephant sighting of the weekend found us watching a family of 4 elephants: mom, dad, a big kid, and a baby. They were eating tree-dinner maybe 25 yards away from us, down a rocky little hill.  After a few minutes, Mama Elephant started getting more and more irritated that we were there -- likely because we were closer than she'd have liked to her baby -- so she took a break from chowing down on trees and started working her way up the hill to stand guard over her family.  We really weren't doing anything, just sitting there quietly, watching and taking pictures, but her posture became increasingly more aggressive as she got closer.  And closer.  And closer.  Mind you, Jonathan chose this particular instance to get rather cheeky and TURNED THE ENGINE OFF.  So the situation is this: Mama Elephant is stomping towards us, ears out and tusks a' gleaming, we're sitting in a parked truck, and Papa Elephant decides that this does indeed seem like a rather fine night for human-devouring, so he too heads in our direction.  At the same time, the baby heads our way, which is bound to heighten Mom's anxiety.  As John, my Nairobi driver, would say: "This is not good..."   Only when we're literally cornered by 3 wild African Elephants (I think the teenager was too busy eating dinner to be bothered) does Jonathan finally decide to quit laughing and turn the car back on again.  I think Dad getting within about 3 feet of the us was the deal-breaker...

Lucky for you, there is video evidence of the whole ordeal, taken and narrated by our safari companion, Stephen, the Scotsman.  I don't know if this can possibly be as funny to you all as it was to the 5 of us, but watching it back sure does make us laugh.

In addition to the video, there are, of course, the hoards of photos that I couldn't stop taking, of both the savage family of Death Elephants and the other regular ones who did not, in fact, try to maim us.

Yeah...they look all sweet and innocent, eating their trees, don't they?
Don't let them fool you.  They're Death Monsters.

Showing off her Trunk Twist moves

Exhibiting just how scary his tusks are -- This was just
before he decided to turn them into implements of death.

The motive behind this whole Mama-charges-the-car thing -- Just couldn't
stay where you were, could you, baby?

Mama getting closer...

And closer...

And CLOSER (!!)
At least she didn't eat my camera.  I'd have been pissed...

Here's a normal family of non-death-brigade elephants.  How cute is their baby??
"Wait for me, mama!"

One tusk way shorter than the other -- If I were this elephant, I'd have to
file the other one off on a tree or something.  Ask anyone; this would literally drive me insane...

I'm sorry, is there anything cuter than baby animals learning the ropes??
And look at his little dark grey sock-looking legs, from where he
was in the water.  Too adorable

Also, please pardon the inexcusably cheesy title of this chapter.  I just couldn't help myself.  And if you have yet to read Water for Elephants, you really should.  It's excellent.  The movie's not half bad either, but this is coming from a self-diagnosed Reese Witherspoon junkie, so...take that for what it's worth.

Chapter 3 -- Crazy Cat Lady

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am anything but a Crazy Cat Lady.  I'm not a cat person.  I've never had a cat, and they don't even particularly like me.  If I am to grow up to become any kind of animal-obsessed social deviant, I will most definitely become a Crazy Dog  Lady, adopting every stray dog to be found on the street.  If I really lose it, I may even acquire one of those 'my dog is smarter than your honor student' bumper stickers.  I promise, however, never to wear those sad shirts with embroidered dogs all over them.  I mean, honestly.  You have to draw the line somewhere, right?

Well, apparently when on safari, I leave all of that behind.  I become THE cat person.  I could not stop watching/photographing the cats out on the Mara -- they're so amazing!  We did get alarmingly close to them, as you'll see in some of the pictures, but most of the time, they barely seemed to notice.  Only a couple of times did we see teeth, which resulted in a quick start of the truck and a slam of the gas pedal.  Jonathan apparently had a run-in with a lion when he was in his early 20's which has not been forgotten...and he has the scars to show for it!

Anyway, without further ado, I give you the hauntingly beautiful cats of the Masai Mara -- we were lucky enough to have seen all 3!

Lions...

I just really think they're so handsome...

How pretty is this girl?

Until she starts showing her teeth -- Time to go!

This guy had the sparkliest, most magical eyes -- I couldn't stop taking his picture!

Proof that these pictures aren't the result of a ridiculous
zoom lens -- We really were that close to them...

Why so sad?

Deceptively sweet-looking faces, huh?

Sleepy girl...

The Three Teenage-Boy-Lion Amigos

The top Amigo with his back to you, the one with the mohawk, clearly got
into a rumble with someone.  Holy Eye Injury, Batman...

"I said ENOUGH WITH THE PICTURES!"

Just like my dogs.  "Scratch my belly..."

Honestly.  Boys.  Same story, no matter the species...

I'll spare you the, umm, frisky lion pictures, but here is the aftermath.
Scenario -- Boy lion has one idea, girl lion has another.  She snarls at him.
Naturally, she wins, so she ignores him, while he just lays there and pouts.  Hilarious.  Sounds about right though, no?

Cheetahs...

This was the cheetah we left the rhino-stalking
spot for -- And you can see why.  Look how close we got to her!

Perhaps my favorite photo of the entire
weekend -- She was a very gracious model  :)

Leopards...

This is Jonathan's girlfriend, Olive -- She's his most favorite animal in the
entire park.  They call her Olive because leopards love to lounge in olive trees.
We never did see one in a tree, but we saw several napping on the ground.

We found her hunting near the tiny airport, literally about 10 minutes before we were supposed to fly out.

I hate that her face is hidden in every picture, but...you get the drift.  She's beautiful, eh?