... and the pickles.

WARNING: The following post is best read under the influence of a full bottle of cough medicine.

I think it is not uncommon, when removed from a culture that is familiar, to have certain cravings for what you left behind. Family and friends is the obvious longing. But you also crave food, music, and entertainment. It starts out simply enough: you want pizza, the latest from Sanctus Real, and the new season of Lost. As time goes on your cravings start to change as drastically as a pregnant woman. Last week I desired chow mein noodles, the theme song from This Old House (Bob Vila was a Peace Corps Volunteer by the way), and an episode of Murder She Wrote. I would have been absolutely thrilled to receive any of these things. It does concern me though. I wonder what I'll crave a year from now?

A thought occurred to me the other day: how will I know if I have a fever? If I was perfectly healthy and somebody asked me if I had a fever I probably would say yes.

I wonder: are the mangoes and fruit that I'm eating really as good as they seem, or is it such a stark contrast to the mostly starchy, bland food that I usually eat?

I've learned recently that I prefer my water with a hint of chlorine more than a hint of smoke. This stems from the fact that I have two options for sterilizing my water: chlorine tablets or extreme boiling. I could always combine the two and get some smoky, chloriny water.

Breaking News: The other day, for the first time in my life, I went a whole day without socks or shoes. I know there is stunned silence with those reading this, but its true. It was just the virgin feet (which I'm not sure I can call them that anymore) and my brother's old sandals. I didn't really notice a difference, I only did it out of laziness.

I would suggest to anyone lacking in a sense of humor, but who has always dreamed of being a comedian, to come to Kenya. Normal conversation is extremely funny to Kenyans. They can't believe some of the stuff we have or do in America. Just mention snow or, if you're feeling really crazy, skiing and you'll have them on the floor in no time. However if you try to say something witty, a real side splitter, a pun, a play-on-words, you will get no reaction. It just doesn't translate over.

On a related topic, I cherish the moments when I pose a question or ask for an opinion of a Kenyan in English, and the response I get is, "Yes, I see, thank you sir." It always helps to start a question with the phrase, "I have a question," just to get them prepared. I wonder how many times this happened when I was talking to international students at WMU? Its interesting being on the other side.

I like my site. The people are great and friendly, but there is one glaring drawback I have decided. The biggest bummer is that I live sort of in a complex with other people. 'What's the big whoop, Matt?' you may be asking. The problem is not the people, my neighbors are great. The big whoop is that I don't have the freedom to go out to my backyard (I have no yard) and relieve myself if I have to without having an audience. That, as I see it, is the whoop kubwa.

A curious thing happened last week. Ever since we arrived in Kenya people have been on the lookout for animals. Anything. And finally place we ended up the closest to animals was in the heart of Nairobi at the Ambassador's house. There were monkeys climbing on his house and his trees right above our head. It was great. If I can ever get more pictures up I will show them.

The holiday season is upon us, and this is shaping up to be, not surprisingly, the most unique Christmas I have experienced. I actually forget that it is the season, because it goes contrary to what I'm used to: it's crazy hot, there is no snow, no decorations, no endless Christmas songs on the radio ... this goes back to the cravings I talked about earlier. I want to see Rudolph and Mickey's Christmas Carol on TV. I want to watch family videos of Christmas past (and watch the best parts over and over and over ... much to my mom's chagrin). It is very clear dreaming of a white christmas is as close as I will come to the real thing unless I visit Mount Kenya.

I hope you have enjoyed my random thoughts, observations, and questions. I blame having large amounts of time on my hands and Dave Barry (that lovable humorist, who writes things, dare I say 'stirring enough to rouse the American eagle from its crag and set him to shriek exultantly while he hurls his arrows at the aurora bourealis' [taken with liberty from the Philadelphia Tribune ... and the guy from Music Under the Stars]) as the catalyst.

Happy Holidays!!