-as i write this, my father is playing guitar and singing in french. the livingroom/dining room of our little abode is lit by 6 candles and one teensy lamp light. the ambiance is enhanced by the night noises outside of bugs. i am full, content, clean, and dry. a combination hard to come by in a land blessed with excessive dirt and excessive rain.

-played ultimate frisbee. it was awesome, funny to see a highly skilled surgeon butterfinger a catch, i just assumed dexterous fingers would hold the same finess for everything:) apparently not. another life truth emerged during this exhausting/fun endeavor under the kenyan sun and over 6,000 altitude(ould like to note that i have it from a good source, aka todd, that this place is higher than denver colorado, which is where olympic athletes train); the taller you are, the less graceful any sort of lowering of ones body in attempt to catch, well lets hypothetically say a flying frisbee, will be. everytime the over six footers dove, well, it always ended somewhat abruptly and with skids. i was reminded in this frollicking about on the grass with people how much i love team sports. running is all good and well, but nothing beats the overdramaticised comradary that stems from common goals. that do or die attitude which can only emerge covered in sweat. i like it.

-after the feild of glory episode we crossed the bridge with walking sticks and study sandals and began our traverse into the country side. red dirt. green tea plants. i dont think i quite put enough significance on that last detail. i am beside myself, i ran into the middle of a tea feild and attempted to embrace the sky in gratitude of its mere existence. i happen to really love not only the taste of tea, but the warmth spreading experience of drinking it, annnnnddd the concept of tea in general (the picking, drying, brewing) and to hold, smell, and run through its genesis was....well, on par with the Bon Iver concert. (this is saying alot)

-walking along the path the cultural hospitality, openness, and freindliness is fully exposed. everyone, and i do mean everyone, upon seeing you wants to shake hands, invite you in for chai, and show you their children. speaking of children, the camera truly is the universal icebreaker. the scenario always happened as follows; two nice little ones on the path, after shaking your hand or exchanging the national greeting "uh-moon-su' would look curiously or significantly (depending upon experience) at the camera in your hand. snap the picture in which they stood somewhat awkwardly, show them the picture and IMMEDIATELY they would COLLAPSE into giggles, and being a joyspotter with a desire to capture such a moment on film i would take another; then upon seeing the result of this picture the hilarity would augment, and of course get louder, which drew all children in proximity. essentially every candid moment would end in a small delighted mob.

-on the walk back it sprinkled, splattered, dropped, and then poured with vengeance, this however only enhanced the overall experience. to quote Les Mis; A little fall of rain, can hardly hurt me now, and rain will make the flowers grow. welcome to the rainy season, which, apparantly this close to Bomet, lasts all year.
-learned how to make real dahl, a skill passed from my father to myself. a family legacy that began not with my great great great danish grandmother (random nationality, i dont even know, she was more likely british) but with two indian men that my father taught how to drive while in medical school. this memory was brought to mind because today, out on the red road we met a man whose name was phenetocally 'do-ih-it', the same as the indian who both crashed my father's car and taught him to make dahl. even trade. it was delicious.

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