Are you there BLOG?
It's us, Molly and Elan.

So here we are in Lamu. Let us set the scene. After we left Malindi, we took some sort of combination of car, plane, and boat to get to the island of Lamu. Lamu is a small island off the coast of Kenya, and is probably the coolest place we have ever been. There is only one car on the island- an ambulance- and the only other type of transportation is donkeys. They are everywhere and definitely make the list of things that wake us up in the middle of the night. They sound like an incredibly upset asthmatic crying Rosie O'donell (sorry Rosie, we wish you the best). Last night when we were at a bar, one of the local beach boys explained to us exactly what the noises mean. He explained, and I quote, "The male donkeys, you see, don't leave the house for forty days straight. And when they finally decide to leave, they look for a girl donkey to make the donkey babies." We should have known. However, this noise occurs consistently at intervals of abuot every 20 seconds. However he also told Elan, and this is verbatim mind you, "i'll fly so high 'i'll land on your roof, pluck you out of your bed and drop you in the ocean where you will find your dolphin friend." This, of course, only lends more credibility to his donkey explanation.
Donkeys are also very much like vacuum cleaners. We were sitting in our courtyard yesterday, and two donkeys strolled through and ate every living thing in the whole 20 foot radius. Besides us.

Keeping with the theme of dysfunction, on our only free day we've had in the five days we've been here, surprise of all surprises, Elan got sick. We're not sure if it's physically possible to shit out your vital organs, but if it was, we're pretty sure that was the next step for Elan's ravaged body. While Elan puked up everything she's eaten since Kindergarten, Molly was skinny dipping in the beautiful ocean with Will and Sofi. Very culturally appropriate. Before you feel TOO sorry for Elan, however, remember that her albino flesh was still present and accounted for in the ocean, so she was there in more than just spirit. And Molly, Sofi and Will came home with seaweed trapped in their butt cracks. Or was it Elan's albino flesh? Joke's on them.

Incidentally, the night before this, in the words of our new friend Phil from New Zealand, we had a "massive" night, featuring lots of Tusker, beach boys, who are these slightly ridiculous 18-25 year old men that kick it by the beach all day and offer boat and donkey rides, gin and gingerale, and the DJ's favorite song, "Zombie" by the Cranberries- a real crowd pleaser, which strangely enough, every single person in the club knew every single lyric to. What a throwback. The disco we went to is right on the beach and is called Petley's. We went there with two other wazungu (white folk) we met on the street named Phil and Ben who we fondly refer to as Phen. Both of them donned unruly hair, man skirts, and sparkling blue eyes. It's always really shocking to see other white people here, and sometimes it's hard to know how to react. Most of the time we send Will to chase them down while we awkwardly stand and stare as though they are a rare species of butterfly. After sending out our bloodhound, Will, he arranged a playdate, and the rest is history.

It's very bizarre to get so excited to see tourists, but it has been an extremely interesting and often times trying experience trying to talk to people here especially as a white girl. Much of the coast of Kenya is Muslim, and we have learned very quickly that cultural norms here are very different. Even just wearing a tank top makes you extremely uncomfortable. Often times it is hard to tell exactly someone's intentions when they talk to you. Some people definitely genuinely want to talk and say hello, and ask you questions, however, it hasn't been uncommon for someone to talk to us for the sole purpose of getting something from us. While we realize that this really does demonstrate the real need here, it is frustrating when you're dying to actually have a real conversation and all they want is your watch. We would of course be willing to give things away to special people or friends, but it becomes hard when you feel like you're being used. That is one of the hardest, if not the hardest, thing about being here.

Fortunately, we have been able to actually get to know some really great people and have learned a lot from them. In Lamu every day we roll out of bed every day for our 7 am swahili class, and after the first hour we have breakfast. This is followed by three more hours of swahili, after which we are free until 5 pm. At 5 we hang out with our swahili tutors who are members of the community who talk to us and show us around and take us places. Molly's tutor is probably the town gossip, and basically just talks shit the whole hour and a half which is actaully really perfect for Molly. Elan's tutor works with youth groups that put on plays and do programs about HIV AIDS and other health issues. This resulted in Elan being escorted around by 30 20 year old boys her first tutor session, which was MILDLY OVERWHELMING.

In other news, we are happy to report that the cats here are slightly less mangy, however, speaking of mangy, our new favorite brand of cookie is the "Manji Marie" which proudly states on the packaging, "House of Manji- Expect Excellence."

So far Lamu has been epic. We're here for another two weeks and I'm sure we'll have plenty to add before we leave. So for now,

XOXO,
Gosspi Capes, Chaps, and Donkeys