So it begins...

I'm keeping a more extensive account of what's been going on my computer, but for now we just ducked into an Internet cafe so I'll give a quick update.  The flights over went super smooth, no problems at all.  I actually ran into a group of students from Western Washington doing a service learning project in Kisumu that were on the same flights with me all the way through and graciously "adopted" me into their group, which took away any worries I had of making some mistake where I ended up deepest, darkest Africa rather than... never mind.  I had a welcoming party waiting for me at the airport and even though I got in at 11:00 local time, the whole family stayed up to greet me when I got home and they even had a meal ready for me, which was a welcome surprise after two days of almost exclusively airplane food.  They have been extremely gracious hosts, even to an embarrasing point at times, like when Flo served me a full breakfast on a tray while her and Junior were cleaning the house.  Patrick's dad made a point of telling me that I should consider this to be my home in Nairobi and treat it as such, both for the rest of the time I'm staying and for the rest of my life.  Yesterday and today I've gone into downtown Nairobi with Flo and Junior, and getting to town itself is a real cultural experience.  We walked several blocks to a corner to wait for a "matatu", the infamous bus taxis that run all over Nairobi.  Some of them blare loud music that makes it difficult to hold a conversation when inside, and they always pack it to the point where it would be considered full in America and well beyond that.  Every one has a man, usually in his teens or twenties, that hangs out the side of the bus or van that actively recruits people to get in at every stop.  They come in all shapes and sizes, but the biggest thing they have in common is that they drive pretty darn crazy. When the right one comes (don't ask me how Junior and Flo know which the "right one" is - it all seems pretty arbitrary if you ask me) we hop in and speed along down the road.  The only two rules of the road are that if you see a gap you gun it, and drive on the left side of the road.  If there's noone you want to pass.  And it's not faster to drive on the right side of the road or in the ditch.  Okay, so there's really only one rule.  Today I actually got thrown all the way out of my seat when our driver got tired of the traffic and drove off the road to get around some slow cars/bicycles/motorcycles/people pulling carts/giraffes.  Alright, I made that last one up, but seriously, it's a zoo out there.  The thing that fascinates me is for all the craziness, there isn't much road rage and I haven't seen an accident.  In America you get mad at someone if they do something illegal or unpredictable, but here's that the norm, so it's not a big deal when it happens.  Especially matatu drivers are constantly (and I would say recklessly) cutting each other off, but no one seems to get upset about it, because it seems to be treated like more like a no-holds-barred competition where it is understood and respected that anything goes.We visited Mama Patrick at the school where she works, which is in a compound in the middle of downtown.  When we are walking through downtown sometimes it's all I can do to keep up with Junior, not because he's walking fast but just because I'm not used to walking in crowds like there are here.  We stopped by a couple shops and I got some bata shoes, a major brand here that Patrick told me I should get a pair of.  They were quality all leather shoes that I got for the equivalent of about $24 US.  Most of the fast food joints here are "fish and chips" or "chicken and chips", and we went to one for lunch.  I got a large order of fries and an orange Fanta in a glass bottle for 90 schillings, which is about $1 US.  Let me also state for the record I am a huge fan of how much they have pop in glass bottles.  I know there are better things on earth than Fanta in a glass bottle, but I can't imagine there are very many.  When we got back home to the "estate", the neighborhood where the closed neighborhood where they live, I tried my Swahili on some young kids there that were fascinated by me, but they giggled and wouldn't respond.  I don't know if they couldn't understand or they were just shy, but I suspect both.  I've been frustrated with my lack of progress speaking Swahili.  I've felt I was more prepared, but the fact of the matter is that I had't done much speaking to people, which requires a much better grasp of the language than running through an online tutorial.  My progression is also getting stunted by the fact that everyone knows English, so if anyone wants to talk to me they just talk in English.  I was urged not to leave the estate for my run that evening by Mama Patrick, so I stayed in the estate, which I thought would be a drag but turned out to be an unbelievable experience running around with all the children chasing me, or me chasing them.  And if you were wondering, I didn't see anything to refute the stereotype that all Kenyans are good runners.  I ran for 40 minutes chasing kids and running around the neighborhood and there were kids that ran just about that whole time themselves, most either barefoot or in flip flops.  We've got to take off so that's all for now.  I've been doing a terrible job of taking pictures, but hopefully I'll get some up eventually.