Saturday at the beach

Weeks are passing by so fast. And though my Sunday evening didn't turn out as planned, I guess I really needed some alone time to stop, reflect, feel gratitude. To remind myself that I'm surrounded by wonderful people that give me positive energy, and to be thankful. With that said, and being awake for hours now, let's continue taking a look at how the last days in Barcelona looked like.

Fell in love with all the beautiful balconies. 

On our way to the beach! Stunning!

Pretty amazing!

Rosé & Mimosas in the sun.

Lunch was fine, but not as good as at My Way Restaurant, the evening before.  Fish for me of course!

Port de Barcelona & Barceloneta

Saturday, and out motto was Carpe Diem, or something like that! Time to act as tourist and check some things of our list, this time without being hangover. This is the first half of a great Saturday.

Took the metro to the port of Barcelona, at the end of Paseo de Colón.

Handstand at Port de Barcelona.

Port Vell. There's also a huge shopping mall, Moll de la Fusta and the Barcelona Aquarium.

Sabina being totally awesome! 

Finding our way to Barceloneta.

Let's go to the beach!

A tucked away hidden pearl

After taking a late siesta, we were ready for a late dinner. Sabina found a restaurant that seemed really good, so we decided to find it. Luckily her sense of orientation is much better than mine, and with her hand drawn map we took off.

Found our way to to Plaza Reial. The restaurant is tucked away, but really worth taking the time to find.

Carrer de les Heures, 10. 08002 Barcelona

Sabina, struggling to decide what to order.

While waiting for our table, we got a free glass of Cava. True story.

Enjoyed some Paella and Tapas.

 Seafood paella, with such an amazing glass of white wine. Wish I remember the name of the wine.

The free glass of Cava was nothing compared to the wonderful service Pablo gave us. Just had to take a picture as an inspiration reminder.

La Rambla by night.

Strolling down Las Ramblas, stumbled upon some kind of Easter parade. Some what fascinating, and weird at the same time, not understanding what was happening. I'm not sure, but I think it's known as Semana Santa

And that was our Friday evening in Barcelona!

An afternoon at Tibidabo

The night before combined with way too little sleep, too many San miguels, mojitos and jagershots, dancing till 5 in the morning definitely affected us all. Hangover, Sabina and I found our way back to Les Cortes, enjoying a great home made breakfast, that Stefan made for us, before heading off for new adventures.

The architecture is amazing, with all the details. 

Took the bus for 3 euros to the Tibidado.

The Tibidabo rises up 512 meters above the sea, being the tallest mountain in the Sierra de Collserola. 

At the top of the mountain, their is this amazing Catholic church, Templo del Sagrado Corazón.

The church took 60 years to construct, and at the top there's this huge statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, by Josep Miret Llopart.

There is an amusement park as well!

Behind us is this amazing view of Barcelona!

Group photos for the win!

Off to Barcelona!

There's this kind of special feeling I get every time i step into an Airport, it's as if every part of me knows that new adventures are coming. I daydream and wonder were all the other people are off to, and for how long. Excitement hanging in the air. However, I have this minor problem with flying, as I've mentioned before, I hate the slightest bumps, turbulence, or weird sounds. Luckily, we survived this time as well!

Some kind of Easter lunch, before boarding the plane. 

Up, up, and away!

Arrived safely in Barcelona.

Took the metro to Never Mind Bar, in a dark alley, where one probably could get robbed. Fortunately the bar turned out to be really cool. 

Me, Stefan, Alicia and Sabina met up with Marcos and his great friends!

And we danced all night.

Woke up in this amazing apartment, in the Gothic quarters. Love, love, love! However, not loving the hangover part as much! Our Thursday in other words turned into an unexpected party night, with new wonderful friends. Awesome and great first impression of Barcelona!

Hell and back

Still having my unwanted death-thoughts each time I enter a vehicle or sit on a motorbike.  I wish I was just overreacting,  however I've seen so many cars and lorries after accidents. Besides,  I've actually fallen out of a moving electric-car (ironic I know),  and got hit by a lorry, days before taking my driving test, my fear in other words comes from somewhere.
As I've mentioned before,  not sure if the drivers are really damn good or bad and crazy at the same time, one thing they all have in common is the lack of patience.
Today I actually reached the point of thinking that there was absolutely no hope, that our matatu as they call them here, would actually tip over or get hit (we actually reversed into another buss before leaving).  The vehicle had 21 passengers instead of 12, a conductor and driver high on God knows what drugs,  the possibilities of dying were plenty. Sitting on that piece of wood,  in between two seats,  I thought this is it; my time has come... I even ended up texting mum telling her how much I love her. That's how scared I was.
A journey that is supposed to take maximum an hour,  took 3, 5, the last hour spent terrified as hell in a motorbike,  in the rain,  on slippery muddy roads.  To make things even more worse,  I was so sure that the driver would not bring me home. At a point he stopped, and I saw my aunt in the far distance,  disappearing into the night. It did not get better when he stopped and all the men were wondering who I was. If I survived the crazy bus ride,  I expected that this would be my last moment..

Never again.

You learn to love the things you've got.

I'm adding up my travel hours, I've now reached what might probably turn out to be my biggest challenge so far on this trip, I've reached the village.
What's the big challenge one might wonder?  Well, being used to electricity and fresh water as something daily,  I'll be without both during my time here in Manyonyi. 

It's a huge difference, but then again, coming back to Sweden, having electricity and running water will be way more appreciated. One tends to appreciate everything so much once you've been without it, a very good experience.
So far things are good, as I expected, my relatives are divided in their opinion about my life, half of them understand the travelling part, how privileged and lucky I am to be able to work and them travel. The other half (the men in our family) think it's a waste of time and money, letting me know that I better get a higher education (in order to provide them with money)... Instead of freaking out like I normally do, I've once again learned to smile, thinking that it's thanks to the current job I have that this visit and the stuff they got is possible, but unfortunately they will never really understand that, and I've learned that there's no point in trying to explain it anymore either. In the end, I just try to convince myself that everyone is equally happy to have me here. In a way, it actually feels a bit like home, and that's pretty much good enough for me. Besides, I'm selfish enough to be proud that I've been in Kenya for six weeks by myself.

Three weeks left

With 22 days left,  I'm actually starting to feel that I've got my dose of Kenya for the moment. The whole situation so far has been really special, and intense, though I've learned and experienced a lot. There's so much with this country I just don't get, I need to get some distance, and a chance to process it all.
For example,  I thought that the elections were done long time ago, however,  there was a petition,  and in the end the presidential election and the courts final decision was not fair or free. Actually most people I've met so far are really upset,  while the few that are happy seem to rub it in others face.

I'm realizing that this nation is a ticking bomb.  Tribalism is such a big issue,  and some tribes have been suppressed for so long, I believe that eventually something small will trigger things.

The one with all the fear

After a month I probably shouldn't panic about the chaos like traffic, but I still do, insanely terrified, totally convinced that I will die. Not sure if people here are really good drivers,  or terribly bad - they get themselves into the most unpredictable situations, yet they actually manage to get themselves out from them to. 

They also have this weird,  but kind of fascinating system with hitting the outside of the vehicle as stop buttons, all the so called conductors also seem to know how to whistle really loud,  and know how to jump on and of the moving vehicle.  Still trying to understand how the drivers know exactly were to stop.

Sitting in front is actually the worst for me, I see everything!  Holding my breath listening to some gangsta rapping about 'bitches to move' doesn't make it better. I also think that we will crash,  I'll end up flying through the front screen and most likely die.
Sitting behind the driver,  I still think I might die, or at least get minor injuries,  like a broken arm or foot. I need both arms and legs in order to work...

The motorbikes are actually not better. At first I thought I'd like them more than the matatus,  the feeling of being free, feeling the wind in my hair, then I realized that we could still get hit by cars or buses, the wind part; it only messes my hair. So I learned to braid my hair, and I also learned not to wear a short skirt, with every bump on the road, the skirt seems to slowly wander upwards, which in turn creates awkward moments. I also realized that I was still frightened to death, desperately holding on to the poor driver.  Every stone, every slight movement to the side I'm certain that exact moment will be the last. It's totally crazy, I've obviously survived so far and tomorrow I'm travelling to the Mombassa.

Hope

I'm not really sure where to start, the days have past ridiculously fast,  and even though I'm still a bit homesick, being away is amazing, because everything back home will feel so much better and appreciated when I return.
Anyway, the last week of volunteering was a mixture of feelings,  somehow relived about an environment change, yet sad about leaving. Feeling loved and appreciated by the kids, eagerness to learn more,  and most of all, after Mondays Alternative positive discipline program,  a longing to learn more and later on educate and spread the information about human rights,  children's rights to be precise.

I and many others take so much for granted,  knowing what is wrong and right, so many children in Kenya don't have a clue about their rights. The fact that canning still exits, just because it has always been that way is such a lame excuse that makes me frustrated. But thanks to programs and people like Celestine at ARO,  I believe there's hope,  that education is the future,  and I believe that change is possible.

Only hate the road when you're missing home

The best thing with a travel partner is that you have someone to lift you up on the days you're feeling low, and once back home, that someone is the one who you can share all the memories, recall the funny moments and the hardships with. 

Yesterday, after spending time with some people from Norway,  I realized that I actually miss home, friends, my bed and speaking Swedish.
I've got cravings for a cold glass of lactose free milk,  real butter, Ben&Jerry's,  chocolate, a simple salad, a glass of wine, and decent Internet!  So,  I'm not hating things,  just missing a few things,  and I'm super glad to be heading for the city in a weeks time, and then off to the coast!

Dear Kenyans

It's now been 16 days since I arrived, things are going well, however, I must admit that at times I've been going to bed, wishfully thinking I had a brighter complexion. I'm really trying hard to appreciate and rock my dark skin,  and my Kenyan roots that I know are hidden somewhere within me, but you simply aren't giving me an easy time.
I thought by now, I would be able to call Kenya home, feel proud that I am part Kenyan,  and look like you, but I've actually never felt more of a stranger as I do now.

Several times I've heard you say I'm lucky, that my life must be so easy, since I live in Sweden,  and you know what I am very lucky, I'm not going to argue that, and yes my life might seem easy compared to yours, but all Westerners are still not filthy rich, and the majority of us (yes I say us) struggle daily and have worked/work hard to get to were we are, or wish to be, just like some of you.

Maybe it's because I'm located in a small village,  that's why things feel so extreme,  but is that an excuse?
Thinking that for once I'm glad that I look different in Sweden,  with my dark complexion comes no expectations, people telling me I speak good Swedish seems to come as a surprise to them. I never thought I'd come to the point were I think that way of thinking would ever be okay. But at the moment I do, because with no expectations,  everything's possible, at least I get the benefit of proving them wrong.

Here,  it's the other way round, you expect me to understand the tribe issue, label me after a tribe I know nothing about, tell me I should know a language that I didn't even know to start with, you actually judge me more than the Swedish people do. Isn't it enough that I'm here to learn more about our culture?
Kenya actually has more than 40 different languages, Swahili being the official,  but that's not good enough for some of you. I'm trying my best, I'd be very happy if you would treat me as the two elderly brothers from yesterday, happy that I'm in Kenya,  trying to learn more,  so please would you try your best to let go of some of the extreme,  narrow, ethnic values  and thoughts you have? (You'll still be a Kenyan,  I promise)

Yours sincerely S.

Perspectives

I wake up in the morning and know that I'm actually fine,  my biggest problem might be not knowing what to choose to eat, what to wear; will I look fat in it?  Wondering which country I should chose to travel next, and if I leave, will He still fancy me once I'm back?

Her biggest problem,  she's 13 years,  neglected because she is pregnant, withdrawn without  knowing what to do, scared as hell, with shame from the society. I keep asking myself, where were they when she needed them most,  when she cried out for help? What went wrong?

My sister comes home after school, complaining about how boring school was today. The seven year old boy had to change school since the teachers caned the children severely again. Some of them so bad that they fainted. In which world can a teacher,  or any other adult think that abuse is the way to solve things, with  clean consciousness?

Some of the home visits today were heartbreaking.
How bad my situation ever feels,  my lowest point won't ever be half as bad as theirs. Next time things feel bad, have gratitude,  you and me probably have family and friends that love us,  that support us. We are educated enough to know the consequences of sex, we know that no one has the right to beat or abuse us in any way, they don't know that.

You are not that scared, young 13 year old girl,  waiting to deliver a baby alone.

The little things

There are a few things I fail to understand (it could also just be my stubbornness, I'll let you be the judge of that).
As I've mentioned before,  I believe in Kenya, the country has resources and the potential to go far, but I'm not sure its people are ready for it.

The election is finally over, not sure what to say; the fact that Kenyans have chosen a leader that is set to face trial in July at the International Criminal Court, in The Hague for alleged crimes against humanity after the 2007 elections says a lot. The fact that most people actually don't seem to give a fuck about the qualities of a leader, rather which tribe he belongs to is something I'm struggling to understand. I haven't met anyone who hasn't ask me what tribe I belong to. I wish my answer of being a Kenyan would be enough, but no - so I've learned to smile and say that I am a Luhya, from Maragoli, my mum's tribe (of course leaving out the detail about also being half Kikuyu).

It's not only the tribe thing,  with the tribes comes more than 40 different languages. I'm struggling with my Swahili,  but people tend to speak Kiluhya with me, when I say I only speak a little Swahili,  no Kiluhya,  all they hear is that I don't speak either. Oh, and the whole religion thing,  it's apparently not enough that I believe,  they turned that into me being scared, I obviously have to be saved by Christ.

The other day someone even commented on my names being way too European, 'you even took their surname' as if that's something that bothers them, not even realizing that I actually have a Kenyan middle name. 

I recall India,  exchanging 'good names' everyone's name is good in India and you can be any religion,  no one cares. So, I just smile instead, and think at least this man didn't tell me I 'betrayed my country by leaving it for Sweden'. And then we have the fat rich men, that see me as an investment,  someone that clearly should promote them in Sweden,  cuz' what they do is simply the best and everyone in the west are filthy rich, including me.I should also give up being a free soul, be blessed with a good husband and start my life in Kenya. 

These are some of the things I get to hear daily. I'm getting used to all of it,  not getting upset that I see things differently,  because I know there's hope, there are a few people who are unique,  understand the problems that their facing. I believe in them,  they are the future and hopefully the others will start to understand and change their narrow way of thinking.