Venice with the girls!

We left Rome for Venice at noon and got to Venice around 5pm. Arriving in Venice is magical. My first time in Venice was in 2006 and I actually shed tears - because of how beautiful it was and how different it was for me from 2 years before that (when I had gone through a really rough patch.) I felt so grateful to be in this magic place. We were staying in a guest house (Villa Stella in Lido) a bit far from the main part of Venice - St. Marco, but it was a lovely place......and affordable:-)

We got off the boat close to our place, but were not sure how exactly to get to our guesthouse. We asked an older lady for directions and the sweet woman almost drove us there. The only challenge was there were 6 of us and we each had huge backpacks....This was not going to work out. I was really touched though - this woman was going to let 6 strangers into her car? We dropped our bags at the hostel and took a boat back to St Marco's square for dinner. It was quite funny because the restaurant was right by the water - dimly lit and the restaurant was full of couples.....likely on honeymoon. I have to confess that at that moment - I really wanted a boo - if for nothing else, just to kiss by the water and whisper sweet nothings about everlasting love to each other - in that magical place. Venice is a city for lovers.

We enjoyed our romantic dinner for 6 though. We had some great laughs. I would not trade my friends in for anything. 

The following day, we spent all afternoon at St. Marco's taking in the magic that is Venice. 

In the late afternoon, we left for Geneva. 

**Excerpt from my 2006 emotional moment in St Marco square**

Oh back to Venice . So I am now sitting in the train watching the lovely scenery outside. Suddenly the train is on a bridge and the only thing below us is the Adriatic Sea (the name of the Mediterranean sea in the East of Italy.) It was so amazing. The sea was sparkling in the morning sun, and I felt this warm glow in my heart. It was soooooo beautiful. Arriving in Venice was so sooooo soooooooo one of those moments you can never forget in your life. Venice can truly not be described in words or pictures. I still find it hard to believe I saw such beauty. The whole city is right on the water. There are no buses, roads or taxis in the main part of Venice only boats, gondolas (the lovely narrow boats from ancient times), canals and very very narrow streets.Venice’s beauty is made more spectacular and fragile by the fact that the city has flooded 300 times in the past 10 years. One day there might be no more Venice . I really mean the buildings are right in the water. I honestly don’t know how the city was built. I saw someone get off their boat and jump into this huge building. The door of the building was only 2feet above the water, and the whole foundation was under water. Truly a marvel. I hopped into boat  ie bus no.1 (5 euros) – they call the commuter boats,buses- and traveled half an hour to St. Marco’s square which is the most famous part of Venice. The whole journey there was spell binding, and I kept on expecting to wake up. I got to St. Marco and passed all these traders selling all this carnival costumes/masks and swore to myself that the next time I come to Venice it will be during carnival ball. At St.Marco’s square I went to the famous St. Marco basilica. It was just toooooo much to take in. The whole beauty of the place. The whole magic of Venice . I was now beginning to feel overwhelmed. The basilica is really magical, and the symbolic sculptures on it were too many for me to really take in. The lion of Venice . Standing there in the middle of St. Marco’s square a single tear dropped down my cheek. It could have been the acid water affecting my eye sight, but it was not. I believe it was just the joy of being in Venice . The joy of seeing a place I had only read of in books. The whole feeling that God, Fate and Fortune wanted me to be in this exact spot at this exact moment of time. The fact that life is so unpredictable. The fact that a year ago I would not have dreamed of myself being in Venice , breathing in the cool ocean breeze, standing in a place of such historical significance. Just the feeling that this must have been a vital point in my life…..one which I will probably never fully understand. But even sitting here writing this email, yet more tears of joy roll down my cheek. There is beauty in this world. Beauty that is capable of evoking such strong emotions in someone’s heart. Standing in St. Marco’s square I felt so happy to be such a small small tiny fragment in this big big world. Standing there in St. Marco’s square filled me with wanderlust- a feeling that there is so much out there in the world to see. It made me make a vow never to pass up an opportunity to travel anywhere – Africa , Asia , Australia etc. There is so much for one to see that one could never know until they see it.

Cypriot house parties, dentists and partying in Barcelona

Did you know that sometimes lions eat humans because they have toothaches? Yep, toothaches make it impossible for them to hunt game.....and humans are soft.. Why did I tell  you this story? No, I did not get cannibalistic tendencies when my tooth started killing me in Barcelona......but I can understand how a toothache can make you do atypical things...It drives you mad. 

On self-medication I was able to do a few things - until things really got bad. We spent an idyllic Sunday morning/afternoon at the beach. In the evening we went to my friend's brother's place - he is Cypriot. We had a fun house party that included lots of dancing up until the neighbours came to complain about the noise. 5am we got home - all partied out. 

A few hours later I woke up to the worst tooth pain. I frantically went searching the city for a dentist. The first dentist I went to, did not speak a word of English (not their fault - I really should have learnt Spanish, but I didn't know I would be looking for a dentist in Barcelona.) The second dentist did not speak any English, but could understand enough for me to relay the fact that I was on death's doors and would die if she didn't do anything about my tooth. She did some scans and told me to come back at 7pm when she would be able to tell me more. In retrospect the tests were hilarious. I was given all instructions in Spanish and sign language. "Open your mouth." "Turn your head right." "Rest your jaw here." They were quite patient with me. In my distressed state I searched for a cybercafe to print my medical claim forms. 

At 7pm I was back at the dentist's. They had bad news - my tooth was really bad and I would need at least 3 days in Barcelona for them to do the necessary work. Only problem was we were scheduled to leave Barcelona in the morning.....I decided I would have to survive on my own stock of anesthetic until I got back to Nairobi. 

I got back to the hostel, packed my bags and went to party the last night in Barcelona away. Alcohol is a great pain killer. We started off the night in Los Libertias in Universitat for 1 Euro chubidas (shots.) We had quite a few shots. After that we went to Apollo Club for "Nasty Mondays".....Yeah, that name.....they probably meant it to be "crazy mondays" or something of the sort. The club was packed. Only 2 of us were partying. I met some really great guy, we danced till morning (at which point is was time for us to catch our train back to Paris.) I recall my guy walking me back to my hostel (which wasn't far from the club,) and carrying my ginomous backpack to the train station - from which I took the subway to get to the main train station. The guy my friend was with - also tried to carry her backpack, but he was quite annoying. He had been drinking beer on the streets as we walked to our hostels to get our suitcases, yelling and propositioning prostitutes. My friend yanked her backpack away from him and wouldn't let him carry it. Some part of me felt that I should practice solidarity and also not let his friend carry my backpack......but to be honest - it was so great to not have that monster on my back....and really.....when else would I find a guy offering to carry my giant backpack. 

The two of us (The BARacuda) and myself finally got to the train station. We found the rest of our crew there. We got into the train and passed out immediately. We arrived in Paris at 5pm. 

About that time in Barcelona when we went to an all-you-can-drink Australian pub

There are few things as dangerous as an open bar. Commonsense out, greed in. That is exactly what happened to us in Stoke pub in Barcelona. The hostel gave us a card with all the must-do things in Barcelona and one was to go to an Australian pub with 10 Euros all you can drink beer or sangria for what they called "power hour." As much sangria and beer as you want for an hour. We did the math and figured out this would be a nice cheap plan - go drink at Stoke then not need to buy any drinks for the rest of the night.  

We got to Stoke at a respectable hour - around 5pm. We did the math. If a glass of sangria or beer costs 3.30 Euros, then to break even we need to have at least 3 glasses to break even. But we are Kenyans. Do you think we win all those olympic medals by doing the bare minimum? Of course not! We were going to do even better than break even - we were going for gold. We had to pick whether to go with Beer or Sangria. It was decided by our small committee that sangria was more bang for our buck - how much beer can one realistically drink in an hour - before getting bloated.....How that hour began and how it ended are like night and day. We got in as proper cultured ladies and pretty soon we were yelling at the top of our voices.  

They started by bringing us 2 pitchers of sangria. There were 6 of us. When we finished our pitchers, there was a bell we were to ring for them to refill. Towards the end of that power hour, we had some frantic bell ringing courtesy of The BARacuda. We also had some erratic chugging, some crazy pouring - that resulted in more sangria on the table than in the glasses. There was one casualty of the power hour - whose partying came to an abrupt end after the hour. She found herself home by 7pm. 

The rest though - we left Stoke and moved to the next place. A bar that had live music, wine and shots for a flat fee of 5 Euros. I'm still not quite sure how we managed to have more drinks. Later in the night, we went to a night club called Jamboree where we danced and danced and danced. We got home at 6am. 

Barcelona was clearly our type of city.

Oh....you're wondering. Did we break even at Stoke? Hell, we bankrupt the place:-)

The band of crazies

Early 2014, I was in the process of planning an epic backpacking trip that started at the end of February. Thankfully I got all the visas I needed - and it was a wonderful 2 months in South America. Life as a Kenyan traveler is not always easy:-) 

As I planned this epic 2 month adventure, it reminded me that I need to document all that happened on another backpacking trip I did with friends in end of 2012. It was overambitious, it was hectic, it was fun! We went to 12 European countries in 6 weeks. The funny thing is that we actually cut out some countries a few hours before we left Kenya because most of us only had single-entry Schengen visas - meaning if we left the Schengen area we would not be able to get back in. We bid a sad farewell to Romania, Bulgaria and Croatia. The countries that remained in our itinerary were as follows - Germany, Czech Republic, Austria, Hungary, Slovakia, Slovenia, Denmark, France, Spain, Switzerland, Italy and Netherlands. 

Obviously when planning such a trip - one thing is key - you have to go with the right people. I love all my friends and family, but I am sure there are some people I would throw off a cliff in Hungary if I had to spend 6 weeks traveling with. 6 weeks of intense travel, close living quarters and communal tasks can either bring out the best or the worst in people. I have to say that the team we had was perfect!

For the sake of anonymity, I will give everyone in merry band of travelers a pseudonym. In total there was 6 of us. The first traveler, we will call "The Reluctant". The girl is reluctant at first, but when push comes to shove, she will get into the game. She is the type of girl who really wants to take that shot, but worries that she might get drunk and act silly. Thankfully by the end of the trip "The Reluctant" was cured of such worries that polite society places on us. The second traveler we will refer to as "The BARacuda". This name suits her best given her ability to always find the best bar wherever we were. She would sniff a bit, lick her finger and stick it out in the air and say "There! That basement. I can tell there is a fun club there." Her formula worked everywhere including in a random street in Bratislava, different parts of Budapest, quieter streets of Munich. This girl has a club radar! The third member of our merry band will henceforth be known as "The Little Toe." My cousin always tells us this story of how you are walking, and all your toes are apparently meant to be attentive to what the plan is - just keep moving forward - follow the rest of the toes. Somehow your little toe always goes against this plan. It is as if someone says, "Hey! Hey! Little Toe! Look here! Turn round!" Little Toe turns round and the next thing you know, you are writhing in pain on the ground. Your little toe somehow hit the corner of the couch! The Little Toe in our group usually seems to be going in a different direction from where the rest of the toes are going. It is never her fault, but she always seems to be following instructions that the rest of the band has not heard about. 

Ok. Almost there. Now you know half of the people. The other three are myself (not really sure what my code name would be - The Frat Boy? The Bunjee Jumper?). Who knows? The other two people were "The Lady" and "The Safety Cord." The lady was the one person in our group we were never really sure would survive the backpacking trip. She was the person who wanted fresh croissants in Paris while the rest of us were content eating our bread and cheese on the train. She was the one who looked petrified every time we got to a hostel and she realized that "hostel" is not synonymous with "hotel." By the end of this trip, The Lady had undergone a transformation though. We would get into a train and she would be the first to say "Little Toe, hand me the bread! The Reluctant, pass me that salami! BARacuda, do you still have that plastic knife from the other day? Ok, gang! I am making us some sandwiches!" The last member of the group was "The Safety Cord." If it wasn't for The Safety Cord, we would most likely still be in Europe - lost in some remote town or in a club where time would stand still, and we would only notice one day when we looked into a pool of murky water on the ground and saw the grey hairs on our heads. The Safety Cord is amazingly fun but always rational (at least almost always:-). She lets you go bunjee jumping, but ensures you don't end up hitting the ground. She is the voice of reason that would say, "I know you are having fun. Yes, yes, I know you think he looks like Eric Northman. In reality, he is a troll. He is saying him and his friends will make sure we get home after the club, but have you realized they can't even stand upright? They don't even have shoes on! It is time to go home! We have an early morning train." Despite our protestations, we always had her to thank many a headachy morning. 

Together with these lovely band of crazies, we went to take over Europe!