The end of 6 weeks Eurotripping - 12 countries, 14 cities...

 I wish I could say it was all smooth sailing after our dramatic departure from Amsterdam....I really wish I could. After leaving Amsterdam at 9pm we got to Copenhagen an hour or so later...Drama. So I had booked accommodation through Airbnb but for some reason the payment had not gone through. On my end I had no idea anything was wrong. We got to the apartment and the host was surprised to see us. On her end it appeared the booking had been cancelled. We were just about to be broke and homeless in one of the most expensive cities I have been to. Thankfully the host was so kind - she let us stay and said we could sort out the payment the next day. 

The next day - once we sorted out the situation (more money needed from these broke girls), we went out clubbing in the evening. The following day we went for dinner at an old colleague's place. The conversations were great. The food was amazing - her husband is a professional chef.

On our final day in Copenhagen - we spent most of our time in pubs in Stroeget. We randomly met some nice girls who we played a Danish dice game with in the bar. A few years later one of our new friends came for my 30th birthday in Nairobi - she was in the city at the time. I love how small this world is..Later in the evening, our other friends joined us. 

In the evening we staggered to the airport - and thus ended 6 amazing weeks, 12 countries, 14 cities.....

The wages of epic debauchery, is missing your flight

After the Amsterdam tours, we went to town to have a beer. Then we visited a coffeeshop - after which we went back to our hostel for happy hour. Our hostel was really really bad (White Tulip), but happened to be in the middle of all the fun stuff and right on top of a great Irish pub - Slainte. We got back to the hostel in time for happy hour - Buy one get one free. We each chugged around 4 beers in quick succession because we were trying to get to a certain club for free - by 10pm. We got to the club, but they were already charging entrance. We decided to go back to Slainte. Most of the team was sleepy, but I really wanted to party. I went to a club in Rembrandtsplein called Smokeys. I got there and it was lots of fun. They had 10 shots for 10 Euros - we indulged....I called The Reluctant and asked her to join me. We had fun and got home around 6am....

That night would however fade in prominence when compared to the next one...I  learnt many lessons the next day : 1. Expecting to party all night and catch your morning flight is foolhardy at best 2. Sleep is dangerous - don't trust it 3. Just because the offer is 10 shots for 10 Euros, doesn't mean you suddenly have superhuman strength to drink 4. They say with age comes wisdom, but Amsterdam proved to me that this can be a fallacy....

Such a lovely day - it started so well. We went to town to buy boots. We got back to the hostel in time for an early dinner and happy hour. There was a huge crowd of pockmarked guys at the bar chanting some football songs in an unknown language. They looked like fun - though we couldn't understand their language. We had our happy hour beers as we tried to figure out what to do. At some point in the night, the leader of this tribe of football fans approached us and we became instant friends. That strange language they were chanting in - was English.....apparently....they were Man City fans who had traveled for a game. Him and his friend joined our table and they were good company. Their 30-40 football tribemates did not disturb our peace. 

Our new friend told us to join them on one of the bridges for a post victory drink. We got there and there were thousands of people drinking and dancing by the bridge. Our friend was a gentleman and plied the 6 of us with lots of beers. Finally around midnight we were finished. The more logical in our group went back to the hostel to sleep. They had a flight to Nairobi that they would need to leave the hostel for at 8am. The Safety Net and I who had to leave the hostel at 5am for our flight to Copenhagen, decided "it is easier to wake up if we don't sleep." .....Yeah. I know. The devil comes in many forms. 

We went to Smokeys to party the night away...I bought the first round - 10 shots - which we shared. The Safety Net bought the second round - 10 shots - which we shared. After that, hell broke loose. We made it back to the hostel and The Safety Net pleaded with me "Let's just go to the airport now" but sleep and alcohol (the two headed demon) had taken control of me. "No, please. Just let me sleep 15 minutes." We had only an hour before we needed to go to the airport.....

You can guess what happened. We woke up at 8am as those who were leaving for Nairobi were on their way. We decided that since we had already missed our flight, there was no need to panic. We went to the Jamaican-Ethiopian hostel manager and pleaded to check out at noon. He was quite kind - and I did look like a train wreck - he knew we needed that sleep. 

Around 1pm we finally went to the airport. In the US when you miss a flight, you pay around $25 to $50 to book a new one. We thought that would be the case.....If only.

"Miss Kimeria - you two were a no-show. Your tickets have been cancelled. If you are to travel, you need to buy a new flight for 350 Euros each" (over 3 times the cost of our initial flights.)

I still remember the moment I heard that news. This was the end of a 6 week Eurotrip. None of us had 350 Euros to spend just like that.....I had already paid for housing in Copenhagen....We had no money to pay for new housing in Amsterdam.....and our return flight to Nairobi - required us to leave from Copenhagen to Munich. We thought of our options......We really had  none. We thought of taking a train - costs were almost similar and the journey would take 24 hours or so.....I put the new costs on my credit card - really hoping it did not get declined.

The wages of epic debauchery is missing your flight.....and having to cough up 350 Euros...and having to sit at the airport with your hangover from 1pm to 9pm for a flight..OUCH!

Touring Amsterdam - Christian reformation, Rembrandt, Nazi occupation etc

Continued from last week

Another area in the town that showed us Dutch Tolerance was the 'square of the spiritual women.' It started as a home for Berginjof nuns who were being persecuted in France. Berginjof nuns are pretty much nun-tryouts who didn't make it to become full blown nuns. They were ostracized throughout much of Europe, but the Dutch welcomed them with open arms. Their former home is now the home of spiritual women. Women the world over who adhere to a religion- any religion and want to grow spiritually apply to join the place. It offers a home to Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Bahaaists etc.  I thought it was so interesting that one place would encourage growth of spirituality in different religions. The place was quite tranquil.

Amsterdam officially has only 5 Catholic churches. After the Reformation all Catholic churches were seized and Protestantism was declared the official religion. Unlike other countries, where all former priests, nuns etc would be killed, in the Netherlands they just had to convert. The State even let them meet in a house as long as the house didn't have a cross. This turning a blind eye and letting people live their lives was something I really admired. Everyone knew it was a catholic church. Every Sunday a crowd would gather there. They had an organ, hymn books etc. As long as it was subtle everyone was willing to pretend they didn't see it.

After this we passed by the museum where Rembrandt's 'Night Watch' was stored. I had never seen it before, but it was a painting that changed how portraits were done. It was an action portrait of the Rifle Squad of Amsterdam. It was later redone into a sculpture that was in the city park. I really liked it.

We got to see the widest bridge, and the narrowest house which were all on the same street. The narrowest house was 1.7m wide. Can you imagine? Horrid. I had noticed the importance of saving space in Amsterdam.  The last time I was in Amsterdam, the stairs in my hotel were so narrow that I had to climb them sideways.

Random note – The Dutch are officially the tallest European people. I
always thought it would be Swedes, Norwegians or something.

We passed a statue of Multatuli who was a Dutchman who wrote about the atrocities being committed by Dutch colonialists in Indonesia. He even named names. His book led to a huge reform by the Dutch public who were horrified to learn about how they were treating the locals. I really liked the Dutch, and wondered if they were really related to South African boers. Maybe the Boers were all the black sheep of the Dutch community....

Amsterdam was really multicultural. I kept on seeing all this people who looked African, but I couldn't figure out from what country. I kept on racking my brain trying to think if Netherlands ever had an African colony. It turns out this black people are from Suriname. I was so jazzed. Back in the day I used to think Suriname was a country somewhere in Asia probably near Myanmar. At least a few years back I learnt it was the smallest country in South America. Little did I know that it's a predominantly black country. That was an interesting history and geography lesson. The other foreign looking people come from Aruba, Dutch Antilles, Indonesia etc.

We then saw the old men's prison that was now a public pool. The Dutch being Calvinist believed in the redeeming powers of hard work. All men in the prison were meant to work daily to get atonement for their sins. Some men were rebellious and chose not to work. To force them to work, water would slowly be let into their cells. At the corner of the cells there was a pump. The only way to prevent one self from drowning was to continuously pump i.e. one was forced to work to live. One prisoner completely refused to do this, and let himself drown. This
method of getting people to work was promptly stopped.

Netherlands being such an open and welcoming society had attracted a lot of persecuted Jews from other European countries – Portugal, Germany, France etc. They all lived in the Jewish Quarter which was an upscale region and not a ghetto like in other countries. Famous
Non-Jews like Rembrandt even chose to live in this region because it was really good housing. When the Nazis invaded Amsterdam in the early 40s, their occupation was a peaceful one. The Nazis liked the Dutch and believed they were distant relatives since they all spoke funny.
For a year they didn't do anything other than stay on as occupiers. Finally they started their attacks on the Jews. The first day they attacked the Jews was on a Saturday and very few Dutch people were in the Jewish Quarter to witness the atrocities. The next day they did it
was a Sunday – market day. The Dutch witnesses were horrified by what they saw and decided to revolt against the murder of their brothers.
The 'February strikes' were led by Dutch workers to oppose the mistreatment and deportation of the Jews. The Nazis fired at the crowd, and killed many citizens. Though this was by no means a success for the Dutch, it however was the largest demonstration during World
War 2 by non-Jews for the Jews. It did not stop the deportations, and it probably did not save any lives. It however showed the Jews that the Nazis were a minority, and not all Europeans shared their dream of exterminating them. It was a moment of hope, and a day when the Dutch
policy of tolerance and turning a blind eye was put to the test. They would not turn a blind eye to acts of torture, hatred and inhumanity against their fellow humans.

When the Allied forces started freeing European cities, they neglected to free Amsterdam. It was so out of the way, and they had no idea that many Nazis were occupying the area. The Nazis starved the people for their collaboration with the Jews. By this point the Jewish Quarter
was a ghost town. All the Jews had been deported and met their end in the Nazi concentration camps. Anne Frank's family was one of these. The winter of 1941 was the worst winter in Europe. Food ran out. All the trees were cut and used for heating. People ate the
'roof-rabbits.' Roof-rabbits was a euphemism for cats. Then they ate the rats. Then they went to the ghostown – the Jewish Quarter and started using furniture, building materials and anything they could get their hands on for heating. Today all the trees in Amsterdam are
the same height. They were planted around the same time – after the war. The old Jewish Quarter does not look anything like it would have in the past. Everything was destroyed in the search for firewood. It has been redone in garish 70s architecture. Bold, bright colours. Long
clinical columns. It's an eyesore.

***The Miracle of Amsterdam****

This is a true story. It has no exaggerations and no additions. I am
telling it as it came from the horses mouth.

Sometime in the 1600s in Amsterdam an old man was on his death bed. A priest and a nun came to give him his last rites. They gave him the communion bread to eat, but as he was so sick he threw it up immediately. As the bread was blessed it had to be disposed of in a
certain way. The nun wrapped it up in a bundle and cast it into the fire. All of a sudden she notices that the bread doesn't burn. It instead floats on the fire with a strange glow. She grabs it and realizes it's a miracle. She begins her journey with the bread to see the pope (all miracles had to be declared a miracle by the pope.) She gets to Rome and realizes she doesn't have the bread. She panics and wonders how she could have lost it. She realizes these are serious
negative nun points – finding a miracle and losing it. She gets back to Amsterdam and it's in the house. Her and the priest now take it to Rome. They get there, and discover the bread has vanished again. They find it in Amsterdam. They then build a church where the loaf lies.
That must be what the bread wants from them. In the next 50 years, the church burns down twice. The only thing that survives is the bread. They move the bread to another location. This fires are a bit worrisome and they want a safer location. This time the bread agrees
to be relocated. They put it in a nice steel case in the new church. A thief comes one night and robs the church. He takes off with the steel case thinking it has money.

He runs over a bridge and pries it open. With each push his heart is pacing faster and faster. He expects to find jewels, money or something precious. It finally opens, and he finds a dry dusty piece of bread.

He tosses it into the river Amstel.

That is the end of the miracle of Amsterdam.

Moral of this story? The bread was fireproof and could translocate, but wasn't waterproof.

Ps- The old man didn't survive. The miracle was only for the bread….not for him.

Touring Amsterdam - Redlight district, religious tolerance, marijuana laws

We left Geneva early on a Sunday morning. We traveled to Amsterdam through Brussels and Paris. We got to Amsterdam at 4pm - checked into our hostel - a really dingy hostel, but it was on top of a fabulous bar. Winning! But that hostel was dingy! We had to pass through some toilets to get to our room - yes.....who built this place???

4pm - everyone passed out and we vowed to wake up and PARTAAY! Cause, hey - this is Amsterdam......Well, we actually fell asleep till the next morning. All our traveling had finally finished us. The next day we woke up and went for Sandeman's New Europe Tours - amazing free tours in different European cities.

**The tour***

Amsterdam was actually really cool and quite multicultural. I kept on wondering how a country that is bordered by Germany and Belgium attracted so many people of all races, religions , ideologies etc. I also wondered why the people were so nice.  People had been so nice
and friendly even the older generation who usually stare at you with xenophobic suspicion. 

Amsterdam was founded by two men and a dog. History claims that. How two men and a dog were able to build this town is a good question. They built a dam on the river Amstel….Amsteldam became Amsterdam. We  went to check out the old part of town and it dawned on me how fragile the place is. Most of Amsterdam is on reclaimed land. People don't store anything in the basement for fear of flooding. We passed one street where all the houses were toppling forwards. Apparently this was intentional. All houses had a one meter or so beam extending horizontally from the roof. This was used to support ropes to pull up
merchandise from the river direct into the attic when the merchant boats came. All storage had to be done in the attic for fear of flooding. The houses were built leaning forward so as to avoid stuff breaking your windows as it was pulled up. It took the town 100 year to realize that this danger could be avoided if they made the beams longer.

During Napoleon's reign in France, he invaded Netherlands and gave it to his silly younger brother. His brother was not that sharp. The first time he tried to speak Dutch to the people and announce, "I am your King," he actually said "I am your rabbit."  They never really took him seriously after that. Before his time, the Dutch never used surnames. They had names like, "Dirk from Utrecht" or "Jan the baker" etc. A law was passed forcing everyone to have a surname. The Dutch had an interesting sense of humour and took on nonsensical surnames –
"Dirk PeesInTheForest", "Jan TheLaughingCow" etc. It was quite funny then, but many young Dutch of this generation do not find their surnames that hilarious.

Another curious thing was that houses in Amsterdam didn't use to have addresses. They had gablestones. If the dentist lived there, there would be a tooth sculpture at his door. The baker, there would be an oven etc. I found the founding of Amsterdam quite organic. Who says
addresses are the only way to mark houses? It would be nice to know
who lives in what place by looking at their door.

Our next stop on the tour was the Red Light District. Right at the entrance of the Red Light District was an old church. This District is the oldest part of the town. When the sailors came back they would visit the bordellos first. After this they would go to the church, repent their sins, pay for their forgiveness and get a "Get out of hell free" card from the priests. Understanding the Red Light District is an important aspect in understanding Dutch culture. They are very Calvinist, and believe that everyone has a right to live their life how they see fit. It surprises people, but the Dutch are actually quite conservative themselves. They however tend to turn a blind eye/ have a non-inteference culture when it comes to many things. This is why the Netherlands is known as the hotbed for people of different sexual orientations, marijuana-legality and lax immigration laws. They themselves may choose to live what they consider pure or religious lives, but they don't impose their thinking on anyone. I really liked
that. Your reality is not my reality. 

The Red Light District is basically a collection of windows in buildings with red lights, and women on display behind the windows. Pimping in Netherlands is illegal. All the workers here are self-employed. They pay 150-200 Euros a night for their window, and what they do there is their business. They also pay taxes. I thought it was very practical as banning prostitution just means that more people are forced to be sex workers and work under horrifying circumstances, have no basic rights, have a middle man oppressing them etc. In Amsterdam they are unionizable workers just like teachers etc. They also have better police protection than they did when it was 'illegal' but still happening. In Kenya one always hears horrific tales of prostitutes reporting cases of violence or rape to the police, only to be further brutalized -because the police know the women have no one to turn to - as their trade is illegal...

The first three windows I saw were African women. The next one I saw was a woman with bondage gear. The next one was a woman sitting with a huge dildo on. The District is organized into all sorts of different fetishes. I was told there is also a part just for Asian prostitutes, leather, foot fetishes etc. A basic appropriately named "suck and **ck" goes for 50 euros and lasts 15 minutes. These women are making bank. How many 15 minutes do you have in 8 hours?

Another thing that would be worth mentioning about Netherlands is the marijuana laws. In the 60s and 70s Amsterdam was hit hard by the drugs madness. The town had more heroin abusers than it could rehabilitate. The Government took drastic measures. It decriminalized marijuana which it considered to be a pseudo-drug and had stricter punishments
for heroin and cocaine. Though these measures seemed crazy, it helped the town put more funding into catching dealers of hard drugs, and leaving the pot-head down the street alone. Contrary to popular opinion, weed isn't legal in Netherlands, but is tolerated. 'Tolerated' means that as long as it doesn't disturb anyone else then it is fine. I can't tell what the difference between tolerated and legal is. There have been no weed-related arrests in over  30 years.  The
Dutch also believe in subtlety which is why everyone calls these places 'coffee shops.' Netherlands now has half as many heroin addicts, percentage wise as the US. Their experiment was a success after all. It was funny to learn that the Dutch are not even a big consumer of the product. It is now quite a tourist thing. The Dutch themselves rank 7th in Europe on the list of most marijuana consumed. The highest is Spain, France, Germany etc. Also equally surprising was learning that New Zealand is the country in the world with the highest percentage of weed smokers – 16.7%. Everyone had thought it was Jamaica. We were also given a tour of the outside of the Hemp Marijuana Museum and the Cannabis College.

To be continued......

Geneva - partying and hadron colliders

Geneva made it into our itinerary because one of my closest friends lives there and another great friend was also based in Geneva at the point. These are my ride-or-die friends who always come visit whenever i'm in the continent - mostly Germany. They had actually joined for part of Oktoberfest too this time. My main friend in Geneva actually came to surprise me for my 30th birthday - all the way in Nairobi. Imagine that - going to open the gate and finding Pattiko there - all the way from Geneva to visit for my 30th. I love you Patti and Constantinos!

We left Venice in the afternoon and got to Geneva in the evening. We were instantly picked up by our friends, they took us to drop our bags and off we went clubbing. It was a fun Friday. Despite our exhaustion and sleepiness we had a blast - two of those in our group - The Reluctant and The BARacuda even danced on stage. Geneva was expensive. I remember each drink was around 25 Swiss Francs/USD. 

Saturday morning we woke up a bit more refreshed. My other friend - Constantinos - also a friend from my university days in Boston - is a nuclear physicist......Yes, you heard right. Nuclear physicist [name dropping alert]. He took us to his workplace -  The European Organization for Nuclear Research - CERN. This was a few months after the Higgs Boson particle had been discovered by CERN scientists. Constantinos told us the coolest stories about how lectures had been given at CERN shortly after the discovery and the lines to get in were even longer than lines at famous rock concerts. CERN houses the largest and most powerful particle accelerator in the world! Yes, we were nerding out at CERN and it was lovely - especially when you are being given an insider tour. 

We spent the rest of the day walking around Geneva then had dinner at an Italian place called Luigi's. Later on we went clubbing with our friends and their friends. 

This was our Geneva experience - great friends, great memories.

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.

How Kenyans got conned in Rome...then later met a Kenyan priest at the Vatican.

Rome - how can someone not be fascinated by this city. Something about walking around in this modern city - turning round a corner and suddenly seeing ancient ruins - the Colosseum,  arcs of triumph etc. It's lovely. I can't be in Rome and not think of my epic first time there in 2006 and my legendary pub crawl......Last pub crawl I am doing in Rome...

The journey to Rome was great - we were so happy to be leaving Paris. We had a quick stopover in Milan and got to Rome in the evening - after leaving Paris in the morning. We were exhausted but went out for a delicious dinner. We slept early and went off to explore the city. We were excited. As we were walking, we came across some guys dressed as ancient Romans and carrying the most fabulous props - swords, shields etc. He could tell we were enchanted by the costumes. The next thing we knew, they invited us to take some fun pics with them. We had a blast.....up until a few minutes later, we were each  made to part with 10 Euros each.....OUCH! Yes, that's how we were taken in. I'm sure those guys make a killing off tourists.

We went to the Vatican after seeing the main ruins in Rome. As we were walking into the city, we met a Priest who looked very Kenyan - which coincidentally he was! We were all excited - what are the odds of a group of 6 Kenyan women meeting a Kenyan priest on entering the vatican? Father Boniface was equally pleased to meet us. He gave us the best tour of the Vatican. The highlight of it for me was seeing Michelangelo's work on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel - divine. We had to leave for Venice around 1pm, but that was a quick lovely trip in Rome. We wished we could stay longer, but given the 4-5 day delay in Paris, we were quickly running out of time. 

Sans domicile fixe/Homeless in Paris

This is such a long story. First of all - why were we back in Paris - a city we had tried to leave for so long the week before, but kept on having challenges getting train tickets? Second, now that we were back in Paris - how did we end up homeless? First things first - why were we back in Paris. Well to get from Barcelona to our next stop, Rome, we had to travel through Paris. Unfortunately the connection was  not great. As such we would get into Paris at 5pm but our next train to Rome would leave at 7am. I decided that booking a hostel would not make any sense. Paris is expensive - we would pay loads to stay in the city. Our next option would be Chelles - the far off godforsaken town we stayed in last time. The same town that had no taxis and required a half hour walk with our backpacks to get to the apartment.....It was a no-brainer - too much effort for just one night of sleep. I decided we would sleep at the train station - on our backpacks.....It seemed like a grand plan, until.......

So we got to Paris at 5pm, managed to book all our remaining tickets - Rome, Geneva, Amsterdam. We were happy - this time Paris was going to be a breeze. We had our tickets out of the city - what's the worst thing that could happen. We went to the Eiffel tower, took pictures with giant teddy bears close to the tower and finally headed back to the train station around 9/10pm to sleep....Or so we thought.

Total balaa! The first signs of problems was the closed toilets. Where did they expect us to go pee in the middle of the night? Ah well, we will survive. We set our bags down - everyone picking a nice wall to sleep against. Then we saw an official looking person say something to other tourists who seemed to have the same plan as us. They stood up and carried their bags. Uh oh! They got to us and the message was loud and clear. "You need to leave the train station. We are closing for the night." Excuse me? What the hell type of regional train station closes for the night? Till today I think this is intentionally done to prevent people from sleeping at the train station. 

What to do.....We are homeless and sleepy. You do recall the activities of our previous night in Barcelona. The BARacuda and I partied till morning then caught the train to Paris. We needed sleep. We went to a part of town that had a bar that promised to stay open till 5am.....Good, then we would only have 2 hours to kill before our next train. We got into the bar. We were a sight. We were falling asleep on the table. "Wake up! They will kick us out thinking we're drunk." "Ok, what do we do to stay awake?" "Let's play cards." That was the sorriest game of cards ever played. "Oh, that's a 5 of spades? I thought it was a Queen of hearts." People were struggling. 

Finally the light at the end of the tunnel came in the form of a little Nepali bartender who liked The Reluctant. He started getting us all shots on the house - now that kept us up:-) Finally at 5am, we dragged our exhausted feet out of the bar and into the train station. 

Goodbye Paris!

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. 

The green fairy in Bratislava

Having left Budapest at 11am, we got to Bratislava at 3pm, hangover and exhausted. During our short walk from the train station to the hostel, a young girl who looked like she could have been the child in that 60s movie “Bad seed” stared at us malevolently. There was a moment of panic, “Guys, are we really sure this is a safe city for black people?” All our fears were dispelled though once we got to Hostel Possonium. It was a lovely hostel and the staff made us feel welcome. We napped a few hours as we suspected it was going to be a big party night – the 3rd or so continuous one, in yet another country….When we woke up and got ready to leave for the club, the receptionist invited us to take shots of a drink called Panika – on the house. I immediately approved of a hostel that serves complimentary shots.

We had a heavy dinner in the old part of town, walked around a bit and finally entered a lounge called Prima. We had a drink or two there then most of the group was tired and left for the hostel. The BARacuda and I were up for more partying. We walked to a club called KC Dunai and were not let in. I HATE not being let into clubs. They said it was too packed, but I was already catching feelings. The BARacuda saved the night. As we were roaming around, she heard music coming from a basement and told me that this was to be our party place for the night. I followed her into this basement and we got into a pretty little cozy club.

The bartender was smitten by the BARacuda and decided that all our drinks would be on the house. Ever since I watched Eurotrip in 2003, I had decided that if I ever got to Eastern Europe, I was going to drink absinthe. I had been searching for absinthe since Prague, but could not find it. Some people had recently died in Czech republic from drinking bad absinthe and a ban had been put on all absinthe. In the bar I decided to ask the bartender “Do you have absinthe?” He didn’t really speak English, but he smiled and reached under the counter to find this magical drink. Unfortunately he came out with a bottle of Absolut vodka….. “Aaah, no. Not absolut…A…B…S…I….N…T…H…E.” “Aaaaaah” he replied. He said something that sounded like “Yes! I have exactly what you want…my secret stash from before the prohibition”….or at least that’s what I think he said. He brought us the bottle and served us a shot each. It was such a lovely ritual. Sugar on spoon. Fire under spoon. Flaming spoon in shot glass. Voila. Drink. He gave us each 3 or 4 shots by the end of the night. It was a blurry night.

When we did eventually get home at 5am, I was wearing one earring that was my own and another that was definitely not mine. (I later on recalled making a friend in the ladies bathroom, promising we would be friends forever and exchanging an earring as the mark of our binding agreement…..She was the lucky one. Her earring was not thaaaaaaat cute…The Safety Net has still not forgiven me for giving away one of our funkiest maasai market earrings.) We also apparently got to the hostel with a lot of noise…and there is a small chance we might not exactly recall how we walked home….The Green Fairy vs. me and BARacuda: 10-0.

We slept for an hour, woke up, frantically packed and rushed to get our train to Ljubljana in Slovenia. It’s a problem when you need to wear sunglasses at 6am. 

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!