Wazungus (a not so polite term for Caucasians) in general attract attention; a lone, wazungu woman, however, really doesn't go without notice. This is when yesterday's experience with Jane comes in handy. Just like she had pointedly ignored the people who called at us as we went through the different compounds, I set my face straight ahead, don't look left or right, and ignore everything.
I finally arrive at Levy Junction Mall. It is odd when I step through the doors--I could swear I'm in the in the US. Nonetheless, even though I am surrounded by English signs, labels, and more than a few people speaking English, I am totally out of sorts! I also may or may not almost begin sniffling as I wander the mall trying to find Food Lover's Market and somewhere to buy a notebook (I asked directions at the service counter, but still managed to get disoriented). I have an entirely new respect for people who come to the US from other countries. I finally select my groceries (pasta, tomatoes, kale, oatmeal, honey, olive oil, garlic and onion, and what I hope will be a yummy cantaloupe) and pay with plastic so I can save the cash for taxis and the like. Speaking of taxis, that is another mini-adventure.
I give Max a call, but unfortunately he's at the airport. He does, though, give me a heads up that I shouldn't pay more than 20-25 KR ($4-5) and that I should get a ride from one of the official blue taxis. I say thanks and venture out of the mall. Sure enough, four men immediately begin vying for my attention. I nod at one gentleman, but when he leads me to a grey car, I say, "No, I want a blue taxi." This elicits groans and laughter from the other men, but I stick firm. It doesn't really accomplish much though, because he just walks away from his grey car, grabs some keys from another man, and slips behind the wheel of the "official" taxi. I can't understand what is being said, but I do know that I'm being mocked. Before I get in, I establish the price.
"Thirty kwacha."
"Thirty kwacha? No, I will go with someone else."
"Twenty-five."
Now that is the high end of what Max advised, but I want to get home. Besides, I don't feel that I am obligated in any way to give him a tip. I am also proud of myself because I know that Ollie and Dominic probably would have gone with the 30KR. While the "long" road I walked to from the hostel speeds by, it is one of the most uncomfortable drives I have been on. The taxi driver's face was so severely disfigured it was difficult to make out what he said. I felt awful when I finally had to say that I was sorry, but I couldn't understand him
Well, despite the awkwardness of the ride, I get dropped off safely at Kalulu. I unload my stuff, put it away, and topple into bed. I've a bit of a scratchy throat going on, so I figure the extra sleep is a good idea (it ends up it is since the partying tonight is still going on--minus the fighting, thankfully!).
I'll admit that I feel sorry for myself for a couple of hours; wondering what in the world I am doing and whether I'm cut out for all of this. Finally I decide to get up, cook a late lunch, and buy internet time. Well, everything goes as planned except for the internet matter. To access that, I need the other manager, Shawn. I'm told he is on his way, but I am less than optimistic since he stood Dominic and Ollie up several times, never bothered calling a driver to pick me up from the airport, nor even wrote my name down to be picked up by someone else! Keeping this in mind, I decide to move my suitcases from the reception area (supposedly under Shawn's supervision). The original theory was that with the manager always present the suitcases would be safer in reception; however, since absentee Shawn is said manager, I figure they are safer in my locked room. I still, though, hope to get internet time. Alas, Shawn never shows (shocker!). In fact, I've been here since Thursday and I still have yet to see the elusive Shawn...
In the meantime, rather than continue to feel sorry for myself that I am alone, I introduce myself to the other people at the hostel. There is Julio from Spain, Chris and Marquis from Germany, and "The Un-named Wandering Man" whose origins are as mysterious as his name. I do, though, receive a marriage proposal from him. When I tell him I can't marry him without knowing his name, he laughs and says it's the 21st Century, and who needs to know names anyway! Foiled, yet again--I still don't know his name! I do try to introduce myself to several young women, but I find they tend to be aloof and stand-offish. I've yet to meet any woman who has come without one or even two traveling companions. Accompanied by said posse there is an apparent disinterest in anyone else. Oh well, I tried. I do though get to know Chris, Julio, and Marquis. The "Un-named Wandering Man" is a bit of an odd duck and I still haven't figured him out.
In hopes that late afternoon/early evening is still early enough to avoid partying, I venture out to get a shower. Alas, I get several drunken propositions as I travel the several hundred feet to the shower facilities. This is the first time that there is warm water available--and I desperately want a shower. However, after the less than secure door gets banged on a couple of times, I figure I'll wait until the morning--wowzers!
Other than the partying, the night goes by calmly until Kalulu's cat, Hendrix, decides to come in through the window for a visit around 3 a.m.--and gets tangled in the mosquito net. There was some serious hissing and yowling. Fortunately, I manage to get him untangled and, since the partying is over, carry him out the front door with no harm to either of us--other than his dignity, that is.
Overall, it's a good day and night--after all, I'm making it! Mostly. :)
Experiences you will never forget!
ReplyDeleteSo very, very, very true!
DeleteProud of you. You are sounding like a TRAVELLER. :)
ReplyDelete