Ed note: I think my days are off by one? Anyway…
Another 2.5 hour drive over some bad roads brought us to A.I.C. Chebisaas, an all-girl, government-run school in the north that will serve as our data collection base for the next few days. The school looks and feels a little like a Kenyan sleepaway camp, complete with cabin-like lodgings and wooded surroundings. The headmistress, a big-boned and well-educated woman, met us near the gate and welcomed us into her house for tea. A crowd of gawking girls dressed in identical green uniforms formed as we unpacked some of our belongings and followed our hostess into her home.
After a meet-and-greet in which we discussed our plans for the week and thanked the headmistress repeatedly for her kindness, we moved our stuff into the cabins and explored the grounds a little bit. Chebisaas is a boarding school for 500 girls ages 13-17ish and has its farm of sorts – they plant some crops and take care of cattle, roosters, chickens etc. That should make for some good food in the coming days. All things considered, this place looks like it will be really pleasant, despite the lack of a shower and its overall remoteness.
The next day we were invited to join morning ceremonies and to be introduced as guests of honor. The roosters woke us up at 4something am, which was not a great start, but aside from that I think we all slept well in our faux Chinese silk bedspreads. Having taken the last bucket-shower, I was late and arrived in the middle of the school’s Kenyan flag-raising and anthem-singing. I attracted a lot of attention from the gathered students as I crept around the back of the assembly, trying to look inconspicuous. Typical. The girls sung a beautiful psalm (whichever one includes the chorus “let the master in”) and some teachers updated everyone on the winning and losing exploits of the volleyball and football teams, respectively, from the past weekend. We received a very warm welcome from the girls after Yannis and Dan introduced us all, though the students constantly shot quizzical glances at this bizarre assortment of wazungury (whiteys).
Both the Glasgow and Harvard teams spent the rest of the day testing out our respectively experimental setups to see if any equipment exploded on its way around the world. Our stuff worked well, though some of Yannis machinery was a bit damaged. While fiddling with our camera, another huge crowd of students gathered to watch. Eventually a teacher approached us and asked if their best runner, Gladys, could be our first subject. We weren’t really ready, nor had we really expected to test any girls from the school, but we let Gladys (and another couple of girls) have a go at it, to the delight of the 100 or so spectators. I rarely have an audience while palpating feet. Fun!
We head to the super rural school tomorrow to touch base, check out the surroundings and recruit some unwitting subjects to torture in the next few days.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The Sirikwa, Introductions and Prepartions – 6/21
The backseat threesome all passed out just as we got off the highway and entered Eldoret, so my initial reaction to the town was a groggy one. The traffic was pretty terrible and the drivers were not much better than psychopathic Nairobi ones, so we remained tense until Dan finally pulled into the Sirikwa Hotel. The hotel is a little freaky, because it was built by former President Daniel arap Moi in a strange quasi-European style t some point (towards the middle?) of his 25 year reign. The place is fairly deserted, which adds to the weirdness.
We were met by the hyperkinetic and capri-clad Prof. Yannis Pitsiladis in the lobby and made our introductions. He is an expert on running physiology and deeply involved with East African runners from Ethiopia and Kenya. Plus he is a fairly crazy guy and should be a fun person with whom to collaborate. His team is anxious to head up to a primary school that is located a few hours out of Eldoret and will serve as our base of operations for some as of yet undecided amount of time. Dan is hesitant, especially because some of our equipment has not yet arrived. The Harvard folks are tired so after another round of Tuskers and malaria pills we all crash hard. We’ll have to work this out in the next couple of days to avoid awkwardness.
T
he next day we met up with two more collaborators: Edwin - an orthopedic surgeon and the new head of the Dept. of Physiology at Moi University, and Meschack - a (currently-injured) professional 10K runner who is a friend of Yannis’ and helped make possible all of our research efforts by serving as a liaison to the schools and potential subjects of interest. Our plans are still up in the air, but it is looking like we will head up to the A.I.C. (Africa Inland Church) Chebisaas school on Sunday afternoon. The lack of equipment and up-in-the-airness of our research/living arrangements are worrisome but time is relatively short so it’s probably a good idea if we get started ASAP.
We spent the rest of this day getting to know one another and prepping for the upcoming trip up to the boondocks. The first stop is Nakumatt – a big, pretty seedy Walmart-type supermarket – to get some extension cords and snacks. I decide to hang out in the car with Meshack to get to know him a bit better and to practice my Swahili. He is a pretty awesome dude. He ran professionally in Sweden and in the US (NY, CA etc), so his English is stellar and he is a very worldly guy. After struggling with hamstring and back injuries for the past couple of years, the running money and sponsorships have dried up so he has developed a small publishing business near Eldoret to make ends meet. Additionally, he writes and produces a (pro-bono) public interest program for the local TV news station about the lives of local runners. As such, he knows a ton of people and a ton of people (runners and other locals) know him, making him a perfect guide/consultant.
After about an hour the crew emerged from Nakumatt, exasperated - the supply run took a while due to some credit card snafus, including the accidental addition of a few extra zeroes to our bill ($100 for a packet of biscuits?). But we found everything we needed and headed back to the hotel to recharge.
Another day of driving tomorrow before the real adventure begins.
We were met by the hyperkinetic and capri-clad Prof. Yannis Pitsiladis in the lobby and made our introductions. He is an expert on running physiology and deeply involved with East African runners from Ethiopia and Kenya. Plus he is a fairly crazy guy and should be a fun person with whom to collaborate. His team is anxious to head up to a primary school that is located a few hours out of Eldoret and will serve as our base of operations for some as of yet undecided amount of time. Dan is hesitant, especially because some of our equipment has not yet arrived. The Harvard folks are tired so after another round of Tuskers and malaria pills we all crash hard. We’ll have to work this out in the next couple of days to avoid awkwardness.
T
he next day we met up with two more collaborators: Edwin - an orthopedic surgeon and the new head of the Dept. of Physiology at Moi University, and Meschack - a (currently-injured) professional 10K runner who is a friend of Yannis’ and helped make possible all of our research efforts by serving as a liaison to the schools and potential subjects of interest. Our plans are still up in the air, but it is looking like we will head up to the A.I.C. (Africa Inland Church) Chebisaas school on Sunday afternoon. The lack of equipment and up-in-the-airness of our research/living arrangements are worrisome but time is relatively short so it’s probably a good idea if we get started ASAP.
We spent the rest of this day getting to know one another and prepping for the upcoming trip up to the boondocks. The first stop is Nakumatt – a big, pretty seedy Walmart-type supermarket – to get some extension cords and snacks. I decide to hang out in the car with Meshack to get to know him a bit better and to practice my Swahili. He is a pretty awesome dude. He ran professionally in Sweden and in the US (NY, CA etc), so his English is stellar and he is a very worldly guy. After struggling with hamstring and back injuries for the past couple of years, the running money and sponsorships have dried up so he has developed a small publishing business near Eldoret to make ends meet. Additionally, he writes and produces a (pro-bono) public interest program for the local TV news station about the lives of local runners. As such, he knows a ton of people and a ton of people (runners and other locals) know him, making him a perfect guide/consultant.
After about an hour the crew emerged from Nakumatt, exasperated - the supply run took a while due to some credit card snafus, including the accidental addition of a few extra zeroes to our bill ($100 for a packet of biscuits?). But we found everything we needed and headed back to the hotel to recharge.
Another day of driving tomorrow before the real adventure begins.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
You May Have Noticed...
...that I am behind in posting the things I've written. Time has just been too short. I'm headed to Hong Kong in a few hours, via Doha (Qatar), but will try to put up the other posts after I get there. 18.5 more hours of travel begin now!
The Drive to Eldoret - 6/20
After some more fitful sleep and the inevitable 5 am wakeup time, we met up with Robert and Sandy, two students and collaborators from the University of Glasgow (PhD and MD respectively). Robert is Kenyan and is from the city of Eldoret, which will be serving as a base of operations for some of our research. These guys are mostly interested in running economy and physiology, whereas we are into anatomy and biomechanics , so we complement each other well. I should mention that Sandy just got off his flight from the UK and is now at about the 20-hour travel mark.
We have to drive to Eldoret in our junker, which I have named “Mbovo” aka broken or non-functioning. It is an 8-hour trip and about 1/3 of the drive will be over unpaved roads. I had a little bit of a flashback to my ridiculous 9-hour bus ride from Dar es Salaam to Lindi last summer that involved live chickens as passengers and barreling down unpaved roads in a 1960s-era coach bus at 80 mph. This trip will be even cozier because Mbovo is designed to hold 4 people but I am crammed in the back with Adam and Sandy, with one seatbelt pinning me and Adam together. My back is shattered for a variety of reasons.
People are driving like absolute maniacs and passing us at Mach 2 because Dan is wisely driving at 35 mph and taking it easy.
The scenery just outside the city is disheartening, consisting of pretty massive slums and very little development. After about an hour and a half, the landscape opened up and revealed very lush forest. It seemed like a good time to stop, so Dan thought about pulling over to the side of the road, but Robert held up a hand and said “it is not safe.” When pressed, he explained that a “thug has been making trouble in the woods. He has a gun, so when you pull over, he will rob you. And then he will kill you” (Robert emphasized this last point by pointing his index and middle fingers at Dan and making a firing motion). We decided not to stop for a while.
To avoid bladder implosion we pulled over at a rest stop and grabbed some petrol and some drinks for the ride. I chose some cherry soda-type thing to be adventurous, but it ended up tasting like pure grenadine and did not thirst-quench in the slightest. The rest stop had a picnic area nearby that was occupied by a horde of vervet monkeys and some huge heron-like birds which ran/flew around eating pieces of food left by previous patrons.
Our next stop was to take a few pictures of the awesome Rift Valley, which opened up as we drove up towards Eldoret. The road we were taking basically skirted the Eastern border of the mammoth plain before heading down the Eastern escarpment across the Valley to the western side. Along the way we passed a sign reading “EQUATOR,” which was pretty surreal. Adding to that feeling were the zebras and baboons along the side of the road, which seemed fairly little out of place next to a busy two-lane highway.
Props to Dan for making the 8-hour trip without killing us all.
We have to drive to Eldoret in our junker, which I have named “Mbovo” aka broken or non-functioning. It is an 8-hour trip and about 1/3 of the drive will be over unpaved roads. I had a little bit of a flashback to my ridiculous 9-hour bus ride from Dar es Salaam to Lindi last summer that involved live chickens as passengers and barreling down unpaved roads in a 1960s-era coach bus at 80 mph. This trip will be even cozier because Mbovo is designed to hold 4 people but I am crammed in the back with Adam and Sandy, with one seatbelt pinning me and Adam together. My back is shattered for a variety of reasons.
People are driving like absolute maniacs and passing us at Mach 2 because Dan is wisely driving at 35 mph and taking it easy.
The scenery just outside the city is disheartening, consisting of pretty massive slums and very little development. After about an hour and a half, the landscape opened up and revealed very lush forest. It seemed like a good time to stop, so Dan thought about pulling over to the side of the road, but Robert held up a hand and said “it is not safe.” When pressed, he explained that a “thug has been making trouble in the woods. He has a gun, so when you pull over, he will rob you. And then he will kill you” (Robert emphasized this last point by pointing his index and middle fingers at Dan and making a firing motion). We decided not to stop for a while.
To avoid bladder implosion we pulled over at a rest stop and grabbed some petrol and some drinks for the ride. I chose some cherry soda-type thing to be adventurous, but it ended up tasting like pure grenadine and did not thirst-quench in the slightest. The rest stop had a picnic area nearby that was occupied by a horde of vervet monkeys and some huge heron-like birds which ran/flew around eating pieces of food left by previous patrons.
Our next stop was to take a few pictures of the awesome Rift Valley, which opened up as we drove up towards Eldoret. The road we were taking basically skirted the Eastern border of the mammoth plain before heading down the Eastern escarpment across the Valley to the western side. Along the way we passed a sign reading “EQUATOR,” which was pretty surreal. Adding to that feeling were the zebras and baboons along the side of the road, which seemed fairly little out of place next to a busy two-lane highway.
Props to Dan for making the 8-hour trip without killing us all.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Nairobi - Our First Full Day - 6/19
Breakfast buffet time! A variation on a British breakfast - I had forgotten how unprocessed the bread was and good the preserves were going to be. We walked a few blocks from the hotel to the Kenyan National Museum so that Dan could say hello to some old friends. Along the way we passed over a bridge that Dan said was the site of many a mugging/passerby bludgeoning. Nice.
At any given time during the summer, it seems that 80% of the world’s biological anthropologists and archaeologists are running around this museum. In the span of an hour I had the chance to meet some nice and fairly famous folks: Randy Sussman, Helen Roche, Andrew Hill etc. Also, we were permitted to enter the vault, which contains many of the most important hominoid remains ever found. Some type specimens, the Turkana boy, the Black Skull. In all seriousness, I almost needed a cold shower after having held the Turkana boy’s skull. Ho-lee crap.
I joined Dan and Adam (Dandam?) and we headed off to rent a car for our trip to the highlands. We did not call the company before arriving and found the place closed for lunch. Blast. So we walked next door to Barclay’s to change some money. Dan asked a representative about a good place to eat nearby and she thought for a second and said “let me check something.” Turns out that Barclay’s has its own eatery of sorts upstairs and she said it would be fine for us to grab lunch in the employee area. That is not something that would happen in the US.
The view from the fifth floor was great and the food (rice, lentils, spinach) was not bad. Dan and I declined the (chicken?) liver, but Adam went ahead and grabbed some. He told us later that he was not paying attention and thought it was some other kind of body part. I think I had read somewhere that eating internal organs of animals in developing countries is not recommended. Hope there are no downstream repercussions – we’re sharing a room this trip.
We rented the car – a junker of a Suzuki 4x4 jeep that was actually a converted pickup truck with a top bolted on – after lunch and Dan drove the route back to the hotel through the insane streets of Nairobi. Folks drive on the left side of the road (sometimes) and all traffic laws are more or less optional. Dan said it would be fine if we were backseat driving because of the car’s poor visibility and the general danger factor. So I kept yelling at Dan “ASSERT YOUR DOMINANCE!” and “THERE ARE NO LAWS!,” which I assume he greatly appreciated.
We arrived alive at the hotel and spent the rest of the daylight hours shopping for some supplies in downtown Nairobi. Adam bought some pants and Bata safari boots which are about $20 but are of fairly good stock. I used that time to pester the saleswoman and catch up on some Swahili. 44, my shoe size, is “arobaini na nne”. I had remembered that “kushoto” was left but could not remember how to say right (“kulia”).
As expected, we were accosted by a ton of people on the street asking us if we wanted to go on a safari or buy some random wares. Nice time to mention that one tends to hear the word “karibu” every five seconds in east Africa. The “I” is stressed and pronounced “ee”, so it does not sound like caribou. It means “welcome” (as in, welcome to Kenya), as well as “you are welcome” (a response to thank you), and “you are welcome” (to come in, to do something, to eat this food).
At any given time during the summer, it seems that 80% of the world’s biological anthropologists and archaeologists are running around this museum. In the span of an hour I had the chance to meet some nice and fairly famous folks: Randy Sussman, Helen Roche, Andrew Hill etc. Also, we were permitted to enter the vault, which contains many of the most important hominoid remains ever found. Some type specimens, the Turkana boy, the Black Skull. In all seriousness, I almost needed a cold shower after having held the Turkana boy’s skull. Ho-lee crap.
I joined Dan and Adam (Dandam?) and we headed off to rent a car for our trip to the highlands. We did not call the company before arriving and found the place closed for lunch. Blast. So we walked next door to Barclay’s to change some money. Dan asked a representative about a good place to eat nearby and she thought for a second and said “let me check something.” Turns out that Barclay’s has its own eatery of sorts upstairs and she said it would be fine for us to grab lunch in the employee area. That is not something that would happen in the US.
The view from the fifth floor was great and the food (rice, lentils, spinach) was not bad. Dan and I declined the (chicken?) liver, but Adam went ahead and grabbed some. He told us later that he was not paying attention and thought it was some other kind of body part. I think I had read somewhere that eating internal organs of animals in developing countries is not recommended. Hope there are no downstream repercussions – we’re sharing a room this trip.
We rented the car – a junker of a Suzuki 4x4 jeep that was actually a converted pickup truck with a top bolted on – after lunch and Dan drove the route back to the hotel through the insane streets of Nairobi. Folks drive on the left side of the road (sometimes) and all traffic laws are more or less optional. Dan said it would be fine if we were backseat driving because of the car’s poor visibility and the general danger factor. So I kept yelling at Dan “ASSERT YOUR DOMINANCE!” and “THERE ARE NO LAWS!,” which I assume he greatly appreciated.
We arrived alive at the hotel and spent the rest of the daylight hours shopping for some supplies in downtown Nairobi. Adam bought some pants and Bata safari boots which are about $20 but are of fairly good stock. I used that time to pester the saleswoman and catch up on some Swahili. 44, my shoe size, is “arobaini na nne”. I had remembered that “kushoto” was left but could not remember how to say right (“kulia”).
As expected, we were accosted by a ton of people on the street asking us if we wanted to go on a safari or buy some random wares. Nice time to mention that one tends to hear the word “karibu” every five seconds in east Africa. The “I” is stressed and pronounced “ee”, so it does not sound like caribou. It means “welcome” (as in, welcome to Kenya), as well as “you are welcome” (a response to thank you), and “you are welcome” (to come in, to do something, to eat this food).
Nairobi, 6/19, 6 am?
I woke up at 4:30 am or so on Friday after 5.5 hours of dreamless sleep in our hotel room (tatu ishirini na mbili – three twenty-two). The run is rising now in Nairobi along with a crescendo of traffic and some crazy birdsong. I’ve spent the past two hours or so reading Infinte Jest by flashlight and pounding Nature Valley bars in the bathroom so as not to wake Adam– it’s like young adult summer camp! More constructively, I’m also trying to remember some basic Swahili, to no avail.
We had arrived in Nairobi at 7:30 pm. In one of Dan’s strategy/B.O avoidance sessions, we discussed how to best book it to the front of the plane and beat the rush to the visa line. I used a NFL lineman’s wading technique to leapfrog families and old people and ended up being maybe the 20th person off the plane despite being in row 38. That effort, plus some power-walking put me at about twelfth in a line that moved at a literal snail’s pace (maybe a foot a minute at best). Dan and Adam joined me and I handed them a swine flu-inspired form asking us to indicate whether we had experienced any influenza symptoms in the past two weeks. Despite my on again, off again cough and sore throat I dutifully checked no to all boxes, thus dooming Kenya to a raging pandemic. Actually, I just did not want to be detained at the airport for five hours until a physician’s assistant could be summoned to deem me flu-ridden yet prescribe me a course of random antibiotics. I had witnessed a bit too much of that in Tanzania.
The bagged carousel was c-shaped and pretty much in utter chaos because bags were strewn around in piles both in the middle islands of the belt and at arbitrary places around baggage claim. Although Adam and Dan found their bags within two minutes I ran around for half an hour searching for my 45 pound duffel that I was convinced had not made it onto the flight. However, I eventually spotted it being thrown into a pile of other mammoth suitcases and grabbed it, to the relief of all parties. We hopped in to a cab and took it to the Boulevard Hotel in downtown Nairobi . The streets were not particularly well-lit so it was difficult to get a good sense of the lay of the city.
Upon arrival, Dan remarked that he last stayed here in 1993 on his honeymoon, which was also the last time he had been in Kenya. The hotel is located about 100 feet from a fairly major traffic circle, which is important because the concierge mentioned that in 1988 a bus plowed through a divider and ended up in the hotel pool. No mention of casualties. Dan remarked that a car had nearly ended up in the pool/on top of his wife in ’93 but had been stopped by the barricade put in place in ’88. Note to self: avoid pool at all costs.
The hotel room I’m sharing with Adam is about 20% nice than that which I used in Dar es Salaam. No AC, but clean. We grabbed a beer (Tusker) in the hotel bar along with some spaghetti bolognaise after settling into our rooms. Washing down antimalarials with alcohol is not recommended by physicians. Whoopsy. We all crashed at 11 pm in preparation for tomorrow, our only full day in Nairobi before headed northwest to Eldoret. Wish I had not seen a mosquito in the bathroom.
We had arrived in Nairobi at 7:30 pm. In one of Dan’s strategy/B.O avoidance sessions, we discussed how to best book it to the front of the plane and beat the rush to the visa line. I used a NFL lineman’s wading technique to leapfrog families and old people and ended up being maybe the 20th person off the plane despite being in row 38. That effort, plus some power-walking put me at about twelfth in a line that moved at a literal snail’s pace (maybe a foot a minute at best). Dan and Adam joined me and I handed them a swine flu-inspired form asking us to indicate whether we had experienced any influenza symptoms in the past two weeks. Despite my on again, off again cough and sore throat I dutifully checked no to all boxes, thus dooming Kenya to a raging pandemic. Actually, I just did not want to be detained at the airport for five hours until a physician’s assistant could be summoned to deem me flu-ridden yet prescribe me a course of random antibiotics. I had witnessed a bit too much of that in Tanzania.
The bagged carousel was c-shaped and pretty much in utter chaos because bags were strewn around in piles both in the middle islands of the belt and at arbitrary places around baggage claim. Although Adam and Dan found their bags within two minutes I ran around for half an hour searching for my 45 pound duffel that I was convinced had not made it onto the flight. However, I eventually spotted it being thrown into a pile of other mammoth suitcases and grabbed it, to the relief of all parties. We hopped in to a cab and took it to the Boulevard Hotel in downtown Nairobi . The streets were not particularly well-lit so it was difficult to get a good sense of the lay of the city.
Upon arrival, Dan remarked that he last stayed here in 1993 on his honeymoon, which was also the last time he had been in Kenya. The hotel is located about 100 feet from a fairly major traffic circle, which is important because the concierge mentioned that in 1988 a bus plowed through a divider and ended up in the hotel pool. No mention of casualties. Dan remarked that a car had nearly ended up in the pool/on top of his wife in ’93 but had been stopped by the barricade put in place in ’88. Note to self: avoid pool at all costs.
The hotel room I’m sharing with Adam is about 20% nice than that which I used in Dar es Salaam. No AC, but clean. We grabbed a beer (Tusker) in the hotel bar along with some spaghetti bolognaise after settling into our rooms. Washing down antimalarials with alcohol is not recommended by physicians. Whoopsy. We all crashed at 11 pm in preparation for tomorrow, our only full day in Nairobi before headed northwest to Eldoret. Wish I had not seen a mosquito in the bathroom.
Amsterdam to Nairobi, 6/18
After killing three hours in Schipol Airport in Amsterdam – and overhearing many, many more unintuitive Dutch phrases – I met up with Dan and Adam at a café near our gate. They looked a little haggard but I probably looked more shot, considering that I had mixed up my time zone directions and stupidly tried to avoid sleeping on the first flight.
It was surprising to note how close Nairobi was to the equator. From the flight tracker, it seemed about 150 miles south of the midline, whereas Eldoret looked to be just 50 miles north. That should make for some nice direct sunlight and charred skin considering that Eldoret is also at about 7500 feet above sea level.
Oddly enough, the distance from NY to Amsterdam is just about the same as the distance from Amsterdam to Nairobi, so thought I would be able grab 5ish hours of rest before arriving in Kenya.
I immediately passed out but woke up a couple of hours later to the feeling of something dripping out of my nose. I was too groggy to realize what was going on, so I held my hands under my face until it registered that I was spraying blood all over my shirt. The woman next to me looked at me like I was crazy for not doing anything about it, so she grabbed off my neck pillow and said “Get up!” I complied and stumbled my way to the bathroom and washed myself off in the sink, which promptly clogged, leaving a gross standing pool of bodily fluids. A grabbed a passing flight attendant and pointed to the sink, expecting him to show me some cool Dutch declogging mechanism, but instead he handed me a pair of plastic tweezers (why did he randomly have them on his person?). I took a couple minutes, but I was able to eventually reach into the pool and pull out the drain stop. Still a little sleepy, I staggered back to my seat. From all the shirt stains it looked as if I had been shot in the chest.
Dan shot a glance my way a few minutes later and shook his head as I shrugged. The guy sitting next to him was hardcore passed out and was very much encroaching into (preposition use?) Dan’s personal space. He apparently was a nice guy but had terrible body odor. This led Dan to get up every half hour to stretch his legs, check in and discuss plane exit strategy. Turns out I misplaced my ticket and baggage claim check sometime between entering the plane and experiencing a nose hemorrhage. This will become an issue later if my bags did not make it onto this flight, due to my late arrival in JFK.
Um, worrying is stressful, so I decided to catch a few more hours of sleep before we landed.
It was surprising to note how close Nairobi was to the equator. From the flight tracker, it seemed about 150 miles south of the midline, whereas Eldoret looked to be just 50 miles north. That should make for some nice direct sunlight and charred skin considering that Eldoret is also at about 7500 feet above sea level.
Oddly enough, the distance from NY to Amsterdam is just about the same as the distance from Amsterdam to Nairobi, so thought I would be able grab 5ish hours of rest before arriving in Kenya.
I immediately passed out but woke up a couple of hours later to the feeling of something dripping out of my nose. I was too groggy to realize what was going on, so I held my hands under my face until it registered that I was spraying blood all over my shirt. The woman next to me looked at me like I was crazy for not doing anything about it, so she grabbed off my neck pillow and said “Get up!” I complied and stumbled my way to the bathroom and washed myself off in the sink, which promptly clogged, leaving a gross standing pool of bodily fluids. A grabbed a passing flight attendant and pointed to the sink, expecting him to show me some cool Dutch declogging mechanism, but instead he handed me a pair of plastic tweezers (why did he randomly have them on his person?). I took a couple minutes, but I was able to eventually reach into the pool and pull out the drain stop. Still a little sleepy, I staggered back to my seat. From all the shirt stains it looked as if I had been shot in the chest.
Dan shot a glance my way a few minutes later and shook his head as I shrugged. The guy sitting next to him was hardcore passed out and was very much encroaching into (preposition use?) Dan’s personal space. He apparently was a nice guy but had terrible body odor. This led Dan to get up every half hour to stretch his legs, check in and discuss plane exit strategy. Turns out I misplaced my ticket and baggage claim check sometime between entering the plane and experiencing a nose hemorrhage. This will become an issue later if my bags did not make it onto this flight, due to my late arrival in JFK.
Um, worrying is stressful, so I decided to catch a few more hours of sleep before we landed.
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