Upon taking the longest holiday throughout my professional career, I was repeatedly asked to continue blogging.  I’m flattered.  And so, blog I will.

I’m happy to report I’ve settled in to my new life in Kenya.  I arrived safely at the airport, and made it through customs-with all my luggage- in record time (25 minutes).  The key to my new apartment worked, I unpacked, and slept through the entire first night without a hitch.  I made it to the office at a reasonable hour on Monday morning, and spent the day casually catching up on typical introductory items.  I took a taxi home, walked to the mall, bought some household items, and then spent the evening catching up with an old friend.

Oh wait, that’s too easy.  Although I sped through the airport, it took me another 30 minutes with a bike box and a full cart to find my driver.  I had a chokey (I don’t know the swahili word) following me around trying to help, and obviously expecting a little payment for his time.  I finally loaded my bags, made it to my door and regretted asking how much the ride cost.  I bargained him down from double the normal price to all the cash in my purse.  I walked into my apartment, unpacked for 3 hours and then couldn’t find the switch for the hot water.  After baring a cold shower, I then realized I was out of cash, had less than 100 KES of airtime, and couldn’t connect to the internet.  I fell asleep quite quickly after having stayed awake for almost 36 hours, but then woke up every 45-60 minutes to the ongoing mosquito turf war on my face.  The first day I struggled to get out of bed with the heavy jet lag, realized an entire bottle of face wash had exploded on my nice clothes, and had to promise my taxi driver that I’d pay him later.  Made it to work 2 hours after I said I would and didn’t have time or food to pack for lunch.  The taxi home took three times the amount of time to get back to my place on the same route, and by the time I arrived, I was so exhausted that I ignored the household items I needed and retreated to an old friend’s house for dinner.

On a more positive note, my new job is great.  I have flexible hours, ample time to work from home, and have already been asked to help plan beach summits to heighten productivity.  Yes, every month the Kenya team will take a trip to the coast to work mornings, and surf afternoons.  Of course, a different beach every time.  I also have a lot of professional freedom to help shape and establish the organization to a position for growth.  It’s quite exciting.  We also spent a considerable amount of time discussing safety, health, and most importantly security concerns of living here in Kenya.  Here’s the summary:

Let me simplify; anything can happen, at any time, anywhere. Ah, yes, now I feel at home.

My goals for the first week both personally and professionally were to get myself completely set up in Kenya so as not to leave any little things nagging. My most important mission, to find a gym. On Friday morning I set out on foot to the two nearest gyms to my apartment.  The first, The Colosseum, known for Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiujitsu training, and the other a relatively upscale country club, called The Impala Club.  I walked up the dank, dark stairs to The Colosseum, and felt incredibly out of place as I received blank stares from the desk staff.  Dan took me upstairs to the gym level.  It was a narrow U-shaped floor that would make any tetris nerd geek out at the careful placement of a surplus of second hand weights and treadmills.  We then walked to the top floor, a large open space fitted with mirrors on two walls, and windows on the other, dedicated fighters beating bags and each other.  We returned to reception, and I told him I’d start Monday.  We shook on it, and I left.

The Impala Club was nothing short of a giant step up.  They had a gorgeous 25-meter outdoor pool with 5 lanes.  I don’t know if it was sparkling in the sunlight, or if my beaten body was craving the crisp fresh dive into an outdoor pool- but it looked amazing.  As we walked up to the gym, the beat got louder and louder until you entered, and went back in time to the 80’s, Richard Simmons-esque Workout room fully fit with blaring jams, and spandex aerobics.  There were windows overlooking the pool, spaces between the machines, and more people-watching than motivation.  Across the hall was the fitness studio.  I looked up at a cork board and saw the word “Spinning”. The rest is history.  I teach my first spin class tonight, and am now a member of two gyms.  I’m beginning to really like it here!

Week 1-Success.