Karibu Nairobi

I told you I would return to Kenya. I did, a few weeks ago. In my usual travelling style, my safari to get there was eventful, but that’s another story, luckily though I made it in time for the family wedding.

This time round I was in the East African metropolis of Nairobi. Those of us in Harare complain about traffic, we have nothing to complain about as compared to other capital cities. Nairobi is a huge, bustling city, characterized by traffic of all sorts, matatus, pikipikis/borda-bordas, and most importantly people. You find the same thing in Harare, but there is a different flare in Nairobi (with a population over three million).

The language

In Nairobi just about everyone speaks kiSwahili. By everyone I mean everyone, all the market vendors, (people of different ethnic backgrounds. Not like in Zimbabwe, with our 16 official languages (courtesy of the new constitution) most people speak either Shona or Ndebele or English, not often do you find us speaking all three let alone the 16 which many remain unintelligible. But a real linguae franca- a trade language does not exist. Perhaps I am wrong, consulting socio-linguists about this one may be necessary.

A huge smile plastered on my face, in an attempt to apologize for my lack of language I would answer the Kenyans, in English desperately wanting to throw in my few Swahili words and a few words of sheng (the local slang-that I have learnt from my Kenyan friends and family) or better yet answering back in the similar sounding Shona that I know, Hopefully, by the time I return to East Africa I will be more conversant in this trade language that intersects Arabic and Bantu languages.

The people of Nairobi represent a multitude of ethnic and social backgrounds from across the globe. While walking through a large supermarket with my Kenyan sisters, I tried to heed to my mother’s council of not prying into conversations. It was impossible to not to ignore the English spoken with accents from around the globe, the KiSwahili and not surprisingly Shona conversations.

KiSwahilii, allows the people of the nation from over 40 language groups to understand each other. It is the language of choice during  a marriage ceremony joining up two people from different ethnic groups, building relationships and growing families.

The traffic

The traffic of Nairobi is something that everyone who has been to this East African metropolis will attest to is nothing more than irritating. You spend a considerable amount of time in a jam, no matter how hard you try to outsmart it, something will make the journey longer than you anticipated, perhaps it is the road works, or the traffic police who might be chatting with one of the drivers in a stationary car instead of directing traffic. The road infrastructure, even with the many roundabouts, does not match with the sea of cars, the majority being high clearance ones that are able to navigate through the pot holes.

While the traffic is irritating, there is so much to see, roadside markets and vendors selling tourist curios. The vendors selling everything from fresh cut flowers to adorable puppies. If it all gets to be  too much, there are road side restaurants, and popular eating spots all dotted around the city specializing in local delicacies, offering  meals and snacks at cheap prices. If that doesn't entice you there are fast food chains all over.

And then there are the matatus or mats- minibus taxis, which in all the African cities I have been to, are the same. I might even add the Roman taxi cab drivers also share such a reputation. Their names may be different, from a taxi, a Kombi, Candongera, to Molue the drivers and their conductors exercise their entitlement bestowed on them by apparently us; the paying public who desire to get to our destination in the shortest time possible. In an attempt to please us, the drivers have an unusual disregard for the law, weaving in and out of traffic, committing numerous road traffic violations that constantly go unnoticed and not reprimanded.

The upside to these mats is that you have your standard fare and you have no worry about parking. Parking your car is a costly expense when venturing to the numerous shopping complexes, which surprisingly for me from Southern Africa were full of busy shoppers. And off street parking, if you find it, may not be the safest option. The little I saw of the city center of Nairobi along Moi and Kenyatta Avenues, I think it’s a wise option to be a pedestrian. Not to mention that with the mats you can go to the less attractive areas, the real hidden gems where you really see that Nairobi is a sprawling economic epicenter of East Africa.

The sights and sounds

My sisters and I, weary of being stuck in the weekday traffic headed out of the house in the suburbs at the crack of dawn. Jumped into the mat just outside the gate of the housing complex and began our sleepy journey to Gikomba Market. One of the larger markets in Nairobi, where, if you are a self-proclaimed fashionista on a budget, will consider this market as a bargainer’s  mekka. According to my sister, it is the market where all the nearly-new clothes from abroad come into. Walking through the market you find people like me and my bargain savvy sisters, backpacks in hand, market vendors trying to pick out the better quality garments to buy then clean up and resell for exorbitant prices in other less markets of Nairobi. All this is done while trying to hold on to your backpack stuffed with found treasures and men shouting out to move out of the way as they try to move through the haphazardly ordered aisles, carrying sealed sacksful of clothes.

Exhausted from our bargains, we exited the market, a large one, nothing quite like I've seen in Zimbabwe but the hustle and bustle reminded me of the markets in West Africa. Back onto the matatu, we dropped of in the center of Nairobi and stopped for a much deserved early lunch in a popular take away in Nairobi center. Along the street there were several of them with very familiar menus (things you might find at other take always across the globe), chicken rotisserie style, or fried, hamburgers, hot dogs, and deep fried potato chips- what I was after.

I’m not the biggest fan of deep fried potatoes, but my sister had convinced me that I had to try bhajas, before leaving Kenya, having visited Zimbabwe before they assured me that I wouldn't find anything quite like them in my Southern African home. True to their word, the bhajas were nothing short of delicious, the exact carbohydrate fix that was needed after shopping.

The deep fried potato disks that have been coated in herbs and spices, and the ubiquitous fresh coriander leaves sprinkled on top. The flavours of this street food (and I believe many others that I did not have an opportunity to try) are reflective of the intersection of the people and cultural backgrounds in East Africa. Incorporating flavours from the Indian subcontinent, Near, Middle and Far East, subtly alerting you that the nation is a colourful melange of people, histories and stories.

So there you go, a very quick, and very short story of Nairobi, hardly doing it justice. Perhaps the next celebration in my adopted Kalenjin family will give me another opportunity for a safari through Kenya. If you get there, before me, embrace it all, the language, the people and the traffic. For now, I say asante sana Kenya. 

Restaurant Week

As a gastronome I am always on the search for some interesting food festivals, promotions and all things gastronomic. When Eatout Zimbabwe started their marketing campaign for the 17- 25 May ZOL Restaurant Week  I was sold. A chance to sample 2-3 course meals from a range of US$ 15-25, at reputable upmarket restaurants in Harare- local residents will agree with me that is a steal.

I coerced two gastronomes in the making to join me. We analysed the set menus of the 18 available restaurants made our choice of two of the 18. Due to time constraints we had to settle for one restaurant to visit.

When I saw Chicken Tortellini, Gnocchi Piedmontaise and Panna Cotta on the Emmanuel's menu I was excited. I was hoping that this Northern Italian inspired menu- one which was filled with nostalgia for me- would provide my dining buddies a taste of Northern Italy. My dietary restrictions did not allow me to have this specific menu so I had to rely on my friends’ description of the dishes and their experience against my description from my memories of living in Piedmont.

Friday evening we found ourselves at the said restaurant. After a long week, the only thing we anticipated was a wonderful evening together at this fine dining establishment. I have learned not to presume too much about restaurants in Harare as I have had some disappointments to my palette and endured some poor service, so making sure you have good company allows you to overlook some of these undesirable shortcomings.

We were pleasantly surprised when we were cheerfully greeted at the entrance and promptly seated at our reserved table. A welcoming ambiance of well laid tables, dimmed lights was accentuated by infectious laughter coming from the several tables filled with what looked like groups of friends enjoying an evening out together. With such merriment, the barely audible, guitar playing musician, was eventually heard once the patrons were temporally silenced by their food.

Drinks ordered, we were ready to begin our meal. Our smartly dressed waiter came round and offered us a single piece of bread. That confused me since my experience of dining in Italy is the ubiquitous bounty of bread and wine, more so, our little table for three had a dish full of creamy petite butter balls waiting to be spread on several pieces of bread. I chose the not- so-focaccia like-rosemary topped focaccia. My slender piece was void of the olive oil, salt and other herbs that I guessed would be there.  To appease us, perhaps for the lack of bread, we were given a complimentary chicken roulande- a thick piece of cooked chicken breast fillet, compressed into a roll and stuffed with minutely shredded vegetables. 

Complimentary plates over, we began our three course meal.

My knowledge of tortellini is: minute pasta parcels, made from an egg- rich dough, stuffed with rich ingredients that take a painstakingly long time to make, hence reserved for special occasions and often served as a handful in a rich broth. Two large flat plates came with an entrée of three large tortellini stuffed with chicken garnished with crayfish tails. The stated broth of pea and mint appeared more like a sauce. Nonetheless, my dining companions cleared their plates. As the menu had read, my grand bowl of butternut soup had a chilly kick to it although I struggled to find the advertised croutons in the bowl of soup. I guess they were hidden in the layers of rich flavour that characterised the soup.

Our empty plates were swiftly taken away replaced by appropriate cutlery. My fish knife to my right I was ready for my sea bass. Yes, ordering fish in a landlocked country is not the smartest idea as you know that the fish would have traveled a long distance before it gets to your plate. However, against better judgment I still ordered it. It was pleasant, light, flavourful and complemented by a leek puree and sweet sun dried tomatoes. 

With slight hesitation, my curious gastronome friend ordered duck. Having never eaten this type of poultry before, she had a welcome surprise. The duck leg and breast were well cooked, and had a rich umami taste which she described as a cross between chicken and pork. I had a smidgeon of hers; it was, dare I say delicious.

The Gnocchi Piedmontese was possibly inspired by the Northern Italian region. I will give the chefs a leeway and say that they had artistic liberty to interpret this simple Italian dish as they pleased and transform it into fine dining, heavily laden with garnishes and aesthetic interpretations. The gnocchi around the plate looked as if they could have been served in a deep bowl that would allow the potato dumplings to soak up a rich sauce.

Dessert did not disappoint. Three types of dessert served on a large white plate. Panna Cotta, literally cooked cream is a rich northern Italian dolce- dessert. Rich fresh cream is simmered together with milk and sugar sometimes infused with some vanilla and left to set. Often served with a coulis, or sauce of some sort to compliment and lessen the heaviness of the rich cream. Our panna cotta was well set, with a slight little wiggle to it but topped with an out of season strawberry. In line with seasonal cooking I would have expected some winter citrus flavours. But I wont hold that against them, since I enjoyed the panna cotta. The large white plate had a square of sticky date pudding that complimented the panna cotta. To finish off; a refreshing passion fruit sorbet to compliment the richness of the other components.

Although we were beyond satiated, we found room for a cup of espresso to aid digestion. It was necessary lest it would have been almost impossible to drive home. The last gulp down and then the meal was finally over.

The panna cotta temporarily cured my nostalgia for Italy. I might be a certified gastronome but my education has not come to an end. The Italian inspired dishes opened my eyes to artistic interpretations and creativity. The chefs embraced their artistic licence: veering away from the traditional interpretations and creating dishes in a manner that some might frown upon, and question but somehow still appreciate.

My compliments to Emmanuel’s as it was an evening of laughter, excellent service- the best I've had in Harare so far. 

Of Carrots and Oranges

I've had a long hiatus from blogging.  But I’m back, as a certified gastronome.

That just means I know a lot more about food than I did a year ago. My palate has adapted if not evolved, I've come to like and even appreciate flavours that I once despised.

Growing up, not having the desired 20/20 vision, my mother always insisted that I eat my carrots. I needed my extra dose of Vitamin A. Seldom would I eat them without complaining; pushing them to the furthest part of my dinner plate, secretly hoping they would they fall off, land on the floor and be deemed inedible. I found them to be bitter, apparently over cooked, bland.

I used to completely agree with Fran Lebowitz:

Large, naked, raw carrots are acceptable as food only to those who live in hutches eagerly awaiting Easter. -Metropolitan Life 1978

So you can imagine the slight surprise that my mother had when she found me happily munching away to raw carrot sticks. They weren't so bad considering that they were accompanied by a chickpea hummus.

Now I know that they are more flavourful when in season, and I've discovered more flavourful ways of getting my vitamin A and incorporating them into everything.  My newest discovery are these carrot-orange muffins.

I’m looking forward to making these beta-carotene filled treats this winter season.

Carrot-Orange Muffins

Yield: 12 large muffins

½ cup whole wheat flour

½ cup all-purpose flour

½ cup quick-cooking rolled oats

½  cup plus 2 Tablespoons brown sugar

1  teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon dried ground ginger 

1 teaspoon baking powder

½  teaspoon baking soda

¼  teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon zest of orange

¼ cup fresh orange juice

3 Tablespoons plain yogurt

½ cup milk, mixed with vinegar

1 teaspoon vinegar

¼  cup vegetable oil

1 ½  cups finely grated carrots (approximately 3 carrots)

Handful of pumpkin seeds

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 375F/ 180C . Lightly grease a 12-hole muffin tin and line with 12 squares of baking paper. Push the squares down into each hole so that the paper sticks up. .

2. Mix dry ingredients together in a bowl, leaving 2 Tablespoons of brown sugar. In a separate bowl mix together the wet ingredients.

3. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and fold the ingredients together, but be careful not to over-work the mixture.  If batter is too dry slowly add in a bit more milk

3. Spoon the batter into muffin tin. Sprinkle pumpkin seeds and remaining brown sugar over muffins.

4. Bake in the centre of the oven for 30-35 minutes, or until the muffins are well risen and a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean.

5. Cool a few minutes

Enjoy.

Seasonal Cooking

With no formal training, simply my mother’s kitchen, significantly more error than trial, I consider myself  an amateur cook on the road to becoming more of a professional. Insert housemates, family, friends, limited budget, scarce ingredients and the confidence levels oscillate between very low and high with being a cook.

I have been trying to cook remembering all the things that I have learned through the course of my year in Italy: the good, the clean and the fair. It is challenging at times. But I've been told that as a cook, the challenge is what you are after. You need all the creativity and the inspiration you can find to keep up the opinion polls of those eating what you prepare.

In Southern Africa our seasons are not as distinct as other parts of the world so we always have some sort of fresh seasonal produce. Right now we are at the beginning of summer or some would call the rainy season. My challenge comes in the form of our family garden and its fertility. On an average season, whatever is planted grows successfully and leaves us with an abundance of it. Over the years we have had( just to name some of the produce): tomatoes, pumpkins, cucumbers, cabbages, beetroots, carrots and a lot of other fresh produce. As a cook that would be great as produce with the most robust flavour is that which is found when in season, when it has had the opportunity to be sun-kissed and harvested when ripe. Insert problem. What do you do with an abundance of one particular crop even after sharing it with the community? How do you prevent monotony in cooking when you have an abundance of <insert name of produce>?

Sheer creativity and experimenting. Open up the old cook books and surf the internet. Find some willing guinea pigs- preferably those with strong stomachs, who enjoy experimental cooking. Start cooking and preserving the food.

After years of making jams, chutney, pickles, pies, soups and everything else in between I have a new challenge. Herbs. This season we planted a lot of them in the family garden, not thinking that they would grow well), but alas we have an abundance them. I know that they can be dried, but I need something more alive and tangible. With an abundance of herbs:  mint, basil, sage and cilantro and soon rosemary, lavender and tarragon I have to be innovative. Suggestions are welcome!

My biggest problem are the cilantro (fresh coriander)  and the basil, they have to be constantly pruned to ensure continued growth so that they are available all season before they flower. This week they have been a part of almost all our meals. But when the monotony of fresh herbs hits and the family has exhausted their weekly experimenting quota (this week it was spicy Thai and Italian pesto) it’s always convenient when a friend has a birthday and can further experiment in the guise that one needs to make a special cake.

So thanks to Miss E who let me try out some seasonal baking experiments. Much to her surprise her birthday cake this year was a Sweet Tomato Cake served with a Basil infused Cream Sauce.

Under the African sun

Hello November. Where did September and October go? They moved by swiftly especially under the African Sun.
I spent some time on the Atlantic Coast, watching the sunsets, eating seafood, attempting to learn Portuguese.

I went further south to Southern Africa.
Then I had my second spring this year. One filled with purple horizons, ripe mulberries and carpets of purple jacarandas, jacaranda honey, papayas, strawberries and more strawberry jam. Fresh herbs:sage, coriander,basil grown from basil seeds from Bra.


Farm fresh eggs.


Spring quickly became summer, with the sweltering heat of the sun painting the grass golden brown.
When it became unbearable, the heavens miraculously opened up with the much awaited rain. The  dry dusty air was replaced with fresh crisp air.



Crisp fresh air not only came from rain, but in the form of nephews and nieces bringing in new perspectives of life, giving you an extra laugh and smile.
My time under African sun brought about cooking and writing with an enthusiastic bunch of young ladies. Scrumptious chocolate cakes and flavoursome savoury dishes.

Of Fish and Other Sea Creatures

Food Rule Number 24:

“Eating what stands on one leg [mushrooms and plant food]is better than eating what stands on two legs [fowl], which is better than eating what stands on four legs [cows, pigs and other mammals]”

Michael Pollan, Food Rules: An Eater’s Manuel, 2009.

Michael Pollan adds to this rule and includes fish and other seafood which majority are legless creatures which contribute to a good diet.

Being from a landlocked country, I plead ignorance with regards to the ocean, marine biology and anything sea related. I use this excuse when convenient.

Then, I moved to Bra and met people who know their seafood. Unfortunately for us as students, Bra is a two hour drive from the coast. The seafood that is found  in Bra has travelled a long distance to get to you. This brings about questions of freshness, and this limits the choice that is available. Your cooking experiences reflect what you learn through the Slow Food philosophy. This means that you are willing to try out new things, and innovation becomes a reality more than a philosophy. For example on Fridays, my Thai friend wakes up early and heads to the fish market to get her free salmon heads from the vendors. I had no idea what she was going to do with them until one Friday afternoon I stopped over for an early dinner and before me was a platter of a slowly baked salmon fish head! Chopsticks in hand, spicy flavourful dipping sauce of chillies, garlic and other Thai seasonings, I from the landlocked country devoured that fleshy fish head.

Armed with added knowledge about fish heads, I thought this was the pinnacle of all fishy knowledge. But alas I attend UNISG. Contrary to popular belief it is not a cooking school. You do learn about cooking but not trained to be a chef you would think that your close family members would remember that. My dear mother knows very well that I enjoy cooking but I’m not a chef. Nonetheless I received a desperate email about two months ago that my mother had been given some “sea creatures”. She took them home, alive and they were wiggling their antlers and legs all over the kitchen sink. To bring them to their death, she mustered up courage, stuffed them in a plastic bag and threw them into the depths of her freezer.

Upon hearing about the fate of the “sea creatures” who turned out to be either crayfish or crawfish I assured here that they were food, just in an alive state. I consulted a few of my classmates who knew a lot more about seafood  than I did. I also consulted Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking for a classic recipe. Her instructions on dealing with live lobster (or other crustaceans):

If you object to steaming or splitting a live lobster, it may be killed almost instantly just before cooking if you plunge the point of a knife into the head between the eyes, or sever the spinal cord by making a small incision in the back of the shell at the juncture of the chest and the tail.

It was too late for lobster wisdom from Julia Child, but nonetheless I sent the recipes and instructions. I expected to hear back from my mother saying that she had prepared the seafood and what she thought of them. Alas, she had not. They would  stay buried in the depths of the freezer until I came to visit, and then they would be cooked, by me.

That’s what I did. After a day or two of rest I asked about the “sea creatures”. I retrieved them, heated and salted some water and boiled them. You must know that I have never cooked such kind of food. We (I made Mother assist me in the cooking that she was supposed to have done) removed the fleshy meat from the tails. Rich in flavour only seasoned with salt it tasted like it had been doused in a buttery sauce.

An instant hit with my family. At the end of the meal, Mother considered that on her next ‘fishing’ trip she would come home with a lot more of these delicacies and try the other recipes.

Mission accomplished, crayfish or crawfish whatever they maybe, cooked, enjoyed; I think I am now more knowledgeable about crustaceans. I have considered eating more of them while I am here, nearby the ocean where they are in abundance, and this way I can get closer to eating wisely by following Michael Pollan’s Food Rules.

Ten Travelling Tips

Twenty-eight hours, one bus, three trains, two airlines and three flights, four train stations, four airports, three bags, a backpack a handbag, two airline dinners of fish and rice, two panini, blueberries, overpriced water and coffee, three time zones, two swollen ankles and one exhausted Coco, I made it to the other side of the world with all my bags and sanity intact- just about.

I said earlier that traveling is a good thing and everyone should do it. I still say travel but now I’m going to modify this statement. Traveling, like chocolate tasting is not for the faint hearted. Before you travel you should know a few things:

1.) Make sure you have time to get to where you are going. If you live in a place like Bra, you need say about six hours to get where you are going, especially if you are traveling by Train Italia on a Sunday headed to Milano Airport. That’s where you insert the Bus to Carmangola-train to Torino-then another one to Milano- and a final one to Milano Malpensa airport. It helps if you have friends on the way to help you get there and keep you company on the journey. Thanks L and S.

2.) Always smile and be friendly to the check in and immigration people. Most people have bad experiences with them, having been made to pay a lot of money for having excess weight, even as small as half a kilogram. I have had my fair share of paying for excess baggage seeing as the fact that I have tried to travel light all my life but have failed drastically at it. My excuse is that you have to pack things to be prepared for all the unexpected possibilities. I get away with my excess by traveling with others who are light travellers, we end up sharing the weight. This makes one of my brothers, K, an excellent travel companion, he carries literally nothing for a long trip but somehow it is always enough, even for the unexpected things.

Back to the smile- I was blessed this time round, I approached the check in counter, with my three bags (you are only allowed two and you pay for the third one) prepared to pay for the third one and the check in lady smiled and almost violently waved me away when I was talking about paying for my third bag. Three bags checked in headed off to the Western Part of Central Africa, I prayed that they all got there in tack and did not get redirected to another airport or anything funny like that.

3.) Don’t wear too may accessories that have metal. When going through the security clearance sometimes I get really irritated. You wait on a line for so long only to get there, you have to take out your computer, which is in a case, inside your stuffed backpack, then if its winter you remove your boots and boots can be difficult shoes to wear. Then you take off all your jewellery- don’t be silly and go wearing an armful of bangles to the airport. I did it once, that was silly. And then you have to take of you belt. Make sure that you are wearing something that can survive a few footsteps without a belt otherwise you are in for embarrassing moments! All that for a few seconds through the security. If you are unlucky enough to cause the machines to beep you might just be frisked- Not fun.

4.) Take a look through the shops in the airport but don’t buy anything, unless you really have to. Why you ask? Because you are going to have to carry that stuff with you till you get to your destination and if you decide to be silly and get things that are heavy and overpriced well, you might regret it later. And you might come across an airline that is super strict about hand luggage. You will have to stuff all your purchases into you already over stuffed bag. How did I get away with it with a backpack and a handbag? Somehow the purchases squeezed into the backpack and I decided/ convinced myself and the guy at the boarding gate that that my handbag was actually a part of me and I only had one piece of hand luggage.

5.) Eat and Drink. While travelling it is important to keep hydrated, I would stick to water since the airplane wine is-well for me (a budding wine guru/snob) the wine is subpar. The problem with water is that you can’t bring any with you from home. You can only buy it after the security checks. That means you will fork out about €2.00 for a 500ml bottle of water. I found that water was conveniently only sold in 500 ml bottles so that’s was a dent in my pocket because a on a four hour layover you need to drink water lest you get dehydrated. If you are like me I have to munch a bit when I travel, it passes time and I do not like being a hungry traveller. A hungry traveller can be an agitated traveller. Carry snacks from home (home-made chocolate chip cookies, blueberries, peaches) you will save money and if you are like me with allergies some airports do not cater very well for your allergies and you will be stuck with a limited overpriced selection of things you can eat. And don’t wait saying that you will have a meal in the plane. You will have one but it will probably be an hour into the flight and you probably won’t like what is being served (another airplane meal of rice and fish?) but you will eat because you are hungry.

6.) Sleep or Watch the in flight entertainment. The only way you will survive a long journey is taking a nap between the flights/ buses. You will feel better and it will pass time when you are crossing the time zones. I started watching The Godfather, it made much more sense now that I have been living in Italy for nine months. My brother T, will be very happy that I have finally watched some of the movie. But I will stay away from the underworld gangs and bosses.

7.) There is no need to push! Honestly, you will all get in to the plane and you will all get out of the plane! Relax and don’t shove people. When travelling know that the concept of personal space is something that many travellers do not understand or want to understand. On the  last flight, fully booked, no leg room, people, their ‘hand’ luggage and me.  As soon as we landed they removed their seatbelts and decided it was time to leave (contrary to the cabin crew’s warning) opened up the overhead cabins and then stood waiting. I knew that we had a long way to go so I stayed seated and enjoyed another 30 minutes of sleep while the animated and agitated passenger kept complaining that everything was taking too long.

8.) Have you story straight. Remember I said that you should smile and be friendly to the check in people. Different story when dealing with immigration. Smile, but be confident and know your story. The immigration people like to make you sweat and ask you unnecessary questions when all the information is right in front of them. Sometimes you find some kind ones who put you at ease. The immigration gentleman in Frankfurt decided to have a long conversation with me about food and cooking when he saw where I was studying. If anything he was intrigued, in a good way. Seems like being at UNISG pays off for a conversation starter. On the last leg it was more difficult to explain. I had to go through two immigration officials. One strictly to check the visa and the final one to check my vaccine certificates. He held me hostage for a while, looking at my documents and looking at me, somewhat confused, I think my ‘straight story’ appeared to be dubious. His puzzled statement was: “You were born in country A, you hold a passport of country B, you live in country C, and you are coming here to country D, and finally you do not have the one required vaccine to enter country D because you are allergic to it”. I gave him a frank, yes that is my story and he let me through.

9) Always mark your bags and know what they look like. On these fully booked flights from Europe to the Western part of Central Africa, there will be several stops. You hope and pray that you get your luggage and that in the journey it is not rerouted to some obscure airport or that it is not tampered with. That does not include acts of God such as a rain storm in East Africa. After being pushed around by the other overzealous passengers who kept grabbing pieces of luggage they thought was theirs then upon discovery that it was the wrong thing they would throw it back on the baggage claim. I got my luggage, although it did not look like mine. The rain storm in East Africa had changed soaked my bright red suitcase allowing it to be blotched by brown and black marks of the baggage handling. My grey suitcase has a few more battle scars added to its exterior casing, it lost one of its wheels but it is still usable. My third little bag, the one I feared for the most did well and came out a survivor- maybe because it was too heavy (it felt like I put some mercury in it) to be tampered with.

10) Rest. When you get to your destination, rest, breathe in your new environment and don’t have too many expectations, that only leaves room for disappointment. Have an open mind to new experiences, tastes, flavours, smells sights, sounds, and enjoy the adventure.

Bon Voyage.

Now an added disclaimer. After talking with my parents I found out I have nothing on them when it comes to travelling and adventures. If you really want to know about adventures talk to people older than you. They have seen many more sunrises and sunsets than you and possibly they are more adventurous than you give them credit to be.