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After Kenya (or how Rosie is NOT dealing 15 months on)
It's been fifteen months since I left Mombasa, Kenya, in body at least - I confess, I walked through Mombasa airport with a sigh of relief, because I was leaving and I was tired and sick and more then a little heartbroken, I never really felt any kind of passion for Africa - it was never somewhere I talked about going, in fact I told myself I wouldn't go at all - I just wasn't interested. Not like Asia, not like Europe and Russia and the Americas. I've always known I would travel through Asia - I would experience India, and eat my way through Vietnam, and sun bake in Thailand. Europe was always on the map - how could I not want to explore the Greek islands and dance my way through Spain and write bad poetry in the UK? Africa was never a dream - I didn't want to go on a safari, I was not interested in the food and the sheer size and need of it scared me, I never thought of volunteering there until I accidentally did.
Don't ask me why, or when I decided it was Kenya I was going to go to - I don't know. I joke that it was exams that did it to me - never book a holiday when you are studying for exams right? Or maybe it was because the travel agent priced a trip to Kenya for me as an example, and I held onto that as something to hold on to. I don't know...
( But somehow I ended up there, flying into Mombasa airport at 2 in the afternoon and getting knocked over by the humidity, the poverty and the homesickness )
I'm tired, and angry, and (once again) teary eyed. I have a written guide to volunteering I'm going to post soon. But not tonight - tonight I'm angry and upset and feeling useless.
It's been fifteen months since I left Mombasa, Kenya, in body at least - I confess, I walked through Mombasa airport with a sigh of relief, because I was leaving and I was tired and sick and more then a little heartbroken, I never really felt any kind of passion for Africa - it was never somewhere I talked about going, in fact I told myself I wouldn't go at all - I just wasn't interested. Not like Asia, not like Europe and Russia and the Americas. I've always known I would travel through Asia - I would experience India, and eat my way through Vietnam, and sun bake in Thailand. Europe was always on the map - how could I not want to explore the Greek islands and dance my way through Spain and write bad poetry in the UK? Africa was never a dream - I didn't want to go on a safari, I was not interested in the food and the sheer size and need of it scared me, I never thought of volunteering there until I accidentally did.
Don't ask me why, or when I decided it was Kenya I was going to go to - I don't know. I joke that it was exams that did it to me - never book a holiday when you are studying for exams right? Or maybe it was because the travel agent priced a trip to Kenya for me as an example, and I held onto that as something to hold on to. I don't know...
( But somehow I ended up there, flying into Mombasa airport at 2 in the afternoon and getting knocked over by the humidity, the poverty and the homesickness )
I'm tired, and angry, and (once again) teary eyed. I have a written guide to volunteering I'm going to post soon. But not tonight - tonight I'm angry and upset and feeling useless.
