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Published: January 27th 2012
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Photo 6
African sunrise from the air. The last 24 hours have been an emotional rollercoaster. I knew that there would be some tears when I left my home and my family, but I didn't realise just how difficult it would be. I think that in some naive way, I thought that my excitement would overshadow any sadness that I felt, but the truth is that I couldn't even give my dog and cats one last cuddle because I knew that I would start crying before I'd even walked out the front door. And the truth is also that when I got on the train, I cried all the way from Camborne to Truro, and I got choked up at random points during the day, for no apparent reason.
Sometimes the sheer magnitude of what I was undertaking threatened to overwhelm me. Staring up at the bright lights of London Heathrow's Terminal 3, hearing my gate number being called (which, by the way, was Gate 13 - so reassuring for a person who once had hypnotherapy for a fear of flying) and walking onto the plane and taking my seat - each one of those milestones literally took my breath away and sent a jolt
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The view from the plane as we began our descent into Nairobi. through me. And every time, I thought, 'Emma, what have you done? Why are you doing this? Why couldn't you just be satisfied with a couple of holidays and weekend breaks, like most people?' And I couldn't answer those questions, even though I had always been so sure that I knew the answers.
It all changed about six hours into the flight. I woke up and looked out of the window, and seeing the sun rising over Africa pushed all of my fears and doubts aside, and reignited the excitement that I had worried was gone. That sight, and the feeling that came with it, confirmed to me that this is where I'm meant to be right now. This is what I'm supposed to be doing.
My first sight of Kenya was rolling brown plains and hills, stretching on and on for as far as I could see. Brightly shining waterways threaded through the landscape, the sun making them look like molten silver. I could feel the heat of the African sun through the plane windows, and it was too bright to look out of the window without sunglasses. I tried, but it just
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Another view of the African landscape. made my eyes water.
Beneath the vague sickness that I've already come to expect in the thirty minutes after taking an anti-malarial tablet was an excited anticipation which went beyond anything I've felt before during the long planning process for this trip. And it wasn't just excitement. It was freedom as well. I felt such a sense of being free that I had to bite my lip during the descent into Nairobi, because otherwise I'd have been grinning like a fool.
After clearing immigration - and getting my first stamp in my passport, which I'm absurdly delighted by - I was met in the arrivals hall by a driver holding a sign with my name on it. It took half an hour for us to reach the hotel, mostly due to the odd traffic control systems at roundabouts, but I was happy to have an opportunity to take in as much as I could of the city. My first impressions were that it seems to be a city of contrast. On one side of the road were suited men with laptops tucked under their arms, and on the other side were teenaged boys pulling
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My hotel room. carts; a young amputee dragged himself along on the floor, and behind him a high-heeled Kenyan lady wearing bright red lipstick threw her head back and laughed into a mobile phone.
Initially I thought that Nairobi smelt smoky and dusty, but once we cleared the traffic jams and the air started to flow, I could smell chargrilled meat and bananas. There were birds that made me think of herons or storks, flying about as casually as the pigeons at home do, and nesting in the trees. I don't think I'll be seeing any pigeons for a couple of months, that's for sure.
I hate to admit it, but I spent my first afternoon in Nairobi crashed out in my hotel room. When I woke up a few hours later, I went to the outside bar for dinner and a couple of drinks. I can't describe how contented I felt, listening to the birds singing and the insects chirping, and knowing that for the forseeable future, I have no bills to pay and only myself to answer to. Not that I had long to ponder this new found freedom, because a couple of drinks turned
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The view from my hotel room :-) into four, courtesy of a fat, balding, middle-aged German chap called Tony. Well, what can I say. I'm unemployed and travelling the world - I'll take any freebies I can get, even if I did have to keep reminding Tony of my name every three minutes.
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Nicole
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Amazing sunrise! I can tell I'm going to love this blog already.... just be careful you don't take tooo many drinks off fat, balding, middle-aged men - there must be plenty of fitties on the travel circuit too lol! xx