5 Cities in 3 Days

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1. Mombasa

I began what felt like the longest day of my life (no night sleeps, but several naps) in Mombasa, Kenya. It was 4am on Wednesday and I'd had less than 4 hours of sleep because--well, you know how it is when you're about to travel. The last day in town is always the busiest, and then I'm a last-minute packer anyways, so I was up until midnight packing. Thought I'd sleep, but noisy neighbors and late-night drunks had other ideas. My tuk-tuk was there at 4:30 to take me to the bus station. There I boarded a Tawakal bus to Dar Es Salaam. Slept a bit on the bus and arrived in Dar around 6pm.

I'm skipping a lot there. The bus ride from Dar was far from uneventful. After sleeping most of the morning and subsiding on roadside snacks (cashews & dates are abundant there), we hit the Kenya/Tanzania border where--after hours of waiting in ridiculous lines (I mean absurd! One of the lines somehow snaked between 5 rows of chairs, so every time the line advanced you had to get up and move over a seat , kind of like a game of musical chairs) I was forcibly injected with a yellow fever vaccination (they really wouldn't let me through without it, even though I'd had it before, wasn't required to have one when entering TZ by plane a month earlier or entering Kenya by bus two weeks prior, and hadn't been in a yellow fever endemic zone... also, they let the UK passport holder ahead of me get through without it, so apparently they have arbitrary powers of judgment over who gets vax'd and who doesn't) and I only made it on the bus because they were gracious enough to wait for us handful of stragglers who'd faced extra hassles from the border officers.

It's a good thing southern Kenya and northern Tanzania are so beautiful, because every time I looked out the window I was agape (and filled with agape--sorry, Greek pun) at the green and idyllic landscape. Who cares if I was eating last night's french fries from a plastic bag for lunch? When you're in the equatorial sun, looking out the front windows at one of the most gorgeous places on Earth, where everything grows, experiencing the privilege to travel here and there as you please (as long as you get your jabs), who can complain?

I had a powerful moment of deep spiritual joy at that time. For the first time on this month of busy journeying, I actually paused and appreciated it. I had the conscious thought that, while--yes--I can draw some tags in my sketch book, or write a note in my phone, or pull out the laptop and work on a project, I'd rather just sit here and look out the windows, smile, and reflect on how lucky I am. I wish I could keep that kind of feeling with me all the time. I really was so busy every day on this trip that I almost never stood still or stopped to take it all in (or stopped to smell the roses--you pick your cliche). Now that it's over, I wish I'd spent more time being there (actually being there) and not just being there (you know what I mean).

And then I was in Dar.

2. Dar Es Salaam

Luckily for me, Dar Es Salaam was completely familiar and comfortable for me after having just spent two weeks there. I knew the neighborhood of the Tawakal bus office as I'd been there 3 times already. I knew how to order a Bolt (the Tanzanian version of Uber) on my phone and where was the best place to catch it from. I knew exactly what restaurant I wanted it to take me to so I could get a decent dinner and watch the World Cup. I knew how to order at the Indian restaurant (shout out to Dine In Paradise!) and I knew they'd let me charge my devices and that they'd put live matches from Qatar on the TV for me.

That truly is a privilege, a hard-earned privilege, to know your way around a distant and strange place, comfortably and without fear. That's a privilege you have to earn through experience. I definitely have the experience traveling around the world now. I've gone way past map-reading, sign-reading, learning how to say hello in the local language, and all that, way into the territory where I can strike up a conversation with a stranger from anywhere in the world and be able to break the ice and find common ground, or even go into their neighborhood and figure it out without getting robbed or ripped-off (too badly). I appreciate that privilege, and the skills that it is built on, the skills it has required me to cultivate. I don't know if it's marketable--but, hey--if you're hiring road-tested world travelers let me know.

Fully nourished, caught up on World Cup, and flush from many laughs with my new Moroccan-Tanzanian friends at the next table, I caught another Bolt to the airport. My flight was at midnight, and I was still sticky with sweat from the tuk-tuk, bus, and taxi rides and all the dusty road stops in the hot equatorial sun (it's their summer now). So, I dipped into the airport bathroom for an "Arab shower". That's not my term, but it's what I read on a sign referring to those little hoses by the toilet that you use to spray your butt when in the "Eastern" or "Oriental" parts of the world. This time I had to undress in the toilet stall and use that hose to wash my whole body. It was the best I was gonna get...

Freshened up and dressed in clean clothes, I went out and took my place in line, made some new friends (Dutch & English punkers a good decade or two older than me), checked in for my flight, proceeded through security, tapped away at some blog writing on the laptop, boarded the flight, made another new friend (a Tanzanian-British former charity worker turned oil man), watched an unusual movie (3000 Years Of Longing), and might have slept in my chair for a few hours before we reached Amsterdam...

3. Amsterdam

Another city that I feel perfectly comfortable in, having been there once before a year ago. I arrived at the airport quite early in the morning (it's Thursday now) with no bags to collect (mine had been checked through to Seattle, so they said). Had to figure out the train station thing, but it was only a short ride to Amsterdam. Then, it was a tram or something, and a few minutes later I was in the neighborhood where my friends live. Amsterdam is kind of a maze of a town, but luckily I had Google Maps to help me find the house. I walked in around 7 or 8, said hi to my friends Paul and Michelle, and lay down to sleep in all my clothes.

About 4 hours later, I woke up, had my first good shower in two weeks, and went downstairs to chat with my hosts and do some work on the laptop. (Is this boring now? I feel like it's boring, but I'll try to spice it up a bit soon.) We went out for some Thai food for lunch, then I came back and got to work for a couple more hours. I had a lot of work to do. Regular readers will recall that I had been working this entire trip: meeting with my coaching clients, writing programs for them, posting marketing content twice a day, writing travel blogs, filming video blogs, promoting and organizing at the Rastafari Community Development Office, and otherwise networking and exploring new opportunities. My host Paul was also working from his laptop and when his video meetings began, I took my cue to step outside into the fresh air.

It's Amsterdam in December and it's night time now. Very cold. But, unlike Seattle at this time of year, Amsterdam is completely gorgeous. All lit up with Christmas lights--it would still be enchanting if it wasn't, but this makes it extra special--and the streets are full of people even into the wee hours of the morning. I walked first to the "coffee shop" (duh), which is what Amsterdam is best known for to ignorant Americans like me. I bought a pre-roll of something Kush (it may even have been Orange Kush, my all-time favorite strain) and a lighter and stepped out into the night. Lighting up along the canals, I made conversation with an amiable Dutchman who'd been to Seattle before (I think he was "Kas"). He was finishing some delicious-looking Patat (french fries to us Americans) and I asked him where he got them, but it was totally the opposite direction from where I was going, so I headed off my own way.

I was on a mission for 3 things: cheese, chocolate, and a Netherlands flag patch for my backpack. Then, somewhere in my quest for those 3 I'd find my patat. Let me spare you the details. I found my chocolate. I found the stellar selections of cheese. I did not find a Netherlands patch, but kind of a cool European Union patch with a tiny Netherlands flag on it amongst the rest. I also met a Romanian named George that I gave the remains of my joint to (I'm a lightweight now and wouldn't even finish 1 joint by myself).

After maybe 2 hours of walking, I eventually found the best Patat place I could hope for: Chipsy King. This guy hooked me up with a big bowl of chips (fries, whatever) doused with 3 dairy-free sauces (chili ketchup, mustard, & curry), and covered with salad (Shawarma-style salad of shredded lettuce and chopped onions). I was almost ready to call it a night and return to the warm apartment, but I still really wanted that Netherlands flag. I ended up with two more cool patches for my bag (one was the Netherlands flag) and a few other random souvenirs. Another hour and this brought me back in a circular fashion to where I'd started--the canal's edge where I'd stood and spoken to Kas. Unbeknownst to us, about 20 feet away around a blind corner from where we'd been standing, there was a vegan patat place. I could have gotten the food I wanted right there and cut my whole journey short, but what would be the fun in that?

Back in the apartment, I edited video for a couple of hours, slept about 2 hours, and was up, showered, dressed, and out the door for the airport by 3am. Now it's Friday. This time it was a decently-long walk to the bus station, but I was surprised to see that the streets were still full of college-aged revelers. Just like my old haunts in Seattle's U-District, girls in the Netherlands go out to party in December wearing so little clothing that they risk death from exposure. Luckily for them, there are plenty of gentlemen to help them home after the bars close (careful ladies, you're risking a lot). I had to run at one point (with my heavy-ass backpack), but I caught the bus, made a new friend from Suriname, got to the airport and onto the plane. A 1-hour nap on this one, and soon I was in Paris.

4. Paris

I'd never been to Paris before, and still haven't. This was only a brief, seemingly unnecessary, layover on my way to Seattle. The Paris airport is beautifully designed. It has enough art hanging around that you'd almost think you were in a museum. There is no food to eat, only little French cafes with little French pastries like croissants, madeleines, and macaroons. To get some actual fruit and nuts for my breakfast I had to go to a Starbucks (the horror!). And there are a lot of confusing lines.

After close to 3 hours waiting in lines, I was on another plane to Seattle. This day was getting long (about 56 hours now) and somewhere along the line I'd eaten something that gave me some pretty serious intestinal distress. Details. Good writing is all in the details. I think I watched some movies on the plane, nibbled at whatever questionable airline food they brought me, and did my best to try to sleep. Is it daytime? Is it nighttime? My body can't tell. But, when I touched down in Seattle it was still only early afternoon.

5. Seattle

As if things hadn't taken long enough already... The plane was late getting into Seattle. I had to go through passport control (lines!). Down at baggage claim, I waited and waited but never saw my bag. They called my name on the intercom. At the baggage desk they told me my bag was misplaced, but it would probably make it in over the weekend. Great! I have a trip to Mexico in 4 days. Please let me get my bags unpacked before I have to pack them again. Nothing to do about that.

Leave the airport. It feels even colder than Amsterdam here. With the icy wind and sideways rain, it's bound to. I caught an Uber to the rental car office and waited around for the car (my truck is in the shop, you see). By the time I got on the road to start driving home it was already 5pm and after dark. I was meant to be meeting my wife for lunch, but I guess now that turned into dinner. She was up North in Lynnwood, about an hour drive at this time of day, so I drove there to the restaurant and reclined my chair to take a parking lot nap while I waited for her. I woke up about 45 minutes later to find her calling me on the phone. Turns out she'd been in the restaurant the entire time waiting for me. Well, you're bound to make mistakes when you're stretched this thin. I went inside, was reunited with my love, ate a delicious mushroom larb with sticky rice, and got back out on the road around 8pm. I think I made it home without another nap--maybe just a short one--went up to grab my sons from their grandparents' house, and got home around 10pm, took a quick shower and collapsed in my bed.

Still, after all that, it was only Friday. 77 hours.

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