Quickie to Kenya - Part I (Preparation and journey to)

So, at the end of a long and eventful summer, I chose to to take a trip back to Kenya. I mean, why not? A simple wish, if there ever was any, right? WRONG! This trip takes the first place in the list of hectic and annoying trips and I'm writing this post even before I've gotten to Kenya. OK, maybe it's not as bad as the trip I took earlier this year... So, Second place then! I should start at the beginning...

Some may remember from my last post that I had a LOT of paperwork to deal with after the trip. Archimedes Foundation has a policy NOT to give any funding if there's paperwork related to the subject yet to be handed in. A very good, solid policy that I understand. What I don't understand is their paperwork policy on proving that I took the journey! We all know how annoying it is to book a flight and stuff, right? Now, imagine having to get the airline to send passenger itinerary to you personally. It took several months (I lost count at 1) to get Turkish Airlines (the same guys who cancelled my flight for reasons I chose not to recognize) to send itinerary of my flight to and from Nairobi (as they were the people who funded my return flight, they had to be informed of my presence on each flight till Helsinki). Once that was done, I went to Tallink to get their little piece of paper saying I was on the early morning Ferry to Tallinn from Helsinki. Lastly I went to the Estonian Air offices to get the Itinerary for my flight to Stockholm (I had to pay them 12 EUR for one sheet of colourful A4 paper!!! Can you believe that???). Of course, by the time all that was done, there was about one week left before I embarked on my second trip. That meant that I didn't get the money for the journey before. I'll get it after. And since I didn't plan my money well this semester, I ended up taking a loan from both my mother as well as my granddad, to whom I already owe two or three months' rent (Yes, I must pay rent to live with my grandparents).

So, bearing in mind my financial problems, I still had a journey to plan and with the clock ticking, I didn't  have many options. The cheapest way was for me to get from Tallinn to Stockholm via ferry and then take Qatar Airways to Nairobi and back the same way (here's hoping that the holders of the World's Best Airline award for two years running don't cancel flights due to bad weather often during the summer...).

A little hindrance was the fact that this time I didn't have a travel partner with whom to share the heavy load of stuff. Very annoying was the fact that Arlanda Airport is about 40 km from Stockholm and the ferry drops everyone off smack in the middle of Stockholm. So, here I am, with a heavy box (yes, boxes again) on my back and half an idea of how to get to Arlanda. In the end I chose the easy and lazy way out. I wait for a taxi with some semblance of a decent price and ride in relative style to the airport. Along the way I realize that the taxi has no speedometer. None. It also doesn't have the little needle that shows the engine's rpm, so I  (and by my logic the driver) have very little ways to figure out the speed of the V-hicle. I resort to looking at the signs that show how far places are and timing the time taken between them. My first check informed me that the driver was doing 180kph. The second 120 kph and I didn't have time for a third. Now, last I checked, such speeds are not allowed in the EU unless on some major high speed highway (like the Autobahn, or something)... I shall not dwell on the matter. I shall simply be thankful that I arrived at Arlanda in one piece and stuff.

Once on the plane to Doha, I had the honor and pleasure of sitting next to some old guy who looked like he could barely take care of himself... I had to help him fasten hi seatbelt, adjust his seat and pick his food... However, as I don't know him, I shall leave it at that and move on to rant about something else... Like the PA system. I noticed as I boarded, that Qatar had annoying earphones so I dug mine out of my bag and used those during the flight. It was ok, except for when the Qatarese chose to use the PA system. I'd be deafened, because EVERYBODY knows when you use PA, there's only one volume level: LOUD!!!

We arrived in Doha at night. Something close to 10 pm, or something. The sun had set and I was prepared, somewhat, for a long and uneventful cold night at the airport (my plane to Nairobi was the following morning at 7.50). This wasn't as expected. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I was stunned be the air. IT WAS FREAKING 35 DEGREES!!! WHO THE FUDGE HAS AN AIR TEMPERATURE OF 35 DEGREES SO LATE IN THE DAY?! It felt as though I was in the exhaust cloud of some big engine! Thankfully the airport, though still under construction, had air conditioning (So I DID get my cold night at the airport, partially as expected...). The next annoying thing was the fact that I suddenly realized that I had left Europe. And that entails, not only changes in weather conditions, but also changes in other standards, including socket shapes! It took me about an hour before I could find a socket, which was worn out enough to shove my big European plug in (they have British sockets; yeah, those ugly 3-pin rectangles). It was only after I had spent the most boring all-nighter of my life that I realized that they had universal sockets deeper in the airport, meant for silly tech nerds (like myself) who forget to carry their adapters.

On the ride to Nairobi, I, once again, had the pleasure and honor of sitting next to someone who could barely take care of themselves. Only this time, I'm sure of the nationality: Chinese! It was weird, sitting on a plane filled 60% with Chinese. It comes as no surprise that Air China (or whatever they call it) wants to organize a route to Nairobi. That should make it easier for the Yellow Communists to colonize Kenya financially (contrary to what may be understood as hatred, dislike or any other negative emotion towards the Chinese, I have nothing at all and actually like the way they do some things).

All in all, not a bad journey! Could have been more interesting, of course, and it could have been a hell of a lot worse!

You Child!

I was walking home from school today and when passing through a park, I noticed a group of kids (probably 1-4 grade) arguing. There was a big black school bag lying on the path and one kid was walking round without a bag. The argument was about his responsibility in carrying his own bag (which I presumed to be the one on the ground). The kid was complaining that it was too heavy. When asked why he had packed so much junk, he replied, "It was my mom who packed it! Tell my mom to pack less stuff then!" By then I was out of hearing range, but I could still hear them arguing.
My mind chose not to ignore that short exchange. First off, the bag was lying on the ground about 300-400 meters away from the nearest school. It obviously didn't have millions of little feet and wasn't made of Sapient Pearwood, so it didn't make it there by its-self. I began thinking of the probability that the kid (obviously spoiled) had asked one of his friends to carry it for him. That would explain the conversation (if you can call that shouting match a conversation...) and it may help in explaining how the bag succeeded in reaching that far.
I began thinking of how that child was being raised. The very fact that he was irresponsibly leaving his bag on the ground (or in the care of someone else) and the probability that he had dared to ask someone else to carry it for him (because he obviously had no interest in carrying it...) gives a few hints. Let's not forget his words: "... my mom packed it ... tell her not to pack so much, then...!"
So here's a child, who's incredibly spoiled. So his mother packs his bag for him at age 8 or 9. I remember when I was that age I was in 5 grade, where I packed my own bag, covered my own books and walked to school alone. The chances of me leaving my over-sized bag on the road or having one of my friends carry my bag for me were equal to 0. I'm of the opinion that he didn't complain about the weight of the bag in the morning when his mother packed his things for him... I doubt he cursed his mother in school for lack of reading/writing material. And now in the early evening (about 14.00), here he is, complaining about its weight in front of 4 other kids with similar bags similarly filled with books and stuff (bags, which I'm inclined to believe they packed themselves).
This called to mind a situation, where a cousin (aged 3) was walking in the gutter. I told her to walk on the road. She said no. She fell shortly after and cried for five minutes. I told her, again, to walk on the road (after picking her up and dusting her off). She said no again, and continued walking in the gutter.



People frequently ask me what I think of Estonia and the life here compared to Kenya. I doubt my answer has changed much in the two years I've been here... I always say that the quality of living here is pretty good, that the four season set-up is interesting, that the people are friendly, helpful and resourceful and that most of the women are good looking and a load of other stuff for another post. Despite all that, I seem to have something against havind to raise a family here!
I have quite a few reasons for that last statement. To begin with, I dislike the fact that some family members feel the need to spoil children and criticize (negatively) the idea of strictness. How on earth can you raise a child who'll understand that elders are to be RESPECTED and who'll deal with their own stuff, like they should (for example: CARRY THEIR OWN FREAKIN' BAGS, PACKED  BY THEIR OWN GRUBBY HANDS) when there's someone who's constantly butting in and countering your instructions?!
My next point is slightly contrary to my previous one, but so what? I, obviously, can't watch over my child 24/7... And so, I'd hope that the people who are with my child at any given time can be trusted with the correcting and teaching of my child. That means that in school the teacher should be looking out, to make sure that my child isn't bullying or being bullied and if one of the previous mentioned is happening, put a stop to it in a fashion that could be permanent! And yet I hear that teachers these days are only paid to try to pour knowledge into their students. All raising and correcting is to be done by parents. Go figure.
My last reason is that I really dislike how people raise their kids round here. And that meant that other people's kids will be a bad influence on mine. I mean, seriously! A parent who packs her son's bag (a son who's old enough to pack his own bag) and doesn't notice that he might feel the bag to be a little too heavy for him...
I'll just leave it there.

Quickie to Kenya - Prelude (The previous trip)

Right, so, I took a trip to Kenya this year (twice). Though the first time was in February, I felt it wise to write about it, because, hey, why not? I get to rant and my readers (if there are any of them) might find enjoyment in it.



So, cause my parent's so awesome and so am I, I get these so called free trips to Kenya twice a year, courtesy of the Estonian Ministry of Education and Research and the Archimedes Foundation through their Compatriots Programme (Yes, I know... Enough with the links). Cool, right? Weeelll.... Not quite. Let's not forget that dealing with government agencies tends to have a LOT of a little special something. I think it's called PAPERWORK!
In the agreement it states that I must prove that I travel to Kenya when I say I do. And I think, "Well, hey! The easiest way to prove my presence is to get an ugly Kenya Passport Control stamp on my shiny new EU passport and show the Archimedes bastar.. Ahem... PEOPLE (I meant to say people) the desecrated passport." Simple! Guess Again! The annoying bastar... err... PEOPLE... choose to have the most annoying policy I've ever seen: "We DO NOT accept Passport Stamps as proof of visit." Yes, you read right. The passport stamp, whose sole purpose is to record that the person, onto whose passport the stamp had the honor of being placed on, was indeed at a particular place at a particular time, is NOT accepted as a valid verification of travel. Instead, they expected me to collect all my boarding passes and/or tickets from the travel, put them in an envelope and send them to the foundation. It's a little hard to do so, when half the boarding passes got left in Kenya (and thrown away in Kenya two days after my departure) and the others got lost and misplaced on the way back. Neat! So, what must I do if I can't give them boarding passes? I must go to ALL the travel companies I traveled with and ask them to write a letter, or produce itinerary proving my presence on their vessels. It's clear now that instead of wanting me to prove that I went to Kenya, they want me to detail my route and in that way show that I went there, which, to me, doesn't make much sense, given our agreement. I should make a point of reading through it again to make sure I didn't misunderstand... Next thing I know, I'm not allowed to complain about them :P



Right, so I had a messed up amount of paperwork to deal with on my return. But that's not all. The route to Kenya was mostly uneventful. I flew with the Estonian national carrier, Estonian Air to Stockholm and then took Turkish Airlines to Nairobi, with one stopover in Istanbul. I got to Nairobi in the early morning, when my parent is probably the least productive. Which was annoying given that that was the time I really needed her to be alert (not that she can't get up fast or anything...) I passed through passport control without problems (though with 40 EUR less in my pocket... Tourist visas leave quite a mark!) but get caught up in Customs. Kenya has some really weird customs! I mean, we have Masais, who kill lions to prove their manliness, Kikuyus, who LOVE their money and Luos who love their fiss (fish, for the ignorant readers), to name a few. We also seem to have airport officials who feel that everyone who comes in has something to declare. There is NO "Nothing to Declare" section. Everyone must (apparently) pay a little something to the dear customs people. It was very annoying having to open my boxes (boxes because you can shove lotsa stuff in them and they don't weigh much in themselves and open, because the Kenyan government seems to have missed the memo saying, "Customs works better with X-Ray machines!") It was also just as annoying to have a stranger lean over and look at the contents of my box and then ask, "So, how much is all this worth?" Excuse me? how much is it worth? Interested in selling it are we? Seeing that there was no other way to get past these annoying customs, crowding round my box like vultures, I called the Estonian Consul (the sleepy parent). The Consul went on to diplomatically make things clear to the disappointed Customs official: The contents of the box are property of the Estonian Consul (who, as a diplomat, is exempted from paying taxes or any other excuse the officials can use to try and get money out of me) and the bearer of the box is the son of said Consul (meaning he is, similarly exempt from taxes). And should the official not believe what is being said to him, he is permitted to take the boxes into custody and once the workday begins, someone from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs would show up and make things clear. I got through customs pretty fast after that call... WITH my boxes :D



The part of the trip where I was actually in Kenya was pretty good. There was a small matter with the heat, that I got used to very soon, and my travel partner from Estonia had a pretty good time at the coast and Masai Mara. We even went to Bungoma and had fun there!



The route back was the most er... INTERESTING. All's well that ends well, right? Well, this DIDN'T end well at all in my books. So, we had a flight in the early morning and we got to the airport on time for that (somewhere near midnight). I start to look for the Check-In desk, that should be up. Noticing its absence, I ask an airport official where to find it. He points in some vague direction saying, "It's normally over here, but look!" he points at the departures list/screen, "The flight is cancelled!" And there I stand looking like an idiot feeling very sure that only seconds before that same screen showed that Check-In was underway. One hour or so later, an angry mob is waiting outside the Turkish Airlines cubicle and the idiot in there didn't look like he gave much of a damn. Half an hour or so later, a woman and another man (the man seems Turkish) show up and say that they'll deal with us soon. They say that the flight was cancelled due to bad weather in Istanbul (Let's not forget that the northern hemisphere was under the impression that they had what they call Winter). I'll skip through the part where I thought that to be a load of hogwash and the wait as well. I shall, however say that we got a flight to Helsinki via Amsterdam, because they simply couldn't find a way to get us to Stockholm. Once in Amsterdam, I got the very bright idea that I should find the Turkish Airlines box and tell them that they should, instead, take me to Tallinn (I mean, why not?). The guy behind the desk looked at his computer and says, "We can't take you to Tallinn, but I see here that your original flight took you to Stockholm. I'm sure we can get you there at around the same time the other flight would have gotten there!". Anyone smell something fishy here? But since my luggage was already on its way to Helsinki, I chose to go with them there (what I'd give to have The Luggage from Pratchet's Diskworld...). And to finish off my journey by air, the plane arrived in Helsinki 15 minutes too late for me to get on a ferry to Tallinn.

Murphey's Law isn't it?

Sound, Speed, Action!

Welcome, dear people, to a brand new September! My university life (which was on pause for a month or two) is back on again and boy is it going to be hectic!

Let's have a quick overview of my summer right about... now!
What I thought would be a summer full of stuff turned out to be pretty relaxed... I messed around with the EstCube program for a month or so, then went on to messing round with the Clarinet at an awesome camp. The camp changed my entire outlook on how I've been playing (and I've been playing for about 5 years!). Immediately after I was thrown (or threw myself, I'm not sure of the details...) into the mad cyclone known as the International Physics Olympiad (IPhO). After that I had an easy time. A very close friend (close enough to be a relative) came over to visit from Israel and shortly after I went on my visit to Kenya (expect a handful of posts on this!).

See ya!