My dear readers,

Since I announced that from now on my blog will be in English (so that my adventures are not limited to the happy few that speak the language of Hooft and Vondel), I thought it proper to start of with an English story immediately.

I won't be writing too much about work, since one never knows what happens to a blog such as this when written in an accessible language such as English. I will write all the more on the silly, funny, irrtating, heart-rendering and enchanting things I go through here on a daily basis.

So first some basic sketch of my situation for those who just dropped in. Nairobi is a city that consists of extremes. From my very window the extremes of poverty meet the extremes of wealth. A big town house borders a piece of land with nothing but a hut filled with squatters. My flatmate told me a form of coexistance exists between the wealthy and poor neighbours, but I still believe the sight out of my window is a character sketch of the society I ended up in.

Poverty has some severe consequences for my own situation. After dark, I am no longer able to walk the streets alone. Add tot hat the general lack of public transportation (ok, one could go by minibus, but the drivers seem to have gotten a licence to kill instead of a driver's license) and you come to the conclusion that I need my car-withdriver for well-neigh everything.

I live in a wealthy neighbourhood called Kilimani. My driver, called Peter, tells me it means 'on the hill'. In fact, it is rather close to the centre of town. The infernal volume of cars passing in and out of the centre, however, causes traffic jams of truely epic proportions that make a 20 minute ride last an hour (yes... today I was as lucky).

The atmosphere here is still quite British. The only English thing I haven't been able to lay my hands on is bitter beer, but marmite (ugh) and corned beef seem to be in never ending supply.

Nairobi could best be described as an African city surrounded by white suburbs. The African city caters to some old British hotels and an abundance of cheerless 1960's skyscrapers. even so, there is a genuinely relaxed atmosphere there during the day. it also boasts some nice restaurants. One of them is the Somali restaurant Hamdi which I visited for the first time today. I ordered roast goat with chipatti bread, a recommendation of my American-Somali flatmate who suggested I try something typically Somali. It tasted way bettert han I had thought and I must say I am glad I tried it. The restaurant was spotlessly clean, the waiters were alert for African standards, and the price of the food was not bad. All in all the meal costed no more than 700 shillings, the equivalent of 5 euro. Including drinks and a desert.

With this anedote I am going to finish my first story in English. I hope you will keep following me on this blog!

D