Country 15: Spain, con Max

I just got back from visiting my brother in Spain. He’s studying abroad in Granada, the beautiful city I never wanted to leave.

***

I’ve never been a fan of window seats – I get claustrophobic stuck in the corner, and I always drink a lot of water and then have to pee which means everyone in the row has to get up twice – but I’m glad I forgot to pre-check and choose an aisle seat.

When I landed, I had to take a bus from Málaga to Granada. I spent the two hours staring out the window. Somehow I’d thought Spain was more lush, less dry.

The first night, Max introduced me to tapas, which is the reason I want to live in Granada forever. You hardly need to eat dinner, just go out for drinks and every drink gets you a snack. One place we went gave us mini enchiladas.

I posted up in different cafes to work Monday – Wednesday, and Maxie came and did work with me in between classes.

***

On Friday, Max, his friend Silas, and I went to Albaicín, a neighborhood on a hill that was the original walled city when it was under Arab rule.

We wandered so many good alleys in search of this one lookout Silas remembered. Along the way, we were propositioned to buy weed by this kid who looked 16 and we bought our lunches at a little grocery store.

The lookout had a view of Alhambra, the awesome fort that overlooks the city from a hill.

We wanted to find a quieter lunch spot so we walked all over Albaicín until we found this awesome wall that overlooked caves where people were living and, apparently, farming, as well as the rest of the city.

After a delicious sandwich for lunch (baguette is good in Spain, too), we climbed down the other side of the wall and walked by some of the cave homes on our way down to the river that would lead us back into town.

I would absolutely move to Granada – I would just need a job and also to learn Spanish. (I was totally useless, sometimes forgetting to say “si” instead of “oui” but it was fun to see Max in action with the Spanish.)

The hills were awesome, and from some vantage points you could see the white caps of mountains not too far away. I love the white buildings with the red tile roofs, and the cobblestone streets, and all the bread and cheese. Not sure I could get used to a giant lunch and nothing being open from 2-5 pm, but for the scenery, I would certainly try.

***

Max had been injured while climbing a mountain (he had to be helicoptered out!) before I got there and had just gotten his stitches out. So while I was there, we went on a run together with Silas and his other friend Ivy for his first run back. He was like, great, running with y’all will be so chill, and THEN WE RAN FOR TWO HOURS.

Still chill for him, not so much for me! It was the longest I’ve run since the half marathon in July.

The run was beautiful, though, we ran up into the hills behind Alhambra before turning down into the valley and making our way back along a winding country road. 

I ran on my own on Monday and followed the same trail but not as far. It was so dang beautiful.

I’m trying to run consistently again (Max recommended a training plan), and it would be so easy if I could run on those trails all the time!

My Monday run was the first of the training week and I felt pretty awesome about meeting my goal of sub-9’30” average pace (9’23” in the end). It had a rough start because the first two miles were basically straight uphill past Alhambra. (And miles 6 and 7 were back down the same hills.)

When Max was helping me with a training schedule, he recommended training for 5K instead of the half marathon, since it’s easy to run a lot of 5Ks and see your progress. Plus I’m more of a sprintery type. We’re going to get the whole fam to run a 5K in December when I’m home for the holidays.

I was guessing I’d run that 5K at about 25 minutes and then try to improve all the way down to sub-20 (which is SO FAST – you have to run 6’25” pace!). The only 5K I’ve ever run before (just after volleyball season 3-4 years ago), I did in about 26 mins. But now I’m hoping to get more like 23 or 24 mins, since the last 5K of my 8 mile run was in 25:56. We’ll see!

***

On the last day of my visit, Max took me to see his school. This is the view from the rooftop study area, which is ridiculous:

10/10 would go to Spain again.

The Mzungu Who Thought She Knew About Public Transportation [repost]

I have been meaning to write a comprehensive update of what has happened since I suffered a 36-hour airport-hopping journey to move across the world, from my childhood home in Chapel Hill, NC, USA to Nairobi, Kenya. Of course, every day I put off writing a full update, I add another day to describe and make it even less likely I ever send anything. So. New tactic: sporadic updates with whatever scenes I’m motivated to share. Otherwise it’s just not gonna happen.


At lunchtime on Oct. 30, we found out that the Kenyan election board (IEBC) would soon be releasing results from the re-run election that took place on Thursday, Oct. 26.

For those who aren’t following the Kenyan election drama, incumbent President Uhuru Kenyatta won the initial election in August. But second-place opposition leader Raila Odinga of NASA (not the U.S. space organization — Kenya’s main opposition party!) challenged the results in court, claiming that there were constitutional violations in the handling of voting data, etc.

Shockingly, the Supreme Court actually ruled in his favor (giving the NYTimes a bit of whiplash as they went from calling him a sore loser to praising this step for democracy) and set up re-run elections between the two leaders (Odinga and President Kenyatta) scheduled first for mid-October, then for October 26. Ahead of the run-off, however, NASA decided to boycott the new election, saying that the election board had failed to make meaningful changes. Reports at the time said turn-out was very low on Oct. 26 (in the end, it was about 39%, compared to over 80% in the original elections), and some areas, especially where Odinga has a lot of support, did not even vote (due to a combination of the boycotts and physical blockades set up by protesters to prevent people from reaching the polling stations).

My colleagues and I were instructed to stock up on food and water and stay at home in the days around the election, just to be safe. Some staff heard gun shots and I saw smoke from my balcony in the direction of Kawangware, where there were fires and gangs taking advantage of the chaos to perpetrate tribally motivated violence. We were all safe, though. 

Twitter was the best source for live up-dates during the election.

The next Monday, we went back to work, thinking we’d be working from home later in the week whenever they planned to announce the results of the run-off. We were surprised to hear they would be that afternoon and so were all sent home early so we would not have to travel right after results were released, in case of really bad traffic or violence.

At 2:30 pm, I walked to the bus stop just down the street from my office to take a matatu home. The announcement was scheduled for 3:30 p.m. and my ride home should take about 15 minutes, 30 if the traffic is bad.

Matatus, for those who have not yet had the pleasure, are what buses are called in much of Eastern Africa. The term can apply to the more official coach bus-style public transport that has been mapped (very cool!) or to the classic, old-timey, VW-style vans with about 15 seats (but which can be seen carrying up to 18 or 20 people). The bus to work, if I take a coach-style matatu, costs about 40 cents. A smaller matatu costs 20 cents.

So I’m waiting for a matatu, listening to the Spirits podcast (highly recommend), and one of the small matatus pulls up. Not as comfy, but I’m just ready to go home, so I ask if the matatu goes to Valley Arcade, a mall near my house. The small matatus are not marked very clearly (at least not in any system that I’ve figured out!) so I always have to ask. The man nods, I repeat myself, he nods again and ushers me aboard. I slide along the bench to sit by the window with my phone tightly in hand and backpack on my lap (requisite security measures for any rider unless you want your belongings nabbed by an opportunistic passenger or passerby).

We drive on and turn off the route I’m expecting. I know there’s an alternative route I’ve taken in Ubers occasionally, so I’m not too concerned… until we fly past that turn-off, too. I tap the driver’s assistant (fare collector and passenger recruiter) on the shoulder and ask again, Do you go to Valley Aracade? No, no.

Well. Great.

I am ushered off at the next stop and pointed toward another cluster of matatus and assured those will take me to Valley Arcade. A bit peeved that I’d been swindled by a matatu, I walked up to the new matatu and repeated my question three times: Do you go to Valley Arcade? Yes, yes, valley arcade. In I go. I think you have already guessed this matatu does not go to Valley Arcade either.

We’re going in the right direction, past Junction Mall, which is a 15-minute walk from home, but then we don’t turn and instead start heading off in the opposite direction. I ask the driver’s assistant, Do you go around to Valley Arcade? Maybe they loop around, I think, attempting to hold onto a shred of optimism… No. He gives me a curious look, wondering why I would think that.

It’s 3:10 and I’m starting to get a bit anxious about getting home by 3:30.

The man sitting next to me, dressed in formal business attire, very helpfully says I can get off at the next stop where he is also getting out and he can show me how to get to the 46, the bus I probably should have just waited for in the first place. Great. We hop out and he makes to walk into Kawangware: To cross over to where the 46 is, he says when I stop walking. Nope, nope, nope. Not right before election results are announced.

Instead, I catch yet another matatu heading back in the other direction, get off at Junction Mall, and walk home. I get in right at 3:30 pm, just in time for the announcement.

Except the election results weren’t announced until around 8 pm that night, and by that time I was rock climbing with a friend all the way across town. We were warned there might be celebrations or protests blocking our way back home, but there wasn’t even extra traffic when we finally headed back.

Twice swindled by matatus in one day. But, in the end, the little adventure only cost me my pride at being a mzungu who understands public transportation and an extra 40 cents.

Originally posted Nov. 4, 2017 on my Unofficial Economist Medium publication.