I’m not sure what day it is

“We left on Monday?” I asked Amy, “And today is Wednesday?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Where did Tuesday go?”

“It was lost in the shuffle of time zones.”

“Oh.” And then I thought that maybe Tuesday was the day we went on the canal boat in Amsterdam but in that case there never was a Monday night and Tuesday lasted about five hours.

This is what Amsterdam looked like. Canals with narrow streets on either side and big old buildings that were tall with big windows and a gable in the top.

I felt sad as we rode along because there seemed to be SO much beauty that it was impossible to absorb it all. That is why I have now decided that when I go to Venice I am going to spend three months.

Kenya Airlines is classy to the hilt, with the flight attendants dressed in immaculate suits and ties. They serve tea after every meal. But aside from the classy aspect the service wasn’t good at all. I needed water and I pushed the little calling button and I asked a passing flight attendant and no one paid me any mind. I was very annoyed. I began to long for my good old southwest flight where the flight attendant walked down the aisles every five minutes, collecting trash, asking if you needed a refill on your drink, or offering you snacks. He always said, “take as many as you want,” which is nice if you are hungry.

Anyway, the reason I needed water was….

Yeah it started on our first flight. Actually it started seven years ago on a very long flight to Kenya in which I stayed up all night because I could not sleep because my nose was dry.

Later, when I told my cousin Jason this he said, “why didn’t you just push the button with the little lady on it, and ask her for a glass of water?”

So that’s what I did on flight to Amsterdam on Monday and it worked well because it was Delta and not Kenya Airlines. There was one problem: Every time I would make the inside of my nose wet it would dry out again and it is sort of awkward to try and drip water into your nose anyway.

Well I was wearing this black tam o’ shanter for a travel covering and finally I decided to make part of it wet and pull it over my nose. It worked like magic. It was a knit hat so I could easily breath through it but my hot breath and the water trapped in the hat formed a nice little humidifier and I slept like a baby.

For the record, this is what my tam o’ shanter looks like. Sort of.

I have decided to invent a bag that is small, convenient, and rides on your hips like a fanny pack, distributes weight to both of your shoulders like a backpack, and holds a water bottle and hand sanitizer bottle securely.

Also, it will be stylish. The ultimate tourist bag.

I just now at this moment got a brilliant idea. See, I would like to add more pictures to this blog but I don’t have a camera. So my brilliant idea is that I should advertise on this blog, and use the proceeds to buy a camera for this blog.

The problem is that I don’t have any clue as to how one goes about getting advertisers on their blog. But seeing as how I got OVER 1200 HITS YESTERDAY (whenever yesterday was) maybe I could make a bit of cash that way.

(And by the way, Hans Mast, Tom Troyer, Matt Smucker, all you other smart people, I fully expect you to comment telling me how to put advertisers on my blog and yes I know that is just an indication that I am too lazy to call or email you in person but you got a shout out on my blog for being smart so maybe you can forgive me?)

I am somewhat creatively gifted. I looked up signs of “gifted” children online. There were general characteristics of gifted children, intellectual characteristics of gifted children, and creative characteristics. I didn’t have very many of the general characteristics (Amy had most of them, though) or the intellectual ones (Matt, all the way) but I fit the creatively gifted box.

This is helping me to understand myself better, mostly in why I am so sensitive to beauty and pain and everything and why I have so many emotions. Sometimes I get overloaded emotionally.

I feel sort of overloaded emotionally right now, here, in Kenya.

It smells like Kenya.

I had more emotions when I was thirteen and in Kenya than I have ever had before or since. I was miss “creatively gifted” (read: emotional) and I was 13 and I was suddenly thrust into the realization that the whole world is not like my world.

Smelling Kenya is very emotional because of the memories.

Furthermore, there is the fact that Kenya is downright jaw-dropping beautiful. Like Amsterdam, I am wondering how so much beauty can be and how I am ever going to be able to look at it enough or begin to process it.

But most of all I see the people walking the streets. A boy lying by the side of the road, deep in sleep. Driving by the slums, and seeing the one-room tin hut, where through the open spaces that serve as windows and doors you can see an older sister lovingly styling her younger sister’s hair. And I keep thinking, “that is my brother, that is where my brother came from, that is who my brother looks like. These are his people. This is who he was.”

It is easy to love your family as your family and it is easy to like them as them but it is strange and hard to process when you know that your family is a part of them and understands them and they are so different from everything you are.

The clock says 2:14 pm which means it is probably three in the morning Oregon time or something. In any case I am tired as you can probably tell from reading this post.

In any case, goodnight.