Seychelles to California to Kenya

I'm currently sitting at my gate in Nairobi, waiting to board my final flight (of 4) to Mombasa. Kenya's equivalent to 'Pop Idol' is playing as the ground staff cheer and whoop.

Its been a whirlwind month and a half since I last wrote. My final month in the Seychelles was great. I got sick again (staphylococcus is a nasty bug) but managed to finish on a high. Daily I think of the turtles I saw on Bird Island. Every morning I wake up and visualise the reef I came to love so dearly. And I keep finding myself starting off sentences with: "When I was in the Seychelles..." (yes, I am that annoying relative at family gatherings).

To everyone I met there, thank you. It was a tough 3 months dealing with grief, but its hard to be down all the time when you're surrounded by such natural beauty. To the staff and volunteers at the Cap Ternay base, thank you for making me laugh, and for reminding me that life is nothing without people (and coral!). And the distance I've had since leaving the project has given me a sense of calm reflection.

My highlights:

•  Snorkelling with turtles off the shore of Bird Island (I went again- check this link out for the short video I put together of my photos from my second magical weekend there http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9Hghi_7n9o&feature=youtu.be). 
• I made friends with a young green turtle, who I lovingly named Chip for the little chunk missing from his back left quadrant of his carapace.

• Diving dressed as a mermaid with Emmalee. Turns out tails are quite cumbersome and using them is VERY air consuming!

• Painting a mural in the kitchen: THE TRUTH ABOUT TUNA, allowed me to express my concern for tuna in an artistic way, and rekindled my sense of artistic flare which I have ignored for too long.

• Creole Day. A day of play at the local orphanage. This was my last day in the Seychelles, and one of the best days I've had this year. It reminded me that life is nothing without people, especially kids, and it brought out the big kid in me as I tickled and giggled with young, beautiful Seychellois kids. Their impression on my heart reminds me of the importance of compassion.

• Diving daily. I miss being in the water so much. Though my tan has faded and my hair no longer holds that sea salt windswept feel, all I have to do is close my eyes and imagine the underwater world I came to love so much. I can see all my favourite corals, and this new sense of longing for the sea has lured me to enrol in some marine biology subjects.

The list could go on and on. But really, when I think of the Seychelles, I think of coral, I think of the aqua blue sea crashing against the grey granite that makes up Mahe, peppered with the many shades of tropical vegetation. 

I think about the kids at the orphanage, how they re instilled in me compassion and love. I think of the turtles I saw while diving and snorkelling. I think of my friends I made there, Leroy, the local kid, now penpal (he better write to me, I left him stamps and envelopes!) and the other volunteers and staff. It was the longest I was still since I left home a year ago, and for 3 months, I was lucky enough to call the Seychelles home.

I don't think there is anywhere further from California than the Seychelles. It took me 45 hours to get back to my birthplace. I was still sick, exhausted from communal living, and emotional, anticipating the public memorial for my late Grandparents.

I arrived after a 4 hour flight, a brief night in Dubai, another 15 hour flight, and a 4 hour train ride to Fresno, California. I stepped off the train to see my Dad, standing in the evening heat. He looked tired, but to see a familiar face, one I didn't have to try around, one that loved me no matter my mood, allowed me to let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

The days building up to the memorial were all business, errands and people ferrying. The memorial itself was beautiful and ran smoothly. I was one of the speakers, and being able to openly speak about how much I loved them helped heal the open wound of grief. Thank you to all family and friends though that (this?) time. Its tougher than I ever imagined, saying goodbye to someone you love.

After the memorial people returned to their respective corners of the Earth, leaving the core family. My Dad, brother Miles, Aunt Meg, Uncle Lorenz and Uncle Kirk. Family is a weird concept to me. I have always held friends as family, and family as friends, but these two weeks being surrounded by people who unconditionally love me (well, I'm pretty sure if I shoved my foot in Miles' face one more time he would stop loving me) instilled a sense of calm I have missed this year away.

We headed to the mountains to escape the California summer heat, instead sailing at altitude across a beautiful lake and playing cards in the crisp mountain air. It was just what we needed to recharge. 

Miles, Dad and I brought back the family road trip and headed to Berkeley to visit Dad's old school friends, and what a great weekend we had. The Bay area is stunning, and so diverse. 

And finally we spent the last week in the central valley in my late Grandparents old home, spending the days playing cards and floating down the river with friends. I was soaking up the memories and enjoying the company of my family who I realised I love so much, and need dearly.

Leaving California felt like another part of my heart was being wrenched out, California was my home, where I was born, where my paternal family congregated occasionally (and I mean very occasionally, but still!) and I was leaving it, and for the first time in my life I had no idea when I'd be back.

So after hugging by Dad extra tight at the Fresno airport I started my journey to Kenya. Maybe it was my emotional state, maybe its because I stayed up all night finishing up my insurance claim, maybe its just because, but on my arrival to LA, I lost my purse with all my cards and money. After crying and panicing I boarded my flight to Dubai, brainstorming desperately how I would find/borrow/acquire the $US50 I needed to get my tourist visa on entry into Kenya.

Thank you to Dad for cancelling my credit cards. And thank you to Cooper for your calming emails when I was on the verge of hysteria. After 16 hours of brainstorming I had gotten nowhere. My last ditch effort was to just ask someone to lend it to me, but let me paint a picture of what I looked like: bloodshot eyes, unwashed hair, bright pink backpack, dog shaped pillow, chalkboard in hand. I looked like a legitimate crazy lady. So after going to a help desk, where they informed me they wouldn't help me because I needed money to buy a calling card to my bank overseas, I sat on the ground in the middle of the busy Dubai duty free area, pulled out my laptop and tried to connect to the net, maybe skype would work this time?

And who walks up to me to say hi, but Suzie, a GVI staff member from the Seychelles on her way home to Glasgow. I cried tears of joy (the first) and blabbered out my situation. With a sympathetic look and a calming hand to the shoulder we strode to an ATM and she handed me two crisp $50 notes. I still can't believe my luck, I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't recognised my long floral travel skirt (yes I have a travel uniform, comfortable and yet now too shabby looking).

We parted ways, a new skip in my step. I went to a bathroom and washed my face, feeling like a new woman. I got to my gate and pulled out my laptop to email Dad to say everything worked out, and realised my new very expensive headphones were gone. The same panic that overtook me when I lost my purse filled my lungs. I ran to the bathroom, nothing, I ran to the help desk, no help. I ran to where I sat when Suzie found me, nothing. 

And so I boarded my 3rd flight from Dubai to Nariobi with $100 to my name, no headphones and a bright pink backpack. And on arrival I passed through immigration without a problem (thank you Suzie!)

And here I sit, on a hard red seat, listening to Kenyan wanna-be pop start sing, waiting for my final flight. I'm too tired to read. I'm too tired to even cry. But I'm almost there. In 24 hour I'll be on GVI's base near Shimoni in southern Kenya. I'll be by the sea that I've missed so much. I'll be back to the hustle and bustle of volunteer life. 

I'll be thousands of miles from home, but I'll be home.

Seychelles to California to Kenya