Ismila Stone Age site

Photos from a recent visit to Ismila, a Stone Age site and really cool canyon in Southwest Tanzania. I am too tired to write. Enjoy the photos.

xo

Shannon

Things I am thankful for in Tanzania

I like the way Tanzanian waiters and waitresses sit down to chat when they're taking my order.

I like the way people call me Shanni, from Ameriki, who does researchi.

I enjoy the melody of Swahili. I haven't enjoyed imitating the cadence of a language this much since I started speaking French.

I love how proud of Tanzania so many Tanzanians are. They have every reason in the world to be.

I love how I think that women are gossiping about something very very juicy, but then discover they are talking about avocado trees.

These are the things I am thankful for about Tanzania.

Happy Thanksgiving.

xo

Shannon

Iringa, Tanzania

Last week, I climbed to the top of this rock with my new Japanese friend, Shingo (Swahili for "Neck").

Closer view of the rock (notice the guy standing on the rock, not Neck):

Neck is a cool guy. He's with JICA, the Japanese International Cooperative Agency, which can be most closely compared with America's Peace Corps. Basically, Neck gets paid the salary of a Japanese computeer engineer while he lives in Tanzania for two years, builds computer networks and trains health workers in Microsoft Office, Excel, Powerpoint etc.

The more I learn about Neck and JICA, the more I'm impressed. To compare, America sends a lot of low-paid Peace Corps kids to wander through poor parts of the world with a hazy understanding of their tasks. Japan, on the other hand, sends well-paid professionals with several years of experience to do highly-specialized, easily measurable tasks.

The more I meet Peace Corps volunteers, the more underwhelmed I am with their abilities and the program generally (Peace Corps types who end up at Hopkins are a wholly different breed. The ones I'm referring to are usually getting drunk and whining about how they have nothing to do).

Anyway, walking around town with Neck, who has been in Iringa one year, is like hanging out with a resident celebrity. Everybody knows and loves Neck. Women ask him to hold their babies. Kids wave to him and say "China! China!" Our colleagues gush about Neck's fluent Swahili, his patience when teaching computer skills, his ability to cook fish in new and fascinating ways. Neck has set the bar very high.

Here's Neck at the top of Gangilonga (the rock shown above). When we reached the top, Neck and I had a nice chat and drank some Konyagi, alcohol which comes in a plastic bag (sounds trashy, but you take what you can get).

And we took in the view of Iringa. Our office and my house are in this photo.

The next day, Sunday, Neck and I went to Ismila to see and touch materials used during the Stone Age. Photos to come later.

Missing everyone this Thanksgiving. Looking ahead, I am going to make every effort to avoid spending holidays in new, foreign lands without the comfort of old friends.

Shannon

Cade of the week- deluxe edition

Caderoo, my remarkably adorable Godson turned the big O-N-E last week. To celebrate, I'm doing a special-edition Cade of the Week. Here is a collection of Cades from our day touring DC in September. I can't put them in the order I would like, but here's the story.

Cade started the day looking like a happy, drunken pilot:

He was ecstatic to be inside the National Air & Space Museum:

He took pretty much zero interest in the Lincoln Memorial, even when I explained the Emancipation Proclamation and the Illinois connection. (There were birds, trees and airplanes to look at overhead):

He looked downright distraught outside the IRS offices. Smart kid:

Near the vice president's house, Cade decided it was time to hit on the ladies:

We interrupted this flurry of flirtation to take a photo of Cade and the Capitol:

Cade's favorite spot on the bus was, of course, right in front. He held the bar with a death grip and, at one point, tried to press his itty bitty nose to the glass:

Before the day ended, we made sure we got a photo outside his favorite spot- the Air and Space Museum.

I hope we can do another adventure day sometime Baby Cade!

Happy Birthday!

Auntie Shannon

Camera

My beloved camera is broken. Of course this had to happen while I was in Tanzania- arguably the most beautiful country in the world (right up there with Turkey and New Zealand).

But there's good news. Because God loves me, the only other expat in this community happens to be Chingo (a Japanese IT guy who loves to repair electronics). Chingo is with the Japanese Volunteer Corps. He's going to look at my Japanese camera and do his best.

The word Chingo means "neck" in Swahili. When Tanzanian women try to get Chingo's attention, they say his name and make the international symbol for choking. I find this extremely amusing.

Shannon

Recap the week

I'm "stuck" in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania for an extra day en route to Iringa. I use quotes with stuck because - of all the places in the world to be stuck - this one's spectacular. (see above)

I have speedy internet, so let's re-cap the past week:

On Thursday I turned 28. What a great age! That evening, my boss and several new friends took me to an Italian restaurant in Nairobi where they serve homemade mozzarella, handmade pasta and raspberry cheesecake. As the guest of honor, I instituted a law wherein guests were not allowed to discuss public health (cholera, infant mortality, diarrhea, latrines etc.) more than 35 percent of the time. The law was broken, but we formulated a plan. Everyone at the table had to talk about things we would like to see happen in the coming year. It sounds silly, but if you put 10 people at a table from NGOs, government ministries and research institutions... and ask them to articulate personal goals, they'll drum up interesting plans. Suffice it to say I'll remember the chat at my 28th birthday for a long, long time.

Near the end of dinner, somebody told the waiters it was my birthday. The wait staff (and kitchen staff) brought out a sparkler-topped cake and sang the most vibrant version of Happy Birthday I've ever heard. It included harmony, percussion and Masaii grunts. I was torn between blowing out the sparkler and giving a standing ovation.

Friday, Cade turned 1. My only major regret of the past several (and upcoming) months is that I don’t get to hang out with him. I hear that Cade picked up his 5-pound cake (see below) and lobbed to the floor. Bravo little buddy! You rock!

Saturday, I relaxed with Adina. Adina is a Swiss friend I met at a campsite on my first day in Nairobi. We hit it off. Here's Adina:

When Adina vists in Kisumu, men make idiots of themselves trying to get our (really, her) attention. Adina and I decided to go to a grocery store Saturday morning. In the parking lot, we ran into one such man (who is also an acquaintance from Kisumu). He said he had extra tickets to a soccer game. Would we like to join? No, we said, we're not really soccer people and it's hot and we're in grocery shopping attire. Then he says, Its a World Cup qualifying match. Kenya versus Nigeria. And they're VIP seats and we can take a car. Are you sure?

When Kenya lost to Nigeria last Saturday, Adina and I were right there hurling insults at the ref, making cracks about Nigerian corruption and trying desperately to learn the rules of soccer and avoid using the bathroom (as it lacked a toilet, wiping supplies and water). The stadium was half-filled. The scoreboard and lights broken. The refreshment stand empty. When a Kenyan player was given a yellow-card, people began tossing bottles, shoes and other debris onto the field. At one point, a fan yelled, "I HATE YOU NIGERIA. GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY AND SEND YOUR STUPID SPAM." I only wish I brought my camera to the grocery store that morning.

Sunday, Adina and I met a couple of her colleagues for lunch in Karen. Karen is a very uppity neighborhood of Nairobi named for Karen Blixen (of Out of Africa fame). Blixen's farm used to cover what is today a suburb of the city. Adina's colleagues treated for lunch at Talisman, a restaurant run by expats who also import goods from the Middle East. The decor is part-Turkish kilim, part- African wildlife infused with a love of food and drinks and people. It's what this blog would be if it were a restaurant. I loved it. Here's Talisman:

Monday afternoon, following several flight delays, I flew to Tanzania. Unfortunately, my luggage did not make the journey. Under most circumstances, if I arrived in a country where I didn’t speak the language and had never visited before … I would be frustrated if I didn’t have my luggage. But due to a mixture of factors (1. I’m getting used to traveling 2. In the scope of life, lost luggage is really not worth anger and 3. Tanzanians are AWESOME), the luggage loss was a blessing!

When the luggage ladies, Priska and Carol, heard that this was my first day in Tanzania they decided to help me “overcome the luggage and sort out lady needs.” Priska left her post at the luggage desk, grabbed my hand, walked me past customs and taxi touts to the entryway of the airport. “First, you need to know the exchange rates Shanni,” she said. We learned the exchange rate at a currency counter, made some calculations, walked to the ATM and got some cash. Priska stood guard while I collected the cash. She talked about Tanzanian men and dating. We went to the cell phone service counter, “Shanni, you will be in a remote area in mountains. Zain is the service for you. It’s for the remote areas.” At the Zain phone counter, Priska kept talking about men while she installed my new SIM card, topped up my phone with points and then walked me to the cab stands. With the cabbies, Priska (who has the stature of an American 11-year-old) drove a hard bargain. From speaking with expats in Tanzania, I knew the cab rates a white person can expect to get from the airport to the city. When she started driving for an even lower rate, I said, “Priska, for real, I’m ok with the Mzungu rate.” It was a difference of $1.

My cab driver, Wallace, was equally awesome. He discussed the history of Dar, his favorite foods, origins of Swahili words and architecture. Wallace offered to take me to Subway (as in the American sandwich chain) on the way to my friend Pam’s house. “You will like it,” he said. “Americans know their sandwiches.”

“Wallace,” I said. “I am American.”

And then began the conversation on how much he loves Mr. Obama and how much I do not look American.

We drove along Dar’s picturesque Ocean Drive. Ocean Drive stretches along the coast and features the Presidential residence, palatial homes and- as luck would have it- my friend Pam’s modest-yet-beautiful apartment. Pam and I are friends from Johns Hopkins where she studied family health. Pam oriented me to the city, took me on a quick walk along the water and introduced me to a cliffside restaurant. I kept saying, “Pam. I am so lucky. What are the chances that you would be here? That this would be so beautiful? That we would get paid to do this?” She said, “I know. It’s crazy. I feel the same way.” Here's Pam at our seaside dinner date:

I was nervous about coming to Tanzania. And, thinking more broadly, about coming to Africa. A piece of me is constantly wondering if this will all end in disaster. But after weeks like this past one, another part of me knows… I’ll be just fine.

Xo

Shannon

to Tanzania

En route to Tanzania today.

I'll be in Dar es Salaam for at least a night to visit a friend from Hopkins.

Then to Iringa for a couple of months (with questionable internet/blogging access!).

All are welcome to visit as I don't know a soul in Iringa, my Swahili is horrible and the region is supposed to be exceptionally beautiful.

Shannon

Lucky me

A year ago, I was writing about how fortunate I felt to celebrate a birthday in Baltimore.

This year I'm in Nairobi, Kenya at a conference on water. There's a new slew of friends for another fun birthday.

Earlier this week my boss said: "Shannon, what if for your birthday we all go to this really great restaurant that's across from a game park? The food's good. It'll be fun."

Me (eyes very wide): "Game on! Yes! AWESOME!"

As a special birthday bonus, Kenya's newspaper "The Standard" published another op-ed today. This time, it's on latrine maintenance (no online link yet!).

I am among the luckiest soon-to-be 28 years olds in the world.

xo

Shannon

For fun: some photos of Lake Vicky

Somebody had to say it.

To those of you who know me, you know how overwhelming and wonderful it was to see this in Monday's paper.

xo

Shannon

Lake Victoria

I'm leaving Kisumu, Kenya indefinitely this Wednesday. I think the thing I'll miss most about Kisumu is Lake Victoria. Here are some photos that I hope convey even a little bit of this lake's magnificence.

It's been quite an experience, but the next chapter in life's adventure awaits.

Shannon

Looking up

The sky is just a little more awesome over here.
This is near my home:

so is this:

this is on the road to Kisumu, from the Rift Valley (where the human species made its debut):

Kisumu from the sky

I take little planes when to get from Nairobi to Kisumu. Above is the plane's propeller. I recommend a stiff drink to anyone tempted to take a plane like this over Africa. But that's just me.

Above and below, Kisumu Lakefront. Notice above, invasive hyacinth. Big problem.

My view just before descending into a torrential storm. Not that I read into the situation on a religious level, of course.

Ms. Lebo Geddy

This was among the most beautiful weddings I have ever attended. Congratulations to both.

Thinking of you two while in Kisumu.

Love, love, love,

Shannon

The Colorful Continent

Back in Africa where even a roadside stand explodes with color.

Shannon

Elephant Orphanage

On second thought, forget a blogger pause, here are a few quick pics from a trip to an elephant orphanage.

Women I met at breakfast and convinced to go with me to the elephant orphanage:

Baby elephants:

They like to play in the mud:

Sometimes they get stuck because they're really small:

Blogger won't let me post more photos right now. But I adopted a rhino for Cade so photos of Maalim the puppy-sized rhino will come when I discover more time (or cultivate my insomnia). :)

xo

Shannon

break

sorry everybody.

it has been an extremely busy few weeks and i haven't had time to blog.

doing well. back in kenya. swimming in data.

:)

shannon

Euro Cade to the Zoo!

A new version of my nephew emerged this week on a visit to DC. He's called EuroCade. EuroCade wears lots of stripes (not necessarily matching) and Italian shoes (somehow match everything). If EuroCade could speak in more than monosyllables, I'm pretty sure he would sound Swedish.

EuroCade strolled around the National Zoo in Woodley Park, DC on Wednesday with me and Grandma. He LOVED it!

Here is EuroCade outside the Panda exhibit. This Panda kinda creeped him out, so he held onto me with a baby death grip.

Then we watched the real-life Pandas play with crates.

We strolled past the elephants, the donkeys and the food court and came to the gorillas. Here is Cade with his gram watching a female gorilla:

Post- gorillas, EuroCade remembered that he needed a nap and began to have a freakout. Unfortunately, this coincided with a photo-op of stripey Cade with Zebras. Alas, we'll save it for next time.

xo

Auntie Shannon

Seven days, three continents

Been out for a week. A rundown:

Learned a friend died. Cried. Went to a rural school. Looked at the crumbling walls. Looked at brown drinking water. Felt completely spent. Excused self from interview. Hid in car. Almost vomited. Collected self. Went home. Thought had amoebas. Went to doctor. Got meds. Packed bags.

Bid Kisumu adieu. Flew in airplane. Found airplane engine reminiscent of lawnmower. Watched storm play with lawnmower-cum-airplane. Shook head. Laughed. Slept.

Arrived Nairobi. No electricity. No water. No Internet. No time like present to visit elephant orphanage.

Left Nairobi for Amsterdam. Slept 7 hours 55 minutes of 8 hour flight. Arrived Amsterdam. Brushed teeth. Drank tap water. Called Dutch friend Wouter. Ate breakfast with Wouter. Laughed and laughed. Talked about life.

Left Amsterdam for DC. Watched Marley and Me on airplane. Cried. Vowed to never again watch sad movie during daytime, on airplane. Flew over New York City. Took photos.

Arrived DC. Waited for Alex. Waited. Waited. Waited 2.5 hours. Considered killing Alex and throwing body into ravine. Decided to scream at Alex for 6 hour drive to North Carolina. Screamed. Slept. Awoke. Apologized. Accepted apology.

Arrived North Carolina. Drank wine. Slept. Woke. Ate biscuits. Walked on beach.

Attended wedding of Charlotte Lebo and Bryan Geddy. Spoke in wedding. Cried (5,000th time this week for those who are counting). Felt honored to have incredible friends. Danced to Tina Turner. Laughed with father of groom. Giggled with mother of bride. Slow danced with Alex. Asleep by 11.

Left North Carolina for DC. Arrived to Wedley Park, DC. Listening to Pocketknife and Cousin Cole. Smiling. Trying to wrap head around past 7 days. Constantly saddened, delighted, surprised by life.

Shannon

A Muddy Morning

I arrived to a school the other day with mud dripping down my neck and splattered across my white shirt and black bag. A colleague looked at me, smiled and said, "Shannon. I do not want you to be concerned. However, you are full of mud. Also, your ears and face are turning pink. You need your lotion. And a bath."

Being that we were about 45 minutes from the nearest structure-resembling-a-shop and 1 hour from the nearest location-resembling-a-town, lotions and baths were out of the question.

I wasn't the only thing that was messy. Here was our car, which I have nicknamed Dalmatian:

Dalmatian and I both had black mud on our pale exteriors:This is the school we were visiting:
This is why we are visiting schools:
Notice anything interesting about the roster? Aside from the huge overall drop in attendance, the thing that most interests me is the change in the boy:girl ratio as students age.

Why are girls dropping out in such high numbers? Lots of reasons. Pregnancy, lack of family support, loss of parents, lack of money...

How can the government, NGOs and research organizations best work with schools to change this? This is what we're trying to learn. This is why I'm happy to show up to work caked in mud.

xo

Shannon

Cade of the Week

Baby Cade, channeling baby chicks.
Cade is now walking. Whoa.

xo little chick!

Shannon

Happy Birthday Alex

Happy 30th Alecky.

From Chicago and Jerusalem,
to New Braintree and DC,
from Turkey and Tel Aviv,
to Baltimore and Wadi Rum...
It has been quite an adventure. Where will end up next?

Seni seviyorum canim benim, cok,

Canin

Meeting Mama Sarah, grandma of Barack Obama

Mama Sarah's front door:Yesterday I met Barack Obama's gram, Mama Sarah, at her home in Kogelo, Kenya. Kogelo is a tiny town about an hour outside Kisumu. It is the burial site of Obama's dad.

It is almost impossible to drive through Kogelo and not feel hairs rise on the back of your neck. The village is nearly identical to other poor, rural, Kenyan villages- dirt roads, cattle herders waving long sticks, children carrying buckets on their heads. To think that in two generations, a family can move from Kogelo to Chicago is astounding. To think that, more specifically, the move started in a mud hut on an unmarked road and ended in a white house at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is beyond comprehension.

The trip made me see my work in Kenya's schools and rural communities with new eyes. The students I interview and talk with - the ones with no latrines, no electricity, no running water, no money for books or shoes or uniforms or food - these kids could grow into a person that brings hope to the world.

Before anyone comments on my photos or this post, I want to say this: I hesitated about posting photos or describing this experience. For me, meeting Mama Sarah marked an experience of a lifetime; it is something I will cherish and, one day, tell my children's children. Sadly, to someone else, this marked an opportunity to write an offensive comment on my facebook page. I acknowledge that people do not agree with or respect Obama. I do not respect when individuals who call themselves my friend use my experiences to engage in bashing, from either side of the aisle. Belittling another person's enthusiasm - in this case, my enthusiasm- is in poor form and quite frankly, it was insulting. To the individual who did this- and who never before felt compelled to comment on my blog or my facebook page- I politely request that you refrain from comment.

Photos from Sunday, September 13, 2009 when I met Obama's gram and visited his father's grave...

The drive to Kogelo, nearing the village:

Arrival to Mama Sarah's house, she greets guests under this tree:

Close-up of the chairs:We were the only guests present during the visit. Sometimes there are many busses of tourists. Sunday was a slow day. We were 6 visitors from Illinois and 1 from Boston. Oh, and two turkeys who scared me to death because they were huge:

As you sit in the chairs and look to your right you see this:
As you look to your left, you see Obama's father's grave:
Directly in front of you is Mama Sarah. She spoke of her son, Barack Obama Sr. and her amazement and pride for the accomplishments of her grandson. Mama Sarah does not speak English although she understands quite a bit. She speak Dholuo, the language of the region, and her daughter (Barack's aunt) translates. My friend Bethany greeted Mama Sarah in Dholuo and Mama Sarah nearly toppled over giggling:

Mama Sarah invited me to sit next to her for a picture. I asked her how she reacted on the night that Barack gave his speech in Grant Park. She said she was so excited that she ran up and down the path to her house cheering and smiling. "She ran," her daughter said. "Even with the cane." Mama Sarah said she didn't cry that night, "I'm a Luo. Luo women don't cry when we're happy."

I smiled like this for the rest of the day. Here I am with Adam Jadhav, an old friend who stopped in Kenya to visit while en route to India. Adam and I have a growing collection of photos of us posed like this in far-flung locations:
And here's me still beaming with Amy (left) and Bethany (right) on the path from Mama Sarah's house. Amy is an epidemiologist with UIC; she is also my unofficial life coach. Bethany is my rockin colleague from Emory; she's also a confidant and close friend.As you leave Mama Sarah's to go back to the main road, you drive past the Senator Obama Secondary School. They're thinking of renaming it, but it involves quite a bit of paperwork I was told: Once you hit the main road back to Kisumu, the reality of life in Kenya hits you quickly. Here is a man that was wandering down the street:
And the ubiquitous coffin vendor:
Finally, this is the train that runs along the highway just a few minutes from my home in Kisumu:
I feel very fortunate to be precisely where I am today.

xo

Shannon

An antidote to public health

Some days public health facts piss me off. I'm typing a paper that starts with Every 15 seconds a child dies from a water-related disease. That's 20 jumbo jets of children dying every day, or more than 2 million child deaths a year.

I have a headache from grinding my teeth. My cuticles are bleeding.

To get my mind off dead and dying children, I walked around the neighborhood. Then I came home and started looking through photos from last weekend when Bethany (roommate) and Adina (Swiss friend) and I went to a rural village with 10 Kenyan friends to paint chalkboards in a pre-school.

I'll let the pictures tell the story.

Drive to the village with Adina.
Adina and I making faces:
The newly-built school where we painted chalkboards:The old school: Interior of the old school: Chalkboard in the old school:Interior of the new school:Painting a chalkboard:Looked to my right and noticed some onlookers:Curious onlookers as seen from outside:Me and curious onlooker who taught me Luo words for snake and corn and school:Adina painting a mural inside the school:Painting a mural outside the school:
Friends:Interior of a nearby school (Frank Lloyd Wright inspired windows!):The finished product:
Makes the statistics of public health seem somehow more manageable.

Shannon

a pen friend from the '90s...

Friday night, thanks to facebook, I got a message from my old friend from Southern England Russ.



Russ is on the left. Our German friend Mario is on the right. That's a photo from 1995, when Russ and I met in the Black Forest of southern Germany. On that trip, Russ and Mario introduced me to cigarettes (awful), beer (thankfully, a step up from cigarettes) and Brit Pop (I can't imagine life without it).

The summer involved no romance. I was a newly-minted teen, petrified of boys. Russ and Mario showed more feelings for Coolio than they did for girls. We became pen pals though and sent one another letters with mixed tapes. My letters to Russ grew progressively more adoring ("Russ, I think you have a really cool accent. You are really cool and funny."). Russ' letters to me grew progressively more aloof ("Shannon, you have great music taste. Enjoy the enclosed mixed tape."). An omen? Yes. Meeting Russ marked the beginning of a lifelong penchant for men with accents.*

Imagine now, 15 years later, catching up with an old crush.

It lasted about an hour and went like this:

me: So tell me the story of your life. Or maybe just the last 15 years.
R: Hmmm. Well, I just got back from paddling.
me: Paddling?
R: Yes. It was great but the water here is rubbish.
me: Ohhhh, like kayaking! In England? You can kayak in England?
(here we launched into a chat on kayaking, surfing, San Diego, southern California, a bunch of places in Southern England, retirees and British surfer-chic)

me: So back to the last 15 years, how has it been?!
R: Oh! For my 30th birthday party, I had a fancy dress theme ... "dead musicians." I assigned everyone a celebrity.
me: Awesome! Who were you?
R: Shannon Hoon!
me: SHUT UP!
(this began a conversation on Blind Melon, mixed tapes, MP3s and the concurrent demise of mixed tapes, Ash and the Smashing Pumpkins. We concluded that best feeling in the world - particularly to a 14-year-old - is to receive a mixed tape with letter from the other side of the world.)

Russ called me a "fecker" for stealing his favorite tee-shirt in 1995 and a "nutter" for making fun of Gavin Rossdale and Bush. I mentioned that I completely |explicit word deleted| hated him for seeing Radiohead and Neil Young perform recently. I may have also injected the words shithoused and asswipe (beautiful American contributions to the lexicon of English slurs) into the conversation.

Russ has every letter I sent him from '94 to '97. Sadly, I don't have even one from him.

How have Russ' last 15 years been? I have no idea. My last 15 years? Who cares. How did it feel to catch up with someone from so long ago? Positively wonderful.

Shannon

*Alex, honey, you are the next chapter in that book, obvi.

Laughing Away in Kakamega

We went hiking and camping in Kakamega National Park last weekend. Kakamega is the last bit of rainforest left in Kenya. It's well known for lush vegetation, several breeds of monkeys and some of the world's largest snakes.

I used to associate Kakamega with one of public health's great, albeit flawed, community-based health interventions. You can read about that intervention here. It's a story about hope, derailed.

Thankfully, Kakamega has now taken on a new meaning. That Saturday night, sitting around a fire with Nat, Darryn, Cat, James and Bethany was pure fun. Between Bethany's storytelling, James' wit and Darryn's scotch ... I bellylaughed for about 15 hours and slept for maybe 3. I forgot how much I love laughing. Hopkins kinda beat it out of me.

This is Udo's, the campground where we stayed. That little hut is where we slept:

We cooked in another hut. Darryn and Nat did the grilling. Bethany, James and I took care of the drinking.
Then we went for a sunrise hike in the rainforest. Normally I hate sunrise events, but this one was fun as I had stayed awake laughing all night:

We were all pretty dead when we reached the high point to watch the sun burn the clouds off the rainforest canopy (left to right, Cat, Darryn, Patrick our guide, Bethany, James):

The view:
Life is sweet.

xo

Shannon