Match Day: "I NICED myself"

            For those who don't know, Match Day is the day in the U.S. when all the medical students studying medicine find out which hospital they get assigned for their residency (the 3-5 years you spend as a physician under the guidance of more senior physicians).  It's probably the biggest day in any medical students life, thus you can understand the aneurysm inducing week students have leading up to that day.  To make matters even worse, the Monday of Match week you get an email that says "Matched" or "Un-Matched".  If you are one of the lucky students that got the questionable email from the National Residency Matching Program (NRMP) this year you were probably initially puzzled, since somehow they thought it would be a good idea to add to the suspense..... the already 4 years long suspense process by titling the match email with a darn question - "Did I Match?"  Without even opening the email you could already tell if you matched or not.  Sadly if you didn't match, that meant spending the following days doing what I would call the "evil cousin of the former SCRAMBLE", SOAP (Supplemental Offer and Acceptance Program).

            Apparently this was suppose to be a easier process than before but if you went through it or watched anyone else go through it, it's nerve-racking, gut-renching, disorganized torture.  I can't even imagine why anyone would think having medical students scramble for the last available spots, waiting and wishing for their phone to ring for someone to offer them a job is some how better than not matching initially.  This substitute SOAP causes most medical students subjected to the process, to change their chosen specialty within hours of finding out they didn't match in an effort to secure a job at last minute.  Sadly this is the only solution the "Med School Gods" aka NRMP have come up with to help the over-populated residency application process.  Over the last few years medical schools have increased the number of students they admit each year but the amount of residency spots have not increased; so the residency application process has become even more competitive.  So like everything else in medicine, applying to residency is analogous to the Darwinian principle of only the "fittest will survive".  Fittest in our world meaning those who have the better board scores, better answers in interviews, maybe even better names (there is a such a thing as generational doctors, where parents pass on the gift of medicine, look into to it, it's a genetic trait) and probably most important when it comes to the application process is having the better strategy.

          According to some resources, there are about 34,000 applicants applying for an available 19, 000 residency spots, and only 17,000 of these applicants actually come from the U.S.  We are all subjected to take the costly $1,200 U.S dollar Clinical skills exam, which is a required exam of all applicants applying to residency in the U.S. but recently I have come to the conclusion that it is just a tactic to weed out foreign medical graduates who have a difficulty speaking English.

            So after you make it through the expensive application process, interviews, and then make your rank list; you then have to agonize through Match week, which is probably the longest week in any med students life.  The agony occurs either because you are subjected to still "scrambling" or if you're lucky to have matched on Monday you have to wait patiently/anxiously or spastically (per Michelle, a word we made up for when someone just freaks out randomly) waiting for Friday to come to hear where you matched.  Then to make matters worse, the NRMP follows up with a second email in the form of a question, "Where did I match?"  "Will you just tell me already!!!" as you spazz out at the computer after a week long build up to Match Day.

So after you survive the grueling process and finally find out that you matched and have a job and where it is exactly, your intense anxiety turns in to what I like to call "random rachet fun".  You are so elated that all you want to do is jump around, scream, dance, hug people, smile from ear to ear or may even slap someone on the butt like your a pro in the NFL.  Essentially you join the club of medical students who have spent their whole lives dreaming about changing the world ( or making money, no judgments), who then started medical school without realizing just how hard it was going to be, then you couldn't quit because you were either too close to the finish line or too far in debt.  So after a lot of hard word and too much delayed gratification you find your self, the very moment you open your envelope and realized you finally have a job; you find your self dancing around like a happy chicken relieved that everyone around you is a vegetarian..

            I think it would actually be better if they made it one big match day for all the medical students in the U.S. then transport us to a large open field and allow us to run around scream, rip our clothes off and just let the crazy out for about 30 seconds to release all the built up frustration then allow us to dance all night long.  Yup that sounds exactly like what we need, no pictures though, there are just certain ways you don't wanna imagine your doctor.  Being in Kenya didn't make my match day any less exciting, especially since 6 of my classmates (3 of which are my close friends) were also here during the big day.  So we celebrated with the kind of party one Kenyan referred to as "Severe".  The fun was had!  Believe me, I made sure of it, being that I was appointed by my physician team leader in Kenya as "Chair of Match Day Festivities".  Since we are in Kenya, we had to have a nyama choma (roast goat), Ugali, Kachumbari (Kenyan style pico de gallo) and so much more.  The party started a little slow with just about 12 Americans watching the live feed of the match day ceremony occurring at our medical school back in Indiana.  I mixed up a little tropical rum punch and within what seemed like minutes the place was crowded, similar to what happens when zombie's smell fresh blood.  It was about 1 hour later however, that the Kenyans arrived, taking their commitment to never being on time serious.  But they came prepared with great Kenyan music and speakers to blast it through the dining room.  By the time the nyama choma was off the grill, people were in the dining room dancing off beat in the dark and we were popping champagne bottles outside to celebrate this great milestone event. (Thanks Dr. G for the donated bottles).  Hmmm, If this is what delayed gratification feels like, I wouldn't have it any other way.

            I will never forget how difficult my first 2 weeks of medical school was, especially since I had a hard time giving up my habit of watching hours of TV on a daily basis.  I would watch TV for 5 hours then stay up till 3 am studying.  So I guess it was no surprise when the evening before our first ever quiz in medical school, it was in Cell & Molecular biology, I went home to take a nap and woke 12hours later 20 minutes before my quiz.  Needless to say I failed that quiz, but it gave me the much needed kick in the butt I needed.  When I got discouraged I remember my Dad would always tell me to "focus on the end result Dr. Gordon".  So I wrote it on a piece of paper taped it to my door and would read it on the way to school every day (well on the days I actually went to school since it was much better to watch lectures from my bed).  In the midst of it though I was never quite sure when the end would come, but it did.  Now it seems like four years just rushed by, and I don't know how I did it, let's just say it was a little of me and a lot of God.  So now that we are 49 days from graduation, let's celebrate, have some "rachet random fun" shake what your Momma gave, stay up late, dance like there is no tomorrow, and have a severe time doing it.

           It was clear that our Kenyan friends enjoyed the nyama choma and Tusker beer Match day party as much as we did, verified by the text message I woke up to the following morning from one of my Kenyan friends that read, "Thanks for the big party, I niced myself last night".  I leaned over from the top bunk in our room to share the text with my roommate Michelle and needless to say, we burst out into uncontrollable laughter sharing our ideas of the many things that text could have meant.  Kenyans are really creative at using the word nice, but I have to say this one takes the cake.  But if he's using it in the way I think, I "niced" myself last night too.  I think our Nyama Choma Match Day party was quite the success.  So cheers to all the graduating medical school seniors out there!!!  And Match or No Match, celebrate your M.D anyway, Lord knows we worked hard for it.  Remember the formula P = MD!

Till next time,
Kwaherini!
~Sash :)

Soon to come, my experience in the hospital, then we travel to Germany & Prague this week!

My love for Street Kids: One in a hundred success story!

             When I arrived in Kenya six weeks ago, I couldn’t wait to set foot on the grounds of Tumaini Drop in Center for Street Kids again.  Although the center represents a sad reality for a great need to care for children that are orphaned and living on the street; the center for me represents a place of happiness as Tumaini is where I spent a lot of my time during my first visit to Kenya in 2011 .  Many people look at street kids and only see there outward appearance, their dirty torn clothes, barefoot and some with one hand holding on to a bottle containing 10 shillings worth of glue.  As some of the street kids sniff glue in an effort to become euphoric and forget about the daily hunger and hardship that they face.  The almost two months I spent at Tumaini however, taught me so much more than that; that the street kids I met at Tumaini were unexpectedly inspiring, they were resilient, strong, courageous, clever and not to mention quite funny.  I will never forget one girl, called Elizabeth that use to come to the center, one day I said to her, “Elizabeth you really need to attend class so you can learn English”.  In Kiswahili she responded with something I could tell was a clever response.  After the Kenyan teachers at the center, took a breath from laughing, they translated to me that her response was “And Sashana, you need to learn Swahili so if the police arrest you, you can beg for your freedom”.   I couldn’t help but laugh too at her clever but honest response as this was a real issue that these kids faced every day.  The police claiming to be removing the kids from the streets for their own benefit but doing so in a forceful and brutal manner, at times even breaking limbs to get their message across to the street kids.  Each child had a different story but in so many ways the same, ending up on the street from losing their parents to HIV/AIDs, post-election violence or being in a home with too many mouths to feed, leaving to fend for themselves, and becoming responsible for their own well being way to early in life.  On the street there are no rules, no bed time, no "rites of passage" needed to earn privileges in life, it’s a “YOLO” do what you please type of mentality and semi-society constructed the kids that live on the street.  Streets paved with the freedom to eat what you want when you want, even if that means scraping it out of a fly swarmed garbage bin or begging from people on the street.  Boys become men at the age of 10 years old, trained by the older street boys who bully the younger boys into begging and stealing, kids essentially earning their way into a newly constructed family structure, the street gang.  My heart hurts especially for the girls, so vulnerable, so fragile, so easily broken, forced into prostitution or chosen as the easiest way to earn a living on the streets.

You rarely get success stories out of such devastating circumstances, but the goal of Tumaini Drop-in-center is to help street kids transition from street life into a structured society, helping them to go back to school to get an education or to learn a skill if they are pass secondary school level that can help them earn a honest living.  As I sat there with the office of the Director of the center, he showed me pictures and told stories of kids I knew from 3 years ago some were sad, but some were great stories of those that had successfully left the streets.  One such story was of Bill, a charismatic and determined young man I remembered from my time at Tumaini.  He never sniffed glue and rarely engaged in mischievious behavior on the streets.  So when I helped Tumaini start the Brombig/Sizmbig program in 2011, naturally Billie grasped tightly at the opportunity to earn points in this team building program to get the opportunity to be enrolled in school.  I remember Bill especially because he would argue for his points if he thought they weren't calculated properly and really worked hard to be one of the best kids at the center that would follow the rules, stay away from drugs and always be in attendance in the academic classes at Tumaini.  So imagine my excitement when one of the teachers at Tumaini asked me if I would go with her to see Billie at his boarding school.  It was hard maneuvering my schedule at the hospital to take a day off, especially since I have realized as a senior medical student you play a large role in the care of your patients, and if you fail to play an active role in this low resource over populated hospital, it could occasionally mean the difference between life and death.  With all my assigned patients in stable condition, I jumped at the opportunity to go see Bill at his school several hours away.

 As we traveled to Bondo in the morning, another community about 4 hours South of Eldoret, Kenya, my bladder suddenly became heavy.  I guess having Kenya  tea and passion fruit Fanta wasn’t the best thing to do for the morning drive; and going over the multiple-segmented speed bumps in quick succession didn’t help either.  I leaned forward from the backseat of the car to ask our driver Kibet to stop at the nearest toilet (bathroom or restroom are not common words used here).  Since the road miles ahead seemed to be filled with green grass, trees and mountains on both sides of the road, Kibet answered in a gentle voice, “Are you okay using the natural toilet?”  There was a pause, as my eventful mind only took seconds to imagine myself being snatched from the bushes and captured into an unwanted marriage by any Kenyan man who would see the sun reflecting off my well-formed Derrière.  None the less, I followed Carol, the teacher I was accompanying to Bondo, into the bushes.  Immediately I understood what Kibet meant by natural toilet; there was something almost too natural and freeing about using the natural toilet, I giggled as I hid there in the bushes, and began to reminisce on my childhood in Jamaica, memories of the other times I have used the natural toilet.  If you need a stress reliever, I recommend peeing outside, it just brings a certain happiness, that probably explains why drunk people pee in public.  Just don't mistake your neighbors lawn for the location to get this "freeing" experience as that may not go over well.

Seeing Bill 4 hours later was nothing short of worth the drive and the bladder abuse I experienced with my continuously full bladder and the crazy speed bumps.  It was quite interesting clearing security at the school and seeing the extensive barbwire fence that surrounded the all boys secondary school.  This explains why we stopped at the hardware store and loaded the trunk with barbwire in an effort to mend relationship with the school, who were punishing Bill for sneaking out of school over the Christmas Holiday.  Apparently the school thought it was a fair penalty for him to replace the barbwire he must of ruined when he and some other students left the premises without permission.  After Bill collected the barbwire from the trunk and delivered it to the principal we sat and talked for some time.  To my surprise he remembered me just as much as I remembered him.  He told me of his aspirations of wanting to become a neurosurgeon, which reminded me that Bill had won, as a monthly prize in the Brombig/Sizmbig program, the book “Gifted hands” by Ben Carson, when he earned the most points for that month at Tumaini Drop-in-center.  The same book that helped me believe that a little girl from Jamaica could one day become a doctor, seemed to have also inspired a little boy from Kenya that he too could do the same.  Just like Dr. Carson, the world-renown pediatric neurosurgeon, who hailed from a poor community in Michigan.

We drove a total of 8 hours by car, and paid KES$8,000 to spend 30 minutes with Bill on his lunch break, but it was more than worth it.  Sometimes in life we set out to do something small, sometimes pouring ourselves into it, with many hours, days, even weeks spent working at a one particular goal, and you just never know how it will change someone else's life.  Many times we can't see any benefit from the work we do, because we fail the count the one out of maybe a 100 people that will actually benefit from our work.  But we should marvel at the one out of a hundred success stories; I am pretty sure am one of those, since I too was inspired by Dr. Carson and so many others before me who demonstrated that neither poverty, hardship or hard work couldn't keep them from accomplishing their dreams.  “You can be a neurosurgeon Bill, and I will help you, do you know I become a doctor in 3 months?  Me a little girl from Jamaica, that’s how I know you can do it.”  He smiled and responded, “Yes I believe you, let me say congratulations now.”  I hope I never forget Bill, and that he will never forget me.  Now my promise to Bill is to help him with text books, uniforms and a little encouragement on the side.  If you are interested in learning more about the Tumaini center for street kids please visit their website at www.tumainicenter.org

Bill carrying the Barbwire to Principal's office

PHOTOS FROM TUMAINI DROP-IN-CENTER FOR STREET KIDS

" There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires" Nelson Mandela 

~Enjoy Sash’s Stash of In My Own Words~

Peace & Love,

Sash

Week 2 in Kenya: The BOOB Incident!

I don't know if its just that I have been enjoying my time or if being on the opposite side of the Equator has anything to do with it, but so far my time in Kenya has been flying by.  My roommate Michelle and I have already been in the Kenyan Medical Student hostel for 3 weeks.  We still haven't been able to figure out why there are no toilet seats in any of the bathrooms but we now realized what a luxury having a toilet is in itself.  On a trip to Kisumu last Friday I learned that lesson well, when I realize how much more clean it was to use the outdoor bathroom (essentially this means the woods) than to use the squatting toilets that are about 10 inches wide all around, oval shaped and easy to miss the hole with un-toned thighs and without the proper squatting technique.  More to follow in another blog  

Today, I wanted to take a moment to follow up on Part 2 of my first two weeks in Kenya.  Last week I told you about my smelly arrival and about our visit to the local market and my outfit that brought way too much attention.  Well, I have been spending a lot of time with my roommate Michelle, who I have known for a few years but have gotten to know her even better since our month together in Kenya.  There is just never a dull moment with her.  I had no idea that she was so funny and full of surprises.  Upon returning from the local market one Sunday afternoon, we stopped at the gate at the compound where we live to take pictures with the guard.  Now this guard is quite beloved.  He is an older gentleman, most certainly late sixties or older, who is always smiling, cheerful and confidently calls you by many incorrect versions of your name.  I am quite certain he is more of a greeter than actually providing any form of security, unless he plans on using his big smile to ward of any terror I would have to say he's pretty harmless.  At least that's what I thought until this happened.  As we stood inside the boundaries of the housing compound gates ready to take our photos with the beloved guard, I threw my arm around his shoulder since I was several inches taller than him, Michelle snapped my picture and handed me her I-phone to take her photo.  As he stood to the left of her smiling big and bright, being the keen guard that he is, he realized the gate was open, so he reached his right hand to close the gate while he maintained his left hand on her shoulder.  As I lifted my gaze from the phone to take the photo, I looked up to find the guards hand on Michelle's left breast with his face turned away from us, and Michelle standing there with her eyes and mouth wide open.  Our elderly but charming guard moved his hand from the now closed gate to put around Michelle's shoulder and grinned from ear to ear, completely oblivious that he had just gotten to second base with my friend.  I snapped the photo and quickly walked away as I immediately burst into uncontrollable laughter, with Michelle walking briskly behind me, giggling hysterically from embarrassment with flushed cheeks, surprised by the fact that she was just fondled by the sweetest, most harmless security guard.

This had to have been one of the funniest things I have ever seen, and still makes me laugh every time I replay it in my head.  When the guard saw us the following day, he had a puzzled look on his face as he innocently asked "Susana, Emily (name misnomers as usual) why you laugh yesterday when we take photo?"  "Oh Michelle just had a funny look on her face that's all" I quickly responded, hoping to put all his concern to rest.  I couldn't bring myself to tell him he had rested his hand on Michelle's breast and not her shoulder the day before when he so happily engaged us to take photos with him.  Everyday I greet him at the main gate, I can't help but chuckle at the elderly guard fondling Michelle's boob.

So when we have bad days we think back on boob incident and laugh uncontrollably.

Soon to follow on Friday.  My trip to Kisumu to visit a child I have helped to sponsor.

Kwaheri till next time.

~Sash!

Rewind Review: First 2 weeks in Kenya - Part 1

It's hard to believe that it has already been two weeks since I arrived in Kenya.  And so much has happened already.  After enjoying my 4 days in Amsterdam, I met my classmate Michelle at the Schipol Airport.  Initially we had planned to go around Amsterdam for the day until our flight that night to Nairobi but were both too tired to bother.  As we boarded our flight, we thought it would be a good idea to switch my seat so that I would be seated next to her, as she had the window seat in our 3 seat row; we were hoping no one else would sit there.  That proved to be an horrific idea, just as they were about to close the airplane door, in walked an extra large man, relatively unkept, and smelling of hmmm, whatever you would imagine someone with extra meat would smell like after maybe 3 days without a bath.  (Hey listen, I got some extra meat on me too, that's why I make sure to keep it fresh, just saying).  Point is, I suffered the next 8 hours to Nairobi in a combination of being stuck in the middle seat, in a hot airplane with hot sweaty cheese smell next to me.  I thought human beings were at best only able to hold their breaths for at most minutes, but somehow I accomplished 8 hours.  That's the only way I can justify not dying from malodorous smells on that flight. Unfortunately the torture continued as both Michelle and I were stuck waiting at Jomo Kenyatta airport for 8 hours until our flight to Eldoret later that evening.  But, but, but!!! we arrived to Eldoret, the rural area where our medical school has established a well-known presence, excited about our 2 months ahead.

Immediately I recognized new developments, with Eldoret showing some progression over the last 3 years.  I noticed more cars on the road (damn traffic), less mud huts (hopefully the government just didn't inhumanely tear people's homes down) and get this everyone has a smart phones.  Every med student I had seen so far, has a better phone than what I was given. A 1975 Nokia, that takes you 3 hours just to send one text message.  Do you remember repeatedly pressing the keys to get to the different letters, that's what am working with.  We got settled in the Servant's Quarter's before moving into the medical student hostel two days later.  They call it SQ, as if naming it something like GQ makes up for where you are staying, but it does provide sort of an intermediate level of accommodation before moving to the Kenyan Medical Student hostel, which for some weird reason has no toilet seats.  Don't get me wrong I grew up in Jamaica, and summers with my grandmother as a child meant using wooden toilets up the hill, so I am use to coming up with creative ways of passing materials from your body while avoiding contamination.  But for real tho, why no toilet seats? Is it meant to tease us, like "look you get the whole toilet, but no seat... wink wink".

Whatever the reason for encouraging us to come up with more creative ways to pass materials from our bodies while avoiding contamination, which my now roommate Michelle and I brainstorm about almost on daily basis, we have made the best of the student hostel.  Secretly hoping to be more creative than the complainers before us who stayed there, we are hoping, no determined to master our new lifestyle.  Essentially so we can feel as if we are more globally inclined, well me at least.  So far we have initiated the following, "Pee-buckets", utilized during the late night hours to avoid the walk up four flights of stairs to empty your bladder that is still on US time.  Secondly "Pee-bucket Music", we take turns playing music to avoid hearing the other one, you get the point.  Thirdly, "In-room-close-line" where we hang our unmentionables.  And not to mention the full service breakfast area we set up, and the many wine bottles and mini-alcohol bottles my roommate has stashed for difficult days.  If you are there trying to imagine how enormous our room is, it is about the size of a queen size bed all around, which explains why they put a bunk bed in the room with the rest of space requiring you to waltz in order to pass by each other.  We try to only have one person standing, or getting dressed at a time in order to avoid a boxing match or bruising each other in the process.

Our first week seemed a little slow, filled with lots of orientations, lectures and trying to understand Kiswahili, the  language spoken in Kenya and many East African countries.  We spent our first weekend relaxing and enjoying what we thought would be a great visit to the market to buy fresh fruit.  A lovely Kenyan medical student was kind enough to take us to the market, negotiating prices of mangoes and avocados as we moved from stand to stand in the town market.  Unfortunately we had to move quickly, as I thought since it was a hot day, I would wear a dress that was 2 inches above my knee in the front and about 3 inches higher in the back (you know why, wink wink).  Anyhoo, I was essentially called anything but a harlot in the market, as our guide translated that the women were exclaiming "what is this, what is she wearing" and the men grabbing my arm as I walked by.  I couldn't help but wonder if this was the very reason our high school principal implemented the rule of skirts 2 inches below the knee.  For the sole purpose of preparing us for an extremely conservative and patriarchal society such as this, or to help us avoid being mistaken for a woman of the night during the day time.  I couldn't help but ask our Kenyan market guide how she felt about skirts above the knee, and turned this mini-almost-embarrassing incident into a cultural exchange.  She mentioned that at times she wants to wear something a little more feminine, aka short, but she valued the conservative ideals of the community she lives in.  What was worth noting were the skin tight jeans or tights that outlined the beautiful African woman's silhouette, hips and butt, but yet my dress drew more attention.  Interestingly enough, at night there is an extreme transformation of these young women from long skirts or pants to tight dresses right under the butt and 6 inch heels.  I have even seen Hijabs in the day time on young Muslim girls that become barely dressed in the dance clubs at night.  Essentially so far I have learned to conform at day and be my 2-4 inches above the knee wearing skirt self at night.  If anthropology has thought me anything, it's to respect the culture that you are in, because we are entering as visitors.  So now I make sure my knee caps are completely covered to avoid drawing the attention of those who are intrigued by the folds.

Part 2 to follow soon: the boob incident, med student ran hospital, weekend rendezvous, and my new love pentagon.

Check out photo's below:

She has a baby in her hand

Indian Worship Temple

In front of IU house

Boma Inn, Red Cross Owned hotel, home of our new gym

Amy trying to get kicked by a cow

The Infamous Market Dress, with Michael the Security Guard at IU House

Kwaheri till next time,

~Sash

Proost!!! To Amsterdam, All Things F-U-N!

As a med student fitting in fun into your schedule, is something that often requires some manipulation, trickery, and ... you get the point.  So when we were told that we were allowed to get 3 days off for the month, I quickly requested days off so I could spend 4 of them exploring Amsterdam before I would arrive in Kenya.  Traveling Amsterdam was never really one of the "most desired places" on my list to travel, as it has always been advertised as simply a place you go to lose all your morals.  Being the good girl I was raised to be, I figured I would avoid temptation.  Here I stand corrected, well not about the morals part, losing them is pretty darn easy there, but but but there is more, so much more than that.  In this blog I would love to share with you my top 5 tips for traveling to Amsterdam.  Well, some will be tips, others things to think about, and must see locations.

Heineken Museum

 #1: Cautiously select your traveling partner.

Four years ago when I traveled Europe as my pre-starting-med-school trip to myself, I met a young man at an entrance to a historical church that tourist frequent.  He stopped me at the gate and told me that my bare shoulders were apparently too sexy to enter the church and so I needed to cover up more before entering.  And I bet you didn't know shoulders were sexy huh?!  Well I stood there mocking him as the other guests arrive pointing out a bare shoulder or two, visible neck line, etc, and he softly told me that the Cathedral would be closing soon, and if I wanted to go in, I'd better get something to cover up soon.  After our not so agreeable initial encounter and me finally purchasing a T-shirt to cover my shoulders; he offered to take me around Rome, and although you should not engage strangers while traveling because of movies like "Taken" etc, I did (hey, don't judge, I hadn't seen the movie).  Well we had an almost movie like exploration of Rome, hopping on and off buses, enjoying a real italian meal of Zuppa Toscana, and seafood fettucine alfredo (with Octopus, I couldn't eat it), and ending the night with dancing and great music.  So when I decided to go to Amsterdam, I saw no reason not invite my new friend who I had kept in touch with over the years through phone calls and skype.  Overall, we had an exciting but challenging, interesting but chaotic time in Amsterdam.  Which brings me to tip #1.  When exploring a new place, I think the best traveling buddies are your friends ("ur boys or ur girls"); unless you are planning to make this a romantic getaway, don't bring the other half or someone who unbeknownst to you is attempting to be your other half.  Our trip together became a little challenging & chaotic because we may have been on very different wavelengths, but....l leave the rest to your imagination.

One of many Squares...

 #2: Pack your bags, get ready for Style/Fashion/Attitude!

Some of the coolest Muzungus(Kiswahili for White people) I have ever seen had to be in Amsterdam.  It was like, white people, with these urban attitudes, wearing Timberlands and Adidas, funky colored tights, and crazy color blocking.  In addition they had Rhythm!!!  Yes to Music!!!  We went dancing and I was amazed by the way both the guys and the girls whine there waistline like they were Caribbean or African descent to music that was a combination of hip-hop, reggae, reggaeton, swirled in Techno.  My anthropological, culturally engaged mind was blown.  So if you're going to Amsterdam, find a great way to combine comfort & style, and sprinkle a lot of attitude on it!

Famous Flower Market

In front of the Rijksmuseum

Rembrant Plein

 #3: Plan Maximum fun with minimal Zzzzzz (Sleep)

Well, if you must sleep or keep your belongings somewhere (it would be kinda cool to just travel with all you have on, but the word gross comes to mind), here are my recommendations on where to stay.  If you can afford the few extra hundred dollars, stay in Amsterdam central, the train station, Trams and Metro are what you will wake up, leaving open the option to go where ever you want whenever you want.  Not to mention, eat, sleep, and play in the middle of the action.  I stayed at Ibis Hotel (airport) and it was lovely, but required a shuttle to the airport, train to Amsterdam Central and then onto the Tram to explore but it saved me a few hundred dollars, and traveling on public transport is relatively cheap.  So do whichever way, yuh pocket say!!!  There are options for all budgets.

Just thought this sign was funny...yes it was a restaurant... lol

Yum... french onion soup!

On Tram...comfortable/high tech/cool ride

 #4:  You packed, you've booked your hotel, now what to do?!

Must see locations in Amsterdam will differ based on who you ask but my recommendations are to get the Amsterdam city pass, it allows you to see many museums free or discounted, get a free canal cruise, go to the famous Heineken museum, and take public transportation (excluding trains for free).  Must see are the Rijksmuseum, Van Gogh museum (go on an evening it turns into a Jazz lounge), spend a day in Rotterdam (apparently one of the top 52 places in the World to see, but who knows who made that list...), Leids plein, rembrant plein (both for restaurants and dancing), Dam (red light district, coffee shops if that's your thing).

One of many interesting mirrors in random locations, this was on a building at the Train Station.

 #5: Last but definitely most important - Keep ur eye on the lookout!!!

Open your eyes! Amsterdam is beautiful... beautiful art, architecture, and people.  Ladies, ladies, hmm hmm hmmh! The boys of Amsterdam get my best ratings on looks so so so cute.  Shout out to the blue-eyed cutie I met out, Bas (am sure he won't ever read this) but even another reason to chose your travel partner wisely (wink wink).  As a matter of fact, I am already planning, if my girls and I are single in a couple years, definitely making a girls trip to Amsterdam.  Yeah guys the girls are hot too.  No matter what your reason is for going to Amsterdam, there is much to see, and much to do, so get to planning.

Check out these kicks...

On the Canal...

Next blog on my Kenyan arrival and early happenings to come soon! :)

(I apologize for any incorrect grammar that is contained within this blog, as I am not an English major, and want my blog to appear to readers as if we are in a one sided conversation, where I am the only one talking, jk, I hope you enjoy)

Kwaherini Rafiki (Friend)

~Sash

JAMBO! My journey begins...

          We lugged my heavy but well planned, packed luggage into my brother’s car, as he made guesses about how heavy my bags were and his certainty that I was over the weight limit.  After all the wait and build-up, it was finally time to return to Kenya.  Although my first time there was only 3 years prior it felt like a life time ago.  Maybe because then I felt like a much younger version of myself, not that 25 is really that different from 28, but if you know me, you know how big, grand, almost catastrophic aging is to me.  As I moved my make-up brush across my face, my brother exclaimed “why are you putting on make-up for an overnight flight!?”  Without even thinking, I responded “You never know who I might meet as I’m travelling.  Yuh nuh want yuh sista get married?!” completing my sentence in Patois.  He paused then slowly answered, “Yes, actually, I do want you to get married?!”  In the seconds that followed, I couldn’t help but be surprised at his response.  Being his "little" sister, my brother had always played that “I don’t want my sister to ever date kind of role” I believe it was my first time I heard him openly acknowledge marriage as a rite of passage for me.  In that moment, I realized that we were indeed growing up.

Although I said it jokingly, if I must confess!  The truth is I have fantasized, well that sounds suggestive, ahh well let’s say thought about what it would be like to meet a hot fling, random encounter, love at first site; okay okay, husband, (along with the theme of growing up) while travelling.  It just sounds romantic, two exotic accents meet above the skies and discuss their love for travel and goals to be great in the world while sharing pre-package flight dinners and taking advantage of free movies we didn't want to spend money on the theater.  Well as great as it all sounds, I didn't multitask packing and studying for my radiology final, and working in the hospital to travel just to find love.  This trip, this time is about something more.

 

At the completion of my first year of medical school, I was given the opportunity to live in Kenya for 2 months by my medical school, back then I barely knew how to properly banndage a paper cut (ok am exaggerating, but you get the point) much less work in a hospital.  So I spent my two months learning about culture and medicine, and building a bond with Streets that came to Tumaini center.  I have always been what I would call "globally inclined", curious about the world out there and the people in it.  From the moment I lug my heavy suitcases down the stairs, to flying, to learning a new language (and proudly butchering it to pretend I am one of the locals); I love to immerse myself into a new cultural experience, assimilating proudly as I go along.  

Very close to my heart is my passion to become a doctor, now that that reality is only months away, I am looking forward to returning to Kenya to learn and help as much as I can (which is not much at all, so the learning is the primary focus).  I humbly present myself to the people of Kenya and the hospital/clinics where I will work, promising to be like a "sponge", soaking up all the knowledge I can.  Promising to open my heart and eyes to be humbled by this experience.  I hope you will join me on this journey. 

Kwaheri, Till next time.

~Sashana G.