Mom and Dad in Africa

You'll forgive me for slacking a bit on the blog. I've been eating, nonstop, for the past week. My parents arrived for a visit on Wednesday and my mom immediately set up camp in my kitchen, which is a room I visit only occasionally. Frankly, if I moved the coffee maker into my office, I could sublet the kitchen and make a killing.

 

It's been interesting having them here. For one thing, I'm coming up on the six-month mark of my time here, and hosting family is a watershed moment. I'd say I'm doing pretty well so far. My parents haven't gotten violently ill and their impressions of Africa and Africans have brightened considerably. My mom is impressed at how courteous everyone is (Kenya's tourist industry is alive and well) and my dad is astonished at how much Nairobi looks like the Bombay he grew up in (meaning we're about 40 years behind the times here).

 

My mom has also pumped life into the kitchen. Now, for example, I own salt. It turns out salt is important for cooking. She has brought a half-dozen stainless steel vessels that I can only assume I will use to store carryout menus. She also plans to leave me with a set of prescription-drug cannisters filled with various spices and masalas. Her optimism is her best quality.

 

We're going on safari to the Masai Mara tomorrow for the rest of the week, so I'll try to update over the weekend with pictures.