17th September - Mombasa muse II

My position as I write

Holidays are childish things - you spend all of your time and money making them the best you can, then they run away from you like a dream lottery ticket. It seems only yesterday that I arrived here with Claire to visit Rel in Kenya, but tomorrow is my last day... see what I mean?

A catalogue of, to me, exciting things to report - I've swum with dolphins in the wild, swum over several coral reefs (and my legs have been eaten by the sun for doing so), been stung by a tropical jelly fish and so far lived to tell the tale (and no, I didn't wee on it - I'm English), had giraffes feeding from my hand, held a python, seen a baby hippo that has formed a relationship with a 130-year-old giant tortoise (I kid you not), realised by text message how most of my friends and surprising other people watch CBBC on a sunday morning (with me on it), and been on countless 'chav safaris' from the comfort of my own hotel.

It has also been fabulous catching up with Rel and learning all about her month or so in Nairobi, as well us enjoying her entirely uncompromising humour, generosity, friendship, and fabulousness once more! One of very few people I've ever met like this.

Holidays may be childish, but they are amazing; they can and have made me feel like a child. I have been on two amazing holidays lately, and both have freed my mind in a brilliant way. They have reminded me that I need to find time to relax within my relatively hectic day-to-day life. These recent ones have also taught me the value of doing different things with different people. I was inspired in Scotland by the scenery and by Hengar and Ben, by their different skills, by their diversity from me, their creative gifts, their beauty as people, and the way some tension I felt at the time allowed my mind to see clearly in its relaxed state. In Nairobi I have been inspired by Rel in her work and in her courage, by Claire in her success at becoming a solicitor and remaining a thoroughly super person. Obviously the two diverse places are inspiring in their own right.

Perhaps the life I lead and the places I lead it are inspiring to others - I'm never happy with things I do and places I go as a matter of course - but just maybe, like the emotional vampire I have talked of before, I am feeding off other peoples' lives in awe, for my own inspiration? It teaches me that I need to find a creative diversity through my life to relax, feel happy, and feel inspired.

Of couse hills are always greener on the other side - an overused contemporary proverb. But in my life, when I'm thinking clearly, half the fun is getting to the top of the hill to see that, just so you can go back the way you came, and have an ice-cream and a pint at the bar, and talk with what you love and what you know.

JL

15th September. Muse by the Indian Ocean

Like listening to an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical or a piece by John Rutter or even a song by Steps, it is odd how you find yourself enjoying them or parts of them, but secretly. I'm sitting on a sunbed that Rel reserved for me earlier this morning; the sunbed is under a palm tree. It is a truly lovely view - the sunbed is on a sun terrace overlooking the richly turquoise, boat-punctuated waters of the Indian Ocean. I am happy to admit that there is little secret about me enjoying this. I am however staying in a hotel that has challenged my deep-rooted prejudices of our British social constructs. Of course, all societies have their constructs: here, according to Rel, the interaction of individual tribes is still full of tension and prejudice - a construct, conveniently forgetting our own society, that we might find silly.

Spending time is this perfectly appointed hotel has given me cause to think a bit about my own thoughts, and the way my brain constructs society. The hotel is a temporary home for a range of people: from almost-twenty-first-time-holiday-together couples, to late 30s to mid 50s groups of organized 'sun holiday' types, to elderly couples and their friends. Most of these people seem to spend their holiday getting up as early as they can to reserve sunbeds with towels, having a large 'English' breakfast, starting on the beer (or vodka and sprite as I heard one lady ordering) by 10 a.m., a three-course lunch, maybe some pool volleyball with more sun and alcohol, followed by a three-course dinner, and then the faux-tribal entertainment and English-style disco provided by the hotel. I did catch myself wondering why these people had travelled so far for something they could get a lot cheaper and a lot closer to home in Tenereife... Oh yes, look he's shown his colours now - watch that society prejudice in action - watch it fell the trees of acceptability like a magic sword...

But there is an affinity; I am enjoying myself too. The view is fabulous and I enjoy being with Claire and Rel. Rel and Claire are sitting here too; Rel is reading War and Peace, and Claire is reading about the Devil and Prada (quite similar subject matters if you ask me). Presumably the people who are practising being English in a distant foreign country, the ones whom my socially constructed prejudice is looking down upon, are enjoying the views and enjoying being with others too. We're not so very different after all, except that just like with world religions, the smallest differences are the ones that create the biggest gaps. They (because the only collective noun I could think of was a 'trailer of Chavs') are no doubt more than slightly amused to see this not-quite-slim, bleached-white Englishman, who sounds a bit posh, doesn't join in with the organized games or the (faux)tribal dancing, is on holiday sharing a room with two girls (the source of many quizzical looks), and is sitting wearing shorts and a t-shirt on a sunbed in the shade whilst nursing his sunburn. It does sound ridiculous doesn't it? When I think about it, there is probably much more for them to giggle at - especially now as I'm surrounded by slim, attractive, brown, and defined bodies. But maybe it's ok - maybe they won't notice me - I'm sitting in my not-really-invisible, orange t-shirt, and desperately trying to keep hold of piles of papers that are preparing me for an editing course next week... But no matter how slight differences may be, I shall still be amused later whilst sitting by the sea with a glass of port, to hear the entertainment presenter come on to the stage a way behind me and say hello in Swahili: 'Jambo' (o as in box). This will be followed by a lilac scream of ladies replying 'Jairmboowww'.

Prejudice, what prejudice?

I'm off for a swim.


JL