"They're such tourists"

A group of Caucasians sat at a large table during dinner time waiting for the meal to be prepared. Normally, dinner consists of Rico, me, and our friend from Ghana....and that's it, so it was surprising to find new guests waiting in the cafeteria.First thought - They're such tourists. All in safari gear, with cameras and binoculars..the woman in American clothing (leggings and tank tops that aren't considered appropriate here); point is, they did not look like they had been to the region before. Isaac looked at them and then looked back at me and mouthed "tourists" and I laughed because it was exactly what I was thinking. (1) "They look like us from last week."  Folks, contrary to popular opinion (article on misconceptions to come!), all Africans do not wear safari gear and they are not all covered up head to toe 24/7. Seeing this group of obvious tourists that were decked out in their gear shows me how much life has changed in just ONE week. They're just like us - I did not need to go out and buy new safari type clothing (sorry, mom); most outfits I've worn are just a bit more conservative than what I would wear in this weather at home, but nothing drastic. In just under a weeks time, I've learned what I can and cannot wear, what other women wear, and I have gotten comfortable with the fact that I have no makeup and my natural beauty is what these African souls are going to receive for the next two months. But, at one point, I was them. and I have my cute $35 safari hat to prove it.(2) THEY  (me) are such tourists.As weird, unbelievable, and slightly crazy as it may seem, a week into my trip, I am no longer considered a tourist here at icipe. To be honest, I don't really feel like one. The locals are friendly and say hello, some make extra efforts to make us feel welcome and to talk to us. They treat us like one of them. And every thing is starting to become a routine -- get up, eat breakfast between 7 and 9, do something, eat lunch between 1 and 2, do something,  watch the sunset at 6:50, eat dinner between 7 and 9, do something, sleep, repeat. Now, the "do something" is usually filled up with reading research materials, showering, walking around campus, trying to find cats to love on, exercising, playing on the computer, updating my blog, and sleeping...all while getting somewhere in the 8,000 step range each day. I have a routine that I follow - and I know how to ask for special food at lunch without feeling bad, I know how to have confidence in drinking my tea from a straw (taking extra precautions here people, don't judge), I know how to get my meals and what to expect, I know that the power goes out at least 16 times a day and to just ignore it, I know the kids will yell "mizunga" because I'm white and that people on the street will ask for money, also because I am white .. but I did not know any of this one week ago today. I was boarding a plane leaving my family, my best friend(s), my Jeep, my home, and my beloved country for a two-month "life-changing" adventure.It's so strange to see only one or two white people every few days, many of which are in fact tourists, but it's even more absurd that I fit in more with the local Africans. I live here, I see some of these Kenyans every single day; the tourists just don't feel the same to me, they don't feel like home..((SIDE NOTE - it's so hard to tell where people are from based on the sole fact that they are Caucasian! I always get hopeful, assuming they are from America, but more often then not they are from the UK or Australia/New Zealand. Once they talk, you can usually figure out where they are from due to the accent but it's been interesting trying to figure out peoples' origins!)Lucky me, I have the chance to stay here for a long period of time and to find my home here in Mbita, but as you can tell, not everyone is that fortunate and some come in with big touristy aspirations. Tonight at dinner, there were a few different sets of white people whom I had never seen before. A man and a woman were in line for food, and Rico and I were trying to figure out what they were here for, where they were from, etc.  because we don't want to be those guys that were annoying and asked. Much to my surprise, the man and the woman were actually not together and the woman sat next to our table...all alone.Alone. I remember what that felt like and it's still an adjustment each day. Rico played "What Are The Odds" or whatever to see who would talk to her and make the first move and I asked her if she wanted to sit with us and (thankfully!) she said yes and made her way over to us.Turns out, her name was Deena and she is a former Peace Corp member from California (YAY! USA! Most white people tend to be from the UK -- it was nice to see a fellow American!) who works with an organization in HIV/AIDS prevention and advocacy and her job is 2 weeks in Kenya - 2 weeks in US - 2 weeks in Kenya - 2 weeks in US and the cycle continues. She was only here for the evening and had traveled through Switzerland to arrive here. She encouraged us to study abroad and recommended taking an entire year, instead of just the semester or a smaller program. She was interested in my major and challenged me to not set myself into the barriers of one major until I have to declare a major sophomore year. While I am not sure what my future will bring, I am definitely interested in some more travel so hearing her experiences was eye-opening.Moral of the story, Deena wasn't in that touristy safari group, but she was still unfamiliar and thus, a tourist. I was scared to talk to her -- scared she didn't speak English, scared she wouldn't like us, scared for the rejection, scared that she may be mean or find us annoying. Overcoming the fear of not wanting to talk to new people has been difficult this week, but I am so glad that I fostered a friendship with Deena through the one dinner conversation. I've never regretted a time I've said hi or a conversation I've sparked with the strangers here. As my blog mantra says, "do one thing every day that scares you" and you may be surprised by the outcome, tourist.