Amarula Diaries Part 1

Anything worth posting or even matching words to thought was long overdue. And this comes with a series of resolutions for 2013 where blogging regularly, visiting the GYM- forbidden heaven because of no discipline what so ever and healthy diet will fight for precedence to see the light of day, which is reality.

This is supposed to be about- KENYA. Not essentially or even essentially, the source of Amarula, something which has replaced Vodkas and Wines in my world. That source for Amarula is perhaps South Africa. But essentially the place which introduced me to Amarula and resultant the place which brought me closer to equatorial forests, camping under open skies, a series of Matatu (Safari Vans to be universal) rides and an enhanced sense to everything and anything beautiful naturally. For me, that will be Baby Elephants, very bright red Star Fish, White Sand Beach, An extinct volcano crater covered in clouds, beautiful lake filled with fish Eagles in all sizes, A lioness strolling around with a couple of adorable and ever so cute cubs at the back drop of Mount Kilimanjaro at sunset. There is no end to that list. I guess, I am “Kenya-ised” in my expectations for “Been Naturally Beautiful” for life. This is something I have easily adopted and if you look at me (Tan and Fat) very well adapted to.

The seven and a half months almost lingering to the eighth has been an experience beyond imagination. And this does not refer to a Monday ending on a Friday. This is beyond those days, when we were out of Nairobi exploring the famous and popular Masai Mara to not so commercial Mount Longaknot Trek. I have read it somewhere, a person who does not travel much, is living his life in few pages when there is a whole book to experience! This way to live was just mere words for different cultures. Kenya, other than opening a door to the Equatorial, has given a window to share the life experiences of people beyond our culture and dictum. “Dictum” cause we, Indians were religious in upbringing. And though some of us are self proclaimed atheist we are still hard wire to follow RITUALS. A ritual of work, where we get up at seven, go to work, even prefer working through the weekends, not even thinking or realizing how the scales have tilted towards never ending work and Life has slipped away. People, their faces and smiles, where in their culture Bunny Chow is Durban Indian, and for us Indians, we are innocuously amazed at some hidden tribes who used to relish rabbits in India and now have migrated to tribal South Africa! To us, when we meet some, who have travelled and lived, Loved and enjoyed in places where we won’t even offer to venture for want of high rise, business suits and fast cars! Places like Swaziland, Tunisia, Mozambique and Madagascar! They were born here, had an Outdoor life, swam with dolphins, jumped off the cliffs into the blue ocean and have their anecdotes to last a train journey or through the night when one is sheltered in a tree house with nothing better to do, But Listen. Listen to someone outside of you, and there is always a chord in their tune, you will recognize as your own. If not a chord, at least you will find a recipe for that very cocktail, which will last your lifetime. For some of us, we are too Impatient for a cocktail, will obviously make the “Hand Grenades” “Jagger Bombs” “Sambucas” and “Apple Sours” as our high way to last! Last till we share and educate the confidantes back home, till they start craving for the same.

The “art of detachment” the “blessing of let it go” the “Let’s move on” part, would not have been possible for some of us, unless we had decided to put between them and us the whole of Indian Ocean. Surprisingly, it was supposed to be difficult, but when you realize you are standing or even walking with a drink in your hand, into the prettier and greener and cleaner side of Indian Ocean, and the ones you left behind are still struggling in Bagas and Calangutes part of the very same ocean, it just becomes easier.

For some of us, meeting a random guide who is a herpetologist and viper catcher, and has been into National Geographic documentaries, is the key to unfold the intriguing stories of witch doctors, and first rail line in Kisumu, to various species of birds like orange colored Conrad. To some, it’s a rusted black tape recorder and since we are used to LCDs and Flat screens, the intrigue of the voice is Lost. Probably, it’s not even about the advance, or the roads which are due to be built by 2015, or about been bored of the Art Café menu with Caesar salad and Sangrias. For some of us, it’s just beer filled till the brim, and time to pack finally, and head back home. Until, that time, Hope to write a couple of more chapters in the “Amarula Diaries”! -Keshie (Disclaimer: The Indian ocean reference is not for AVS. In life, one does incomprehensible things for people who matter, this is one of those. In-comprehensible!)