So I've made it to another Sunday night. And this one is after the dullest weekend of my time in Nairobi, so I guess the Sunday Night Blues are inevitable.
The Sunday Night Blues have been an affliction in the Grose household since graduation from college. Ah, those heady days of no responsibilities and no work on Monday, just 3 hours of class and then the bliss of putting off reading or studying while spending time goofing off with friends. I wouldn't say the Sunday Night Blues are depression, just more a sort of vague despondency and a resignation that the inevitable Monday is only a few hours away.
In an attempt to rescue myself from boredom, I haul my laptop into my backpack and head for the Starbucks of Nairobi (Nairobi Java House) near where I live in Greenspan Mall. I determine that I will spend the evening watching videos and surfing the net getting caught up on the world's news and just goofing off over the evening.
After I plug in my computer and start writing this post, I am joined by a complete stranger at my table which disturbs me greatly. I am sitting in a 4-top booth that I had intended to keep entirely to myself. I had planned a perfectly funny evening of John Oliver from YouTube and now I can't enjoy laughing out loud with someone, a stranger, sitting at my table. Hopefully this will not last all night.
The Stranger has pulled out his Bible and is reading intently. This does not look good for having a quiet (but funny) evening on my own. I am mortally afraid of being witnessed to against my will. Momentarily, I think I would prefer Guantanamo Bay, but then I think better of that one. He closes his Bible now and is looking around the café as if he is waiting on someone, perhaps someone unknown to him, that will engage him in the conversation that I will not.
Julius, my regular waiter here, brings me great service and superb light conversation. He has also just brought me my Chicken Tandoori Wrap. But wait, a light from my cell phone tells me that I have a text message waiting. The evening could be saved, I hope.
An exchange of texts ensues, but nothing is really determined. You come here. No, you come here; I just got my dinner. No, you come here. You know the drill. Looks like John Oliver and YouTube are back on again.
And so it goes, I have about 6 weeks left in Nairobi and one seriously dull evening was bound to happen. On the bright side, I realize that spending an evening in an internet café is going to be a great way to transition back into my life at home. Home. Such a comforting word right now.
But wait, another text from my friend. It is possible this evening could be interesting after all. We work out a time and place to meet. But I still miss home and right now I can think of nothing I would rather do than have the Sunday Night Blues with Charles.
The Sunday Night Blues have been an affliction in the Grose household since graduation from college. Ah, those heady days of no responsibilities and no work on Monday, just 3 hours of class and then the bliss of putting off reading or studying while spending time goofing off with friends. I wouldn't say the Sunday Night Blues are depression, just more a sort of vague despondency and a resignation that the inevitable Monday is only a few hours away.
In an attempt to rescue myself from boredom, I haul my laptop into my backpack and head for the Starbucks of Nairobi (Nairobi Java House) near where I live in Greenspan Mall. I determine that I will spend the evening watching videos and surfing the net getting caught up on the world's news and just goofing off over the evening.
After I plug in my computer and start writing this post, I am joined by a complete stranger at my table which disturbs me greatly. I am sitting in a 4-top booth that I had intended to keep entirely to myself. I had planned a perfectly funny evening of John Oliver from YouTube and now I can't enjoy laughing out loud with someone, a stranger, sitting at my table. Hopefully this will not last all night.
The Stranger has pulled out his Bible and is reading intently. This does not look good for having a quiet (but funny) evening on my own. I am mortally afraid of being witnessed to against my will. Momentarily, I think I would prefer Guantanamo Bay, but then I think better of that one. He closes his Bible now and is looking around the café as if he is waiting on someone, perhaps someone unknown to him, that will engage him in the conversation that I will not.
Julius, my regular waiter here, brings me great service and superb light conversation. He has also just brought me my Chicken Tandoori Wrap. But wait, a light from my cell phone tells me that I have a text message waiting. The evening could be saved, I hope.
An exchange of texts ensues, but nothing is really determined. You come here. No, you come here; I just got my dinner. No, you come here. You know the drill. Looks like John Oliver and YouTube are back on again.
And so it goes, I have about 6 weeks left in Nairobi and one seriously dull evening was bound to happen. On the bright side, I realize that spending an evening in an internet café is going to be a great way to transition back into my life at home. Home. Such a comforting word right now.
But wait, another text from my friend. It is possible this evening could be interesting after all. We work out a time and place to meet. But I still miss home and right now I can think of nothing I would rather do than have the Sunday Night Blues with Charles.
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