How am I? I am fine. Thank you. How are you? How am I? I am fine. How am I?  I am peachy. Fine! Good! Wonderful even, and a bit tired of the whole world asking me this question.

But I think I might miss the ubiquitous question of “Hello. How are you?” asked often of every mzungu at large in Kenya from small villages to the streets of Nairobi where both children and adults all want to know how I am.  Such a state of interrogative affairs lends itself to constant introspection, which mixed with the standard fare of end of trip reflection makes for quite the self analysis.

For me it’s back to the glorious grind of New York, my staging ground for germinating plans and plots of publishing.

I’m penning this post at the Stanley Hotel, where I stopped for an overpriced coffee to pay homage to Hemingway’s ghost.  He used to stay here when he was in Nairobi.

I am two chapters into Islands in the Stream, which is both Hemingway’s last book and the last one I have yet to read. You only get to read thins for the first time one, so I have been waiting on this until, well, now.

Yesterday was a flurry of saying goodbyes to the friends I’ve made here, one final run on the scenic goat filled trails and saying adios to Jackson, a Maasai goat herder I’d hang out with when I ran up to his hill.

He taught me more about goats then I ever dreamed of learning. I had plans to, of buying a goat, cooking it over an open fire in the street and inviting the whole neighborhood to a fiesta. That is what I have left undone, for as we well know, plans of mice and men, particularly ones involving goats, often go awry.

Anyways, I gotta blow this internet cafe and pack. Good bye Kenya, I’ll see you when I’ll see you.