100 days ago, I was standing in the passport line, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, trying to awaken muscles cramped from 30 hours in a flying metal tube.

100 days ago, I took a picture (with my now-gone camera) of the welcoming billboard that said “SMILE – YOU’RE IN KENYA”

100 days ago, I was wondering what the next 100 days were going to be, and in the ensuing time have pretty much dodged every expectation I TRIED not to have but did anyway.

I apologize in advance for the cliché, but it feels like no time at all as well as an eternity. These have been 100 of the most eventful days of my life – and I’ve had, if you’ll forgive me for saying, a slightly exciting one. Rather than a tedious recap of EVERY SINGLE THING I’ve learned, I’ll instead post some highlights. A sampling, if you will.

Ten Things I’ve Learned So Far In Kenya

10. Never try to hitchhike with AMREF, UNICEF, priests, or safari companies. They won’t stop for you.

9. Government of Kenya/Ministry vehicles might, though.

8. Every Kenyan can dance better than you. Yes, all of them. Yes, even that one.

7. Don’t pick a fight with an insect unless you’re SURE you have enough Doom spray to finish it.

6. All Kenyan children have the power of invisibility. And are ninjas. For serious. This is particularly useful when they zero in on you for stealth-mode “HOW ARE YOU!!” attacks.

5. There’s a shortcut through every cornfield. It might not always lead you to the place you originally intended to go, but it’s still there, and you should take it. Stop asking questions.

4. Clown cars have nothing on matatus. Think you’re defying the laws of physics as it is? Think again. There’s ALWAYS room for one more.

3. Kicking open the choo [outhouse] door like you’re Jean Claude Van Dam in Gratuitous Explosions, Part Seven: Now He’s Pissed will scare off the rats the size of your fist, but has no effect on the spiders the size of your face.

2. “Maridadi” means beautiful. “Madidi” isn’t a word. “Matiti” means boobs. Keep them straight.

1. When everyone tells you that no matter how well you *think* you’re prepared you’re still in for one hell of a rollercoaster … they’re right. Just go with it.

One final note: as 36 we boarded the plane from America, as 36 we swore in, and now, as 36, we celebrate our first hundred days. I heart you guys so hard. Here’s to many more; can’t wait to raise a glass to that in less than two weeks.