164 | Acquainted with the Night, by Robert Frost

Nairobi, Kenya

The tropics of Nairobi suit me better than Saudi’s desert. It’s cool and green; I hear insects and birds; it’s Eden.

To reinforce the notion that the destination is unimportant, I’ve taken a spontaneous break from cycling. (I also wanted to dance). So my bike is in Jeddah while I am at 113 Loresho Crescent, in Western Nairobi. Going from seeing none of my friends to seeing a bunch of them is joyous.

On Wednesday I’ll again be cutting across the deserts, past Riyad towards Bahrain, for three weeks. I’ll be sleeping under stars.

In Saudi night rolls in at six, so the evenings are long. Plenty of time to read. In the following poem, Frost captures the wonder of walking around at night. I love it.

Acquainted with the Night, by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. 
I have been one acquainted with the night

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Live well,

Hector