I am now listening to the evening choir practicing. I do not think I will get tired of this music as I did of the men banging on drums in the Museum Park behind my apartment in Nairobi. The percussions are beautiful, each voice is unique, and the build of the church wings amplifies all sounds into a beautiful chorus. My neighbour next to me, a very interesting American professor writing about Christian responses to the war in Northern Uganda, is doing yoga. The sun is setting in streaks of pink over the jungle. Children laughing in the background as everyone prepares for dinner and bed. A run earlier, was successfully sweaty and embarrassing. I drink water out of empty bottles with labels like “Bond 7, Extra Smooth Whisky.” I might attempt to venture into Gulu Town for the Northern interpretation of quiz night, originally started at a mostly foreigners-hosting bar called Bubbles in the capital. La vie, c’est pas mal.