So after a (very) long hiatus, I decided to cycle into work again on Monday, cycling from Watford to Old Street. This is not an inconsiderable distance but compared to my summer internship commute to Canary Wharf from Watford (26 miles each way), it's easier at just 21 miles. Sunday evening was, as always, a series of minor and major procrastinations where, although I was meant to be getting my bike ready for the journey in, I decided to go visit friends, listen to music, watch television and tidy my room.

Waking up bleary eyed on Monday morning, I somehow convinced myself that today was going to be the day I cycle in (the first time is always the hardest - both from a logistical and a psychological point of view). In my pyjamas, I started rummaging around my 'box of bits' in our garden shed looking for my sturdy pannier rack which went with me from Cairo to Capetown (on my bike for the first four weeks and in my suitcase for the last four months when it became obviously useless). I came out, defeated, with another, much less sturdy pannier rack that attaches to a seat post. This loyal pannier rack was what had taken the load of my school books and uniform when I first started commuting in the fat days.

Grudgingly attaching the pannier rack to my carbon seat post (and ever conscious of the increasing probability of my seat post shearing in two horizontally), I managed to fill my panniers with all sorts of 'necessities' - almost everything I needed except for a hoody which I decided would take up too much space. Walking out onto the road in my cycling Android jersey, a delightful gift from my friend at Google, I realised that short sleeve was perhaps a bit short sighted.

Rolling twenty metres down the road, strange noises already started coming from my bike and when I braked to a halt, there was an unnerving juddering. Investigating further, the pannier rack had already come askew and the edge of one of my pannier bags was rattling against the spokes. This is something I was very used to when commuting to school but it took a small leap of faith that my panniers would make it to work in one piece. As for the juddering, it merely seemed to be alignment of my brakes and in true Kenyan style, I figured it would be fine to get me to work.

Sure enough it was, and really the only difficult I had was that the pannier partially unclipped itself at a couple of points during the journey. The handling of the bike with a seat post mounted rack was quite sketchy - my road bike is much lighter than my mountain bike was and the pannier rack must have moved the centre of gravity much higher. Every time I stood up to cycle, the bike was start oscillating quite wildly.

As I got to work, it became harder and harder to unclip. I realised somewhere near Euston that my left SPD clip was missing a single screw. This meant that when I twisted my foot to unclip, the cleat would stay where it was and just rotate around the single retaining screw. When I finally got to Old Street it took a good five minutes of hopping around on my bike to unclip.

The commute overall was pretty damn slow. I left home at 08:30 (admittedly late) and reached work at 10:10. Normally I leave home at 08:25 and reach work at 09:15 when travelling by train. While the distance was slower, the traffic was pretty horrendous and there was no real clear stretch of road. Part of the reason for the traffic is that I was on Euston road - which skirts the congestion charging zone (and presumably carries a higher volume of traffic after 07:00). The frequent traffic lights also kill average speed - at least the route to Canary Wharf has relatively few interruptions!

In a nutshell, I'm not convinced that commuting to Old Street is worth it for me - I might do it a few times a week because of the fitness element but it certainly doesn't compare to public transport when it comes to convenience. At least not in the same way that commuting to Canary Wharf did.

Twilight incoming.
(View in high res)

One day we'll swim across the dock.
(View in high res)

We're in Mombasa at the moment, my last taste of Africa for 2010 (and my first, briefly, of 2011). Nothing has really changed here - it's the same hotel we've been to twice before and the same beach we've visited four times in the last five years. I'm pretty certain that of all the holiday destinations in the world, returning here, to the same place, ranks fairly low on my list.

This lacklustre holiday which, family time aside, feels like a little bit of a waste of time seems typical of my life in general at the moment. I've started as a graduate at a large investment bank (where I interned twice) and absolutely detest the work I am doing at the moment. It's a short first rotation (just two months left) but I wonder if the next will be any better.

The problem I have with this work is not that there's too much of (that's absolutely fine, I have no problem working an 80 hour week if the work merits it) but that it is so incredibly dull and not necessarily that useful in the business sense either. Without going into too much detail, essentially I'm adding missing pieces of functionality to an application to abate pressure caused by internal politics. The functionality (and generally the application itself) isn't complicated, rather just tedious. The tedium of actual development is compounded by the extensive QA process that surrounds any change to the application and while the majority of my changes are new, affect a minority amongst the 3,000 users we have and might only even be used by support - I still spend 60% of my time doing QA tasks.

It feels like I'm wasting my time - this is the time when I can really give it everything but lack motivation to do so. I've barely learnt anything new though in the last three months besides how to use various systems and how to produce QA documentation to satisfy the regulators. This causes a sinking feeling in my stomach every time I talk to (some of) the other graduates and they tell me how much they're learning. I recall my internship where I learnt a huge amount - both of software development and the business need that necessitated our work.

So instead of stagnation, it's almost like recessing. My hire-ability is sinking each week that I learn nothing and forget a little bit more all that I learnt during my Computer Science degree. As my hire-ability sinks, it becomes harder to jump ship, to break out of the circle and to get back onto the true road of career fulfillment. I will not go down without a fight though - my eyes are open and actively scanning for opportunities.

And finally, I'm not the only one - this is a common theme amongst quite a few of my graduate colleagues. My faith in the HR department has been shaken by their failure to place the brightest graduates (who they apparently go to great lengths to hire) in positions which they will enjoy and where they will have their capabilities pushed. Sure, it's not a problem on their side - they often mention how many applicants they get - it is easy to fill our positions as graduates (we should be lucky to be where we are, of course!) but they need to treat us better. It seems that we're regarded and treated as merely numbers - without recognition of the fact that we have different desires, skill levels and ambitions.

This is going to cause two problems: 1) the brightest students will no longer flock to work here in the way they have done (the economic crisis of 2007/8 has already gone a long way to reducing the number of students who are chasing a career in finance) - graduates talk (and I have been talking too) to their peers in the years below and 2) the brightest graduates will leave - several of my colleagues are pursuing potential opportunities elsewhere.

I'm happy to announce that as of yesterday, I managed to get the second of the two visas I need in advance of the trip.

A summary of the countries and their visa requirements:
Egypt - Possible on arrival
Sudan - Need visa beforehand
Ethiopia - Need a visa beforehand
Kenya - On arrival, but preferable to arrange beforehand
Tanzania - Possible on arrival
Malawi - No visa required
Zambia - On arrival or arrange beforehand
Botswana - No visa required
Namibia - No visa required
South Africa - No visa required

Of the two necessary to arrange in advance, the Sudanese visa was the most difficult. I abhor the amount of bureaucracy that is necessary to obtain access to their country. It took several visits to get my Indian visa because I was an informal volunteer (as opposed to volunteering through a formally arranged scheme) and the bureacrats at most embassies can't deal with special cases.

In any case, it seems Sudan is an exceptionally difficult country to gain access to, I hope it's worth the effort. In total, I visited the embassy five times before walking away with my visa. Over summer when I contacted them (being some sort of pseudo-organised traveller), they mentioned it would take three months for the visa application to be processed. After struggling to download the form from their virus infested embassy website, I made the trip in person and dropped off the form.

Roll along to October, approximately two months later and Tour D'Afrique decided to tell us them when to apply for the Sudanese visa. While none of this information was in the registration pack they sent us some time ago, it seems we were supposed to just wait to be told what to do. With their email, several letters of support (one in Arabic) and a magical authorisation number were given. When I contacted the embassy about my original application, they answered with all the enthusiasm of a graveyard shift shelf stacker and told me there was no sign of it. So much for being organised.

On my return to England in December, I called up the Sudanese embassy to find out what the best way to apply was - the lady on the phone said 'it's up to you. Do what you like! It makes no difference to me.' Helpful, neh? I went in person armed with all the various letters of support, only to forget the necessary passport photographs on my desk at home. After an hour of cycling around trying to find a photo booth (which had all conveniently been removed just previously), I rushed into the visa office with minutes to spare before it shut for lunch. At this point the bureaucrat at the desk told me that they required some kind of 'certificate' from the organisation in Sudan which my tour was affiliated with. Facepalm moment, oh yes.

I reread the various emails we had been sent and contacted the TDA office, realising that I had forgotten the magic 4 digit authorisation number. Another long trip into London and I got into the office just after it opened. This time the gentleman behind the counter nodded and told me that, much to my relief, my passport would be ready to collect at 3pm.

This gave me about 6 hours in London to kill, much of which I spent at Condor Cycles, looking on at all the various shiny bike bits they have and buying brake studs for Calamity Jane. After eating lunch with Phil and checking out some of the (superb) exhibitions on at the British Library, I went to pick up my passport. A quick glance through the pages confirmed my luck - I had a Sudanese visa!

The Ethiopian visa I attempted on my return from our family holiday to Mombasa. This was supposedly straightforward but blocked as soon as the lady behind the counter read my form. 'You need an address. An address where you will be staying!', I tried explaining to her that we wouldn't be staying in one place and that the accompanying support letter outlined the route we would be taking. This seemed to irritate her though and she started getting visibly frustrated, 'You please just write on the form where you will be staying in Addis Ababa. There is box for you name on visa form but your name is written on letter to. You do not write to see support letter in box for you name.'

I understood what she was saying and wasn't sure what address to put down, a quick email from an internet cafe, while I was photocopying my passport, to the other group of British TDA cyclists yielded some help and it seems that they had simply written what was on the letter in the box. I did the same, which seemed to satisfy this bureaucrat and when I rocked up at the embassy a couple of days later, she handed me my passport with a smile and wished me a good trip to Ethiopia.

P.S. I'm aware that the titles of these last few posts have been rather dull and will endeavour to improve their creativity as time progresses and the subject matter of these posts becomes more interesting.

P.P.S. Did you know Ethiopia is the land of coffee?

P.P.P.S. I understand that post scripts are redundant with modern computers but I like them anyway.