NOLA, again (and always)

(Ok, I know I said all new blogs would be current... However, this entry from my last trip to New Orleans never made it to the blog for some reason. And I am heading down there again tomorrow, so it's still applicable.)

Scanning the radio as I leave New Orleans, I hear a term that confuses me – “patchy.” All over the traffic reports, during Monday morning rush hour, there are accounts of patchiness. This statement is confusing for an Atlantan. Not once, ever, have I heard the term patchy used to refer to traffic. Coagulation, jammed, at-a-complete-stop, shutdown, horror! – these are the terms I am used to. “When am I going to move to New Orleans?,” I think to myself for maybe the fiftieth time since I arrived on Thursday afternoon.

The problem is, without fail, I always leave a piece of my heart in this city. Ok, I admit, I tend to fall in love with cities and places like certain women fall in love with men – often and easily. Edinburgh is that one man that you had that fabulous romance with, the one you still think of often and wonder what-could-have-been; but alas you had to part. Paris was a lurid love affair – so indulgent and beautiful. New York is the “fun guy” who is exactly what you need when you need it. Albuquerque is that one crunchy dude you dated in college who you didn’t quite understand. Boston is the hipster guy you met that one night having beers at the book launch. Atlanta is your high school boyfriend who you sometimes resent after all these years, but then there is all that history and so you keep returning.

Oh but NOLA, the fabulous characters and music and food that fill the streets with life steal my heart again and again. The beauty of the buildings and the smiling faces and the signs of survival and perseverance get to me, every time. I’m seduced by its atmosphere and culture. I hate so to leave. So the problem is I keep losing a bit of my heart to NOLA – and with half of my heart already buried beneath the cobblestoned streets of Edinburgh, I will soon be heartless. I think I must go and reclaim my heart at some point, I must forever.

(Starting tomorrow . . .)

New Shoes

I’m not a “shoe girl.” I’m not one of those girls who has a different pair of shoes for every outfit. In fact, I think I have a grand total of nine pairs. I’m not one of those girls who loves high heels. In fact, I kind of hate the way high heels make me taller and make so much noise when I walk. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to shoe shop for fun. No, I wear the same three pairs of shoes until they are ragged and only shop for shoes when it is absolutely necessary. (I think I’ve mentioned of late that I don’t like to shop generally.) I’m not a shoe girl. I’d rather be barefoot, always.

But today, today I bought three new pairs of shoes:

I’ve been walking in Freedom Park before work each morning and getting ready in the gym bathroom. Well, today, while I was getting ready, I realized that I had forgotten to put work shoes in my gym bag – crap! Living what seems hundreds of miles from where I work, returning home to grab a pair was not an option. And being 7:45 am, there were no shops open that sell appropriate shoes. In fact, the third tier option – the pharmacy – wasn’t even open yet. But the clerk who was coming in for work said that they did, in fact, sell flip flops. So I waited outside the pharmacy, wearing my very professional looking dress and tennis shoes, until 8 o’clock when Rite Aid opened.

So the flip flops – the flip flops were awful! They were made of foam. They were wedges. They sparkled a little. They were brown – my dress was black. But they were better than my Nike running shoes, kind of. So I bought the freaking foam-wedge flip flops.

Well, from there, the day just went downward. Nothing of particular horror happened, but it was just crummy. I just felt crummy.

I blame the freaking foam-wedge flip flops. Every time I looked down at my feet I felt out of place – like I didn’t fit in and stuck out like a sore thumb. Every time I walked across the room – flip flop, flip flop – the noise reminded me of how ridiculous those things were. Confidence was shot. And what can you achieve without confidence. Nothing.

F-ing foam-wedge flip flops ruined my day.

So on the way home, I stopped at DSW where I had a coupon. I bought two pairs of brand new shoes – sensibly cute flats, though one pair is red. Today, I spent $50 to buy three pairs of shoes. And while I know that a lot of people spend twice as much on just one pair of shoes, I do not. I blame the flip flops, really.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear my new red shoes and see if I have a better day.

“Hey, I put some new shoes on and suddenly everything is right
I said, hey, I put some new shoes on and everybody’s smiling . . .” – Paulo Nutini

6/4/11 Two Face . . . Batman?

(This is the last Tanzania related blog.. or at least it is the last one from my journal. From now the blogs will be from my current state of mind, in stead of from the past. It will likely be less frequent and less wordy - maybe then I can get Dad to read it, maybe not. Enjoy.)

How does ‘hakuna matata’ relate to this world I live in? I’m pretty sure that it is no longer appropriate to make that response when there seems to be more than minor complications. People want problems identified, solutions offered – I want these things.

But understanding that really, is this a problem, really? Understanding that usually life will go on anyway and that this problem will somehow be absolved or addressed whether you stress over it or not is a good philosophy to keep. Hakuna matata. It seems to be largely based in perspective.

And yet, I find myself wanting to do. I make my plans and my lists (so many freaking lists). I strive to be productive and goal oriented – this seems to be my nature.

But I long to be laid back and worry free. I think I occasionally achieve this.

I wonder . . . can ambition and freedom of mind coexist? I see the value of both and long to achieve some sort of balance. I think this is something I have often struggled with – this wanting to achieve and wanting to go where life leads. At this point in my life, my desire towards both is amplified. Surely, there is a way to balance dueling values.

In Tanzania, my fellow travelers nicknamed me “The Riddler” (thanks Shelli) because I tend to ask a lot of questions. I’m not a fan of this nickname. Searching for another, I might suggest “Two Face” as an alternative. Not because I feel as if I am two-faced, but because of my battle with balancing life philosophies. Balancing the experience lover in me (brought to the forefront by Tanzania) and my need to stay super productive is like juggling two identities, pulling out each as the circumstances fit . . .

Come to think of it, most superheroes have alter egos, right? Maybe then, I could be “Batman?” Maybe not.

6/2/11-6/3/11 Home

6/2/11 Home again.

Woke at 6:00am.

Today was filled with laundry, uploading pictures, and sorting emails. (The latter two things still need work.) Rae, Eric, and Katie Mae came over last night and I gave them their souvenirs, which they seemed to appreciate. (Katie Mae is so freaking cute, btw.) But by the time they left I was exhausted and cranky. I nearly fell asleep in the bath – a nice, hot bath.

I did not get out of my pajamas today. That was super nice. But I did shave my legs. (I deserve a pat on the back for that.)

I miss Tanzania. I want to go play with lions. But I suppose I am here now and should re-engage in real life tomorrow. And I guess I’ll settle for playing with my cats – who missed me as much as I missed them, obviously.

6/3/11 Reintroduction

If real life is coffee shop, lunch with the BFF, haircut, movie, and making dinner, I did it. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s life. That’s the weekend. But it was a nice reintroduction to life.

I am appreciating the things I didn’t realize I missed. Wearing makeup today was bizarre – I kept looking at myself in the mirror and being a teensy bit surprised. Mmm, good coffee, no cooked vegetables, tap water – very nice! (Also, I’m finding it awkward to use tap water to brush my teeth. I keep looking for my bottled water when I do it.) Scented lotions and soaps; I didn’t think I liked scented things so much. Wearing a dress that showed my knees was also surprisingly nice. And driving. I do love driving. (And without my life being endangered!)

It was altogether a lovely day. I think I’ll make it after all – wow, was that Mary Tyler Moore? Sorry.

5/31/11-6/1/11 Coming Home

5/31/11 Departing/returning

Final breakfast. Packed. Waiting for final discussion group and lunch before we head to the airport this evening. (Discussion group is supposed to begin at 11:00 – I guess it will begin by 11:30. Lunch will probably end around 4:00. Flight at 11:00pm)

. . . I was right. We got back just at 4:00. In an attempt to combat jet lag I took a nap so that I might stay awake on our first flight. Ready now, or as ready as possible, to go.

Driving through the city today, I took in as many sights as possible – the PSAs, the street children begging, the peddlers, the barber shops. Lunch was at a hotel on the ocean. We began sitting in the shade under the sky but just before rain poured down we moved under shelter. The view of the clear waters and the waves crashing against the cliff was picturesque. hmm . . . b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l.

Side note: our discussion today reviewed the program overall and Dr. Lewis asked for suggestions for improvement. Others indicated that a service project should be implemented. I don’t agree. I think such a short term project would be useless. It would only be a self-serving exercise – to let us feel good about ourselves. I think this would satisfy our initial desire to want to help. But then, once we were satisfied would we want to continue to work towards ongoing change? I doubt it. No, I think a trip of this capacity should serve to expose us to the realities that people face, educate us about issues, and motivate us to take true action (or at least raise awareness). I do think keeping connected as a group and to Tanzanian issues is important on return, though. I also think that we should spend a little more time with locals personally rather than simply observing, somehow.

Boarding the plane (at 11:15), the locusts no longer bid us farewell, the heat is no longer hot, the humidity tempered. Winter is beginning to set in, has I suppose, in the three weeks since our arrival. “Qwa heri.” Goodbye Tanzania. Back at Juba adieus lasted too long, of course. Now, flying over Dar, I wonder, “Where did all those lights come from?” It is not so bright on the ground; it is not so bright really, here. Looking over the man sitting in my coveted window seat, the lights twinkle like stars on the ground – expansive as space and ever so delicately.

Onward to Amsterdam. Plan – stay awake this flight and sleep the next. Must. Combat. Jetlag.

6/1/11 Onward

Phew, because our flight was delayed leaving Dar we were forced to run across the Amsterdam airport to catch our connecting flight. Dr. Lewis and others were surprised by my speed and determination – “She’s so quiet and calm, who knew?” I can pull out a New York walk when I need to – fast, weaving, and taking no prisoners. (I remember Ashley was surprised by my walking skills in NYC this fall too, and she’s known me for over 13 years.)

P.S. I achieved my goal of staying awake on the last flight minus 10-20 minutes, maybe. There were glitches in the plan though. The movies and music on the plane were very limited and not working properly. (Also not on demand and often not in the language chosen, but I made it work.)

Next stop Detroit for a 3-hour layover. Sleep calls me as soon as I see this takeoff from my window seat

Through customs (not so bad in Detroit). I don’t feel like I am back in the U.S. I remind myself that I no longer need my passport for the remainder of this trip. Slowly images of the U.S. sink in – fast food, Mexican food, overweight people, cell phones everywhere. On the plane, America sets in further – we will be leaving on time, we no longer have the luxury of international flight entertainment, and there are babies crying.

Home sweet home.

After arrival in Atlanta, we exchange our final discussions of intestinal regularity and how we feel about being home. We grab our baggage and our loved ones and part ways. See you soon!

Time to readjust.

Salad and ice cream for dinner.

5/30/11 Wrapping up

As I tuck in my mosquito net for the last night, a stroke of sadness comes over me. I really am leaving tomorrow – flying back to coffee and productivity. The 24 hour flight is not calling me. I want to stay locked beneath my blue net until it is safe to come out without the threat of departure. But alas, I must return and continue on my path. (I am looking forward to coffee, actually, and seeing my family and animals . . . and ok, I’ll admit it, I am looking forward to productivity. My lists lay in my folder waiting for my inspection and completion.)

Our last full day of Africa was free of any plans. Polina and I set out this morning for our final, final bit of shopping. Done for real now. And I got a great bargain from my rafiki, the shoe salesman. On our way back toward the hotel we stopped for some impulse purchases – Masai earrings. The man told us 1,000 Tsh each – awesome. After we paid and were about to leave, a woman speaking Swahili came up to him and began shouting. She apparently had made those earrings and was demanding that he ask more for them from us. He shook his head and waved us on as she berated him and then she began to shout at us. As we walked away, she followed us briefly. This was a very surprising encounter.

We made our way back, avoiding buses and taxis on the crowded streets like pros. Our lives still in danger, but more protected now that we are accustomed to dodging vehicles. Water and oranges purchased, we cooled off in the air conditioning just in time for the electricity to go out. It’s not too hot out today, so the intermittent electricity was not a big issue. (One father at breakfast held his baby wrapped in blankets and a hat as if it were even the slightest bit chilly. I suppose when summer is 120+ degrees, 80 degrees is cold.)

After working on my final paper (hand written!), Aja, Jessica, and I got henna at the beauty shop around the corner. The women here spoke nearly zero English and with our limited knowledge of Swahili, negotiations took nearly 30 minutes. (But they certainly weren’t going to let us walk away.) We sat getting painted one at a time while the other women (employees? family? who knows.) literally lounged on the floor and in chairs chatting loudly about who knows what. Visitors stopped in to show what they were selling today and chat with the others. A man stopped by (but did not enter the shop) to collect empty bottles to recycle. As we were waiting for our beautiful designs to dry, the ladies fixed their lunch – ugali (mounds of grits-like starch) and chicken and okra stew. They sat on the floor eating without utensils and chatting. They offered us some and told us what it was, though we politely declined. “Asante.” We thanked the ladies for their art, their company, their hospitality, and their cultural experience with a simple “asante sana” as we left.

Back at Juba, we lounged and chatted ourselves while finishing our papers (from time to time). Packing is pretty much finished (what little I am taking home). Only sleep awaits. But the sooner I sleep, the quicker the last day comes. I am fighting my burning eyes; I will give in. And I will be happy to be home. But I will miss Tanzania much.

5/29/11 Growth

Looking out the window overlooking Dar es Salaam this morning, it seems changed. I no longer look at it and see outdated buildings, muddy streets, and tin roofed shacks. In fact, I thought, “The streets are clean and it looks like a beautiful day.” At 8 o’clock, bustle has yet to arrive. The woman in the home below does laundry. The smell of smoke wafts upward through the hotel stairwell from the surrounding homes – are they cooking, heating water, burning waste with that fire? My familiar breakfast – lots of fruit, cabbage, and samosas – was tasty. When asked how he was, Mohammed, a waiter from the restaurant who we know lives in the ‘slums,’ replied with his whole-face-smile, “I’m existing; I’m happy.”

Shopping at Mwange was a much better experience for me . . . Here, it caters a little less to tourists so they were far less aggressive. Plus, because it is Sunday (is it, really?) there were very few people there. Yay! I pretty much finished my shopping. I was so proud of my finds and accomplishment. (Also, very proud of my usage of Swahili today. The shop owners were complimentary of it too, which was nice even if they were only trying to sell me their goods.) It did help that I didn’t have the pressure of limited time. I spent time talking with the merchants and doing the back and forth to build a little relationship. Yes! I passed my social skills portion of this trip.

An illustrative moment: I spent a good amount of time looking in a shop gathering things that I wanted and chatting with the merchant. “Pole pole, let me take my time.” I negotiated and negotiated and was not going to change my price for the things I wanted. He deferred to the woman in the shop (never a good sign), and said that she just couldn’t do that price. I stayed at my level and walked out the door. He stopped me and asked me to follow him a couple of doors down. There, he spoke to the man and began gathering the things I had chosen from his shop. He gave me my price and told me to tell my friends he gave me a good price. Sweet!

The rest of the afternoon was passed with a 2 ½ hour dinner filled with laughter, per usual. And gelato – yum! (Makes up for the less than perfect dinner – ask Jessica about her eggplant . . . or don’t, if you ever plan to eat eggplant again.)

I truly could stay here indefinitely, I think. (I am a bit tired of the group thing though. It just seems a hassle to go around as twelve so often, and tempers are being tested in our last days.) Now that I’ve learned to shop, I know I can make it.