Ummm… okay… so my plans have just shattered, splattered, fallen to pieces on the floor and I’m thinking… what better way to capture the moment than by sharing it all with you?! Ready for this? Oh my goodness.
Left my latest and greatest home at the lovely hour of 4am to start the crammed bus journey from Tofo to Maputo. Maputo is the big city where I was to wrap it all up and start the next part of my adventures. The bus ride is a miserable one; people and possessions piled in layers, typical African style, unable to move, get comfortable, or generally breathe for a good solid 8 – 9 hours with the heat and the smells becoming more and more oppressive as the sun rises higher in the sky. It’s a rite of passage here and we all sympathize with locals and travelers alike who must participate in this often unavoidable evil . Got through it with minimal discomfort or delay, got into my hostel, and headed out for the long walk to the Canadian High Commission to pick up my new passport (which had finally arrived after MUCH hassle and hysteria). New passport in hand, plane ticket printed off before I left Tofo and I was feeling pretty happy that I had just experienced a fairly successful day considering where I am. The last chore left was to exchange money and I have a whole day and a half to do it before I’m due to get on my flight. Loads of time to waste. Loads.
Got online around 7pm tonight to catch up on what I’ve missed over the last couple of days and got the following email:
Dear Janice,
I am sorry to inform you that the position I have offered you as teacher at the British International School Ghana is no longer available.
I was just informed this morning, that the school has undergone new management changes, and they have decided that no new teachers are needed at the present.
I am truly sorry for all the inconvenience that this has caused you and I was just as shocked and upset as you probably are now with this decision. Any compensation for either visas or purchased tickets may be dealt with with the school directly, contacts below.
Read it over and over and over. This can’t be real. This must be a joke. I’ve just quit my job, arrived in Maputo TODAY, am set to fly in less than 48 hours, and I have just received this little tidbit of “by the way” news sent a few hours earlier. WTF? was repeated in my head several times, then I just started laughing. Laughing because at this point, what else can I do? I have no job, have no possibility to change the plane tickets without incurring astronomical fees, and now, apparently, nowhere to go to. Oh, and since travel around Africa is ridiculously expensive, my tickets to get from here to Florida to visit the folks and then back to Ghana to start what I assumed was to be my new life… just under $3000. Brand new credit card is properly worked in but now no way to pay it off. Gulp. Again, WTF?! Oh, I mean… Bahahahaha! OF COURSE the job is “no longer available”, of course. I’ve been in Africa for 15 months… how on EARTH did I think that this was really going to come together?! Silly me, silly, silly me.
The journey back from Mozambique was thankfully, blissfully uneventful. Two very quick little stops and the big flight, from Johannesburg to Atlanta, turned out to be only 16 & ½ hrs instead of 17 & ½ hrs. I was talking to Nicola just before I left and had, for the first time, really looked at the details of my flights; can planes really stay in the air for 17 & ½ hrs?!?! I mean, don’t they have to refuel or get more supplies or SOMETHING?! For all of the travelling I’ve been fortunate enough to have done, I’m still apparently very, very dumb. But yeah, window seats the whole way (thanks for double checking mom!) and that long haul flight was pretty darn impressive. When was the last time you heard anyone have something good to say about airlines or flying in general? Well sit up and take note people! Today is the day! Flew Delta, in one of their new 777s (I think. I really don’t have a clue.) It was one of those big ole planes with three rows of three across in each one, every seat full. You know, those planes where if it goes down, the fatality numbers will be so high that it WILL make international news for at least one day. Yeah, I think about those things. Seats were bigger than I remember, and really kinda comfy. At this point, my life of African depravity was really paying off.
The little movie/entertainment thingy jiggy that’s in the back of the seat in front of you had a whole library of movies, TV shows, music, games and all kinds of things to play with! I’ve had the toy before on planes, but this one was really cool! Really! So I watched movies and listened to tunes and soaked up media luxuries that I haven’t had in such a long time. While I was thoroughly pleased with my travel turn of events, I did feel badly for the couple who was sitting in the aisle and middle seats alongside me. 16 & ½ hrs people… 1. I have trouble sitting still for any length of time if there IS the possibility to move, and 2. I have to pee A LOT! If I drink one litre of water, I will pee out two litres… seriously! Anyone who has done any road tripping with me can verify this (right Dye family?) I will purposely flirt with the ails of dehydration to avoid inconveniencing travel mates with the annoying and incessant pee breaks but on a plane, sorry folks, I gulp as much water as I can and I gotta get out of my seat. OH! I forgot to tell you about the check in BEFORE the 16 & ½ hr flight (can you tell that I still think this was an extremely long period of time to be suspended in mid air?!)
So yay! Jo-burg airport is lovely. Sad that I’ve been rural for so long that I was gleefully overwhelmed with how posh I thought the AIRPORT was!!! (That being said, it WAS just all dolled up to accommodate the World Cup last year so yeah, it was kinda posh) Ran into a friend from Tofo in the airport so that made it all the better as we rushed about in a last minute little visit. Okay. Arrive at my departure gate and see these two enormously long lines just to get INTO the sitting area. *sigh* Whatever. I’m getting good at waiting. Plop my stuff down in one line and the man behind me gently points out that I’m in the wrong “gender sensitive” line. Pardon? Oh. One line for ladies, one line for men. Ummm… I’m not flying into Saudi, I’m flying into the USA. I look ahead to see pat down searches before entering the ALREADY SECURE gate area. Are you kidding me? I’ve been through scanners and gate checks, simply walked from one plane to the next and oh yeah, apparently managed to McGyver myself a home-made nuclear bomb from chewing gum wrappers and toothpicks in the meantime. Seriously people… come on! So pat, pat, pat, cheap little feel up, take away all water bottles if you don’t have a receipt (which of course no one does because who the hell GETS and then KEEPS their receipt for a bottle of water?!?!), carryon bags searched, ID needed before stepping on to the plane itself after already presenting it with our boarding pass and then we are herded onto the jumbo jet. Lucky it was a nice plane because just there were some seriously grouchy people after that little boarding process. I was just giddy to be on the move in something that wasn’t held together with rust, paint chips, bits of string, and superglue. FANNN – CY!
Oooooo! Speaking of fancy… the food! Again folks, when was the last time that you heard people excited about air travel yet here it is?! The food was SO good and came so often that I even turned stuff down. No kidding! Shocking for those of you who know me and my bizarre need for food even though I’m not the least bit hungry. But yeah, the food was incredible. Maybe because I’ve not seen much of what they were serving for quite some time, maybe because I love all things “mini” (mini bottles of condiments, mini portions of food packaging, mini sized serving dishes, etc), maybe I was just delusional but I was full, full, FULL and still they were bringing more. Don’t know about the little domestic flights but people, if ever you need to fly for the majority of an entire day somewhere across the world, Delta is the way to go. (Think I can get a spokesperson gig to tide me over until I find work?)
Loved the latest and greatest modern travel and avoided all thoughts of now having nothing to do with my life for the moment. Unemployed, homeless, and wandering… wow… what aspirations, what lofty goals, what a success story! *sigh* Please don’t judge me. I keep telling myself that I’m just “on holiday”.
Since I’ve settled into my parents’ winter time retirement village home, I’ve been corresponding with the school in Ghana in attempts to recover some of the insane flight bills I’ve racked up making plans to get there. The school says that the company will reimburse me for my expenses, I’ve cancelled what I could and sent receipts, but am still sitting, waiting, hoping that I’m not being hopelessly naïve in all of this. Am I being naïve? Should we place bets on if I’ll receive any compensation? Maybe I can pay off some of my bills with the winnings? Takers? Please? Oh love a duck… I’m not getting any money back, am I?
So here I sit, in this very lovely “age qualified” community (which is really, REALLY cute!) trying to figure out what’s next. I am missing Africa desperately and the pain is a little sharper knowing that I didn’t even consider saying goodbye as I had planned to be back in a couple of weeks. But it all happens for a reason, my universe keeps making way for my continued adventures, and I simply have to look at this as a lesson in patience. Right? Right. Always more adventure. Enough with the planning, we’ll just have to see what comes next. Africa is still there and I will find my way back… eventually. Think there are any ancient village chiefs out there who might be interested in a white wife? Betcha I can find one….
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Malaria is messy
I believe in the ability to jinx myself; 100%, sure as the sun will come up tomorrow, completely, utterly, totally, absolutely. And I jinxed myself. Who foolishly and smugly bragged that after my first successful journey in Africa, I walked away still immune to malaria? Me. Who got knocked flat on her smug little ass less than what? two weeks after posting that ridiculous, over-inflated claim? Oh yeah folks, that would be me. So thank you universe, for putting me in my place and showing me who is boss. You win, yet again. I got malaria.
It started so simply. A few days of increasing lower back pain. At first it was annoying and easy enough to dismiss. On the Tuesday, it started to catch my breath a bit as the pain would come in sharper waves before it faded. A co-worker and I chatted about it, thinking maybe a kidney infection as there were no other symptoms and the pain had been consistent over the past couple of days. He was going to find me some incredibly effective, ultimately disgusting local herbs that work wonders on curing kidney illnesses. I was popping Tylenol. By Wednesday, the “episodes” had me bent in half, clutching my lower back with one hand and the nearest stable surface with the other while I gasped for breath and yelped with the pain that it caused to take a deep breath. I looked like an 85 year old woman. Comical. Pathetic. I have the day off tomorrow, I’ll sort something out then.
Thursday, day off, arrived for a morning dive. Weeds, I mean herbs, HERBS were presented, smelling horridly effective and I said I would make them into tea after my dive.
*** tangent topic*** broke my fin strap just before rolling off the boat for the dive, did the whole thing with one fin… COMPLETE SPAZZ! But a one-fin dive is still better than no dive at all!***
Okay, back on track. After the dive, I was pretty exhausted but had been feeling tired all week, chalked it up to the dive, and dismissed it, along with the going on day 4 stitch in my side kidney pain. A friend of mine had offered me a lift into town and I had things to do – let’s get a move on! Went to town to run a few errands (like pick up a care & love parcel from mom & dad that saved my life!!!) and met back up with my friend in the central market. I was simply standing there, talking to her, when my power went out. Someone flicked a switch, pulled the plug, dropped the curtain, something, but in an instant, I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t lift my arms and could barely hold my head up. I had to sit down. I dragged myself to sit on the curb by the car and couldn’t keep my eyes open as I dropped my head into my arms wrapped around my knees. What the hell was going on here? Two local kids came by asking for money, I offered to give one some if he could go get me a bottle of water, I could barely speak. My friend came back and we made our way home.
Sitting in the car, I felt a bit better. I leaned my head back and tried to talk but my tongue didn’t feel right, it was too big, the words were getting all mumbled up and it was taking forever to get my thoughts out. I sounded drunk or like I should have been wearing a special ed helmet. I was a bit of a mess. Again, just thought I was maybe exhausted from the week and the heat and the dive and simply needed a nap. And in the back of my mind, I was thinking that maybe I really did have a kidney infection and I needed to sort this out.
As luck would have it, I had been house-sitting again at a house that is a two minute walk from my dive shop. I dragged myself into the house, flopped into bed, then had the unusual sense to check my temperature before I lost complete conscious thought. 38.8C. Texted Nicola at work to see what normal was, 36.4 – 37.4C. Oh. Fever. But I’ll figure it out later. I MUST sleep. Out.
Nicola came by after work, I thought I had been asleep for maybe half an hour, but apparently I didn’t move for several. Giggled at the mess of my current state of appearance, pillow wrinkled face and wicked wild hair, and assured her I was fine. She didn’t believe me. Janice, look at you, you have malaria. Oh don’t be ridiculous. Took my temperature again. 39.2C. Shit. That’s not good. Aching everywhere, was struggling to move, but again, just thought it was because I had been sleeping funny and diving with one fin earlier. Nicola had a horrendous bout of malaria a few months ago and she was serious… I had malaria. Nope. Impossible.
Her boyfriend Hennie arrived shortly after. South African sweetheart who really and truly can do absolutely anything you would ever possibly need to survive anywhere under any circumstances EVER. He took one look at me, we check-listed the symptoms, yup, malaria. Oh my gosh you guys! I feel like hell but I don’t have malaria! Back and forth we lob the arguments but ultimately, it was too late to go get tested so there was nothing to do but get through the night and see how things look in the morning. I’ll be fine, I just need sleep. Wow. Sheesh! I’m FINE!
The full body pain took my breath away, the fever stuck, and I drifted in & out until the sun came up. I took Tylenol to try to break the fever and deal with the pain but it barely touched either and I could feel the intensity of each one creeping its way back up as the pills faded from my system. It was fascinating. I couldn’t roll over, I couldn’t lift my head, my kidney pain now felt like a hatchet in my side, I just couldn’t control what was happening to me. Nicola checked in again in the morning and arranged for a friend of ours to take me to get a malaria test. (If you can’t tell by now, she truly is my guardian angel!) I HAD to have a shower but every moment was in slow motion, focused and deliberate, every movement sent varying coloured flashes of pain to my head that I couldn’t clear. It was all so foreign to me. I just want to get stuff done.
First stop at a local clinic, no tests, next place, finger prick test. Local clinic means small concrete building on the side of a main road with moms and sick babies sitting on every available bit of space and random puddles of who knows what here and there that I just couldn’t think about. I didn’t register the condition of any of them or the clinics, I was blind with my pain by this point. Test… negative. See! Told you guys! Umm… Janice, did you take any meds this morning? Of course I did! Yeah, pain / fever meds apparently block malaria tests. *sigh* Whatever. It’s a kidney infection. Please take me home. I need to go to bed. Dropped into bed, moaning and whimpering like a pathetic and helpless wimp, still insisting I didn’t have malaria. Passed out. Apparently for hours again. Somewhere in my haze, checked temperature again, still up at 39C, took more Tylenol with monumental effort, faded. Awoke half hour later to the piercing ring of my mobile, we’re coming to get you again, this time we’re going to the hospital. I mumbled some kind of consent, was piled back in a car and off we went. Somewhere closer to town, when I began to focus my eyes, I shared the obvious, I had just taken painkillers before they came to get me because I didn’t know they were coming to get me. Well, let’s try anyway.
Local icky hospital. Finger prick test. Negative. Ratted me out for taking the pills, gave me a packet of malaria meds and told me to take them if fever didn’t break. Fine, fine, whatever, bed please. Please. So much pain. Please. We went home, told Nicola, stuck to my kidney infection story, she brought me some industrial strength amoxicillin we had at the dive shop, I agreed to start them the next day. Everyone insisted it was malaria. It was so obvious it was malaria. I was refusing to believe it was malaria. Nicola was going to kill me. But she was still my guardian angel taking ridiculously good care of me.
I shivered and sweated and sobbed through another fever driven, pain-filled night then started the amoxicillin and ibuprofen, instead of Tylenol the next day. Minor improvement but fever spiked at 39.7C and somewhere in the back of my stubborn mule brain, I had to concede. My fingernails hurt, my teeth hurt, my eyeballs hurt, my HAIR hurt, (I kid you not!) and the headaches were just becoming unbearable. I was a mess. I had to move out of the house I was sitting for and into Nicola’s house so packed up my stuff in bits and pieces, was moved into her place at the end of the day and was done. Completely done. We passed by work on the way to her house and the manager and owner were there. I was given a proper and complete bollocking, told I was being absolutely reckless with my life, that the finger prick tests were useless, that all of them who have lived here for years with far too much malaria experience knew exactly what they were looking at when they saw me, and that death was my next option. Seriously. I felt like a child being scolded by the principal, and then I got a bit scared. Heads were shaking as “cerebral malaria” was thrown in as part of the telling off. Gulp. People die from malaria here all the time, even after they take the meds. I didn’t want the drama.
Woke up the next morning after my third miserable night and whimpered my defeat… I’m ready to take the malaria medicine now. Nicola made me so very comfortable in her home but I think she was ready to slap me. Poor girl.
I was continuing with the regular doses of amoxicillin and ibuprofen and I swear, once the first dose of the malaria meds kicked in, the clouds lifted. I could see clearly, without the blurs and flashes of colour and piercing pain, I started to get hungry, the first time in four days, I could stand up straight, I could stay awake for more than 30 minutes and have a proper conversation, and I could walk without feeling like the world was going to slide out from under me. After the first dose. Ummm… okay, yeah, I should have done this four days ago. But I was convinced it wasn’t malaria. I wasn’t vomiting, I was tolerating the pain (barely, but I’m a baby!), I felt horrible but not quite on death’s door, and most importantly - I’m supposed to be immune to malaria damnit! Apparently not.
Quick recovery once I stopped being so bloody stubborn but still struggling with being exhausted all of the time. Not handling that well at all as I have so many things I want and need to do before I leave. That, and I’m not so good at sitting still at the best of times anyway. All in all though, I was a very lucky girl. Nicola and Hennie were regular little nurse maids, sweet friends got me to the hospital without having to endure the truly agonizing experience of a chappa (local mini bus) ride, I got loads of love and sympathy messages, and I responded really well to the meds, bouncing back super quickly. A lucky girl indeed! How people get through it without medication or the comforts that I did is beyond me, and I’m sure I had a very mild case of it.
As I’m coming up on the miserable malaria bits being a distant memory and the after effects simply being annoying, I can see very clearly how this came to be. Yes, yes there was some little mosquito biatch who was after my blood, but more than that, I’ve had a very emotional month and obviously didn’t control my stress as well as I should have. With a very special person leaving my life and then the process of leaving a job and a place that I’ve come to love very much, I know I became overwhelmed. Still smiley and put together on the outside, but it’s that inside stuff that messes things up. So lesson learned, just get over it, and while I can’t claim to be immune to malaria, I will try to keep my stats down to just this once. It was a week of learning and I march on. Malaria is pretty miserable folks. Trust me.
Countdown is here. My last day of work will be Saturday the 19th, I will head down to the city of Maputo to try to collect my new passport on the 22nd, I fly out of Africa on the 24th, and will be on American soil on the 25th. A little sad that I won’t be able to make my visit to mom and dad in Canada but getting more and more excited everyday… mostly about dumb things like driving a car, nice comfy linen, ridiculous amounts of familiar food, and clean feet at any given time. It’s going to amazing. If anyone wants to come to visit Florida, just outside of Tampa, I’ll be the one running around like a loon, acting like a sugar-hyped tourist, and soaking up everything that we love to hate about Western living, from March 25 – April 14. Come and see me before I disappear into the African wild once again. Well, okay, maybe not the wild, but still Africa.
It started so simply. A few days of increasing lower back pain. At first it was annoying and easy enough to dismiss. On the Tuesday, it started to catch my breath a bit as the pain would come in sharper waves before it faded. A co-worker and I chatted about it, thinking maybe a kidney infection as there were no other symptoms and the pain had been consistent over the past couple of days. He was going to find me some incredibly effective, ultimately disgusting local herbs that work wonders on curing kidney illnesses. I was popping Tylenol. By Wednesday, the “episodes” had me bent in half, clutching my lower back with one hand and the nearest stable surface with the other while I gasped for breath and yelped with the pain that it caused to take a deep breath. I looked like an 85 year old woman. Comical. Pathetic. I have the day off tomorrow, I’ll sort something out then.
Thursday, day off, arrived for a morning dive. Weeds, I mean herbs, HERBS were presented, smelling horridly effective and I said I would make them into tea after my dive.
*** tangent topic*** broke my fin strap just before rolling off the boat for the dive, did the whole thing with one fin… COMPLETE SPAZZ! But a one-fin dive is still better than no dive at all!***
Okay, back on track. After the dive, I was pretty exhausted but had been feeling tired all week, chalked it up to the dive, and dismissed it, along with the going on day 4 stitch in my side kidney pain. A friend of mine had offered me a lift into town and I had things to do – let’s get a move on! Went to town to run a few errands (like pick up a care & love parcel from mom & dad that saved my life!!!) and met back up with my friend in the central market. I was simply standing there, talking to her, when my power went out. Someone flicked a switch, pulled the plug, dropped the curtain, something, but in an instant, I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t lift my arms and could barely hold my head up. I had to sit down. I dragged myself to sit on the curb by the car and couldn’t keep my eyes open as I dropped my head into my arms wrapped around my knees. What the hell was going on here? Two local kids came by asking for money, I offered to give one some if he could go get me a bottle of water, I could barely speak. My friend came back and we made our way home.
Sitting in the car, I felt a bit better. I leaned my head back and tried to talk but my tongue didn’t feel right, it was too big, the words were getting all mumbled up and it was taking forever to get my thoughts out. I sounded drunk or like I should have been wearing a special ed helmet. I was a bit of a mess. Again, just thought I was maybe exhausted from the week and the heat and the dive and simply needed a nap. And in the back of my mind, I was thinking that maybe I really did have a kidney infection and I needed to sort this out.
As luck would have it, I had been house-sitting again at a house that is a two minute walk from my dive shop. I dragged myself into the house, flopped into bed, then had the unusual sense to check my temperature before I lost complete conscious thought. 38.8C. Texted Nicola at work to see what normal was, 36.4 – 37.4C. Oh. Fever. But I’ll figure it out later. I MUST sleep. Out.
Nicola came by after work, I thought I had been asleep for maybe half an hour, but apparently I didn’t move for several. Giggled at the mess of my current state of appearance, pillow wrinkled face and wicked wild hair, and assured her I was fine. She didn’t believe me. Janice, look at you, you have malaria. Oh don’t be ridiculous. Took my temperature again. 39.2C. Shit. That’s not good. Aching everywhere, was struggling to move, but again, just thought it was because I had been sleeping funny and diving with one fin earlier. Nicola had a horrendous bout of malaria a few months ago and she was serious… I had malaria. Nope. Impossible.
Her boyfriend Hennie arrived shortly after. South African sweetheart who really and truly can do absolutely anything you would ever possibly need to survive anywhere under any circumstances EVER. He took one look at me, we check-listed the symptoms, yup, malaria. Oh my gosh you guys! I feel like hell but I don’t have malaria! Back and forth we lob the arguments but ultimately, it was too late to go get tested so there was nothing to do but get through the night and see how things look in the morning. I’ll be fine, I just need sleep. Wow. Sheesh! I’m FINE!
The full body pain took my breath away, the fever stuck, and I drifted in & out until the sun came up. I took Tylenol to try to break the fever and deal with the pain but it barely touched either and I could feel the intensity of each one creeping its way back up as the pills faded from my system. It was fascinating. I couldn’t roll over, I couldn’t lift my head, my kidney pain now felt like a hatchet in my side, I just couldn’t control what was happening to me. Nicola checked in again in the morning and arranged for a friend of ours to take me to get a malaria test. (If you can’t tell by now, she truly is my guardian angel!) I HAD to have a shower but every moment was in slow motion, focused and deliberate, every movement sent varying coloured flashes of pain to my head that I couldn’t clear. It was all so foreign to me. I just want to get stuff done.
First stop at a local clinic, no tests, next place, finger prick test. Local clinic means small concrete building on the side of a main road with moms and sick babies sitting on every available bit of space and random puddles of who knows what here and there that I just couldn’t think about. I didn’t register the condition of any of them or the clinics, I was blind with my pain by this point. Test… negative. See! Told you guys! Umm… Janice, did you take any meds this morning? Of course I did! Yeah, pain / fever meds apparently block malaria tests. *sigh* Whatever. It’s a kidney infection. Please take me home. I need to go to bed. Dropped into bed, moaning and whimpering like a pathetic and helpless wimp, still insisting I didn’t have malaria. Passed out. Apparently for hours again. Somewhere in my haze, checked temperature again, still up at 39C, took more Tylenol with monumental effort, faded. Awoke half hour later to the piercing ring of my mobile, we’re coming to get you again, this time we’re going to the hospital. I mumbled some kind of consent, was piled back in a car and off we went. Somewhere closer to town, when I began to focus my eyes, I shared the obvious, I had just taken painkillers before they came to get me because I didn’t know they were coming to get me. Well, let’s try anyway.
Local icky hospital. Finger prick test. Negative. Ratted me out for taking the pills, gave me a packet of malaria meds and told me to take them if fever didn’t break. Fine, fine, whatever, bed please. Please. So much pain. Please. We went home, told Nicola, stuck to my kidney infection story, she brought me some industrial strength amoxicillin we had at the dive shop, I agreed to start them the next day. Everyone insisted it was malaria. It was so obvious it was malaria. I was refusing to believe it was malaria. Nicola was going to kill me. But she was still my guardian angel taking ridiculously good care of me.
I shivered and sweated and sobbed through another fever driven, pain-filled night then started the amoxicillin and ibuprofen, instead of Tylenol the next day. Minor improvement but fever spiked at 39.7C and somewhere in the back of my stubborn mule brain, I had to concede. My fingernails hurt, my teeth hurt, my eyeballs hurt, my HAIR hurt, (I kid you not!) and the headaches were just becoming unbearable. I was a mess. I had to move out of the house I was sitting for and into Nicola’s house so packed up my stuff in bits and pieces, was moved into her place at the end of the day and was done. Completely done. We passed by work on the way to her house and the manager and owner were there. I was given a proper and complete bollocking, told I was being absolutely reckless with my life, that the finger prick tests were useless, that all of them who have lived here for years with far too much malaria experience knew exactly what they were looking at when they saw me, and that death was my next option. Seriously. I felt like a child being scolded by the principal, and then I got a bit scared. Heads were shaking as “cerebral malaria” was thrown in as part of the telling off. Gulp. People die from malaria here all the time, even after they take the meds. I didn’t want the drama.
Woke up the next morning after my third miserable night and whimpered my defeat… I’m ready to take the malaria medicine now. Nicola made me so very comfortable in her home but I think she was ready to slap me. Poor girl.
I was continuing with the regular doses of amoxicillin and ibuprofen and I swear, once the first dose of the malaria meds kicked in, the clouds lifted. I could see clearly, without the blurs and flashes of colour and piercing pain, I started to get hungry, the first time in four days, I could stand up straight, I could stay awake for more than 30 minutes and have a proper conversation, and I could walk without feeling like the world was going to slide out from under me. After the first dose. Ummm… okay, yeah, I should have done this four days ago. But I was convinced it wasn’t malaria. I wasn’t vomiting, I was tolerating the pain (barely, but I’m a baby!), I felt horrible but not quite on death’s door, and most importantly - I’m supposed to be immune to malaria damnit! Apparently not.
Quick recovery once I stopped being so bloody stubborn but still struggling with being exhausted all of the time. Not handling that well at all as I have so many things I want and need to do before I leave. That, and I’m not so good at sitting still at the best of times anyway. All in all though, I was a very lucky girl. Nicola and Hennie were regular little nurse maids, sweet friends got me to the hospital without having to endure the truly agonizing experience of a chappa (local mini bus) ride, I got loads of love and sympathy messages, and I responded really well to the meds, bouncing back super quickly. A lucky girl indeed! How people get through it without medication or the comforts that I did is beyond me, and I’m sure I had a very mild case of it.
As I’m coming up on the miserable malaria bits being a distant memory and the after effects simply being annoying, I can see very clearly how this came to be. Yes, yes there was some little mosquito biatch who was after my blood, but more than that, I’ve had a very emotional month and obviously didn’t control my stress as well as I should have. With a very special person leaving my life and then the process of leaving a job and a place that I’ve come to love very much, I know I became overwhelmed. Still smiley and put together on the outside, but it’s that inside stuff that messes things up. So lesson learned, just get over it, and while I can’t claim to be immune to malaria, I will try to keep my stats down to just this once. It was a week of learning and I march on. Malaria is pretty miserable folks. Trust me.
Countdown is here. My last day of work will be Saturday the 19th, I will head down to the city of Maputo to try to collect my new passport on the 22nd, I fly out of Africa on the 24th, and will be on American soil on the 25th. A little sad that I won’t be able to make my visit to mom and dad in Canada but getting more and more excited everyday… mostly about dumb things like driving a car, nice comfy linen, ridiculous amounts of familiar food, and clean feet at any given time. It’s going to amazing. If anyone wants to come to visit Florida, just outside of Tampa, I’ll be the one running around like a loon, acting like a sugar-hyped tourist, and soaking up everything that we love to hate about Western living, from March 25 – April 14. Come and see me before I disappear into the African wild once again. Well, okay, maybe not the wild, but still Africa.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Going, going... Ghana!
I promised you news, I vowed that there would be a next step and yep, it’s here! Actually it came together much more quickly and a whole lot easier than I had anticipated which of course has me a little hesitant about the next step BUT it’s forward motion and it’s an opportunity that the universe has thrown my way so I would be awfully foolish to not take it at this point.
There seem to be some suspiciously conspiring forces keeping me OUT of the Middle East (much to the joy of some friends and family) and in Africa right now. While looking for teaching positions in the Middle East the first time, I found the volunteer job in Tanzania. Attempt #2 for searching in the Middle East and I’ve found and accepted another African job. This one however, is paid (thankfully!) I was looking for positions for the fall and had planned to start travelling my way up north hoping to eventually end up somewhere around the Middle East, most likely broke, destitute, and desperate for work. Instead, I found a job that starts in April, keeps me in Africa, and should it all fall to pieces (which it won’t), leaves me maybe enough time to still find work somewhere else for the fall. I was needing to get a move on and now I’m feeling a little out of time. Don’t you love how when you just put it out there, to the gods or the universe or whatever spins the stars that something usually falls right in your lap? How it continues to come together for me, I will never understand but will be forever and ever grateful.
As of April 20th, I will be the new primary teacher for the British International School in Accra, Ghana. Sounds MUCH more prestigious than it is but I am super excited nonetheless. The interview was more or less, “Can you get to Ghana for April? Would you prefer to teach Infant or Primary students? You will be expected to teach British curriculum for core subjects, not English as a foreign language. Do you have any questions?” And then our telephone connection was cut off. A few frantic emails and I was assured that they had all of the necessary information and would be contacting me shortly but that I could send any questions that I had. Ummm…. Whaaaaa? How about a real interview please? I gathered that that wasn’t going to happen and that they either had zero interest in me or were maybe somewhat on the desperate side and considering I was already in Africa, I was top of the hiring list. I sent off a shopping list of questions about the job, the school, the students, and emphatically shared the fact that I have only taught ESL, not proper British curriculum. My questions were promptly answered followed by a job offer and a contract a couple of days later. Oh. My. Gosh.
I hummed and hawed, read the contract details until my head hurt, made Nicola read the offer over and over with me, sent a few more clarifying questions, made myself sick over how to talk to the owner of the dive shop about leaving in a month when I had told him I would stay until September, forced myself to think about what was best for me, not everyone else, and then with a bit of a stomachache, accepted the job. The leading up to it process is always so ridiculously and unnecessarily filled with anxiety for me but once the decision is made, the proverbial bandage ripped off, I become giddy with excitement over the prospects of my next big adventure. Folks… I am going to Ghana.
Details… I’m to arrive in Accra on April 20th so that I can get settled in and have a few days of orientation before 3rd term starts on April 27th. The pay is low, it’s Africa, but I’ve always been pretty good with living cheap cheap so I think I’ll be okay. There’s a “huge teacher house” that some of us will be sharing where we each have our own bedroom and bathroom but share the common area and kitchen (this is paid by the school) and I think we are provided transportation to and from the school as well. I’ll be assigned the grade that I’m teaching once I arrive and I’ll be responsible for educating these poor little buggers in History, Geography, Art, and Phys. Ed. Panicking about the Art part as I have zero creative ability, think I can probably swing History and Geography since I’ll simply be following a prescribed curriculum, and find it absolutely hilarious that I get to be a gym teacher. Wonder if they’ll provide the short shorts, tucked in t-shirt, tube socks pulled up to the knee, and shiny, silver whistle? Oh I can just see it now…. Not a pretty picture people, not at all.
And get THIS!.... I start 3rd term of British schooling so the kids are in class until the end of June, we have a week to do final reports, then we are off, on holidays, PAID until the last week of August. I work three months then get 6 wks off… PAID. Hello travel bug! I can cover a lot of ground in 6 weeks! I can either fall madly in love with it all and stay until my contract ends (July 6th, 2012) or I can hit the hills running looking for what’s next. I figure by the end of May I should know whether or not I want to stay so I either give them my 30 days I-want-out-of-here notice or start looking at travel routes. Either way, I’m unstuck from here and I am on the move. Really, this is coming together far too nicely.
I’m optimistic, always hopeful about new adventure, but I’m no longer ridiculously naïve. The politics of my school in Thailand and the insanity of my life in Tanzania were all invaluable learning lessons. As always, as long as I have my passport and a credit card in hand, I am never, ever stuck. I’m pretty good at up & out in short notice in the cover of darkness. This is another reason why minimizing comes in so handy. Oh! And I’ve just received my new credit card and have submitted all of the necessary paperwork (along with highway robbery fees) for a brand new passport so I’m finally feeling a little more in control of my life at the moment. Shiny new passport should be in my eager little hands by the time I fly out of here, fingers crossed, somewhere around March 23rd.
Since I have a new credit card, the first two exciting purchases: a brand new, very cool camera, and a plane ticket to visit my parents before I start my new job. Natalia brought me back my first REAL camera from her visit home and I am currently in the process of trying to figure out all of the fancy pants features. And I am scouring the internet for affordable tickets to see my snowbird mom and dad in their winter home in Florida for a few weeks once I leave Mozambique. If anyone wants to come see me in the sunny citrus state, that’s where I’ll be, soaking up civilization, using all of the hot water for stupidly long showers, watching TV, and trying to remember how to drive. Yes mom & dad, I am driving EVERYWHERE!!! Wow, I really miss driving. ROAD TRIP! Yeah, maybe even a road trip. Think about it, dear readers, who knows when I’ll be back on North American soil again... this could be your one and only chance to see it, to see me … a misplaced, misguided Canadian soul’s last grasp at life in the Western world. If nothing else, I’m sure will be fairly comical. Most of my life has been just that so far.
Life is about to become very hectic here as I prepare to leave. I am moving out of my place Mar 1st so will be homeless and drifting for my last three weeks, I will need to help find and train my replacement at the dive shop (even though I haven’t really figured out what I’m actually doing yet!), I will be fretting over the last minute application and processing of my passport from a consulate that will most likely take their sweet-ass time, and I will be preparing to say goodbye to a place that is filled with so much and so many that I have come to love. How does it go from too much time to not enough time at all? Always seems to be the case for me. But probably for a reason as if I have time to spare, I think too much and that is never, ever a good thing. Rush, rush, rush and GO! I will be just fine.
That’s the news from Mozambique, from one adventure to the next. Will update you soon!
There seem to be some suspiciously conspiring forces keeping me OUT of the Middle East (much to the joy of some friends and family) and in Africa right now. While looking for teaching positions in the Middle East the first time, I found the volunteer job in Tanzania. Attempt #2 for searching in the Middle East and I’ve found and accepted another African job. This one however, is paid (thankfully!) I was looking for positions for the fall and had planned to start travelling my way up north hoping to eventually end up somewhere around the Middle East, most likely broke, destitute, and desperate for work. Instead, I found a job that starts in April, keeps me in Africa, and should it all fall to pieces (which it won’t), leaves me maybe enough time to still find work somewhere else for the fall. I was needing to get a move on and now I’m feeling a little out of time. Don’t you love how when you just put it out there, to the gods or the universe or whatever spins the stars that something usually falls right in your lap? How it continues to come together for me, I will never understand but will be forever and ever grateful.
As of April 20th, I will be the new primary teacher for the British International School in Accra, Ghana. Sounds MUCH more prestigious than it is but I am super excited nonetheless. The interview was more or less, “Can you get to Ghana for April? Would you prefer to teach Infant or Primary students? You will be expected to teach British curriculum for core subjects, not English as a foreign language. Do you have any questions?” And then our telephone connection was cut off. A few frantic emails and I was assured that they had all of the necessary information and would be contacting me shortly but that I could send any questions that I had. Ummm…. Whaaaaa? How about a real interview please? I gathered that that wasn’t going to happen and that they either had zero interest in me or were maybe somewhat on the desperate side and considering I was already in Africa, I was top of the hiring list. I sent off a shopping list of questions about the job, the school, the students, and emphatically shared the fact that I have only taught ESL, not proper British curriculum. My questions were promptly answered followed by a job offer and a contract a couple of days later. Oh. My. Gosh.
I hummed and hawed, read the contract details until my head hurt, made Nicola read the offer over and over with me, sent a few more clarifying questions, made myself sick over how to talk to the owner of the dive shop about leaving in a month when I had told him I would stay until September, forced myself to think about what was best for me, not everyone else, and then with a bit of a stomachache, accepted the job. The leading up to it process is always so ridiculously and unnecessarily filled with anxiety for me but once the decision is made, the proverbial bandage ripped off, I become giddy with excitement over the prospects of my next big adventure. Folks… I am going to Ghana.
Details… I’m to arrive in Accra on April 20th so that I can get settled in and have a few days of orientation before 3rd term starts on April 27th. The pay is low, it’s Africa, but I’ve always been pretty good with living cheap cheap so I think I’ll be okay. There’s a “huge teacher house” that some of us will be sharing where we each have our own bedroom and bathroom but share the common area and kitchen (this is paid by the school) and I think we are provided transportation to and from the school as well. I’ll be assigned the grade that I’m teaching once I arrive and I’ll be responsible for educating these poor little buggers in History, Geography, Art, and Phys. Ed. Panicking about the Art part as I have zero creative ability, think I can probably swing History and Geography since I’ll simply be following a prescribed curriculum, and find it absolutely hilarious that I get to be a gym teacher. Wonder if they’ll provide the short shorts, tucked in t-shirt, tube socks pulled up to the knee, and shiny, silver whistle? Oh I can just see it now…. Not a pretty picture people, not at all.
And get THIS!.... I start 3rd term of British schooling so the kids are in class until the end of June, we have a week to do final reports, then we are off, on holidays, PAID until the last week of August. I work three months then get 6 wks off… PAID. Hello travel bug! I can cover a lot of ground in 6 weeks! I can either fall madly in love with it all and stay until my contract ends (July 6th, 2012) or I can hit the hills running looking for what’s next. I figure by the end of May I should know whether or not I want to stay so I either give them my 30 days I-want-out-of-here notice or start looking at travel routes. Either way, I’m unstuck from here and I am on the move. Really, this is coming together far too nicely.
I’m optimistic, always hopeful about new adventure, but I’m no longer ridiculously naïve. The politics of my school in Thailand and the insanity of my life in Tanzania were all invaluable learning lessons. As always, as long as I have my passport and a credit card in hand, I am never, ever stuck. I’m pretty good at up & out in short notice in the cover of darkness. This is another reason why minimizing comes in so handy. Oh! And I’ve just received my new credit card and have submitted all of the necessary paperwork (along with highway robbery fees) for a brand new passport so I’m finally feeling a little more in control of my life at the moment. Shiny new passport should be in my eager little hands by the time I fly out of here, fingers crossed, somewhere around March 23rd.
Since I have a new credit card, the first two exciting purchases: a brand new, very cool camera, and a plane ticket to visit my parents before I start my new job. Natalia brought me back my first REAL camera from her visit home and I am currently in the process of trying to figure out all of the fancy pants features. And I am scouring the internet for affordable tickets to see my snowbird mom and dad in their winter home in Florida for a few weeks once I leave Mozambique. If anyone wants to come see me in the sunny citrus state, that’s where I’ll be, soaking up civilization, using all of the hot water for stupidly long showers, watching TV, and trying to remember how to drive. Yes mom & dad, I am driving EVERYWHERE!!! Wow, I really miss driving. ROAD TRIP! Yeah, maybe even a road trip. Think about it, dear readers, who knows when I’ll be back on North American soil again... this could be your one and only chance to see it, to see me … a misplaced, misguided Canadian soul’s last grasp at life in the Western world. If nothing else, I’m sure will be fairly comical. Most of my life has been just that so far.
Life is about to become very hectic here as I prepare to leave. I am moving out of my place Mar 1st so will be homeless and drifting for my last three weeks, I will need to help find and train my replacement at the dive shop (even though I haven’t really figured out what I’m actually doing yet!), I will be fretting over the last minute application and processing of my passport from a consulate that will most likely take their sweet-ass time, and I will be preparing to say goodbye to a place that is filled with so much and so many that I have come to love. How does it go from too much time to not enough time at all? Always seems to be the case for me. But probably for a reason as if I have time to spare, I think too much and that is never, ever a good thing. Rush, rush, rush and GO! I will be just fine.
That’s the news from Mozambique, from one adventure to the next. Will update you soon!
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Mid - February... hmmmm....
Mid February and I think most of you are squirming to break free of Old Man Winter’s icy grips. While it’s the rough season here as well, the occasional burst of rain showers and the mighty impressive 4 metre waves barreling down on the shoreline makes things all the more fabulous in my mind. There’s nothing quite like an angry, dark, green-grey sky churning and swirling over the frothing and foamy sea just before sheets of hard, hot, horizontal rain are fiercely ripped free by a wind straight and strong, laced with a stinging, salty spray that flattens the landscape straight off the sea and sends every living creature screeching and squealing for cover. I love wild weather and being right here, right on the Indian Ocean, it never fails to disappoint. From sun shining so hotly it can blister newby white skin within minutes to electrical storms that shame the most elaborate fireworks display to rains that pour so heavily they flood streets, homes, and businesses in the blink of an eye. It’s incredible here. It’s Africa. There is magic in everything.
That being said, I’m desperate to be on the move. Desperate. It’s comfortable here. I know most people and places around town, most faces and features have settled into a sense of the familiar so it’s time for me to go. I had no intentions of coming here to settle but as is the case for so many of us here, it is far too easy to get stuck. I got sidelined, distracted, lost my way, but now that that has become clear, the push is on to get a move on. Being the planner that I can annoyingly be, I am hoping to secure some kind of work for a little bit down the road so that I have something I am moving forward to, but if nothing takes shape in the next few weeks or so, I think I’ll just have to go and let things sort themselves out along the way. I’ve seen so very little and done even less; it’s time to shake things up a bit. Suggestions are more than welcome folks… bring it on!
I will miss the home I’ve kinda created here. Tofo is a very special settlement nestled in what has to be one of the most beautiful places, here in Mozambique. The views never cease to take my breath away; the kindness of the Mozambican people I meet or interact with everyday is uplifting, and the comforts of a ready-made, easy, western style sense of community and camaraderie welcomes every newcomer who decides to unpack for a while. Of course it’s being developed at an alarming rate and those who have been here for some time are saddened by what they see as too much progress but what can you do? Isn’t that the case for most places on the planet? Trying to find the balance between economically improving the impoverished lives of those in the area with maintaining the rural “undiscovered” charm that first attracted those initial discoverers is a near impossibility. Whether I’ve come at the upswing or the downfall of this place is irrelevant; I continue to be thrilled and inspired and feel very, very blessed to have had the time I’ve had here. It still kinda feels like a dream.
And in that dream, I have redefined what I consider the bare minimums of existence and what has become a luxury. Here is a quick wish list of my blissful luxuries, most of which we’ve discussed before…
*Uninterrupted electricity. We have power cuts here on a regular basis, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for the day. It can be because it’s raining, it’s windy, maybe the sun is shining, the weather is too perfect, or sometimes for what seems to be no possible reason at all. More or less, there’s simply a murmured groan and a few curse words muttered in unison as either computer work is lost, the fans cut out, or business comes to a temporary halt then we shrug our shoulders and carry on with what we can. Temper tantrums over power cuts are reserved for the new-to-Africa tourists and we all tend to find this quite funny. Poor poshy pants.
*Proper hot water showers. Now, I do have the glorious ability to soak this up when I’m at work at the dive shop but it’s not an option for me at my house. So first thing in the morning or before crawling into bed after a day that has just been a bit on the miserable side still consists of a cold water stand up shower or a cup and bucket hot one. And those options are available only if there is water. Yes, we often run out of water as well.
*Washing machines. I wash all my laundry by hand and it takes forever and ever and ever and really never seems clean. Oh how I want a washing machine.
*Transportation in a vehicle where there is one bum to a seat and those bums belong to people, not animals, bags of produce, or other random packages of suspicious or smelly stuff.
*Sleeping without a mosquito net. While I insist that my superhuman power is that I am immune to malaria, I have a house full of mosquitoes so won’t take the chance. I want a big, comfy bed not covered in netting.
*A room, a space, a ledge, or a floor that’s not home to a variety of ants, flies, or some other lively bunch of creatures. It’s sad that for most of us, it’s quite normal to just brush a handful of bugs off of the countertop or couch or plate before continuing on with the task at hand. Seriously. I try not to think about it too much. I’m sure I’ve consumed a lifetime’s worth of protein through insects I’ve ingested being here. Gross.
*Really good peanut butter, soft toilet paper, effective deodorant, chewing gum that lasts more than three minutes, being able to communicate effectively (I am TERRIBLE for not having learned Portuguese!), and a few other randoms that I’m sure I’ve been surviving just fine without.
Things I love that you just can’t get at home:
*The freshest fruit you could ever imagine. Mangoes the size of my head, pineapples the size of a small child, bananas in every size, shape, and colour, passion fruit, papaya, and so much more sold on the street or out of baskets piled high on the heads of local women walking by. Colourful and so dripping good! Weird thing though… as cheap as the fruit is, the veg can be bizarrely expensive. Haven’t quite figured that out yet.
*Completely unspoiled beaches. Walking along the water you are hard pressed to run into very many people at all, even when it’s stupid busy tourist season. There’s just so much perfect coastline that there’s room for everyone to find their only little spot of heaven.
*Being able to say hello or chat up any random person and not be looked at like you’re out on a day pass from the local asylum. Tourists are friendly and locals are even better. Everyone says hello, everyone wants to visit – it’s so nice!
*Riding wild and free in the back of pickup trucks or motorbikes. One of my most very favourite things in the world. Hair whipping in the wind, dust stinging my face, feeling the world whizzing by... I usually choose the back of the truck even when there’s space in the cab – it’s just so freeing!
*Instant marriage proposals. Now, to be honest, we all know that it’s not me they really want, it’s the ticket outta here, but on those ugly days, when you just want to walk around with a bag over your head, it’s always good for a little ego boost. Funny, and ego boost.
*How free and unrestricted the children are. I remember being mortified initially, seeing kids more or less completely unsupervised in situations that I saw as imminently fatal or developmentally unrealistic until I stopped to really take a look. It’s very rare to see kids, of any age, crying or carrying on for any length of time. Everyone takes care of everyone, everyone knows everyone, and when you have very little, the happiness of just being a kid seems to come so easily. It’s fascinating to see toys made from discarded soda cans, games being played with a coconut husk, how just sitting together always erupts into giggles and fits of laughter, and how even when they’re working, selling bracelets or fruit or phone credit, they are still goofing around. The kids are HAPPY and they are kids. It’s absolutely gorgeous.
Mozambique, Africa in general, has been very good for me – I think I’ve become exceptionally easy to please. 10 minutes could mean a couple of hours, tomorrow could mean sometime next week, and now may mean never but what can you do? Yelling and screaming does nothing other than get you all hot and sweaty… there’s no point to being bothered. This, of course, has done wonders for allowing me to develop my sense of tolerance and patience while practicing my “roll with the punches”. Which again is why I am so ridiculously excited about getting a move on! The next time I write, I will have a plan. Okay, well, maybe not a PLAN, but I’ll have a next step, I promise. Check back in soon to see what my next big adventure is going to be, I think it’s going to be a good one.
That being said, I’m desperate to be on the move. Desperate. It’s comfortable here. I know most people and places around town, most faces and features have settled into a sense of the familiar so it’s time for me to go. I had no intentions of coming here to settle but as is the case for so many of us here, it is far too easy to get stuck. I got sidelined, distracted, lost my way, but now that that has become clear, the push is on to get a move on. Being the planner that I can annoyingly be, I am hoping to secure some kind of work for a little bit down the road so that I have something I am moving forward to, but if nothing takes shape in the next few weeks or so, I think I’ll just have to go and let things sort themselves out along the way. I’ve seen so very little and done even less; it’s time to shake things up a bit. Suggestions are more than welcome folks… bring it on!
I will miss the home I’ve kinda created here. Tofo is a very special settlement nestled in what has to be one of the most beautiful places, here in Mozambique. The views never cease to take my breath away; the kindness of the Mozambican people I meet or interact with everyday is uplifting, and the comforts of a ready-made, easy, western style sense of community and camaraderie welcomes every newcomer who decides to unpack for a while. Of course it’s being developed at an alarming rate and those who have been here for some time are saddened by what they see as too much progress but what can you do? Isn’t that the case for most places on the planet? Trying to find the balance between economically improving the impoverished lives of those in the area with maintaining the rural “undiscovered” charm that first attracted those initial discoverers is a near impossibility. Whether I’ve come at the upswing or the downfall of this place is irrelevant; I continue to be thrilled and inspired and feel very, very blessed to have had the time I’ve had here. It still kinda feels like a dream.
And in that dream, I have redefined what I consider the bare minimums of existence and what has become a luxury. Here is a quick wish list of my blissful luxuries, most of which we’ve discussed before…
*Uninterrupted electricity. We have power cuts here on a regular basis, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for the day. It can be because it’s raining, it’s windy, maybe the sun is shining, the weather is too perfect, or sometimes for what seems to be no possible reason at all. More or less, there’s simply a murmured groan and a few curse words muttered in unison as either computer work is lost, the fans cut out, or business comes to a temporary halt then we shrug our shoulders and carry on with what we can. Temper tantrums over power cuts are reserved for the new-to-Africa tourists and we all tend to find this quite funny. Poor poshy pants.
*Proper hot water showers. Now, I do have the glorious ability to soak this up when I’m at work at the dive shop but it’s not an option for me at my house. So first thing in the morning or before crawling into bed after a day that has just been a bit on the miserable side still consists of a cold water stand up shower or a cup and bucket hot one. And those options are available only if there is water. Yes, we often run out of water as well.
*Washing machines. I wash all my laundry by hand and it takes forever and ever and ever and really never seems clean. Oh how I want a washing machine.
*Transportation in a vehicle where there is one bum to a seat and those bums belong to people, not animals, bags of produce, or other random packages of suspicious or smelly stuff.
*Sleeping without a mosquito net. While I insist that my superhuman power is that I am immune to malaria, I have a house full of mosquitoes so won’t take the chance. I want a big, comfy bed not covered in netting.
*A room, a space, a ledge, or a floor that’s not home to a variety of ants, flies, or some other lively bunch of creatures. It’s sad that for most of us, it’s quite normal to just brush a handful of bugs off of the countertop or couch or plate before continuing on with the task at hand. Seriously. I try not to think about it too much. I’m sure I’ve consumed a lifetime’s worth of protein through insects I’ve ingested being here. Gross.
*Really good peanut butter, soft toilet paper, effective deodorant, chewing gum that lasts more than three minutes, being able to communicate effectively (I am TERRIBLE for not having learned Portuguese!), and a few other randoms that I’m sure I’ve been surviving just fine without.
Things I love that you just can’t get at home:
*The freshest fruit you could ever imagine. Mangoes the size of my head, pineapples the size of a small child, bananas in every size, shape, and colour, passion fruit, papaya, and so much more sold on the street or out of baskets piled high on the heads of local women walking by. Colourful and so dripping good! Weird thing though… as cheap as the fruit is, the veg can be bizarrely expensive. Haven’t quite figured that out yet.
*Completely unspoiled beaches. Walking along the water you are hard pressed to run into very many people at all, even when it’s stupid busy tourist season. There’s just so much perfect coastline that there’s room for everyone to find their only little spot of heaven.
*Being able to say hello or chat up any random person and not be looked at like you’re out on a day pass from the local asylum. Tourists are friendly and locals are even better. Everyone says hello, everyone wants to visit – it’s so nice!
*Riding wild and free in the back of pickup trucks or motorbikes. One of my most very favourite things in the world. Hair whipping in the wind, dust stinging my face, feeling the world whizzing by... I usually choose the back of the truck even when there’s space in the cab – it’s just so freeing!
*Instant marriage proposals. Now, to be honest, we all know that it’s not me they really want, it’s the ticket outta here, but on those ugly days, when you just want to walk around with a bag over your head, it’s always good for a little ego boost. Funny, and ego boost.
*How free and unrestricted the children are. I remember being mortified initially, seeing kids more or less completely unsupervised in situations that I saw as imminently fatal or developmentally unrealistic until I stopped to really take a look. It’s very rare to see kids, of any age, crying or carrying on for any length of time. Everyone takes care of everyone, everyone knows everyone, and when you have very little, the happiness of just being a kid seems to come so easily. It’s fascinating to see toys made from discarded soda cans, games being played with a coconut husk, how just sitting together always erupts into giggles and fits of laughter, and how even when they’re working, selling bracelets or fruit or phone credit, they are still goofing around. The kids are HAPPY and they are kids. It’s absolutely gorgeous.
Mozambique, Africa in general, has been very good for me – I think I’ve become exceptionally easy to please. 10 minutes could mean a couple of hours, tomorrow could mean sometime next week, and now may mean never but what can you do? Yelling and screaming does nothing other than get you all hot and sweaty… there’s no point to being bothered. This, of course, has done wonders for allowing me to develop my sense of tolerance and patience while practicing my “roll with the punches”. Which again is why I am so ridiculously excited about getting a move on! The next time I write, I will have a plan. Okay, well, maybe not a PLAN, but I’ll have a next step, I promise. Check back in soon to see what my next big adventure is going to be, I think it’s going to be a good one.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
2011 is going to be incredible!
Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! I thought I had already posted this but just found it on my computer, sitting quietly, waiting for its turn to be made public. I had this ready to go the first bit of January... oops! Well, catch up for now and I'll start writing more!
Happy New Year! As is the norm no matter where you are in the world, the holiday season has zipped by leaving a sparkling mess of exhausted, contented smiles and fuzzy, fabulous memories. There wasn’t the typical hustle & bustle of endless functions to attend, shopping to do, or treats to bake but for some reason, it came and went as quickly as chocolate placed in front of me. Holiday season in a tourist destination of course means days overrun with chaos and ridiculous hours that blur one set of 24 hours into the next without the chance of coming up for air to check what day it actually is. Tofo, Mozambique is evidently a South African’s dream destination. Every single one of them and their dog arrived simultaneously in diesel belching bakkies hauling quads, jetskis, kayaks, and frozen sides of a variety of edible animals with which to braai endlessly as they chain smoked cheap Pall Malls and chugged back oversized 2M beers in bottles bought for insanely inflated prices that only a holidayer would pay. Tofo was a rockin and we were in the middle of it all.
Despite the holiday craziness, wow, Christmas in Africa with some very dear friends… how do I share a western experience on the Dark Continent? Unique? Indeed. Fabulously unique. Despite floating aimlessly and somedays, hopelessly, through my life, I continue to have some incredibly beautiful experiences. While everyone else was still sleeping, I wrote a little bit as I sat and soaked in my blessedly strange string of events that led me to Christmas in Mozambique. Didn’t get much done but here’s what I did write before the rest of the eager beavers woke up and we started our Christmas Day in Africa…
Merry Christmas from Mozambique! It’s a hot, sunny day already here, bright and early on the southern coast of Africa. A house full of bodies are still dozing off the remnants of far too much incredibly good food and holiday cheer. I’ve been up for a while now… it’s Christmas for crying out loud! Looking out over palm trees, thatched roofs, a shining blue sea, and the bustling burst of African life it’s definitely not the Christmas of story books and Hollywood movies but oh my goodness, it really could be. Christmas in Africa. How did I get here?
My fabulous good fortune continues as I count my blessings thankful for the people I meet along my way. Nicola, another instructor who works at Diversity and who has become the dearest friend, invited us to spend Christmas Eve at her boyfriend’s family’s guesthouse in Barra, a town about a half an hour away. When I say “guesthouse”, I’m at a loss because there’s really no way to explain their place. Bela Vista lodge is one of the most beautiful properties I have ever seen. Truly. Three separate, massive, open plan natural material house designed to sleep up to 20 with each area leading to an outside common area and every little luxury I could ever need (running hot water, proper kitchen, soft comfy furniture). The family has one as their own home and the others are all for rent. I’ll try to get some photos but it’s just too beautiful for words.
ANYWAY! The point of that ramble was Christmas Eve. After work, we packed ourselves into the back of one of the family member’s pickup truck and made our way here; hot, stinky, sweating, and so looking forward to being out of work. The night was just perfect. The family is so warm and generous, so funny and entertaining. We cooked, ate til we were ready to burst, and had such a perfect time just hanging out and being together. Really, the most Christmasy Christmas I could possibly ever imagine being so far away from home and in freaking Africa for crying out loud! There were moments where I had to step back and just look around; my grand good fortune continues on and on.
And that was all I got done before we carried on with our Christmas Day.
Not much writing done early Christmas morn but enough that you got a glimpse of the bittersweet holiday experiences I am having over here. So carrying on… Christmas day was brilliant. Nicola, her boyfriend, his two brothers, their two cousins, and lucky me all rented kayaks and paddled our happy little butts out to “Pansy Island”. Kayaks were loaded up and Nicola and I were paddle buddies… needless to say there was more chatting and goofing than paddling so we tended to bring up the rear. Pansy Island is actually a massive sand bar that disappears at high tide but it was Christmas day, life was good, and we had a big, sandy island all to ourselves as we set up shelter, spread out blankets, ate, drank, then donned snorkel gear in search of shells. The sun, the beach, the warm Indian Ocean… what a way to spend Christmas day. The tides didn’t start reclaiming our own private island until late in the afternoon so there were a few red shoulders and tips of noses as we repacked our kayaks and began the journey back. Salty, sweaty, smiling the whole way. Life is very, very good.
I had planned to go back to Tofo that night but was having such a nice time. An invitation was extended, I politely asked the parents’ permission, and I stayed one more night. We made a bonfire on the beach and had a most chilled evening of chatting around the fire. Again, impossible to describe, perfect to experience. What a way to spend Christmas day. Seriously.
Now remember, at this point, I am now homeless. My last night in my house was the 22nd so I was bed hopping in the most innocent of ways. I was never without a place to lay my head and so as to continue to be on the good favour side of karma, when it was just about time to move back into my home, on the 5th of Jan, I agreed to house sit for friends until 14th. A couple of nights back in my house, 4 to be exact, and I’ve been asked to house sit for other friends once again, this time just for two nights. I think word is spreading quickly that I have a hard time saying no. It will have been almost a full month that I’ve been out of my home until I will properly move back into it… rent paid unfortunately. But again, want to stay on the up side of karma so I will kindly thank those who took me in and graciously agree to help out where I can when asked. Unsettled is as unsettled does, I guess. It suits me.
Hmmm… I missed something in there, didn’t I? Yep. Sure did. New Year’s. Typical in the ways of mad rushes to get ready straight after work and a lovely dinner with the closest of friends but then 11pm rolled around and we booked it for the beach. Massive beach, massive beach party. Thousands of people, Mozambique locals, us locals, tourists, everyone, dancing, drinking, visiting up and down as music thumped from a local bar and the frenzy of midnight approaching lit up the night. Champagne, kisses and hugs, well wishes, and celebrations brought in 2011 the same ways as home, but I was on the beach in Mozambique. And my beach party lasted until almost 8am. This new year is going to be a great one.
The days continue to fly by and I am starting to look at what’s next for me. Eagerly. I’ve been ready to go for a while now, been here almost 8 months, it’s time to move, move, move. But I’m terrible with decisions. Too many things to see and do. I could be in Africa for the rest of my life and not even scratch the surface but yeah, it’s definitely time to at least start trying. So as travelers come and go and I stay connected with those who have moved on, I’m asking questions, asking for suggestions, looking at what to do where. The must see of here and now. But really, that list is endless… Why did it take me so long to get here?!
Okay, that’s the quick wrap up of a wild and wonderful holiday homeless season. I will keep updating as hopefully plans come together and remember, you want me to be on the move… my blogs are always so much more entertaining when I’m travelling because I usually seem to find myself in some kind of mess. It’s what makes life fun though, isn’t it?
Hope everyone had a jolly Christmas and festive a New Year with very little recovery time needed. Wishing all of you at least a little bit of adventure in 2011. Lots of love! xo
Happy New Year! As is the norm no matter where you are in the world, the holiday season has zipped by leaving a sparkling mess of exhausted, contented smiles and fuzzy, fabulous memories. There wasn’t the typical hustle & bustle of endless functions to attend, shopping to do, or treats to bake but for some reason, it came and went as quickly as chocolate placed in front of me. Holiday season in a tourist destination of course means days overrun with chaos and ridiculous hours that blur one set of 24 hours into the next without the chance of coming up for air to check what day it actually is. Tofo, Mozambique is evidently a South African’s dream destination. Every single one of them and their dog arrived simultaneously in diesel belching bakkies hauling quads, jetskis, kayaks, and frozen sides of a variety of edible animals with which to braai endlessly as they chain smoked cheap Pall Malls and chugged back oversized 2M beers in bottles bought for insanely inflated prices that only a holidayer would pay. Tofo was a rockin and we were in the middle of it all.
Despite the holiday craziness, wow, Christmas in Africa with some very dear friends… how do I share a western experience on the Dark Continent? Unique? Indeed. Fabulously unique. Despite floating aimlessly and somedays, hopelessly, through my life, I continue to have some incredibly beautiful experiences. While everyone else was still sleeping, I wrote a little bit as I sat and soaked in my blessedly strange string of events that led me to Christmas in Mozambique. Didn’t get much done but here’s what I did write before the rest of the eager beavers woke up and we started our Christmas Day in Africa…
Merry Christmas from Mozambique! It’s a hot, sunny day already here, bright and early on the southern coast of Africa. A house full of bodies are still dozing off the remnants of far too much incredibly good food and holiday cheer. I’ve been up for a while now… it’s Christmas for crying out loud! Looking out over palm trees, thatched roofs, a shining blue sea, and the bustling burst of African life it’s definitely not the Christmas of story books and Hollywood movies but oh my goodness, it really could be. Christmas in Africa. How did I get here?
My fabulous good fortune continues as I count my blessings thankful for the people I meet along my way. Nicola, another instructor who works at Diversity and who has become the dearest friend, invited us to spend Christmas Eve at her boyfriend’s family’s guesthouse in Barra, a town about a half an hour away. When I say “guesthouse”, I’m at a loss because there’s really no way to explain their place. Bela Vista lodge is one of the most beautiful properties I have ever seen. Truly. Three separate, massive, open plan natural material house designed to sleep up to 20 with each area leading to an outside common area and every little luxury I could ever need (running hot water, proper kitchen, soft comfy furniture). The family has one as their own home and the others are all for rent. I’ll try to get some photos but it’s just too beautiful for words.
ANYWAY! The point of that ramble was Christmas Eve. After work, we packed ourselves into the back of one of the family member’s pickup truck and made our way here; hot, stinky, sweating, and so looking forward to being out of work. The night was just perfect. The family is so warm and generous, so funny and entertaining. We cooked, ate til we were ready to burst, and had such a perfect time just hanging out and being together. Really, the most Christmasy Christmas I could possibly ever imagine being so far away from home and in freaking Africa for crying out loud! There were moments where I had to step back and just look around; my grand good fortune continues on and on.
And that was all I got done before we carried on with our Christmas Day.
Not much writing done early Christmas morn but enough that you got a glimpse of the bittersweet holiday experiences I am having over here. So carrying on… Christmas day was brilliant. Nicola, her boyfriend, his two brothers, their two cousins, and lucky me all rented kayaks and paddled our happy little butts out to “Pansy Island”. Kayaks were loaded up and Nicola and I were paddle buddies… needless to say there was more chatting and goofing than paddling so we tended to bring up the rear. Pansy Island is actually a massive sand bar that disappears at high tide but it was Christmas day, life was good, and we had a big, sandy island all to ourselves as we set up shelter, spread out blankets, ate, drank, then donned snorkel gear in search of shells. The sun, the beach, the warm Indian Ocean… what a way to spend Christmas day. The tides didn’t start reclaiming our own private island until late in the afternoon so there were a few red shoulders and tips of noses as we repacked our kayaks and began the journey back. Salty, sweaty, smiling the whole way. Life is very, very good.
I had planned to go back to Tofo that night but was having such a nice time. An invitation was extended, I politely asked the parents’ permission, and I stayed one more night. We made a bonfire on the beach and had a most chilled evening of chatting around the fire. Again, impossible to describe, perfect to experience. What a way to spend Christmas day. Seriously.
Now remember, at this point, I am now homeless. My last night in my house was the 22nd so I was bed hopping in the most innocent of ways. I was never without a place to lay my head and so as to continue to be on the good favour side of karma, when it was just about time to move back into my home, on the 5th of Jan, I agreed to house sit for friends until 14th. A couple of nights back in my house, 4 to be exact, and I’ve been asked to house sit for other friends once again, this time just for two nights. I think word is spreading quickly that I have a hard time saying no. It will have been almost a full month that I’ve been out of my home until I will properly move back into it… rent paid unfortunately. But again, want to stay on the up side of karma so I will kindly thank those who took me in and graciously agree to help out where I can when asked. Unsettled is as unsettled does, I guess. It suits me.
Hmmm… I missed something in there, didn’t I? Yep. Sure did. New Year’s. Typical in the ways of mad rushes to get ready straight after work and a lovely dinner with the closest of friends but then 11pm rolled around and we booked it for the beach. Massive beach, massive beach party. Thousands of people, Mozambique locals, us locals, tourists, everyone, dancing, drinking, visiting up and down as music thumped from a local bar and the frenzy of midnight approaching lit up the night. Champagne, kisses and hugs, well wishes, and celebrations brought in 2011 the same ways as home, but I was on the beach in Mozambique. And my beach party lasted until almost 8am. This new year is going to be a great one.
The days continue to fly by and I am starting to look at what’s next for me. Eagerly. I’ve been ready to go for a while now, been here almost 8 months, it’s time to move, move, move. But I’m terrible with decisions. Too many things to see and do. I could be in Africa for the rest of my life and not even scratch the surface but yeah, it’s definitely time to at least start trying. So as travelers come and go and I stay connected with those who have moved on, I’m asking questions, asking for suggestions, looking at what to do where. The must see of here and now. But really, that list is endless… Why did it take me so long to get here?!
Okay, that’s the quick wrap up of a wild and wonderful holiday homeless season. I will keep updating as hopefully plans come together and remember, you want me to be on the move… my blogs are always so much more entertaining when I’m travelling because I usually seem to find myself in some kind of mess. It’s what makes life fun though, isn’t it?
Hope everyone had a jolly Christmas and festive a New Year with very little recovery time needed. Wishing all of you at least a little bit of adventure in 2011. Lots of love! xo
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Yep, still alive.
I’ve started these updates a million times over. I’ve thought of emails I need to write, things I need to catch everyone up on, those of you who have been worried, curious, or just plain peeved that I’ve slipped off the face of the earth and not bothered to stay connected. I wish I had a good excuse, like I’ve discovered a new species of pygmy manta rays or uncovered a magical healing source deep in the jungles or found the cure for idiots. Sadly, I can lay claim to none of these. I don’t even really have any good tales to tell and that is what makes me ashamed most of all. My “adventure” has become less of an adventure and more of a “settled” and that, my friends, must change soon. Isn’t that why I left home in the first place?!
Where do I start? What have I told you? Pretty much nothing? Excellent. Let’s keep it that way. Awww!!! Now that’s not very nice! I’ll try to fill in the blanks without too much rambling but come on now, it’s me; there will be excess rambling by the buckets full.
Still in Southern Mozambique, Tofo Beach, and still living a simple, surreal life. Did I mention, have I told you, do you know that I have a new job yet again? I’m the smiley, chatty, receptionist at Diversity Scuba, the finest dive shop in Tofo. It’s actually the dive shop where Natalia (remember my house mate?) and a few very dear friends work so life has fallen into place oh so nicely (and yes, it is the finest dive shop in Tofo). Started half time in early Sept and have been left to run the full time show since mid Oct. Haven’t burned the place down or thrown us into massive chaos yet so things seem to be going okay. Receptionist work, well, not my most ambitious goal, but folks, when the shop is slow, the weather is good, and I’ve sorted out all of the messes that can be created being part of a busy business in Africa, I hop on a boat and dive my little heart out. And, shamelessly, get paid to do it. Couldn’t ask for a better shop owner and manager, both of whom are keen to get me in the water as much as I can because the more I know the sites, the better I can chat it up to customers. Hmmm… like I really need another excuse to be in the water. Seriously, all good.
The only bit I continue to struggle with somewhat is the amount of time at work. I now fall into that 6 days a week, 10+ hours a day schedule. All we do is work. My entire life is at the shop. Often times, we’ll hang around or meet up with friends to try to get some sense of a life instead of going home after the doors close but there are other days where it’s all we can do to drag our sorry asses that long walk home. And that one precious day off? Sleep, clean, try to catch up. This is why three months has passed me by in the blink of an eye. I can’t think of much else that I have done other than work. But don’t get me wrong!!! I am so thankful for the job and quite grateful for the opportunity to become a fully integrated part of this community. It’s quite easy to see how people can get lost here. The beauty of this place when you can separate out the tourist bit of it all is overwhelming. I am in one of the most unique marine life environments on the planet. I have been able to dive and snorkel with creatures that are so incredible they are almost magical. My whole world comes together under these waters… it’s challenging and frightening one day, peaceful and full of bliss the next. All I want to do is dive. So I work hard, smile harder, and say “pretty please?” the next time I see the chance to hop on a boat. My life is very, very surreal.
That being said, other than the location, life here is very, very normal. It’s a tourist town despite the lack of many modern conveniences or western marketing, it’s a town of white faces and constant transients. We wake up, we work, we swim, read, or run errands in a spare moment if there is one, visit friends, we go to dinner, we chat, and we carry on. English is spoken (shame on me and my zero effort for learning Portuguese!) backpackers pass through, and most of us continue to look at what is just down the road once our time here is up. There are some lifers here, business owners or property gurus, and those of us who have proper jobs are usually on that one year or so commitment, but yeah, that “this is Africa, baby” feeling is a bit absent. A stunning holiday down that I wish all of you could see, but only if you’re going to dive with me.
I have to look back on some of the blogs I started earlier to try to cut and paste some funnies… hold on… ahhh… found one…
Have I mentioned the *kiss kiss*? Oh so lovely… now. Being Canadian, having grown up in the 3rd largest country easily laying claim to the largest sense of personal space, it of course took me some time adjusting to the overcrowding of SE Asia and then the pile on top of each other of Africa. I think I’ve managed most of the situations without too many major faux pas and have learned to smile, or grimace, and go with it. Here, in Tofo, the atmosphere is very European, being a Portuguese settled country. The “local” (those of us who live here but aren’t from Mozambique) population is a mixture of South African (again, for another day), European, and a smattering of former British colonies. As I was initially being introduced around town and the new friend leaned in for a *kiss kiss* hello, once or twice it resulted in me either bending over backwards, almost in half, hands raised in a “woah, back off!” gesture, as I wasn’t sure why this person was suddenly so close to my face, or embracing the greeter in a full body hug as they ended up air kissing a mouth full of my hair. Umm… oops… awkward. Thankfully, as I’ve said, most people here are very, very kind so my social silliness has long since been forgiven and I have eagerly jumped on the *kiss kiss* bandwagon. A very old school, classic movies, pretentious and posh tradition that I am determined to bring back to life if ever I return to the North American locale. I love *kiss kiss*.
Then there are the logistical bits. Like visas. Anyone who has travelled can share my pain. The “laws” governing Mozambique visas have a tendency to change on a daily basis. So after many long & miserable journeys, heads banged against tables, and excessive amounts of cash that I simply don’t have, a temporary and creative solution has been found. Don’t need to share the details as African police officers, immigration officials, and dark, dingy prisons aren’t on my to-do list for my time on this continent but I want to stay for a while and stay I will. It’s Africa baby, just make it happen.
Oh and how about this fun little bit? Being that this is a tourist town (mostly for hordes of South Africans), there is a boat load of cash to be made during the holidays. That being said, Natalia and I are homeless from Dec. 23 – Jan 3. Our landlord can ask as much per day as we pay per month, so yeah, we are kicked out to couch surf and rely on the generosity of those with a more secure abode. There are some comfy sofas at the dive shop should all else fail but again, so many nice people here, so many (hopefully) good friends that I don’t think I’ll have trouble finding a place to lay my head each night. The only real hassle will be temporarily packing up the home and living out of the backpack again but hey, it will get me used to what I hope to do be doing again soon. So please, if any of you have time, pass the word on to Santa that I’ll be transient on the 25th so not to worry about me too much this year. Thanks.
The 25th. Christmas day last year I was bundled and backpacked, saying goodbye to family at the Halifax airport bound for Africa and all of its unknowns. Far too little of Africa has been experienced and I can’t tell you where the year has gone or what I have done with it but it feels like a million years have passed. I don’t miss many material luxuries anymore and I’ve learned what “bare minimum” can look like but I’m starting to get very itchy feet ( I REALLY can’t stand that phrase! SO gross!) While I’m thankful for the strangely comfortable life I have set up here, I’m eagerly anticipating being on the move. Thinking back to the brief transition of exploring those bits of Tanzania before heading down here … exhilarating. Stepping on or off of a bus or plane or the back of a random pickup truck not really knowing what is actually just ahead, it’s calling to me. Time to move, time to move, time to move…
I don’t really have any plans at this point other than hopefully getting my hands on a new credit card (mine expired and the new one has been “lost in the mail”). So for the next few months at least, I will continue to hunker down and see what, if any money at all I can try to save so that I can continue the journey. It’s frustrating because the more I see, the more people I meet, the more stories I hear, the more my fire is fuelled. But Africa is expensive folks, more expensive than I could have ever imagined, and my independent wealth has not quite been realized as I continue to float through my silly life. Regardless, I count my blessings and the stamps in my passport while I stare at world maps and try to figure out how I can find my way there and there and THERE! Oh there are so many “theres” I want to see… Any and all of you are welcome to join the ride, it is one heck of a ride!
The people I’ve met here continue to amaze me. Everyone has a story, everyone has seen and done things I could only dream of. The places people have been and the experiences that have been had, completely inspiring. If only I had had my mid-life crisis 10 years earlier, I would have half of the globe covered by now. The more time I’m away, the harder it is to imagine being “settled” ever again. A 9 – 5 job, a vehicle, a mortgage, that whole “Hi honey, I’m home” thing has never seemed so foreign, so far away. I promise that I’m not turning into some loopy, hippie, drippy burnout, I promise that I continue to be very responsible and conservative by most standards here, but yeah, the disconnect to North American life is becoming more and more pronounced. Strange. Good thing? Bad thing? Really no idea. But I’m learning to not over – think and just live. Not like me AT ALL! But it’s good, it’s all good.
Summertime on the South East coast of Africa has arrived with a vengeance and all of that dripping wet heat and offensively stifling odour has returned. Wow. Hearing about the massive snow storms that seem to be crippling every major city at the moment while we are bathed in stinky sweat is just incomprehensible. That being said, I miss curling up in a nice big hoodie wrapped tightly in a soft fleece blanket watching the white stuff pile high outside the window. No matter how far I roam, I will still be Canadian at heart. Forever and ever.
So on that note, I will sign off so that I can actually get this posted. Shame on me for being so terrible about keeping in touch but I promise that I am okay. Thank you to those of you who are still interested in me and where in the world I am, thank you for helping this disconnected spirit to remain connected in some small way. As I’ve said before, it really is too easy to disappear here. Far too easy. But I won’t, I can’t, and it will not happen. I will try to find more stories to tell, more adventures to have, and more things to keep looking forward to… this girl has lots to do before she’s done.
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and all the very best for every other festivity that is happening right now. I will play in the sand and go for a swim in the sea as I miss all of you on that one day of the year when being together really counts. My heart is home right now. All my love.
Where do I start? What have I told you? Pretty much nothing? Excellent. Let’s keep it that way. Awww!!! Now that’s not very nice! I’ll try to fill in the blanks without too much rambling but come on now, it’s me; there will be excess rambling by the buckets full.
Still in Southern Mozambique, Tofo Beach, and still living a simple, surreal life. Did I mention, have I told you, do you know that I have a new job yet again? I’m the smiley, chatty, receptionist at Diversity Scuba, the finest dive shop in Tofo. It’s actually the dive shop where Natalia (remember my house mate?) and a few very dear friends work so life has fallen into place oh so nicely (and yes, it is the finest dive shop in Tofo). Started half time in early Sept and have been left to run the full time show since mid Oct. Haven’t burned the place down or thrown us into massive chaos yet so things seem to be going okay. Receptionist work, well, not my most ambitious goal, but folks, when the shop is slow, the weather is good, and I’ve sorted out all of the messes that can be created being part of a busy business in Africa, I hop on a boat and dive my little heart out. And, shamelessly, get paid to do it. Couldn’t ask for a better shop owner and manager, both of whom are keen to get me in the water as much as I can because the more I know the sites, the better I can chat it up to customers. Hmmm… like I really need another excuse to be in the water. Seriously, all good.
The only bit I continue to struggle with somewhat is the amount of time at work. I now fall into that 6 days a week, 10+ hours a day schedule. All we do is work. My entire life is at the shop. Often times, we’ll hang around or meet up with friends to try to get some sense of a life instead of going home after the doors close but there are other days where it’s all we can do to drag our sorry asses that long walk home. And that one precious day off? Sleep, clean, try to catch up. This is why three months has passed me by in the blink of an eye. I can’t think of much else that I have done other than work. But don’t get me wrong!!! I am so thankful for the job and quite grateful for the opportunity to become a fully integrated part of this community. It’s quite easy to see how people can get lost here. The beauty of this place when you can separate out the tourist bit of it all is overwhelming. I am in one of the most unique marine life environments on the planet. I have been able to dive and snorkel with creatures that are so incredible they are almost magical. My whole world comes together under these waters… it’s challenging and frightening one day, peaceful and full of bliss the next. All I want to do is dive. So I work hard, smile harder, and say “pretty please?” the next time I see the chance to hop on a boat. My life is very, very surreal.
That being said, other than the location, life here is very, very normal. It’s a tourist town despite the lack of many modern conveniences or western marketing, it’s a town of white faces and constant transients. We wake up, we work, we swim, read, or run errands in a spare moment if there is one, visit friends, we go to dinner, we chat, and we carry on. English is spoken (shame on me and my zero effort for learning Portuguese!) backpackers pass through, and most of us continue to look at what is just down the road once our time here is up. There are some lifers here, business owners or property gurus, and those of us who have proper jobs are usually on that one year or so commitment, but yeah, that “this is Africa, baby” feeling is a bit absent. A stunning holiday down that I wish all of you could see, but only if you’re going to dive with me.
I have to look back on some of the blogs I started earlier to try to cut and paste some funnies… hold on… ahhh… found one…
Have I mentioned the *kiss kiss*? Oh so lovely… now. Being Canadian, having grown up in the 3rd largest country easily laying claim to the largest sense of personal space, it of course took me some time adjusting to the overcrowding of SE Asia and then the pile on top of each other of Africa. I think I’ve managed most of the situations without too many major faux pas and have learned to smile, or grimace, and go with it. Here, in Tofo, the atmosphere is very European, being a Portuguese settled country. The “local” (those of us who live here but aren’t from Mozambique) population is a mixture of South African (again, for another day), European, and a smattering of former British colonies. As I was initially being introduced around town and the new friend leaned in for a *kiss kiss* hello, once or twice it resulted in me either bending over backwards, almost in half, hands raised in a “woah, back off!” gesture, as I wasn’t sure why this person was suddenly so close to my face, or embracing the greeter in a full body hug as they ended up air kissing a mouth full of my hair. Umm… oops… awkward. Thankfully, as I’ve said, most people here are very, very kind so my social silliness has long since been forgiven and I have eagerly jumped on the *kiss kiss* bandwagon. A very old school, classic movies, pretentious and posh tradition that I am determined to bring back to life if ever I return to the North American locale. I love *kiss kiss*.
Then there are the logistical bits. Like visas. Anyone who has travelled can share my pain. The “laws” governing Mozambique visas have a tendency to change on a daily basis. So after many long & miserable journeys, heads banged against tables, and excessive amounts of cash that I simply don’t have, a temporary and creative solution has been found. Don’t need to share the details as African police officers, immigration officials, and dark, dingy prisons aren’t on my to-do list for my time on this continent but I want to stay for a while and stay I will. It’s Africa baby, just make it happen.
Oh and how about this fun little bit? Being that this is a tourist town (mostly for hordes of South Africans), there is a boat load of cash to be made during the holidays. That being said, Natalia and I are homeless from Dec. 23 – Jan 3. Our landlord can ask as much per day as we pay per month, so yeah, we are kicked out to couch surf and rely on the generosity of those with a more secure abode. There are some comfy sofas at the dive shop should all else fail but again, so many nice people here, so many (hopefully) good friends that I don’t think I’ll have trouble finding a place to lay my head each night. The only real hassle will be temporarily packing up the home and living out of the backpack again but hey, it will get me used to what I hope to do be doing again soon. So please, if any of you have time, pass the word on to Santa that I’ll be transient on the 25th so not to worry about me too much this year. Thanks.
The 25th. Christmas day last year I was bundled and backpacked, saying goodbye to family at the Halifax airport bound for Africa and all of its unknowns. Far too little of Africa has been experienced and I can’t tell you where the year has gone or what I have done with it but it feels like a million years have passed. I don’t miss many material luxuries anymore and I’ve learned what “bare minimum” can look like but I’m starting to get very itchy feet ( I REALLY can’t stand that phrase! SO gross!) While I’m thankful for the strangely comfortable life I have set up here, I’m eagerly anticipating being on the move. Thinking back to the brief transition of exploring those bits of Tanzania before heading down here … exhilarating. Stepping on or off of a bus or plane or the back of a random pickup truck not really knowing what is actually just ahead, it’s calling to me. Time to move, time to move, time to move…
I don’t really have any plans at this point other than hopefully getting my hands on a new credit card (mine expired and the new one has been “lost in the mail”). So for the next few months at least, I will continue to hunker down and see what, if any money at all I can try to save so that I can continue the journey. It’s frustrating because the more I see, the more people I meet, the more stories I hear, the more my fire is fuelled. But Africa is expensive folks, more expensive than I could have ever imagined, and my independent wealth has not quite been realized as I continue to float through my silly life. Regardless, I count my blessings and the stamps in my passport while I stare at world maps and try to figure out how I can find my way there and there and THERE! Oh there are so many “theres” I want to see… Any and all of you are welcome to join the ride, it is one heck of a ride!
The people I’ve met here continue to amaze me. Everyone has a story, everyone has seen and done things I could only dream of. The places people have been and the experiences that have been had, completely inspiring. If only I had had my mid-life crisis 10 years earlier, I would have half of the globe covered by now. The more time I’m away, the harder it is to imagine being “settled” ever again. A 9 – 5 job, a vehicle, a mortgage, that whole “Hi honey, I’m home” thing has never seemed so foreign, so far away. I promise that I’m not turning into some loopy, hippie, drippy burnout, I promise that I continue to be very responsible and conservative by most standards here, but yeah, the disconnect to North American life is becoming more and more pronounced. Strange. Good thing? Bad thing? Really no idea. But I’m learning to not over – think and just live. Not like me AT ALL! But it’s good, it’s all good.
Summertime on the South East coast of Africa has arrived with a vengeance and all of that dripping wet heat and offensively stifling odour has returned. Wow. Hearing about the massive snow storms that seem to be crippling every major city at the moment while we are bathed in stinky sweat is just incomprehensible. That being said, I miss curling up in a nice big hoodie wrapped tightly in a soft fleece blanket watching the white stuff pile high outside the window. No matter how far I roam, I will still be Canadian at heart. Forever and ever.
So on that note, I will sign off so that I can actually get this posted. Shame on me for being so terrible about keeping in touch but I promise that I am okay. Thank you to those of you who are still interested in me and where in the world I am, thank you for helping this disconnected spirit to remain connected in some small way. As I’ve said before, it really is too easy to disappear here. Far too easy. But I won’t, I can’t, and it will not happen. I will try to find more stories to tell, more adventures to have, and more things to keep looking forward to… this girl has lots to do before she’s done.
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and all the very best for every other festivity that is happening right now. I will play in the sand and go for a swim in the sea as I miss all of you on that one day of the year when being together really counts. My heart is home right now. All my love.
Time is flying in Tofo
While I still am fairly limited for internet time and individual emails are just too overwhelming to even attempt at this point, I am more settled, more social, and happier than I have been since I arrived in Africa over 8 months ago. Now if that's not a good start to a blog entry, I don't know what is!
I've just started new job #3 last week and am hoping and thinking that this one is going to stick. The "Activity Centre", where I was playing information hostess is just not ready to take off yet. A construction site with no cash flow at this point made it difficult to start with some of the ideas I had for bringing in business so it was getting a bit frustrating and a lot boring. It's a beautiful place with incredible potential for a lovely restaurant / information centre but currently there is no kitchen and a yard full of construction materials... a work in progress. So as sad as I am to walk out on a potentially promising opportunity, it was one opportunity that led to another.
The bonus of being the go to girl in Tofo for what to do and how to do it was that I met a lot of people in a huge hurry so that I knew who was who and what was what. The dive shop that is across the street from Activity Center is where my dear friend Natalia works. As timing had it, their current receptionist was looking to drop her hours to half time and hey, I was looking for a new job. So she took my CV, passed on recommendations to the owner (who I luckily already knew), chats were had and I was offered half time hours for the same salary I was making at the Activity Centre plus the opportunity to dive when time allowed for it. Ummm... really? A fabulous opportunity laid at my feet. Let me think about it... I almost hugged him. The owner is fabulous, the people who work for him are the same, and I get to go diving. The receptionist position may not fall within the life-long dream realm but that is SO irrelevant! I get to talk to people all day, I get to sort out dive stuff, and I get to be a happy, happy girl. My whole life has turned around in one quick swoop. Hello sunshine!
A few months in Mozambique and I've been all over the emotional rollercoaster map but I'm feeling settled, I'm feeling good, and I'm excited about potential opportunities that are just down the road. That's what it's all about, isn't it? Opportunities. AND, as a dear friend said, adventure. A bad adventure is better than no adventure at all. Oh how right you are, Deb, how right you are. So while I have no plans, because making plans is just pointless here, I am hoping to stay for at least a few more months. I seriously need to replenish the travel fund. The visa issue is a big one that is hanging over my head at the moment. I have apparently over stayed (and over paid!) my time allowed in the country but I am looking at alternatives to keep me here. The story is different at each embassy, high commission, border crossing, etc so options are being explored and I will deal with what comes. Oh the joys of red tape...
So Tofo. Google Tofo, Inhambane Province, Mozambique.
I've just started new job #3 last week and am hoping and thinking that this one is going to stick. The "Activity Centre", where I was playing information hostess is just not ready to take off yet. A construction site with no cash flow at this point made it difficult to start with some of the ideas I had for bringing in business so it was getting a bit frustrating and a lot boring. It's a beautiful place with incredible potential for a lovely restaurant / information centre but currently there is no kitchen and a yard full of construction materials... a work in progress. So as sad as I am to walk out on a potentially promising opportunity, it was one opportunity that led to another.
The bonus of being the go to girl in Tofo for what to do and how to do it was that I met a lot of people in a huge hurry so that I knew who was who and what was what. The dive shop that is across the street from Activity Center is where my dear friend Natalia works. As timing had it, their current receptionist was looking to drop her hours to half time and hey, I was looking for a new job. So she took my CV, passed on recommendations to the owner (who I luckily already knew), chats were had and I was offered half time hours for the same salary I was making at the Activity Centre plus the opportunity to dive when time allowed for it. Ummm... really? A fabulous opportunity laid at my feet. Let me think about it... I almost hugged him. The owner is fabulous, the people who work for him are the same, and I get to go diving. The receptionist position may not fall within the life-long dream realm but that is SO irrelevant! I get to talk to people all day, I get to sort out dive stuff, and I get to be a happy, happy girl. My whole life has turned around in one quick swoop. Hello sunshine!
A few months in Mozambique and I've been all over the emotional rollercoaster map but I'm feeling settled, I'm feeling good, and I'm excited about potential opportunities that are just down the road. That's what it's all about, isn't it? Opportunities. AND, as a dear friend said, adventure. A bad adventure is better than no adventure at all. Oh how right you are, Deb, how right you are. So while I have no plans, because making plans is just pointless here, I am hoping to stay for at least a few more months. I seriously need to replenish the travel fund. The visa issue is a big one that is hanging over my head at the moment. I have apparently over stayed (and over paid!) my time allowed in the country but I am looking at alternatives to keep me here. The story is different at each embassy, high commission, border crossing, etc so options are being explored and I will deal with what comes. Oh the joys of red tape...
So Tofo. Google Tofo, Inhambane Province, Mozambique.
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