The west coast of the Red Sea is under construction. All of it. ALL. OF. IT! The Red Sea part of my trip was to be MC’ed by a friend of a friend (isn’t it great to have connections?) My friend, lovely Linda from Diversity Scuba, is a videographer who used to work in Egypt. She connected me with Mido, who is an Egyptian videographer working the southern coast of the Red Sea. So I was off. Took the 6-hour fancy, ice-cold air-con luxury bus from Cairo to Hurghada where I was met like royalty and shown around town via personal vehicle, thanks to Mido. It was so nice to be shielded from the usual hassle that accompanies showing up in a new town with that disheveled deer-in-the-headlights look and a backpack in tow. He chauffeured me around and got me settled into a place to stay, made my life very, very easy. My room had a LOVELY little balcony that looked out over the dark of night but I knew the water was just across the street so I was excited to see what morning would bring.
It brought a construction site on the water. Shame. Went into the centre of town and the entire stretch of water front is either a construction site or fenced off as it belongs to one of the endless resort / hotels along the water line. A HUGE tourist town; this I didn’t know. But oddly enough, although there were dozens and dozens of half erected structures absolutely everywhere, I didn’t see any people working on the sites. Nowhere. Noone. Couldn’t tell if some of the buildings were going up or coming down as everything looked to be in such a bizarre state of abandon. The main street was overrun with shops catering to tourists but the hassle wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. The traffic was intense and I choked along in the dust and dirt but all in the fun of exploring. I found my way to the marina stocked full of gazillion dollar boats of every size and luxury. Serious money and again, construction everywhere. Not too much else to see so decided to keep heading south.
The next stop was a quaint little town called Al Quseir (spelled differently on every sign posted). Getting to this town, only about two hours away, was much more my style. I asked at the place where I was staying in Hurghada to please explain to the taxi driver that I needed to get to the bus station heading to Al Quseir. The guy was quite distressed as he made many phone calls on my behalf (I was thoroughly confused) only to inform me that none of the tourist bus companies were heading there today. No, no, no… I want a local bus. Puzzled look… pause… pardon, miss? Yes, yes, a local bus is fine, no tourist bus. Are you sure, miss? Yes, yes I ‘m sure. Can you please explain to the taxi? Oh, okay miss. Well, good luck miss. Bahahaha! Poor guy. The local bus turned out to be a fleet of old school Peugot station wagons. Mine was a lovely shade of 70’s green, each of the three rows of bench seats AND the dashboard lined in thick brown faux fur, and random bits of tape and string holding various things together. Oh yeah, and a bunch of men who weren’t really sure what to make of me. After waiting around for enough people to make sure the car was full full, we all piled in and barreled down the desert highway, 7 Egyptian men and me, at no less than 140km/hr. This is my kind of traveling.
Al Quseir is small and old and lovely. It’s a fraction of the size of Hurghada although it too is being built up with tourism, but for now, it was much more local than not. This is Mido’s home base. There, he set me up in a room of one of his offices, which is a proper apartment (also currently under construction), where I crashed on a mattress on the floor and felt like a proper squatter. It was awesome! Met friends and ate local food and was treated like an absolute queen. Overwhelming generosity and kindness everywhere. Amazing. Visited Safaga, another town just north of Al Quseir, super posh dive resort area, and finally got to hang out at the water. Not at the resort, just popped in to drop off his video staff, but I got to peek around inside. Wow, much money. But weird because the area was miles and miles from town, completely isolated by desert, had to pass through security to even get into the resort area and show id to get in and out. People come all this way to be completely shut out from Egypt. Strange.
Walked around a local beach, cold, much too cold for this princess to get in, but watched the local scene. Most boys would go in in shorts of some kind but all of the girls were fully clothed in either long pants and shirts or their burkhas, including head scarf. Can’t imagine something as freeing as swimming and having to do it wrapped in layers of fabric. But everyone looked like they were having fun, picnicking by the water for the day. The beaches so far have been just dirt, more or less, which isn’t what I was expecting. The WATER is every shade of crystal clear you could ever imagine, you can see straight down to the bottom, but the beaches aren’t really beaches. A few metres of sand / dirt / rock then the water. Not the lounging area that I was thinking. But then again, I was pretty spoiled in Mozambique.
Al Quseir has one tiny market street, all of about two blocks long, and one of Mido’s friends has a shop there so it was the perfect place to hang out and watch the world go by. Again, one of those places where nothing is open until mid-afternoon but the whole place is swarming and alive after dark. Cairo was a complete circus atmosphere full of neon lights and a spider’s web of streets choked with cars and people and vendors and places to sit drinking tea and smoking shisha – all local! This is what happens even when the tourists aren’t looking. It’s SO beautiful. No early mornings here, it’s all about after dark, in every town big and small. Social and busy and alive. As I left Mido to wander the street in Al Quseir, I was befriended by one little girl who was very good at practicing her English. She was quickly joined by some of her friends and before I knew it, 10 kids and me were at her house, visiting with her mom and an aunt, while Mido’s frantically calling me on my phone asking me where I’ve disappeared to?! Again, just SO nice!
Easter Monday is a big Egyptian holiday, a new year kind of thing where families all head to the beach for the day to wash out the old and welcome in the new. Thousands and thousands of people crowded miles of narrow beach to celebrate the sunny and hot day. I wandered in and out of the throngs of people, drawing a fair share of looks and stares, but remained fully clothed, out of the water, and simply an observer. Love, love, LOVE that the few times I did sit to watch the parties, it never took long before a kid or two would simply plop themselves down beside me and chatter away in Arabic which would of course have to default into a game of charades. Didn’t see one single white face so fair enough that I was an odd sight in the midst of the crowds. But again, nothing but smiles and kindness. This is why I travel.
Back to the “under construction”… I’m not kidding. There are hundreds of buildings up and down the coast, along the desert highway, on the water, and everywhere in between all in the process of being built apparently. Half done, brick outlines with protruding re-bar, piles of construction material, but no people. Mido says it has been like this for 10 years. People build what they can until they run out of money, leave it, then come back when there is more money. New and old, everything covered in varying degrees of dirt and dust, definitely a country based on tourism as there seem to be more and more resorts coming every single day. Rightfully so; some pretty amazing thing to see here!
The plan is to start heading inland, towards the Nile and the rest of history. Want to try to cruise on the river, see further south, and find some more of those impressive temples. The people here have been so warm and wonderful this far along. Way less harassing than I thought, so friendly and helpful and just happy, happy people. Thumbs up from this Canadian traveler!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Old really is good!
A couple of days in and I’m loving it. Haven’t been backpacking in a while so wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to get back into the swing of things. I can walk more or less upright with my bulging 47lb pack and carry my two extra bags without the need for assistance so apparently I’m good to go. Not for long periods of time mind you, but I’m hoping my stamina will improve. I’ve managed 7, yes SEVEN, very long flights of stairs up to a hostel without any sherpas so I think I’m doing ok. Was panting upon arrival mind you but yep, strong like bull!
For all of the warnings and worries, things here have been absolutely wonderful. Really! Tourism has been quiet, obviously, but the harassment has been minimal. Probably the least harassed I’ve ever been. Egyptian scoop is that one of the major roads heading south is closed because of some other ongoing protests but I managed to find an alternate route with no concerns. There seem to be endless numbers of police? military? crossing guards? in shiny white uniforms absolutely everywhere. Some seem to be tourist police, some are kinda trying to direct the absolute death race that is city traffic, and some are just there but they all seem happy, not the least bit on edge or irritable, and very welcoming. I know that things could go belly up in a flash, but for now, I really do feel safer here than in lots of the places I’ve already been. Everyone has been friendly, helpful, and “Welcome to Egypt!” Yay!
Forgot that hostel jumping isn’t my most favourite but what can you do when you’re roaming on the cheap cheap? So far it has been absolutely fine, it’s the 3:50am mosque calls that I’ve been struggling with. I’m hoping it will get better, that I’ll simply be able to sleep right on through, but yeah, air raid siren type of screeching in the still and quiet of what should be blissful early morning… ugh! Got up and watched these men dragging themselves down the empty streets to the beckoning mosque, bleary eyes barely open, rumpled and wrinkled, shuffling along in what seems like dead man walking instead of early prayer. Such a shame but good for them. I will never know that kind of discipline. And the permanent bruise/bump/indentations on their foreheads! I actually thought it was that last and final tiny tuft of hair on the very front of the forehead after the poor man had gone almost completely bald until I got a little closer. Oops. But yep, you can see a devout man coming from miles off. The price of prayer – wow.
Doesn’t it go without saying that everyone loves Canada? Somehow, somewhere, a phrase that I’ve never heard before has worked its way into Cairo tourist culture. I reply that I’m from Canada (because of course they’re always asking) and they laugh it up, “Canada Dry , never cry!” What?!?! What does that MEAN? How does that go together with ginger ale? Does that mean that we’re always happy? That we never drink? That ginger ale is the solution to droughts? I don’t understand! But almost every man has said this. The one woman (who was trying to sell me papyrus art) was the only one who responded a little differently; she said “Not Canada Dry, Canada FRESH!” Again… WHAT?!?! I don’t get it. Someone who has far too much time on their hands, please google this for me and find out. It’s absolutely hilarious. Always a big smile and often a fist pump in the air “Canada Dry, never cry!” I just don’t get it.
Met this cute little girl my first morning up and out. Swear to goodness that I thought she was a 12yr old waiting on her parents. When I saw her wandering around the hostel on her own, I asked her if she was waiting on someone and little Ms. Hannah replied that she wasn’t, she was supposed to be going on a trip that the hostel had arranged for her (at an astronomical rip off price!) but she misunderstood and thought they said 9am instead of 9pm. She was going to hang around the hostel all day until it was time to go. Oh no, no, no… come, let’s go walk the city. This sweet little thing is in her second year of university, history major of course, and was originally placed to do a study abroad program here in Cairo, revolution started, school didn’t (locked on campus of course), chartered out when things got hairy, then re-placed in Athens. Is here visiting where she was meant to be studying on her spring break. This sweet girl is so naïve that when I gave her one of my rings to wear as a wedding band, she didn’t know what finger to put it on, she has been here 3 days but only gone out of the hostel on group trips because she was too nervous to go out on her own, and has not done any exploring because she again, didn’t think it was safe to go alone. I couldn’t help but drag her with me.
She looked like a nervous little bird if we were approached with the usual rowdy “Welcome! Where you come from?” on the street and made ME nervous as she chatted away but almost got herself run over the few times she forgot to keep up as we crossed the chaotic streets. We ate at a local restaurant and then went to one of the fabulous street cafes where I tried desperately to teach her how to smoke a shisha/sheesha (I have NO idea how to spell it!) Epic fail. “Breathe IN Hannah, like you’re taking a big drink from a straw.” and she would puff up her cheeks and blow out, like making bubbles in her chocolate milk. It was hilarious! So I made sure I took a picture of her at least holding it so she can say she really did try the sheesha experience. Too cute. We’ll make an independent traveler out of her yet!
My trip to the pyramids was so … WOW! The hostel insisted that I should have a “driver”, that taxis would cost me a fortune, and there was no other way to get there. Really? Woke up, took the train and a taxi to the pyramids for less than half of what they said it would cost me. Shysters. Got lucky as I hopped into a train car that looked less full than some, only after we started moving did I realize that there are separate cars for women and men (of course!) and I ended up in the women’s one simply because I didn’t want to be crowded. Wonder what would have happened if I hopped in the wrong one???
Pretty sure I got fleeced on the camel ride thing but really didn’t mind so much. Showed up at 8am as the ticket office opened and was one of the only ones there. It was AWESOME! but a little bizarre as the pyramids are at the very beginning of the desert which is literally just on the outskirts of the city. Concrete roads, dirt roads, desert, pyramids. I guess I thought they were in the middle of nowhere but they really aren’t. Kinda took away a bit of the dramatics but still, I was overwhelmed. My chit chat guide, the eternal flirt as all of them are, kept me thoroughly entertained. He was walking and leading my camel as we were heading through the entrance area and when I asked him if he was going to walk the whole way, he said no, he’ll ride a camel. “A” camel. At one point shortly after this, he stopped the camel and hopped up into my saddle square in front of me. OH! You’re going to ride MY camel. Umm… okay. No worries, there was no touching involved and he was quite the gentleman, but yeah, I can just imagine how many young sweet things he has charmed the pants off of. Funny boy.
Ultimately, I really did get an up close and personal, private visit to the pyramids and the area so fleeced or not, it was worth every penny. I was a happy camper. A two hour tour turned out to be four and I was thoroughly exhausted and wobbly-legged at the end of it all. Managed the taxi and train rides all by myself and didn’t get lost on the way back either! For those of you who know me well, an absolutely shocking task as I have ZERO directional ability. Was meant to go to the famous Egyptian museum in the afternoon but the pyramid trip was longer than expected then I had to change hostels and after all of that, no strength left so decided to stay an extra day. It’s a museum, really, I guess I could have given it a miss but sure glad I didn’t.
Went a little before it opened thinking maybe I would avoid the crowds but apparently every tourist in Cairo had the same idea. So I wandered and puttered around town then went back in the afternoon. This museum is indescribable. I was there for almost three hours and really just skimmed everything. Two MASSIVE floors crammed with thousands upon thousands of bits and pieces, big and small, just every and anything you could imagine all there, some organized, cased, and labeled and some just there, piled up randomly, to be gotten to at some point. It’s unbelievable. Fascinating! Thousands of years of incredibly artistic civilization dug up and still being dug out! Hardest part for me? So many of the pieces are out, on display, too big to be encased or just shown better by not being encased, and everywhere there are signs that say “Forbidden to touch”. Are you kidding me?!?! I touch EVERYTHING, what do you mean I can’t touch?!?! Aaaaarrrrrrgh! It was truly painful to keep my hands to myself and not run my fingers along the inscriptions and sarcophagi and statutes and trinkets. Just not fair. But definitely worth sticking around the extra day, especially since there are so few tourists. Several times I was able to be in a room completely by myself! 4000 year old artifacts and me… wow.
So far so good and Cairo, while loud, dirty as hell, and full on CHAOS, has been the greatest way to start my latest journey. I am LOVING Egypt!
For all of the warnings and worries, things here have been absolutely wonderful. Really! Tourism has been quiet, obviously, but the harassment has been minimal. Probably the least harassed I’ve ever been. Egyptian scoop is that one of the major roads heading south is closed because of some other ongoing protests but I managed to find an alternate route with no concerns. There seem to be endless numbers of police? military? crossing guards? in shiny white uniforms absolutely everywhere. Some seem to be tourist police, some are kinda trying to direct the absolute death race that is city traffic, and some are just there but they all seem happy, not the least bit on edge or irritable, and very welcoming. I know that things could go belly up in a flash, but for now, I really do feel safer here than in lots of the places I’ve already been. Everyone has been friendly, helpful, and “Welcome to Egypt!” Yay!
Forgot that hostel jumping isn’t my most favourite but what can you do when you’re roaming on the cheap cheap? So far it has been absolutely fine, it’s the 3:50am mosque calls that I’ve been struggling with. I’m hoping it will get better, that I’ll simply be able to sleep right on through, but yeah, air raid siren type of screeching in the still and quiet of what should be blissful early morning… ugh! Got up and watched these men dragging themselves down the empty streets to the beckoning mosque, bleary eyes barely open, rumpled and wrinkled, shuffling along in what seems like dead man walking instead of early prayer. Such a shame but good for them. I will never know that kind of discipline. And the permanent bruise/bump/indentations on their foreheads! I actually thought it was that last and final tiny tuft of hair on the very front of the forehead after the poor man had gone almost completely bald until I got a little closer. Oops. But yep, you can see a devout man coming from miles off. The price of prayer – wow.
Doesn’t it go without saying that everyone loves Canada? Somehow, somewhere, a phrase that I’ve never heard before has worked its way into Cairo tourist culture. I reply that I’m from Canada (because of course they’re always asking) and they laugh it up, “Canada Dry , never cry!” What?!?! What does that MEAN? How does that go together with ginger ale? Does that mean that we’re always happy? That we never drink? That ginger ale is the solution to droughts? I don’t understand! But almost every man has said this. The one woman (who was trying to sell me papyrus art) was the only one who responded a little differently; she said “Not Canada Dry, Canada FRESH!” Again… WHAT?!?! I don’t get it. Someone who has far too much time on their hands, please google this for me and find out. It’s absolutely hilarious. Always a big smile and often a fist pump in the air “Canada Dry, never cry!” I just don’t get it.
Met this cute little girl my first morning up and out. Swear to goodness that I thought she was a 12yr old waiting on her parents. When I saw her wandering around the hostel on her own, I asked her if she was waiting on someone and little Ms. Hannah replied that she wasn’t, she was supposed to be going on a trip that the hostel had arranged for her (at an astronomical rip off price!) but she misunderstood and thought they said 9am instead of 9pm. She was going to hang around the hostel all day until it was time to go. Oh no, no, no… come, let’s go walk the city. This sweet little thing is in her second year of university, history major of course, and was originally placed to do a study abroad program here in Cairo, revolution started, school didn’t (locked on campus of course), chartered out when things got hairy, then re-placed in Athens. Is here visiting where she was meant to be studying on her spring break. This sweet girl is so naïve that when I gave her one of my rings to wear as a wedding band, she didn’t know what finger to put it on, she has been here 3 days but only gone out of the hostel on group trips because she was too nervous to go out on her own, and has not done any exploring because she again, didn’t think it was safe to go alone. I couldn’t help but drag her with me.
She looked like a nervous little bird if we were approached with the usual rowdy “Welcome! Where you come from?” on the street and made ME nervous as she chatted away but almost got herself run over the few times she forgot to keep up as we crossed the chaotic streets. We ate at a local restaurant and then went to one of the fabulous street cafes where I tried desperately to teach her how to smoke a shisha/sheesha (I have NO idea how to spell it!) Epic fail. “Breathe IN Hannah, like you’re taking a big drink from a straw.” and she would puff up her cheeks and blow out, like making bubbles in her chocolate milk. It was hilarious! So I made sure I took a picture of her at least holding it so she can say she really did try the sheesha experience. Too cute. We’ll make an independent traveler out of her yet!
My trip to the pyramids was so … WOW! The hostel insisted that I should have a “driver”, that taxis would cost me a fortune, and there was no other way to get there. Really? Woke up, took the train and a taxi to the pyramids for less than half of what they said it would cost me. Shysters. Got lucky as I hopped into a train car that looked less full than some, only after we started moving did I realize that there are separate cars for women and men (of course!) and I ended up in the women’s one simply because I didn’t want to be crowded. Wonder what would have happened if I hopped in the wrong one???
Pretty sure I got fleeced on the camel ride thing but really didn’t mind so much. Showed up at 8am as the ticket office opened and was one of the only ones there. It was AWESOME! but a little bizarre as the pyramids are at the very beginning of the desert which is literally just on the outskirts of the city. Concrete roads, dirt roads, desert, pyramids. I guess I thought they were in the middle of nowhere but they really aren’t. Kinda took away a bit of the dramatics but still, I was overwhelmed. My chit chat guide, the eternal flirt as all of them are, kept me thoroughly entertained. He was walking and leading my camel as we were heading through the entrance area and when I asked him if he was going to walk the whole way, he said no, he’ll ride a camel. “A” camel. At one point shortly after this, he stopped the camel and hopped up into my saddle square in front of me. OH! You’re going to ride MY camel. Umm… okay. No worries, there was no touching involved and he was quite the gentleman, but yeah, I can just imagine how many young sweet things he has charmed the pants off of. Funny boy.
Ultimately, I really did get an up close and personal, private visit to the pyramids and the area so fleeced or not, it was worth every penny. I was a happy camper. A two hour tour turned out to be four and I was thoroughly exhausted and wobbly-legged at the end of it all. Managed the taxi and train rides all by myself and didn’t get lost on the way back either! For those of you who know me well, an absolutely shocking task as I have ZERO directional ability. Was meant to go to the famous Egyptian museum in the afternoon but the pyramid trip was longer than expected then I had to change hostels and after all of that, no strength left so decided to stay an extra day. It’s a museum, really, I guess I could have given it a miss but sure glad I didn’t.
Went a little before it opened thinking maybe I would avoid the crowds but apparently every tourist in Cairo had the same idea. So I wandered and puttered around town then went back in the afternoon. This museum is indescribable. I was there for almost three hours and really just skimmed everything. Two MASSIVE floors crammed with thousands upon thousands of bits and pieces, big and small, just every and anything you could imagine all there, some organized, cased, and labeled and some just there, piled up randomly, to be gotten to at some point. It’s unbelievable. Fascinating! Thousands of years of incredibly artistic civilization dug up and still being dug out! Hardest part for me? So many of the pieces are out, on display, too big to be encased or just shown better by not being encased, and everywhere there are signs that say “Forbidden to touch”. Are you kidding me?!?! I touch EVERYTHING, what do you mean I can’t touch?!?! Aaaaarrrrrrgh! It was truly painful to keep my hands to myself and not run my fingers along the inscriptions and sarcophagi and statutes and trinkets. Just not fair. But definitely worth sticking around the extra day, especially since there are so few tourists. Several times I was able to be in a room completely by myself! 4000 year old artifacts and me… wow.
So far so good and Cairo, while loud, dirty as hell, and full on CHAOS, has been the greatest way to start my latest journey. I am LOVING Egypt!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Can't sit still.
To continue on with the current theme of "Risk", I've decided to venture into the Middle East, all by my lonesome, to check out the birthplace of civilization. Unfortunately that birthplace continues to be in a somewhat sinister state of upheaval and revolution but I see that as opportunity. I mean, if tourists are fleeing, doesn't that mean better deals and less crowds for me?! I think so, my friends, I think so. It's all about timing and the timing seems perfect for a little exploring.
I'll be arriving into the chaotic and charming city of Cairo late Sunday evening and that's it. I have no plans. None. Have been kinda skimming some info on places to see and things to do but since my whole world was turned upside down a few weeks ago, I've decided to just go and see what happens. Dumb? Maybe. Exciting? Definitely! Whether I get to stroll around ancient streets or dodge the odd riot or two, I think I have some good things to look forward to.
No job found yet but I'm harassing schools and keeping my fingers crossed that something will come together for the fall. If not... oh who am I kidding? I have no idea what I'll do "if not". But really, I'm trying not to think about it. I'm not being afraid, I'm not stressing, I'm not planning. I'm going and I will do my very best to be wide open to opportunity. Suggestions are welcome, well wishes are encouraged, and emails are treasured. Now that I'm gonna be out on my own for the first time in a long time, I'm gonna need some online lovin'. Not THAT kind of lovin' you big pervs! Keeping in touch lovin'. Sheesh!
Hopefully I'll have some good adventures to fill you in on soon enough! Wish me luck! xoxo
I'll be arriving into the chaotic and charming city of Cairo late Sunday evening and that's it. I have no plans. None. Have been kinda skimming some info on places to see and things to do but since my whole world was turned upside down a few weeks ago, I've decided to just go and see what happens. Dumb? Maybe. Exciting? Definitely! Whether I get to stroll around ancient streets or dodge the odd riot or two, I think I have some good things to look forward to.
No job found yet but I'm harassing schools and keeping my fingers crossed that something will come together for the fall. If not... oh who am I kidding? I have no idea what I'll do "if not". But really, I'm trying not to think about it. I'm not being afraid, I'm not stressing, I'm not planning. I'm going and I will do my very best to be wide open to opportunity. Suggestions are welcome, well wishes are encouraged, and emails are treasured. Now that I'm gonna be out on my own for the first time in a long time, I'm gonna need some online lovin'. Not THAT kind of lovin' you big pervs! Keeping in touch lovin'. Sheesh!
Hopefully I'll have some good adventures to fill you in on soon enough! Wish me luck! xoxo
Risk
My newest words to live by stolen from one of my old favourites:
I’d rather stand on the edge of a cliff
And hang my toes over a bit,
And then jump when they dare me,
Even if it scares me and I get hurt.
I’d rather build my wings on the way down,
Do my best not to fall to the ground
and then laugh at my mistakes
‘cause they're only lessons I’ll learn
I’d rather burn with desire deep in my soul,
And love like a fire that’s out of control, and laugh and dance and hope
and chance and kiss
I’d rather live my whole life
with a sense of abandon,
Squeeze every drop out,
no matter what happens.
And not wonder what I've missed
I’d rather risk.
Well I guess I could just play it safe
and forget about love, hope and faith,
with my eye on the shore line,
keeping my boat tied and staying home,
but I’ll never discover new land
by keeping my feet on the sand
No I’d rather set sail
and get carried away by the storm.
I’d rather burn with desire deep in my soul,
And love like a fire that’s out of control, and laugh and dance and hope
and chance and kiss
I’d rather live my whole life
with a sense of abandon,
Squeeze every drop out,
no matter what happens.
And not wonder what I've missed
I’d rather risk.
I would rather risk
I’d rather burn with desire deep in my soul,
And love like a fire that’s out of control,
I’d live my whole life
with a sense of abandon,
Squeeze every drop out
no matter what happens.
And not wonder what I've missed
Oh I just can’t resist,
The chance to risk
live and love and laugh and dance and fall and chance and kiss
I’d rather risk
***I KNOW there are some good Alberta folk out there who knew this word for word, I'm waiting for you to start living it with me!***
I’d rather stand on the edge of a cliff
And hang my toes over a bit,
And then jump when they dare me,
Even if it scares me and I get hurt.
I’d rather build my wings on the way down,
Do my best not to fall to the ground
and then laugh at my mistakes
‘cause they're only lessons I’ll learn
I’d rather burn with desire deep in my soul,
And love like a fire that’s out of control, and laugh and dance and hope
and chance and kiss
I’d rather live my whole life
with a sense of abandon,
Squeeze every drop out,
no matter what happens.
And not wonder what I've missed
I’d rather risk.
Well I guess I could just play it safe
and forget about love, hope and faith,
with my eye on the shore line,
keeping my boat tied and staying home,
but I’ll never discover new land
by keeping my feet on the sand
No I’d rather set sail
and get carried away by the storm.
I’d rather burn with desire deep in my soul,
And love like a fire that’s out of control, and laugh and dance and hope
and chance and kiss
I’d rather live my whole life
with a sense of abandon,
Squeeze every drop out,
no matter what happens.
And not wonder what I've missed
I’d rather risk.
I would rather risk
I’d rather burn with desire deep in my soul,
And love like a fire that’s out of control,
I’d live my whole life
with a sense of abandon,
Squeeze every drop out
no matter what happens.
And not wonder what I've missed
Oh I just can’t resist,
The chance to risk
live and love and laugh and dance and fall and chance and kiss
I’d rather risk
***I KNOW there are some good Alberta folk out there who knew this word for word, I'm waiting for you to start living it with me!***
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Just when you think you've got a plan...
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….
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….
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!
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