Keeping Up

Like Home

Last night, a new home. S and moved into a house down the road from the hostel at which we had been staying. The house is nice and the yard is beautiful. I am keeping my eyes open for the monkeys said to be living in our trees. Along with the new digs, we gained a new roommate, C. C is working on a project that teaches rats to sniff out landmines. Quite interesting. (More here.)

After throwing our bags into our rooms, we all headed for dinner at Suasa, a restaurant on campus and just a few steps from our house. We played cards and drank beer. Which felt so great. Just like home.

Sorry, a bit worn out this Friday afternoon - read S's more engaging post here. Actually, check out her whole blog - her descriptions are quite good!

[I have pictures of both the new house and the card playing. I'll try to get them up tomorrow.]

Dinner

Last night C, a graduate student in the lab, invited us all over for dinner. Of course, we gladly accepted. We arrived, after stopping by my room for a bag of caramels, to a warm welcome (karibu) and two energetic little girls. We sat around, chatting and watching a slightly bizarre American movie.

(Rizzo, from Grease, played a rich woman adopting an unborn child from a poor woman who already had four children and could not afford to support another financially. Can you name it? We have no idea)

Antsy, I headed to the kitchen to see if I could help C with dinner. With some persuading, I was finally given the task. Peel the garlic cloves. The same task E gives when I ask to help. The internationally most tedious task in the kitchen. She explained to me how she was making the Palau, a traditional Swahili dish. Fry onions and garlic. Add meat, which has already been cooked. Add potatoes. Cook for a bit. Add rice. Cook some more.

Eventually all of the action moved to the kitchen and we all stood around laughing and chatting. C's eldest daughter, five, wanted to try my camera. For the next hour or so she was quite the photographer - we were all to follow her direction as she set the scenes. Sit. Here. Two by Two. Girls Only. In amazingly good English, which she is forced to speak in her first year of school. No Swahili.

We laughed as the girls hammed up their personalities - and became quite silly. Fully fueled, I am certain, by the caramels. Apologies to C for the difficult bedtime which surely followed our departure!

Dinner was amazing. Palau. Peas (njegere). Beans (majaragwe). Bananas. Watermellon. And a fabulous salad of tomatoes, red onions, and cabbage. So good.

Commuting

The first two days P, my boss and a suprisingly crazy driver (when in Rome, I suppose), picked me up at 730a and gave me a ride into work. Many of the paved roads have speed bumps - without warning. No yellow paint. I can imagine the first time driving through town, flying through the air much of the distance.

Yesterday, however, I talked S into walking the five or so kilometers into town. And I am so glad that we did. It was the perfect way to begin the day. And so fun to walk along the road and through all of the shops. I think it helped me to get my bearings. S was nice company - though she is nine years younger than I! Fun to hear about the planning of her upcoming twenty-first birthday and her senior year ahead. She also turns out to be quite the Scrabble player. Scrabbulous appears to be the best training tool available. She plays just like A. And with the same competative sprit - glances at the score card after each round. I managed to pull out a win, thanks to a Q on a triple letter square. 167 to 166. More to come I am sure.

Rather than waiting around for P to leave the lab, and rather than paying for a taxi, T offerred a ride on his motorcycle (pikipiki in Swahili). My first motorcycle ride ever, I think. It was much more fun that a car!

Quite the commute.

Tuesday

The sunlight is short. But the days are long. Arrived home from work at nine o’clock last night. Turned out the light, and went to sleep.

Feeling a bit disappointed in the circumstances, I suppose. Had hoped for a bit more time to myself, or out and about, at least.

Sitting outside today, with my laptop. Many inquiring looks and questions about my comfort from the staff around me. At least from here I can watch a bit of the goings on. And see the sun. I tagged along with T on project errands in town. He is attempting to orient me, but I am feeling a slow learner! I am quite turned around all of the time, fairly certain that I could not point the correct direction for any thing at all. Though we have crossed the same streets over and over, I cannot recognize the corners.

I do enjoy walking around town – much more than driving. Most of the roads are dirt and potholed, but there is no slowing down to ease the jolts. Many people walking around, biking around. Mombo. Mombo. Greetings everywhere. I am having a hard time with the language, a horribly difficult time, in fact. So far, about all I have mastered is Asante. Thank you.

Spoke to J tonight, finally. He enjoyed the music and the festival scene, but the remainder of their trip was diverted due to the fires and air conditions. They are now headed to Southern Oregon to set up camp. Hard to both be in such different places, wishing the other was here and vice versa at the same time. Looking forward to his return to Seattle on Sunday and some pictures.

Still bizarre to me that as I wind down my Tuesday evening, you are just beginning yours.

Here

Was pleased to receive word that S and W, Americans affiliated with our research group who had been in Dar for the weekend, were planning to meet me at my hotel and we would all ride the bus West to Morogoro together. They arrived mid-afternoon and we waited, relatively patiently for the will-be-there-in-fifteen-minutes taxi. We took the cab across town to the bus station, where we again, waited. For the red bus. With the correct license plate. The bus ride was quiet and uneventful. As we drove into an incredibly beautiful sunset.

We arrived in Morogoro well after dark. Tired and completely without a sense of direction, S led me to the hostel I will be staying at for the next week. We grabbed our key – roommates by mistake for the night – quickly dropped our bags, and went to grab something to eat. A vegetable curry that was teeming with green peppers. Which, thankfully, turned out to be the least flavorful green peppers I have ever tasted.

I have noticed, that if left to myself to figure things out, I can. I can find my way and make my own decisions. But, if surrounded by people whom I presume to know much more then myself (and those with whom I know here certainly do!), then I tend to fall into following. Figuring they have already deemed the best and most efficient ways to do things. And, should I do something different, I might look quite silly. I am becoming a bit frustrated with this trait of mine. I suppose as time passes and I become more comfortable – here and with those around me – I will begin to regain a reliance on myself. Until then, I suppose, I am quite lucky to have people to show me the ropes. Certainly saving me many mistakes.

After a fairly good night sleep – an early morning due to the many unfamiliar noises. I spent the day inside at our facilities in the hospital, working, yet again, on my presentation materials. T took me through town at lunch time, showed me where the bank is, the market (with yummy local peanut butter, jelly, and yogurt), and a tasty lunch spot. We returned to the lab to finish out the day. To return to the hostel after dark. Perhaps for a game of Travel Scrabble with S. Or, maybe, to just turn in early.

Airports

Friday. An early morning finishing up things around the house. A house I will not see for nearly five weeks. A house that felt empty the last two nights. Even with friends over, J's absence make the house, our house, feel empty. A nice night Thursday, though. Such wonderful friends - phone calls, visits, text messages - seeing me off. An odd sensation that as I sit in a different time zone, as my daily activity in Seattle ceases to exist, so too must theirs. Frozen. But, alas, I am not the center of the universe - things happen, people live lives, all over the world although I am not there to see.

After an embarrassingly emotional goodbye to Else, a quick coffee with A, and last minute details in the office, I climbed into the back of a Yellow Cab and anxiously watched out the window, Rainier in all its glory, as I made my way south on I-5. Feeling sad. Wishing, not that I were staying home, but that J were in the seat next to me. But, as soon as I stepped out of the taxi, I went into what J calls my 'airport mode'. A lot of people, he included, do not care for airports. But something appeals to me. People going places. Coming home. Anticipation. Relief. I like the absoluteness of the airport. The defined order of events. Check in. Security. Gate. Board. And then, I even generally, like the flight. Forced Quiet Time. Little to do besides listen to music, read a book, watch a movie, sleep. 

After a long check-in line, a call to J, and a final bathroom stop I was ready for quiet time. Knowing I was to arrive in Amsterdam early in the morning, I had intended to sleep. But, after only a brief nap post take-off, I was awake the entire flight. Four movies. The Other Boleyn Girl. The Devil Wears Prada. Horton Hears a Who. Fools Gold. And perhaps the best airplane read ever.

(Note to L: Such an excellent book. Thank you. In a similar style, one of my favorites, The History of Love. Read it. I have a copy, on the bookshelf in the living room. Stop by and pick it up. It is in the blue section. Yes, my books are organized by color.)

A three hour layover in the Amsterdam airport, which passed quite quickly surrounded by an interesting group of tourists. Lots of khaki. And a surprising number of young children. A bit of quality time with Power Point, working on my presentation for the workshop. For which I am horribly nervous. The thing about presentations, is that I love making the slides, but hate the talking. Next Tuesday afternoon will come with a big sigh of relief.

From Amsterdam, another long flight to the Kilimanjaro International Airport, where we dropped off nearly all of the passengers before continuing on to Dar es Salaam. We lost the middle-aged couples in safari vests. The family of seven, each with child with a PSP and an iPod in tow. The church youth group. The European couples on holiday. And the family from Puyallup. I again, slept very little but lacked concentration. Four movies begun, only one complete. Twenty-Seven Dresses. One game of Tetris. Level Eleven. Not bad. Anxious, I suppose. To land in a place I have never been. Where I do not speak the language. A cycle of the sun away from home. Where day is night and night is day.

Not much to show from the nearly twenty-four hours of travel. Save one terminal photo and one empty cabin photo. And droopy eyelids and a soar bottom. Neither did I find it necessary to photograph.

My arrival and exit from the airport in Dar es Salaam was swift. I moved quickly through the visa line and picked up my checked bag. I was met outside by a driver from the hotel. It has been a long time since I have been somewhere people drive on the left side of the street. I would imagine it is always a shock, but perhaps more so at night. When you do not actually see the cars, but only headlights blazing past you on the right. Against all instincts. And I had forgotten how mildly terrifying it is to travel by motor vehicle in a less developed country. Where red lights mean 'slow down a bit because someone else has a green light', rather than stop. I am looking forward to seeing a bit in the daylight today.

After receiving my room key, a brief IM chat with Dad, and a notice of a lack of 'Audio Capabilities' on my laptop, I repacked my bags and slept wonderfully under the mosquito nets.

Woke this morning, among gardens, to a quiet breakfast and some much needed coffee. Warmth and sunshine. Friendly Norwegians and chatty American historians. Often I wish I were more like J, in his ability to converse with nearly everyone.

I will head to the bus station later this afternoon, for a three hour ride to Morogoro. Until then, I suppose I will just relax and attempt to tell my body that sunlight means day time.

Miss You

See you in five weeks.

Anniversary

Happy Fourth.

D

The year I graduated from High School, D completed Elementary School. He finished his final year at Eastview High School the year I was married. Always feeling several steps ahead due to a Seven Year age difference, D was always Little Brother.

Until I watched him carrying boxes down the steps of his front porch. Crossing the stage, with an ever so slight grin. Rolling his eyes at Mom's request for one more photo. And quite suddenly, Seven Years seems so little.

I remember that day. It seems not so long ago. The expectation that everything must change. A hope that, actually, nothing will change. A cap, a gown, and a diploma. A cheer for your potential. Photos and hugs. A car ride home with a car weighted down by textbooks and dirty laundry.

And then, no longer surrounded by the familiar. Now, a part of It All. It All. A place bigger than a dorm room or a college campus. And I remember. It seems not so long ago. And perhaps, for the first time, I realize we will be in the same place. Grown up. Making choices. A part of It All.

Cheers to Not-So-Little Brother, D.

[More photos from the weekend here.]

Willing Summer

I arrived home from work last night to pork cooking on the charcoal grill, watermelon cut into pieces, and corn on the cob waiting to be shucked. J said he was willing Summer to arrive.

The headline in yesterday's newspaper was 'Seattle Weather: Colder Than Siberia'. The article notes that in addition to Tomsk, Russia, Faribainks, Alaska and International Falls, Minnesota have had more days in June above seventy degrees than Seattle. Not a difficult feat - Seattle has had zero. Zero.

Better Than The Zoo

Braving frigid temperatures, J and I went to the beach on Saturday to see the lowest tide of the year.

Lots of Sea Cucumbers, Starfish, and Sea Anemones.
But the highlight was watching a Dungeness crab swimming around a tide pool.

Our trip to the beach was followed by a visit to the Woodland Park Zoo, which was fun, but not nearly as exciting as seeing creatures in their natural environment. Many of the animals were inside due to the chilly weather and we were disappointed to miss the snow leopard. We were, however, quite amused by the gorillas and spent quite a while watching their human-like behaviors.

Rain Delay

Though we braved the rain and slick courts for a few games of tennis the prior weekend, this past weekend we took the game inside.

Table tennis. Equally competitive. Less exercise. More beer.

The OP

The October 2000 issue of Real Simple, before the magazine became too popular and laden with advertisements, featured the story of a family running a lavender farm in Sequim, Washington. Already fixated with the Seattle area, the beautiful photos and depiction of a simple lifestyle furthered my determination to settle into the Northwest.

Three years later my one way road trip to Washington was timed quite perfectly to allow a visit to Sequim's annual Lavender Festival with my family. Upon exiting the Edmonds-Kingston Ferry, I was filled with an immediate feeling of nothing less than comfort. Tall trees and lots of sunshine. Small farms and cozy houses. Ocean air and mountain views. I fell in love.

After J moved out, the first weekend trip we took was to Olympic National Park. A backpacking loop that remains a favorite Northwest hike. Lush green forest, sweeping panoramas, and alpine lakes. Not so far from the pastoral and slow-moving rain-shadow towns to the North.

Eventually, we experienced the Pacific coast beaches of the Olympic Peninsula. With amazing sunsets and rock formations. Driftwood and sandy shores. Beach bonfires and seaside camping.

For a long year, we did no more than look at the mountains of the Peninsula across the water. Until our desire to climb the peak most visible from the streets of Ballard. Last fall was we climbed Brothers Peak, we saw yet again a different side of the Peninsula. And from the top had views of the Straight of Juan de Fuco and the Cascade Mountains to the East of Seattle.

Each time I drive off of the ferry I feel like I am arriving at Summer Vacation. A place slow moving and filled with adventure. Peaks to climb. Lakes. And small town cafes. Mountain goats. And seagulls.

Our recent venture across the sound reminded me of the beauty in life outside of the city.  And again, we experienced the diversity of the Olympic Peninsula. We drove up into the national forest, through small farms and grazing llamas, to arrive at a beautifully wooded riverside campsite.

J and I enjoyed a quiet hike along the Dungeness River before meeting up with A and T for the remainder of the weekend. We hiked to amazing mountain views, through wildflowers and not-quite-yet-blooming rhododendrons. I find something intriguing about seeing plants at home in my garden growing in the wild. After our decent, we drove north, to the Dungeness Spit, which was more spectacular than any of us envisioned.

When the mid June is knocking on the door and our streets are wet, when we miss holidays and events and daily life back in the Midwest, I try to remember how lucky we are to be in such proximity to so many beautiful places - a list that is continually growing, but on the top of which remains the Olympic Peninsula.

MIA

Two weeks without a post.

Don't worry. They are all in here.

And coming soon.