Friday, December 24, 2010

A Christmas Eve Story

Jess writes:

This post is my very small, very far-away gift to my family, and particularly my dad – whose voice I will be thinking of on this Christmas Eve night.

[Materials needed: one very specific reasonably old copy of “The Night Before Christmas”, one blazing fire in the living room, an assortment of dogs and cats, one comfy couch, one mom across the room (camera optional), two sisters, and one dad to read the story. Okay, begin, but don’t forget all the important comments and side notes... that is, if I've remembered their order even somewhat correctly.]

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.


[Make sure to point out the cute mouse and, of course, the black cat that we are pretty sure is suppose to be in every picture.]

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.


[I never really knew what sugar plums were, but I love all the candy!]

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.


[Remind me again why anyone would where a 'kerchief to bed? Oh, and by the way, I'll be thinking about how this looks really, really cold with the window open, and how I wouldn't mind a bit of that chill here.]

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.


[Isn’t this the one where the cat isn’t in the picture? Where is that cat?]

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name...

[Now we try to do this part together, without cheating/reading too much…]

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"


[Okay, a couple mess-ups, but pretty good!]

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

[Why is that section written so difficultly?]

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.


[Oh! Hello Santa!!!]

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

[Okay, now this is the page with all the pictures, so we have to read slowly.]

His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

[Why is the turkey on fire? Seriously, why?!?]

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk.

[This next part always makes me smile, I don’t know why...]

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

[...I think it might be because of how much I like that smirk and wink.]

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight…

[And of course, everyone here...]

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

Happy Christmas Eve family! I love you all, and miss you all very much! Now go to bed Nannan, so that mom can force dad to stay up and finish all the wrapping and stocking-stuffing with her!! G’night family. And g’night everyone!!

Monday, December 20, 2010

RWO: “Fa La La La La, La La La La”

Jess writes:

Everyone here can sing. Seriously. Everyone. And they’re all really good. South Africans grow up singing and dancing in church, in school, and at home, so they are pretty much virtuosos by the age of 4! It makes attempting any song – even a simple Christmas tune, even in front of small children, even in a language they don’t understand – really, really intimidating! I think I might just stick with the humming parts... and the fa la la’s…

Friday, December 17, 2010

RWO: Sodas, Pops & Cold Drinks

Jess writes:

Random South African travel tip: If you would like to order something cold to drink, that is not water or fruit juice, you may simply ask for, creatively enough, “Cold Drink” (it’s understood in all 11 official languages here). This is the common name for anything and everything soda-related. Simple and to the point, we like it! And PS – we get to drink a lot more of these glorious concoctions while on vacation (i.e., now!)… oh how we’ve missed you, sweet, sweet Coke & Fanta Grape!!

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Vacation Time!!!!

Jess writes:

As you read this, Adam and I will be starting out on our holiday vacation to Cape Town’s Wine Country and South Africa’s sunny south coast!! Soooo excited!!! We’ll try to keep the posts coming… and you should all know me well enough by now to be certain that there are at least a couple of posts already scheduled, don’t worry! In the meantime, to all of our family and friends back home, we hope you’re not stressing too much about last-minute shopping and be sure to drink some hot chocolate and eggnog for us! And to all our fellow PCVs here, we hope you are having a fabulous start to a much-needed, thoroughly-enjoyable, and oh-so-deserved holiday break!!

Salani kahle!!

Friday, December 10, 2010

A Day in the Life of a PCV… Again... At Present

Jess writes:

I realized recently that even though I’ve done this type of post a couple of times, at various different stages in our time here, I hadn’t ever taken the time to write one out for our new site in Nkomazi. And since, therefore, we seem to get a lot of “So, what exactly are you doing now?” questions from friends and family, I figured I’d delve into at least one more of these before the holidays. Here goes…

While Adam and I are no longer in one of the three official Peace Corps training phases (PST, Community Integration – aka Lockdown, or IST), site change to Schoemansdal has put us in a weird limbo between the “Community Integration” phase and the actual, post-training “Service” phase. Thus, our lives have very quickly settled into a routine at our new site, but we are always finding new things that we want to do, see, etc. And even though we are still overcoming all the cultural and locational difficulties of a new site/family/work/etc., we are always thankful to be in this new, (much prettier and much friendlier) community!! So, as with all the previous PCV phases before, I present to you a typical “Day in the Life” of our present Peace Corps life… Enjoy!

7:00AM - Wake up. But often times earlier than this, because A) I have insomnia and B) our little house gets really damn hot in the morning nowadays. With a tin roof, the inside starts heating up pretty quick in the mornings and, simply put, it’s just impossible to sleep in that kind of heat. Next, as at almost any site, we have to make sure anything related to water is taken care of – so if it’s a water day, we begin collecting, filling, filtering, etc. (refer back to one of my most detailed previous posts)! Next we pull up the mosquito netting (it hangs just below the bed sheets, so it makes getting in and out of bed difficult if it’s down all day) and make the bed… which Adam hates that I want to do every morning! Then there’s time for tea, some granola or cereal, and usually a little time online to check email/news or reading some of my Time magazines to catch up on other global issues – of course, Adam usually uses this time to read his bike-maintenance books or biker mags!

8:30AM - We’ll usually get around to locking up the house and saying goodbye to Siyanda, our host brother, in the yard on our way out. If we want to be to work by 9:00am, or a little after, we have to be leaving by 8:30am since our walk to Thembalethu is just over a 2km (30 minute) walk. As long as it’s still this early, the heat usually isn’t so bad yet, and luckily the lengthy walk is almost entirely flat, so at least there’s no hiking involved in order to get there! On the way, we always greet the fruit & veg lady at the stand located just off our road – she greets us very loudly and very slowly so that we can practice our SiSwati – so cute!! We also pass all the little shops and convenience stops (food stands, car washes, barbershops, etc.) along the way, so there’s plenty of other people to greet during the walk. There’s also a plethora of animals to avoid along the way – mainly cows with their enormously large horns – that like to stand stubbornly in the road or path in everyone’s way… how convenient! When we get to the Way Inn Plaza, we’ve almost arrived at the Thembalethu compound and we can see the Wildly African building and its brightly painted exterior and all of my favorite little goats walking around in the shade outside (and yes, I have one little goat that is “my goat” and he was about the size of a cat when we first arrived and now he is getting soooo big. Oh, they grow up so fast, don’t they?).

9:00AM - Arrive at work (of course, we’re often on “African Time”, so this varies) and begin greeting the many, many people that work on the Thembalethu compound. First, there’s Vusi (the Drama Team coordinator) and the Drama Team members, they almost always sit at the little picnic table at the entrance before they begin their rehearsals in the great hall; next is the Wildly African staff – consisting of Thabo & Sizakele (in the Fabric Painting Department), Johan, Ndumiso & Moosa (in the Wirework and Recycledwork Department) and Idah, Fortunate, Nomiah & Mirriam (in the Beadwork & Sewing/Embroidery Departments) – they’ll be found either outside the WA building cleaning in the morning or in their workshops prepping for the day’s art projects; then there’s Joseph & Dumisani, two of our organization’s drivers, that are usually working on some form of car motor-part in the main driveway; next is Patrick, our IT Coordinator and computer lab “Chief” (we quite literally call him “Chief my Chief”), who is usually meandering around the compound in the shade before having to take over supervision of the lab; closely behind we usually find Cleopas, our Deputy CEO and Peer-Education Coordinator, along with Vincent, Zachele, Nomcebo & Rosy, our Peer-Education Facilitators, between offices to organize lesson plans at their four local schools; then comes the kitchen & cleaning staff, supervised by Koekie (pronounced ‘Cookie’) bringing hotpots and teacups to the various admin offices and sweeping along all the dirt walkways outside; in the conference center are all the pre-schoolers and our two Crèche coordinators, Jane & Sonto, attempting to organize all the little ones into some type of song or morning exercise; next is the admin office, where Sandra and Lorraine are chatting inside with piles of paperwork strewn on the desks; across the way are all our HBC and OVC coordinators – Thabi who organizes all logistics for Home Based Care, Margaret who oversees all the admin processes, Sphiwe who manages the medroom and clinical visits, Cynthia who handles all carer-to-patient counseling for both adults and orphans/vulnerable children, Jabu who organizes all trainings for new & current carers, Busie who oversees all logistics for the Orphans & Vulnerable Children program (and who is the counterpart that accompanied me to LST), as well as additional support staff in charge of housing, prevention, outreach, and treatment; and finally is Sally’s office, our organization’s CEO, at the very edge of the office row under some leafy trees to provide much-needed shade, where you can find just about any coordinator or employee in a meeting with her throughout the day. Now that’s a lot of hello’s if I do say so myself!!

9:30AM - Let the meetings begin! At the beginning of the month, this is usually a very lengthy organizational meeting in which every coordinator (there are quite a few, as I just mentioned) provides a summary of their current programs, numbers, stats, etc. Throughout the rest of the month, for Adam and myself, this time is usually taken up by meetings with the Wildly African staff, fellow volunteers that are providing support to our current projects, or other coordinators with whom we are working on specific program goals. Meetings can last anywhere from 30 minutes (unlikely) to 3 hours (more likely) as the agendas are usually somewhat unorganized, meandering, and often lend themselves to off-the-topic discussions. Not to mention we have to spend half the time translating into two at least two, sometimes three, different languages. But hey, that’s Africa, right?

11:00AM - Depending on the previous meetings, around this time we are hopefully starting on the day’s “to-do’s”. And, again, depending on the previous meetings, this can vary greatly! For example, I currently spend a lot of time in the computer lab working on a complete revamping of our current Thembalethu.org website, as well as the expansion and upkeep of our newly-created Thembalethu Home Based Care official facebook page (please find us and “Like” us!!!). A lot of this work involves taking photos, collecting information about the organization, meeting with coordinators to go over project descriptions, and of course formatting, formatting, formatting. I also assist with proposal and grant-writing related tasks with the Thembalethu admin (related to just about anything, really) and am often called out of my current work for impromptu meetings in Sally’s office to discuss wording, benchmarks, beneficiaries and all the other wonderfully tedious little tidbits related to funding requests. Finally, my last – but primary – project is everything related to the Wildly African project. At some point (perhaps in the new year, when we actually have more a plan in place) I can write more about the work related to this project, but just suffice to say it can range from working with individual artisans on a new jewelry design to emailing with retailers in England about consignment orders. Eish!! And Adam, while he does not have the concrete-type projects that I have (or should I say, have created for myself…), he is incredibly patient and acquiescent with all of my requests and pleas for favors related to those projects described above. Not to mention the fact that the Thembalethu staff have found plenty of other tasks for Adam to tackle on a day-to-day basis. First and foremost, he has become the go-to-guy for anything computer related on the compound (did you know that Adam is a computer specialist…?? Well, neither did he!). Nevertheless, he is often trying to solve any and all issues related to virus protection, lost files, hard drive formatting, and of course, the ever-dreaded, Blue Screen of Death. More often than not, he’ll usually try to escape these technical jobs to assist Joseph & Dumisani with sporadic jobs around the compound – mainly because they often relate to car maintenance and Adam loves any excuse to play with motor parts. And finally, he also gets called down to Jeppes’ Reef on occasion to install software, assist with reporting, or to provide advice/training on basic monitoring and evaluation. So… we keep pretty busy, for the most part.

1:00PM - By this time, we’re usually starving (and the computer lab is usually stifling), so Adam and I will head to our “regular” spot for our “regular” lunch together. Our “regular” spot is a crumbly stone table and bench under an extremely scraggly tree just beyond the computer lab, on the outskirts of the compound. It’s cooler than most places on the compound, the least busy by far, and offers a view of the street so that we can watch all the gogos walking to and fro with all sorts of goods and materials on their head. Our “regular” lunch is a meat and cheese sandwich, with lettuce and mayo or mustard (we found a great whole-seed French mustard that is actually cheaper than South Africa’s version of French’s Mustard… go figure) and, on special occasions (or at least once a month when I’m craving chocoloate…) we have leftover brownies as well. And yes, when we have brownies, I lick every little morsel out of the bag!

1:30PM - Back to all that work described before, with some haphazard interruptions throughout the day for various (usually random, but usually entertaining) things. For example: a reporter will come by to get the scoop on some new funding we’ve received or the start of a new project hosted by the organization (this usually involves photos and is always on a day that we’re not dressed accordingly); the Drama Team will sometimes put on a mini-performance of a new song or portion of their awareness skit in the main hall for our critique and approval; Dumisani will have to make a run to the local clinic or government offices and will offer to drive us to the post office, plaza, or other convenient location to save us on time and energy (thank you!!); donors will stop by the compound to discuss ongoing projects or new ideas with management and the volunteers (aka, us); there will be an afternoon staff training on computer skills or, my favorite, “How to Use Facebook Responsibly” (probably my fault for introducing the whole facebook thing… he he!); tourists will randomly drive in to shop at the Wildly African store (at present, it is often in a very makeshift state, ugh) and they’ll get a complimentary tour of the artisan workshops and compound before they go; and sometimes our breaks just consist of taking a stroll by all the offices, stopping in to say hi to people who are having mid-afternoon tea breaks, enjoying the purple-covered ground caused by the post-blooming jacaranda trees and – if you time it just right – peeking in at the preschoolers as they all snuggle, five to a mat, for naptime.

3:00PM - Although the organization technically stays open until 4-5pm most days (except Friday, when we close at 2pm), Adam and I usually start winding up a bit early so that we have enough time to get our other “chores” done for the day. Our walk back home is usually quite a bit hotter than our morning jaunt, so it usually takes us a bit longer as well. And at this time of year, we physically feel as though we are melting on our return trip, so the whole right-foot-left-foot-right-foot thing that we call “walking” becomes really, really, r-e-a-l-l-y hard. Also, because of this lovely time of year, we’ll sometimes get caught in rogue, mid-afternoon downpours on our way back. This usually involves timing the return trip in a way that allows for you to huddle under a very large tree or one of the small, cement bus stops with about a thousand other people until the road that has become a river is raging more slowly and we can begin the walk home again. Oh… summertime. But we can also make use of the walk back for some random grocery needs (bread, eggs, and long-life milk at the Jabulani market) or the occasional fresh produce purchase (oranges and apples from our fruit and veg lady).

3:30PM - Or later… we arrive home. I told you, it takes longer on the way back – kinda like flying west. Anyways, our first to-do is to turn on all fans, open all windows and get our little oven of a house to cool down as quickly as possible before we suffocate. Sounds fun, huh? Needless to say, the house heats up convection-style during the day, so we have to hope that there is a cross-breeze strong enough to push out the sauna-like feel of our two rooms in the afternoon.

4:00PM - Next, comes any chores that require a significant exertion of energy – simply because you want to get them out of the way so that you can just lay down and sweat, instead of stand and sweat. This includes washing dishes (oh how we miss our dishwasher), sweeping the house, hauling in any last-minute buckets of water, etc.

4:30PM - Now drenched in sweat from our walk home and miniscule house tasks, we usually seek out any form of moving air or cool water that will bring our temperatures back down to normal. Several techniques that we have discovered are: standing anywhere, inside or outside, in the shade, where any form of a breeze exists; splashing water on all extremities, including face, head, chest, back and neck; sitting on the end of the bed, about two feet from the fan, with the setting on high; or, when all else fails… filling the bath basin with water, removing all unnecessary clothes, and sitting on the edge of the bed, while splashing our feet in the water, about two feet from the fan, with the setting on high. Yeah, we’ve gotten pretty desperate.

5:00PM - This is usually about the time that we break out the computer. As you’ve probably figured out at this point, our computer is not only our blog-writing, finance-tracking, and picture-organizing processor, it is also our only source of mindless entertainment via the endless viewing of movies and TV shows. And mindless – and I mean completely mindless – entertainment is just about the only thing that will allow you to survive the last few hours of heat in the day. Thus, Adam and I have become virtual virtuosos at not only quoting several movies almost line-by-line, but also singing the theme songs to several popular TV series – of which, the proudest of my most recent memorization accomplishments has been the theme song to “The Big Bang Theory”. Do you know how fast that theme song is?!? No seriously… you should really try it sometime!! (“We built the pyramids!!!!!!”)

6:00PM - Our brains have usually cooled enough at this point to start thinking of food once again, so we start the long discussion of “what’s for dinner”. Weighing out the options usually involve a lot of consideration of other factors, such as: How much of this will require heating (and thus making the house hotter)? How much of this will require time (because it’s starting to get late)? And most important… How much of this will require actual work (because we simply don’t want to do it)? But, nevertheless, dinner always gets made (mostly by Adam, because we all know I suck at cooking) and it varies quite a bit – from our laziest days of pasta and garlic bread to our more ambitious days of roasted pork topped with onions and garlic. Of course, there are also those days when it’s still over 100F at 6pm and then we usually just resort to cereal… or ice cubes.

7:00PM - Eating, computer-watching, snacking, internet-checking, you get the point… But noteworthy around this time is the drums that start up. You see, we have several Sangomas (traditional healers) in our area and, once the sun has gone down, they begin their rhythmic rituals. And while Sangomas are not our closest allies in Peace Corps service (a lot of their practice hinders our preventative work with HIV/AIDS), there is something about their drumming and ritualizing that makes me visualize an older South Africa, a more African South Africa, a time not so long ago that lingers still, but just in the backdrop – like I said, after the sun goes down.

8:00PM - It’s finally cooled off enough by this time that a bucket bath will actually keep you somewhat clean for the remainder of the evening. So, we begin filling our bath bucket, hauling in the bath basin, and laying down the towel to catch the water before it goes under the bed (so that we don’t attract any more mosquitoes than are already calling our little home, ‘home’). We also have to heat up at least enough water to not be shaking when the fan swivels towards us, but as the summer progresses, we’re finding that we can easily bathe with less, and less, and much less heated water!! Since it takes over an hour for us to both complete the somewhat tedious bucket bathing process (pouring single cups of water over your head does not wash out conditioner very quickly…), we usually use this time to also make last minute updates on facebook, check email, or chat with our families back home – and by the way, these phone calls are later at this time of year since South Africa doesn’t observe daylight savings time, so our families are now an additional hour behind us. Oh South Africa.

9:30PM - Round about this time we hit the nightly dilemma of whether or not we start a movie (and push our bedtime to a startling 11:00pm, what?!?) or stick with TV shows to ensure an earlier turn-in time. Wow… we have given a whole new meaning to “old married couple” haven’t we? But irregardless of what we watch, we always end up spending at least a portion of our time getting sidetracked by some sort of discussion. We talk about our homes back home, our new home here, our work, our projects, our little glimpses of change and excitement about possibilities, of course our frustrations as well… in general, the life that is Peace Corps and how now, nearing almost a year into this whole crazy endeavor, we still seem to have so much to learn and so much to figure out… but that’s life, right?

10:00PM - This is about the time I start to zonk out… but there’s a background story here (of course). Unfortunately – mostly for Adam, but also for me – I’m on a different antimalarial medication than he, due to counter-interactions with other medications. The problem is, my antimalarials make me a bit of a crazy person… well, to be exact, the side effects primarily cause anxiety, paranoia, overly-OCD tendencies, and bordering on slight psychophrenia. Oh, and worst of all, they make me a raging insomniac. Great wife, hey? [Damn Mefloquin.] For this reason, Peace Corps has chosen wisely to prescribe a counter medication that calms, relaxes, and just about knocks me out at night! Ah, lovely little pill! So while Adam finds out the result of horrible credit card debt on Marshall & Lily’s relationship in season 3 of “How I Met Your Mother”, I slip serenely into my drug-induced sleep! (Kinda gives a whole new meaning to “old married couple”, doesn’t it??) But what is the added bonus of this little miracle medication you ask? Well I’ll tell you: now, when it’s pouring rain at night and I wake to the thought that it is extremely likely that our house is presently flooding due to all the leaks in the tin roof… I just don’t really care. He he! It’s kinda like a less A-typish version of myself – not too shabby!

10:30PM - I wake to Adam putting away the computer, hard drive and speakers and have to at least pull myself out of bed long enough to spray down the top sheet with bug spray, brush off all the bugs that subsequently die, and unclip the mosquito netting so that it sits nicely along the outside of the bed. And have I mentioned how glorious that mosquito net truly is? Aside from the itchy bites and mysterious “visitors” that it prevents, it’s just such a wonderful thing to not have any flying critters buzzing incessantly in your ears all night!! Oh, I love you mosquito net!

11:00PM - Hopefully sleeping…

And, as always, weekends are a grab-bag, but almost always include at least something related to collecting water, doing laundry, collecting more water, grocery shopping, and maybe finding a not-so-needed excuse to have a drink or two with fellow PCVs… oh yeah, and probably something else related to water.

And that, folks, is all she wrote.

So I’ll just end this by repeating something I’ve written in a similar post before: It’s not an American-style life, nor is it really an African-style life, but hey, it’s our life… at present!

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Lucky Number Twenty-Seven

Jess writes:

Today I turn 27 – oh boy – but it’s still my lucky number! And since it is my lucky number and since this lucky-number-age is occurring at a time in my life when so much is going on, I figured a short post might be in order. So here goes…

Twenty-seven has been my lucky number ever since Freshmen year in high school, when I was randomly assigned a volleyball jersey with said number. But, as with many things in my life that I have to come to love and cherish, I was not so thrilled about the random assignment at first. 27?!? What a horrible sports number! It’s too large of a number to be memorable on the court (my old sports number was always 4 – small, memorable… perfect!) and it’s too small of a number to be interesting (example: baseball players that choose something ridiculous like 88). Ugh. The assigned number, however, served me very well that year and with that 27 on my back I became a competitive player and moved up ever-so-steadily through the ranks of high school volleyball. Thus, I deemed 27 as my new lucky number.

And over the years, my love of the number has grown, in various ways, for various reasons.

Let me start with a rare, and somewhat scary, look at my brain’s left side: The number 27 is mathematically intriguing to me – I love the fact that it is only divisible by 3 and 9. I also love the fact that 9, conveniently, is also only divisible by 3! It’s like the entire composition of the number is meant to be self-sustaining, neat, and complete. Yeah, I know, it’s crazy.

Okay, now a look at the oh-so-wonderfully comfy right side of the brain: I love the way that ‘27’ looks – yes, it’s actual appearance – it has curve in the ‘2’ and angle in the ‘7’, but in a way that is much more complimentary than something so stark as ‘81’. Not to mention the fact that the number has a perfect bottom line in the ‘2’ and a perfect top line in the ‘7’, creating a perfectly complete shape! And if you think that is weird… wait for this one… I also love the sound of “twenty-seven”, as in the way that it is actually spoken! It’s both strong and aggressive at the start with its double ‘t’s, as well as soft and almost feminine with it’s ‘v’ and ‘n’ on the finish. And better yet, it’s one of the very few evenly-perfect, four-syllable numbers in our language (the others are those that also include 7 – i.e., 37, 47… 71, 72… etc.). So it sounds bolder than those silly two-syllable numbers like “fifteen” and far less cumbersome than those visually impressive numbers like “four hundred and fifty-two”.

(Ha! And to think there may have actually been anyone that was not aware of my completely off-kilter and obsessive nature… alleviated that uncertainty, didn’t I?)

But back to the number and, more importantly, what the age itself has come to mean for me. Starting in my teen years, 27 began to take form as the perfectly odd-integered oasis in my world of even-integered, overly-idealistic benchmarks. I would think to myself: By 24, I will have finished school, maybe even some higher degree, and I’ll be making my way towards my “adult life”; by 26, I will be getting married and settling into a cute little apartment in the city or an adorable home in the suburbs; by 28, I (technically “we” at that point) will be starting to think about a family and maybe already have little ones on the way; and finally, by 30, I will be “the real deal” – an educated, employed, and responsible adult, given the societal stamp of approval. Perfect, right? Well, at least that’s how my meticulously planned-out life looked in my mid-teen head. And to add to that, you see, the odd years in there almost always carried with them some frightening overtone: 25 had a quarter-century-ness to it that made me start to think about the whole “getting older” thing; and 29 had that definite “getting older” feel as the last twenty-something year and that meant I might have to face the worst possible fate of having not gotten it “all figured out” by then!!! (Yup, I was even obsessive as a teenager.) But 27 was just there, situated snuggly between school, marriage, a career and kids. Not too close to 29, far enough away from 25… what a wonderful place to be!!

And so now, having finally arrived at 27, how did it all work out? Well, not too shabby…

The school stuff was thoroughly completed, including another degree that I am extremely passionate about; the falling in love and getting married dream happened unexpectedly (but wonderfully) sooner and will always be one of the happiest times of my life; the whole settling down thing hasn’t quite panned out yet (my family is probably laughing at this part because they know how I feel about “settling down”)… you see, I gave into an insatiable wanderlust that has brought me to some of the most incredible places on earth – eventually giving way to the Peace Corps – and I just don’t know that I’ll ever have my fill of the world… so, therefore, some of those other benchmarks have been a little thrown off schedule. For example, the starting a family phase will probably not be quite on track as “Child + Africa does not = a great idea” and “Child + travelling only semi = a plausible option”. Similarly, while I have had the most incredible past few years delving into my chosen profession, my well-planned career path as become more of a well-manicured career field… with no real sign posting for “forward”, but a plethora of pretty wild flowers to smell along the way… so, for now, I’m just enjoying the walk [mom, that last part was for you…]. Thus, I doubt that I’ll be the truly bonified “adult” that I envisioned by age 30, as Adam and I spend most of our time dreaming about all the possibilities of future schools, future jobs, future places to live and future places to visit… and at some point in that dream we also linger on the thought of getting back to some civilization that has great cocktails and Happy Hour. He he!

But all in all, I would say that as my lucky number twenty-seven has arrived I do indeed feel incredibly lucky – lucky to have had all the opportunities to experience so very much. Most important of all, I feel overwhelmingly lucky to have family, friends, and a spouse that has encouraged and supported me in realizing all those dreams that I’ve dreamt since a young age. And thus, I’m not so worried about getting a little off-track anymore. In fact, I can honestly say that I’m okay with not being “the real deal” of an adult quite yet… because I’m realizing there are just too many other things about life in which to indulge… and eventually I’ll get it “all figured out” along the way!!

So, from 27-year old me, to the luck and karma of the world: go ahead and keep mixing things up a bit, I think I’ll be ready for whatever comes next.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

RWO: It's Hot Here

Jess writes:

It’s hot here (great "Random Weekly Observation", huh?). And I know that you are all very well aware of that fact, since we complain about it a l l t h e t i m e. Ugh. But I thought it would be worth pointing out one humorous observation about the heat and that is the sheer, debilitating effect that it has on us humans, and how we try, vainly, to cope with it. I don’t think anything will illustrate this point better than a short story about a fellow coworker on one, particularly hot day at Thembalethu. Enjoy!

It was already over 100F by 10am and getting humid. All of us on the compound were starting to feel the weight of, well, just the air in general. By noon it had reached a far-too-balmy 114F. The fans did nothing but blow hot air in your face – that is, when the electricity was on – and even in the shade you could feel your skin wanting to just peel off in an attempt to cool you down. The general consensus of the staff was that our brains were beginning to literally sizzle in our skulls. And for those of you that have experienced that kind of heat you know that there is a point where you just are unable to think any further. Basic tasks become impossible. Actually attempting to work on a project is akin to asking a preschooler to perform brain surgery. And eventually, you just stop functioning…


Thus, the scene is set:

Adam was crossing the courtyard and saw a fellow coworker walking in his direction with some papers in hand. Obviously he was headed to one of our many offices to drop off some work, make copies, or some other related function. Before they passed one another, our coworker stopped short. And then he just stood there. He looked up at the sun. He looked down at the papers. Still just standing. So, as any of us would do, Adam asked with a smile, “Did you forget where you were headed?” To which our coworker responded, “It’s hot out.” He then turned around defeatedly and headed back in the direction from whence he came. And that was that.


The point of this story: He was right. It was just too damn hot out.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Travelogue: Durban

Jess writes:

Many of our fellow PCVs assigned to the KwaZulu Nataal province had been to Durban before, frequented it even, as their ultimate shopping down or get-away-destination. But for most of us in Mpumalanga and Limpopo, LST was our first visit to the sunny city. As I mentioned in a previous blog, ‘sunny’ was not an entirely accurate descriptor for the day we arrived and many of the training days that followed – for example, we left the Nkomazi region on a balmy 41C (about 106F) day and arrived in Durban the following day to a bone-chilling 22C (about 72F) – keep in mind, since we’ve been hovering around the high 30C’s to low 40C’s for over a month now… climate changes such as that above, well, pretty much suck. Furthermore, while Nkomazi experiences fairly frequent downpours in the late afternoons and evenings, we had spent most of the our recent days in the blistering sun, or rather, trying to get out of the blistering sun. And Durban, much to our surprise, was damp, grey and bordering on tropical storm-force winds for the first four days we were there. What the hell?!?

But hold on… because eventually the “Durban, as advertised” eventually began to take shape.

On almost the last day of training, the weather warmed to a vacation-esque temperature, the sun came out over the sand and surf, and finally (finally!) the promenade and boardwalk took on their much-anticipated, resort-style look: people walking and biking along the beach, children building castles in the sand, throngs of visitors splashing in the waves, and windows flung open from every street-side restaurant so that diners could enjoy the sea-salt breeze. Ahhh… now that’s more like it.

And once our outlook on the city had gone from drizzly to dreamy, we got a look at what Durban really has to offer:

First of all, many of us newcomers to Durban agreed that the city could be described best as “The South African Miami” – beachside, of course, but also overly-colorful, surprisingly dingy, and boasting that oh-so-tacky flare for tourism appeasement. But, then again, to Peace Corps Volunteers that live in cement huts in dusty villages, what’s not to love about that?!?

The promenade and boardwalk, just along the beaches of the Indian Ocean, boast overly-priced curios, and overly-tourist-friendly dining (i.e., basic American and European cuisine), but also serve as a great location to stroll, listen to the waves, and best of all – enjoy live music, drink in hand, overlooking the ocean at sunset. And of course, a group of us enjoyed an evening of doing just that, as a friend of a fellow PCV was playing at a local night spot while we were in town. I was surprised at how much enjoyment I got from something that was once so common-place at home: a drink at a bar, a little live music from some local talents, and just random chit-chat with friends… oh the things we take for granted when we have a little money, a little transport, and a little civilization. ;-)

Just off the boardwalk, there’s plenty of adolescents hawking umbrellas, broad-brimmed hats, and towels – which I always find humorous, since they are basing they’re sales on the assumption that you just might be the kind of beach-goer that would forget these necessities… when going to the beach! He he! But, hawkers and unprepared tourists aside, the beaches themselves are divine – soft sand between your toes, beautiful shells to collect along a walk, and surprisingly large waves in which to waste away the afternoon hours. And while you do have to stay ever-mindful of keeping within the boundaries of the shark nets (we have some pretty big sharks here!) and not getting tangled up in a semi-poisonous jellyfish, there are fairly helpful lifeguards to wave you in the right direction of the “safe swim zones” and pour vinegar on your tentacle stings. And hey, those worries are really nothing compared to the biggest concern of all: sunburn. What people say about the African sun here is unmistakably true – it is simply ten feet away from your face. All. Day. Long. Uh. But, once again, I am focusing more on the negatives… when in fact, all in all, if you arrive prepared (and with copious amounts of sunscreen), the Durban beaches are a veritable sun and surf oasis and I, like any native coaster, soaked up every minute of that at-home feeling!!

Okay, now moving off the beach: Perhaps Durban’s greatest claim to fame (aside from its beachside location) is its indulgence in anything and everything Indian. As Durban was the most popular port of entry for Indian immigrants to South Africa, the city has become saturated with the colors, smells, and flavors of the Indian culture. Every street corner boasts an Indian restaurant and every supermarket has an aisle dedicated to the ingredients necessary for a truly Indian dining experience. Thus, on our first day after training (since Peace Corps trainings always come with three, free meals a day and you would have to be crazy to pass that up on our stipends!), we headed out from the beach to find some eastern-flavored grub. The first place we came across was small, with no real attention to décor and a menu on the wall that boasted pictures of the listed meals – not necessarily a good sign. However, all the diners were clearly of Indian descent and all the staff was clearly related, with at least three generations represented – all very, very good signs. So we headed in. First thing we spotted was a generous selection of naan – good start! Next, was the generous selection of curries – also great! And when the server/grandfather came to take our order, he spoke softly, in broken English, and ensured us that our dining experience would be quite satisfying – now this is our kind of place! Since we had little knowledge of the vast array of Indian cuisine, Adam chose to ask the nice server/grandfather what he would suggest if his own family was eating in his establishment, and without even a second’s hesitation he declared (quietly, of course), “mutton curry”. Okay, mutton curry it is. And oh… my… gosh… mutton curry it was!!! Adam described the extremely-spicy-but-too-delicious-to-stop-eating-for-even-one-minute dish as the best food he has had to date in South Africa!! (And we all know that is a lot coming from Adam!!!) All I could say was “oh yum” and “okay, need bread and water”! Ha! So, first Indian food experience: success!

After lunch, we moved to our new locale for the weekend – Surf n’ Dreams backpacker – which is located quite conveniently to one of Durban’s street-long hotspots. Thus, that night we got to experience another side of Durban’s culinary scene: Florida Road. Pronounced Floor-eee-dah by the locals, this street offers every possible size, style and type of food that one can imagine – and all within in a 1k block! How glorious! Oh where to begin… there’s Bangkok Wok for Thai food, Simply Fish and Simply Sushi for any type of seafood you desire, Delux Burger for the basic and not-so-basic delite, Santorini for Mediterranean yumminess, Cubana Grill & Havana Lounge for some Latin flavor, Spiga for indulgent Italian, Butcher Boys for a big ol’ slab of meat, the all-but-required House of Curries for traditional Indian, and so much more! The group of lingering PCVs chose, as virtually mandated, Taco Zulus for some ooey-gooey Mexican… with real tortilla chips! Of course, we paired this lovingly with some margaritas and Coronas and had ourselves a wonderfully filling taco, nacho, and burrito feast! What a great end to our Durban training!

Over the weekend, the swarm of PCVs thinned out and our activities slowed to a relaxed, vacation pace. In particular, Saturday was perhaps our most relaxed and enjoyable day! We started off the day with a walk down Musgrave Street to the shopping center. Along the way, we ogled at unbelievable houses with a Miami-meets-Beverly-Hills style to them, each with manicured lawns, lush tropical gardens, and some form of ornate water feature drawing in every imaginable color of bird. Walking downhill on Musgrave, we got to see incredible views of Durban in the morning haze – the semi-skyscrapers with rooftop pools, the multi-colored apartment buildings, the gorgeous World Cup stadium, and of course the coast and beach in the distance. Once at the shopping center, we cut through the parking lot (we weren’t actually going to the shopping center!!) to get to Essenwood Street and hiked back up a few blocks to arrive at the Saturday Street Market. Not exactly on the street, but rather, in a gorgeous, green park, flanked with mini rolling hills (the perfect kind for sledding as a kid!), and stunningly tall trees that provided much-welcomed shade. The market itself, while traditionally Indian at heart, has expanded beyond roti wraps and sari stalls to include adorable children’s clothes, French breads & cheeses, massage stations, Swazi dress wraps, hand-woven hats & mittens, fresh cut exotic flowers, a miniature crèperie, a modern furniture and décor section, and even pony rides and water sports for kids! Not surprisingly, we were able to meander away most of the morning between the market stalls, eating our way through several of the day’s courses by the afternoon. Why can’t every village have a market like this to spend our Saturday mornings at?!?

When we had had our fill of marketing, two fellow PCVs led us to a hole-in-the-wall book store that was rumored to be well worth a look. And, as it turned out, Ike’s Bookstore was a pretty great way to spend the afternoon! Located just off the main drag of Florida Road, at a private entrance with a buzzer by the door, an antiqued staircase leads you to the semi-slanted, beautifully musty-scented interior of Ike’s. The bookstore itself is a converted apartment, with multiple rooms, a large common area, and an amazingly breezy and comfy wrap-around porch that overlooks the ever-bustling street below and the coastal side of downtown Durban. Each room of the store resembles something from the crazy, Great Expectations home of old Mrs. Havisham – each categorically fashioned to match the genre of books in that section. Thus, the décor boasts everything from massive wooden desks, old fashioned type writers, and Americana tin-plated adverts of sunny vacation destinations to hand-sculpted African buttresses, Apartheid-era paraphernalia, and Ndebele beaded jewelry. Likewise, the books are equally diverse, with titles ranging from 18th century British medical handbooks and original writings on the exploration of the African continent to James Beard’s books on fish cookery and colorful depictions of the American 1960’s. You could quite literally spend a couple days in this store and, since the wonderful shop manager questioned us enthusiastically about our service in the country and the store owner offered us some refreshing white wine to have with our conversation, we too stayed well past closing and indulged our inner-bibliophiles.

By the time that late afternoon approached, we made reservations at Spiga for large plates of Italian that night and began heading back up Florida Road to Surf n’ Dreams for a game of Hearts (since we had four! Yay!) by the pool. En route, however, we were met halfway by a gathering swarm of onlookers waiting for… well… we had no idea. As it turned out, there was an impromptu, down-hill, skateboarding race about to take place! Adding to the adventure was the fact that apparently no one had informed the authorities about this race and, therefore, the bustling Florida Road would not be closed for safety. Hmmm, this should be interesting… The skateboarders appeared, several in very creative and brightly colored jumpsuits, overalls, and patchwork pants and zig-zagged their way down the south-bound lane. Cars in the north-bound lane swerved frightfully out of the way to avoid those lazy riders that drifted across the lines…oops. There must have been at least a hundred of them! And eventually, from top to bottom, as far as you could see down the hill, skateboarders had taken over Florida Road and caused a completely stopped chaos of cars on all sides. At the tail end, a couple younger kids rode down the hill while sitting on the skateboard – much more comfortable I would think – and then finally, trailing behind the entire pack was one, lone police car… lights on, no siren, with an officer at the wheel that had an obvious expression of “how the hell did this happen…”. Ha! Silly Durban police officer!!

Returned to the backpacker. Cooled our feet in the pool. Talked about all the trouble we may one day get into during happy hours in Portland. Played a rousing game of Hearts (we’re dorks). Included lots of trash talk. Pet the cute backpacker dogs in their ridiculous little shirts (one says “I’m too cool for obedience school.” Oh my.) And then… Back to Spiga for a glorious dinner in a breezy courtyard, by a bubbling fountain, under the first string of Christmas lights to go up so far. And oh, the food! Quite possibly the best Italian we’ve had yet in the this country: thick spaghetti bolognaise, gnocchi in a creamy marinara sauce, raviolis in white wine reduction, and I paired mine with a peach belini…. Ah. In fact, on our last day in Durban, when we were doing nothing but relaxing at the backpacker (and my husband was recovering from an unknown fever… don’t worry, he’s much better now!), we got take-out from Spiga… of almost the exact same order. Yes, it was that good. And yes, if I had brought another backpack, I may have gotten take-out to bring back to site. Shame.

And there you have it. Durban in a weekend.

Needless to say, we could have stayed (and eaten) a little while longer…