Beach People

We are home from a much-needed mini vacation to Lake Malawi. Highlights included:

--playing card games with a 10-year-old who laughs like a windchime; didn't pout too much that she never got to watch Barbie Christmas; and stood in our doorway at 6 am wearing her bikini, goggles, and inflatable water wings, trying to stare us awake
--floating in the clear water beside a beach we had all to ourselves
--exploring a ghost town of a resort that looked like it had been abandoned by Gilligan and The Skipper, and that we also had to ourselves except for the random dude sleeping on the beach and the mini alligator living in a manky little swimming pool
--staying in a quirky old beach house that smelled like antique furniture and featured 40-year-old books in Afrikaans and a caretaker who grilled up the fish a guy on a bike brought by in the morning
--stopping in Lilongwe on the way back to stock up on Carlsburg Stout, good coffee (brand name: Mzuzu!), pretzals, and peanut sauce.

Trevor and I aren't that good at relaxing, and I have never considered myself a Beach Person, but I think we could vacation at Lake Malawi pretty much forever.

Vacation!

This space will be blissfully blank for a few days, as Trevor and I are heading to Lake Malawi with a couple of friends for a much-needed long weekend and won't even have cell-phone internet, so we'll be well and truly unplugged. I packed sunscreen, books, and uno. Whee!!

Back Tuesday.

A rat update

Over lunch (they had meatballs but fed me a dish of pumpkin leaves that goes by the local name of chihuahua, which always makes me think of the Taco Bell dog, may he rest in peace), I told my colleagues about the giant rat. Clement says what I saw was actually a "cane cutter," a rat-like animal that eats grass and does not go into people's houses.

And, according to Clement, is delicious.

Run, run, run

I run because I need the exercise and because it's supposed to be relaxing. Alas, there's nothing relaxing about running past a smoldering heap of trash or people who stop to gawk or yell out helpful commentary like, "You are exercise!"

Also, this morning I saw something that seared itself into my brain for the entire outing. (Naturally, I'm going to share the image with you! Enjoy those cornflakes!) Some kids were throwing rocks at something in a tree. Meanwhile, the littler kid was holding, by its rope-like tail, a rat the length of his arm. It was the size of a cat. It had been living just outside my house.

I couldn't help but stare, and for the rest of the run I wondered about the fate of said rat. Lunch or dinner?

Trevor's travels

Today I stayed at the office while Trevor rode the 30+ km out to the home villageof the PC house's night guard, Baldwin, who is the nicest man in Zambia and also the least scary guard I can possibly imagine, seeing as he can't weigh more than 90 pounds after a big lunch. And he is so tiny that when he tucks in his uniform shirt, the pockets disappear under his waistband.

Anyway, Baldwin wanted Trevor to meet his family so off they went. Our thermometer read 94 degrees when I made the morning coffee, so Trevor got good and cooked, especially on the way back, but he enjoyed some Zambian hospitality and terrified a few babies. Now that he's home, he's feeling especially grateful for the electricity powering our fan and a freezer full of ice cubes.

Besides bike rides, Trevor's big project this week is monitoring a sweet potato that started sprouting in our vegetable basket. It's in a pot of dirt on the dining room table where he's been measuring it twice a day and wants me to keep blog readers updated on its progress. Sadly, I don't know the HTML necessary to chart it out, so you'll just have to believe me when I say that besides finding a warehouse full of broken karaoke microphones, this is the biggest thrill we've had in awhile.

The other side

Ok, so It's not all paperwork and lines. After wrassling with excel
all morning I got to buy curtain fabric and chat with the guys at
modern bazaar and the post office. And i handed over the keys to the
old house, which was the easiest part of the move so far, since all
the inspecting guy did was check for broken windows, of which there
was one, a number he seemed to be pleasantly surprised by.

The craziest thing today? A big pile of discarded toy boxes outside
the fabric shop led me to a massive and broiling hot third floor
warehouse strewn with tons (literally: a cargo container load) of
reject american toys, selling for 50 pin per 50 kg bag if you pick
your own, 25 if you take your chances. Naturally, Trevor plans to be
there first thing tomorrow.

Job

My new job is such a contrast to being a regular PCV in Zambia, which is free-form and self directed. While it's also an emotional roller coaster of getting stood up for meetings contrasted with the occasional feeling that something good might happen, at least it doesn't involve filling out massive piles of government paperwork, wrangling with freaking spreadsheets, and standing in line at the water company.

On a good day, I get to visit a volunteer in the field or have a good chat with somebody at my house over dinner. But on many days, I feel like I'm back in America working for The Man. If I'm going to work for The Man, I want the paycheck, the coffee breaks, the gym membership, the fun lunch dates and the weekends to go with it, you know?

(Through it all, though, I have to say: Thank god for Trevor. Without him, I would have already lost what little sanity I have left.)

Attitude adjustment

I am finding the biggest challenge of my new job is keeping a positive attitude. Sometimes when people hold this position, they end up somewhat bitter and frustrated. Since Trevor didn't want me to take the job in the first place (believing I would become bitter and frustrated), I'm trying really hard to prove that I can stay happy despite the challenges.

Unfortunately, it's not easy when I wake up to a co-worker text at 6:45, well before my first cup of coffee; arrive to find the PC house empty of people but full of dirty dishes, sticky tables, and a guard who needs to get a tooth pulled but can't call the guard company for a replacement or she'll get fired; get interrupted from a to-do list the length of my arm by a plumbing situation; and find out that stray dogs attacked the (in-heat) house dog last night. Among other things.

All I can say is thank god for Trevor. He's taken on the job of trying to get the dog fixed (which we hope to achieve after getting the necessary medicine sent up from Lusaka), along with lots of other little tasks that would make my head explode if I added them to my list. And he reminds me to keep a smile on my face, because dang it, I'm going to prove that I can.

(Am I positive, or just too stubborn to admit he could be right?)

Repeats

Because he is so good at chatting up random strangers (in this case, somebody he found while waiting for us to have a meeting at the Provincial Health Office last week), Trevor has found himself another new friend. This one is a former member of the Zambian national track team (event= 400 meters).

This morning (Saturday), they went out at 6 to run repeats up a big hill nearby. Sounds fun, huh? Tre came home grinning and with plans to do it again Monday. Meanwhile I was in bed sleeping off having stayed up too late for the third night running finishing Twilight, a book I found surprisingly entertaining given the near complete lack of plot and character development.

One entirely unexpected benefit of being a Peace Corps Volunteer in Africa is that we are really catching up on American pop culture. At home, Trevor and I fraternize near the edge of normal, what with not having cable and Trevor buying most of his music on vinyl at thrift stores. But now! I have opinions about Gray's Anatomy, Akon (though I still don't know how to spell it), Project Runway, and Twilight! Several years out of date, but still.

Also, I really really like the new Wilco album. It's still new, right?

Mavuto (trouble)

If you are a friend who hasn't gotten any email from us lately, it could be because our computer/ internet has been acting funny ever since I tried to download a new anti-virus in Lusaka and ended up with a porn virus instead. Seriously, how the (*&$# did I manage that?

Anyway, we've been trying to figure it out but mostly we're emailing from the phone or the house computer lately, which has cramped our style. Sorry! We still love you. Really.

A mystery

Seriously, what is up with the puking? I have now lost count of the
number of times someone has gacked in my presence in this country. I
haven't seen this much of other people's body fluids since i taught
pre school, back when i still liked children.

I never made people barf in america, at least that i am aware. What's up?

Also today marks the first time i've been in a truck that killed
something. (Only a guinea hen that is now someone's dinner.) Let's
hope vehicular slaughter does not also become a trend.

License

I finally have my official, plastic drivers license! I am legal to drive in any SADC country. Look out, Botswana!

How I got my license was: a German friend went to pick up his, and when he was looking through the big basket of them at the license office he saw mine and one for another friend, so he took them. Then he called us up and we met up at his house for beers and looking at each others' bad pictures. Also, my birthday is wrong but nobody (except the internets) needs to know that.

A beer party to celebrate getting our drivers licenses. Somehow it just seems right here.

A public service announcement

I know some of you out there read this blog occasionally and think, Gee I ought to send Trevor and/or Lisa a letter sometime, and then you go refill your coffee (oh, the coffee) and forget all about it.

It's ok with us, but you should know that around January we're going to ask people to stop sending mail, since in May we're coming home! So if you want to avoid the terrible guilt of running into us at the farmers market after thinking you were going to send a letter (but never did) for two long years, get yourself to the post office soon. (International Priority Envelope! Relatively good deal!)

Is it a coincidence that Halloween candy will soon be on closeout? I think not.

A culinary mystery

What is it with my husband and pancakes? I could go the rest of my life without eating one, but to Trevor they're the pinnacle of weekend dining. At least it's easy to make him happy.

Home again, again

Our little convoy of cruisers arrived back in Chipata bearing nine new PCVs (lots of hangovers, but nobody puked!).

Now the fun + work begins: shopping for everything they need for the next two years (mattresses, forks, braziers for cooking, jerry cans for hauling water, mosquito coils), introducing them to their provincial counterparts, getting their bank accounts straightened out, and delivering them to their new houses.

Several current volunteers greeted us at the house with beers, chocolate chip cookies and a burrito feast featuring a giant bowl of guacamole. We're off to a good start.

Channels

The guesthouse where I stayed last night has two friendly striped kitties and tv with multiple channels.

Unfortunately, when I woke up at 6 this morning, those channels were showing: news presented in Chinese, a program about luxury cars, and a cartoon starring a pickle. And I was locked on the compound until 7:30.

Two last trips

This afternoon Trevor and another volunteer and I went over to pick up a few last things from the old PC house: lemongrass, ornamental bushes, mulberry clippings, and most importantly the strawberries.

I had planned to just dig up a few of the strawberries, but the friendly (and totally deaf) guard from next door came over to help and he would not stop until every last plant was in our truck. It's probably just as well, since the yard will no doubt get trampled when workers start renovating the house. And we love strawberries.

Trevor took the opportunity to toss in a bunch of old chicken wire, rebar, and rocks. And we had to bring the trash pit ladder, which looks like the ladder you'd have in a swimming pool, because the pit at the new house is two meters deep and Ester always sees stuff at the bottom she wants to retrieve.

A clarification

To clarify: The Peace Corps house is the one that's moving. The serene, clean little house where Trevor and I live is staying just where it is, and it is definitely not the PC house, because although I enjoy the company of my fellow volunteers, I certainly do not want to live in what is basically a frat house/ youth hostel/ giant pile of abandoned magazines, phone chargers, and moldering food.

The move continues. Still working on little things, like getting a phone line. I stopped by the phone company yesterday to find out why they still haven't moved the line (they originally said last Wednesday). An hour after I left the office they called to say I needed to pay a fee that apparently didn't exist during my first three visits; could I come back and pay it? No, I could not.

What a wonderful opportunity to practice deep breathing and patience. Grrr.

Oh, the move.

I keep thinking we're done. Then the hot water heater explodes.

Since coming home, Trevor has been on a cleaning bender (it's what he does) that included washing the PC house dog (who, as you may recall, peed herself the other day). He managed to corral her during a rare moment when the water was on and got her all soaped up and clean. Then we all watched as she flung herself in freshly-dug dirt. (This is only because there is not yet a compost pile or trash pit to roll in.)

I know this behavior is a universal dog thing, but it pretty much sums up my relationship with Zambia at the moment.

Home with Trevor

I am thrilled to report that Trevor is home. (And for readers who persist in believing that the "I" of this blog is actually Trevor, please note that I am not speaking of myself in the third person-- I only do that on Facebook. I am me, and Trevor is Trevor. I am traveling with Trevor, though you are certainly welcome to join along.)

To celebrate his being home, we went out with friends. We have a social life! We ate pizza on a hill overlooking Chipata lights (surprisingly beautiful), watched kids frolic, petted a fat little dog, listened to a German guy sing Bruce Springsteen with a charmingly German accent, and got home ridiculously late (for us).

This morning my cold slammed me back into bed while Trevor worked in the garden, cleaned house and washed clothes. That's not the only reason I'm glad he's home, but it doesn't hurt.