Getting Outta Dar.

Arafat dropped me off at his house after he picked me up from Safari Inn. He went to pick up Sam from the airport, and dropped her off at his house too. 

It was incredibly nice to have someone to speak English to who was just as hot and sweaty as I was. Sam and I waited together some more--while Arafat's grandmother, an elderly Indian lady, fussed around and made sure that we always had water and fruit punch to drink. 

And then finally, Arafat went to pick up Sean.

Sam, Arafat's grandmother, myself, Sean, and Arafat.
All at his house.

Once we were all reunited, we spent some time going around Dar with Arafat. He took us out to eat at Steers--a hamburger place. Lesson #2 learned in Africa: Never order a hamburger if you can help it. Chicken is almost always a pretty safe bet, although Tanzanian chickens tend to be extraordinarily skinny.

The traffic in Dar is absolutely ridiculous. It takes forever to get anywhere and traffic jams are very much a constant nuisance. Bicycles and motor scooters weave in and out of traffic nonstop. The last person to hit their brakes wins--and thus actually gets somewhere. So sometimes you just grit your teeth as the taxicab driver floors it. 

Our train was supposed to begin boarding at two. But thanks to all of the traffic, we finally arrived at the station as the clock inched closer to three. We were already late for boarding, and all we saw as we walked into the train station was lots of Africans sitting, just waiting. No train. We began to feel slightly panicked.

We went down to the ticket office and asked where we needed to go to board. 

"The train will not be arriving until 9:00."

And that was that. The worker behind the glass had no interest in talking to us any further. 

We found an empty spot against the wall and put our bags down. And we sat. Sean and Sam tried to sleep for a while. I watched the bags. That, and slowly lose feeling in the entire lower half of my body. 

There was a group of kids playing around right in front of us. They were the cutest--chasing each other, wrestling, doing cartwheels, flopping around on the floor, flashing shy smiles. 

Rumors started floating around that the train would not be coming at all because of a worker strike in Zambia. By then, it was dark outside. If the train didn't come, we decided we would spend the night in the train station and decide what to do the next morning. Workers then switched off all the lights so that people could sleep if they wanted to. It was almost pitch dark in the station. We made sure our headlamps were easily accessible.

Around 8:00, we discovered that there was actually a first-class lounge that we could wait in if we so desired. Real chairs. We were thrilled. 

We met a girl named Ashley--she was a peace corp volunteer, stationed in Zambia. She agreed to be the fourth person in our cabin. It was a relief to get that wild card taken care of. 

As the minute hand edged closer and closer to 9:00, everybody began to get a little edgier. Why hadn't the train arrived yet? Then we heard the horn, and everybody breathed easier. 

The train finally pulled away from the station at 11:00pm, eight hours after it was originally scheduled. 

landing.

As the plane prepared for landing in Dar, I looked out the window. For some reason, mostly on the merit that it was in possession of an airport, I was expecting to see something slightly resembling a regular city.  But I didn't. Just chaotically packed shacks with rusting metal roofs twisting along  dirt roads. I thought--This is it--and I got a little nervous.

We landed--and I filled out the landing form just like everybody else and I stood in the middle of a jostling crowd just like everybody else. We were all trying to get our Tanzanian visas, and there was no real rhyme or reason to the line. I asked the only other white girl there what we were supposed to do. She told me we would just have to wait.

So we waited. After a while, a uniformed worker came out and started shouting for passports and money. He said that it would expedite the process. I watched him take a couple other people's passports and cash. And when he got to me, I gave him my passport, 100USD, and crossed my fingers that everything would go smoothly.

I got my picture snapped, fingerprints taken, passport re-obtained, and I walked out of the airport to see an African holding up a sign saying EMILY DKAM. 

The African was actually a taxi driver, who didn't speak any English. But he took me to an Indian, who did indeed speak English. The Indian was Arafat, and as Arafat could speak both English and Swahili, he was a lifesaver every time we came to Dar. 

Arafat asked me if I wanted dinner. I didn't. So we went straight to Safari Inn. The traffic was horrible--and I clenched my jaw more than once thinking we were going to get in an accident. There were tall, rundown buildings, street stands selling cassava chips, people sitting on the street curbs. There was a lot of honking and a lot of poverty. It felt chaotic and it felt a little dangerous. I usually don't have a problem going out on my own, but Dar was one city that I would never go out around on my own to explore. 

Arafat dropped me off at where I would be staying. I was spending my first night in Africa alone, but I was so tired that I didn't care. I went straight to my room and collapsed on my bed.

My room was a lot nicer than I was expecting it to be.

view out of my window.

The next morning, I got up at 6:00, showered, and ate a breakfast consisting of toast, a plantain, and some juice. Jeff had sent me an email earlier telling me the fruit juice was the best fruit juice ever. And yeah, it was pretty good.

Arafat and I had agreed to meet each other at 7:00 the next morning, where he would drop me off at his place where I could wait until he picked up Sam. I waited in the lobby. He arrived a little before 9:00.

That was the first and last time I expected things to run on schedule in Africa. 

That is lesson #1 to learn if you want to have a good time in Africa.

back.

Flying back is always interesting. It's just that it's so exquisitely different than flying there.

Flying back means I've reached the end of some chapter, of some sort of adventure in my life.  

And I kind of hate that. 

Mexico was my first adventure. I think that's where I learned how to really live life passionately, how to put some "azucar" in everyday exeriences.I learned I loved going out late at night, listening to street musicians, talking to the locals, dancing, playing with kids. I also learned about drug trafficking, poverty, and corruption. But more importantly, I figured out how to see past all that--to see the glory in a building covered with graffiti, to see the loveliness in a culture hidden behind stereotypes. My last day there I was about 98% convinced that that summer had been and would be the best summer of my life. 

Europe was the second adventure. At the end of the school year that year, I felt like my fuel tank was this close to being empty. But then I walked around Europe and it was just so full of beauty. I wish I could capture it in pictures or words, but nothing even comes close. I experienced everything in a way that just touched and filled my soul. Plenary lectures, old bookstores, looming cathedrals, intimate performances, formal halls, Les Mis, winding cobblestone streets, flowers, glorious art, food. I figured out a lot of things that summer. A lot of things about me and a lot of things about what I wanted. I can't even tell you how much I did not want that summer to end. 

I flew back from Africa three weeks ago. I've been putting off blogging about it. There's just so much to say. 

As we were rushing to get to the airport on my last day there, my mind flashed to that morning. It had been miserably humid. Because of course, there had been rain. 

We had walked from our hostel in Stone Town to the ferry that would take us back to Dar. We waded through tiny streets swirling with ankle-deep water and filth. We got on the ferry, and the next two hours we spent on that ferry were probably the two most miserable hours I spent in Africa. 

We got to Dar. I didn't like Dar es Salaam, never had. It just felt dirty, chaotic, dangerous. And the traffic is terrible. Always.

So I thought, you know, I think I'm ready to leave now. I think I'm excited to leave now. I miss clean bathrooms, not having to buy water, sleeping without a mosquito net, and air conditioning in vehicles. Plus, I would kill for a decent hamburger and something besides fried chicken.

But later, when I was actually looking out the plane window, and I saw Dar es Salaam get smaller and smaller, I realized that I wasn't excited to leave, and I especially wasn't excited to leave now. Hopefully, I'll get around to sharing some of the experiences that made it like that in the next couple of days. It's hard to explain. I was excited to go home, but I wasn't excited to leave. 

Driving to one of the schools in Zambia.

Homes in Zambia.

It's why I'm hoping to go back someday. Mount Kilimanjaro is calling my name.

waka waka

I've just looked at the clock and it's 11:30pm. And I've just realized that I will be on a plane, headed to Africa, in less than 48 hours.

I love adventures.

Here's the plan thus far.

I leave SLC on Saturday. I have a layover in both New York City and Dubai (DUBAI!!!!). I'll land into Tanzania on my own. Sean arrives six hours later, and we'll spend the night in Dar es Salaam.

The next morning, we'll run a couple errands, and then we'll pick up Samantha from the airport. Then the three of us will board a train for Kasama, Zambia. The train ride is supposed to take 36 hours. However, Nick and Jeff are already over there, and it took 43 hours. The train broke down and it took 7 hours to fix. Crazy, huh. Apparently, this is quite the common occurrence. See what I mean about adventure? haha.

Anyhow, since Jeff and Nick are already over there and have posted a couple pictures, I thought I would post a few on here, just so you can see what I'll be up to in the next week or so.  I believe that Nick took all of these.

Dar es Salaam--rainy season.

I'm not sure where this is, actually...but either Dar, Kasama, or
somewhere in -between.

on the train ride from Dar to Kasama

28 hours into the train ride. 

Kasama, Zambia!

Just seeing these pictures made my heart skip a beat. I'm strangely not that nervous. 

I'm excited to get back to leading a busy, productive life. I've spent a large majority of the past two weeks doing nothing. I've watched countless tv shows and wasted more time than I'd like to admit. It was really great for the first week. Second week? Not so much. A whole summer of doing nothing would be awful. Good thing that my action packed

Summer 2012 is about to officially start!!! YES!

bellatrix ii

I have two roommates who are both avid Harry Potter fans. I thought I was an avid Harry Potter fan as well, but apparently not, because I hadn't joined Pottermore.

So I created an account on Pottermore. Mostly to see where the sorting hat would put me. 

With much anticipation and bated breath, I finished the questionnaire and clicked that last button.

Slytherin. The hat put me in Slytherin. But of course it did.

Haley laughed. She's Hufflepuff though, so we can probably still get along somewhat.

Katie laughed too. But she's Gryffindor. I'm thinking it's a good thing I'm moving out in four days. She associates with the likes of Ron Weasely, who once retorted, "if it means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins, fat chance." 

Well, in that case, no getting "matey" desired on this end either, you Gryffindor-ians.

In the future, I plan on making friends based on where they've been sorted. Obviously, if you aren't Slytherin, well, we weren't really meant to be friends anyways. If you refuse to get sorted, I shall just assume that you aren't magical, and heaven knows what should happen to squibs.

before i'm thirty.

Sometimes I try to imagine the kind of person I'd be at thirty. I don't know, really.

But I hope that Bob Marley and the Red Hot Chili Peppers always make me think of summer. I hope that I still hate peanut butter (or my brothers would never let me live that one down). I hope that I still sing and dance to the radio in my car. I hope that I still have this unbearable desire to see and experience the world. I hope that I still love to learn. I hope that I still want a beautiful library full of old books. I hope that I still have a close relationship with my family and friends. I hope that I still dream big. I hope that I don't make too many stupid decisions. I hope even more that I don't make the boring, safe ones all the time either.

I hope I always have the desire to grow into me. That I learn to live life without fear. I've tried for a long time to do that. Then I realized that it's possible to be afraid of being afraid. It's possible to try so hard to become independent that letting yourself be any sort of dependent again is harder than it should be. It's possible to ignore yourself. It's possible to drown good things with good things. It's possible to rationalize anything into something and vice versa.

Turning thirty is nine years away. That's nine years that I'm going to be constantly evolving and changing into someone more.

Nine years is long enough to learn certain things, like remembering to make my bed every morning. To never put my clothes on my chair to put away later. To not always bank on "getting up early" to work if you've procrastinated something. To become one of those highly productive people that you read about in magazines.

Pamela Satran wrote a list of things that a woman should have and should know by the time she's thirty. I'm working on it.

By 30, you should have ...

1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.
2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.
5. A youth you’re content to move beyond.
6. A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age -- and some money set aside to help fund it.
8. An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account -- all of which nobody has access to but you.
9. A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.
10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
13. The belief that you deserve it.
14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better.

By 30, you should know ...

1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.
2. How you feel about having kids.
3. How to quit a job, break up with a man, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
4. When to try harder and when to walk away.
5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.
6. The names of the secretary of state, your great-grandmothers, and the best tailor in town.
7. How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.
8. Where to go -- be it your best friend’s kitchen table or a yoga mat -- when your soul needs soothing.
9. That you can’t change the length of your legs, the width of your hips, or the nature of your parents.
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.
11. What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long.
13. Who you can trust, who you can’t, and why you shouldn’t take it personally.
14. Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.
15. Why they say life begins at 30.

As I was reading this list, I realized how much I've learned over the past three years of college. I've still got a ways to go before I'm the kind of woman I'd be proud to be at age thirty. But it's all right. I've still got some time.

the provo diet

I survived finals week, sending off my last paper this morning at 3:00am. 

I'm going camping for the next two days.

I get to see Haley Boyle in four days!

I have two weeks before I leave for Africa.

I have a to-do list that is ridiculously long. 

I took my car in to get a simple oil change and learned that car problems are kind of costly to fix. Bummer.

I finished my cleaning check.

I had this plan where I wouldn't buy groceries until I leave.

But now, I'm trying to decide whether it's really worth it.

Pasta + salsa? Stir fry sauce and eggs?

Since when did I get so many condiments anyways? And what happened to all of my food?