30 more hours to San Francisco

I'm in Johannesburg airport right now, using the same internet cafe where I posted my first African blog and had my hand licked by a sleazy Pakistani that swore I looked just like his wife. In about an hour I'm going to board my flight to Atlanta. 17 and a half glorious hours over the Atlantic, complete with a stop in Sal Island, Cape Verde to refuel the plane.

I am already dead tired from several days of sleep deprivision in Maputo, mainly to be blamed on:
- updating budgets, reading case studies, and putting together objectives for the microfinance project I'm working on;
- watching total trash tv...and I do mean trash. Ricardo and I sat through episode after episode of Cheaters, The Bachelorette, Knight Rider, and Jerry Springer. Ah, the reality channel. Good times. The apartment we rented had cable, a total luxury after our tv in Chimoio exploded. Yes, that's right. We were watching a dvd last month and, all of a sudden, the lights in the entire house doubled in brightness, there was a sizzle and a pop, and acrid smoke started pouring out of the top of the tv.
- procrastinating and leaving packing to the last minute (surprise, surprise)
- telling stories late into the night with Ricardo about the devious things we used to do in middle and high school.

So I'm pooped, but glad to be going home for a visit. Hopefully there will be some good in-flight entertainment and some tomato juice (B-vitamins - I listened, Erin!) to wash down the Tylenol PM.