That's More Like It!

Visiting exotic places with good friends is how I'd imagined passing the bulk of my days here in Mozambique. For those of you that read my blog regularly, you'll know my expectations were a little off. Instead of camping and wild nights dancing, my experience here thus far has involved lots of time at a desk in front of a laptop and not so many friends or nights out. Part of this is due to my own reclusiveness and introverted tendencies as of late. Part of it is due to the fact that I've found it tremendously difficult to find "my people" here. You know...the artistic, slightly nutty, adventuresome, worldly, intelligent, nature-loving, open-minded, fun, here for the long-haul kind of people. Slowly, however I'm managing to create the kind of life I want for myself.

In a post a few days ago I mentioned that I could literally count my friends here in Maputo on 2 fingers. Well, one of them is a woman named Tracy. She's also an American and we often work together on projects. She is in charge of a fund at the IFC that invests in small and medium local businesses. I am often on the consulting team hired by the IFC to put together the strategic plans and financial models for said local businesses.

It's been great to get to know Tracy, not only because she is someone I enjoy hanging out with but also because she has validated so many of my feelings about being an expat in Mozambique. We've had similar lonely, isolated, overworked experiences, struggling to make meaningful connections with people here yet at the same time really enjoying the good points this country has to offer.

Last Sunday Tracy and her boyfriend Sergio called me up and invited me to go to Macaneta beach with them for the day. Of course I jumped at the chance to get out of the city and go for an adventure. And what an adventure it was!

It started out with a 30 minute drive north of Maputo to a town called Marracuene. This place was hit really hard by the civil war and is basically in ruins now, but still very beautiful. The Inkomati River runs next to Marracuene, however there is no bridge so to get across you must take the batelão (ferry). This thing is basically a floating platform that can hold up to 6 cars at a time. I've been on a similar batelão going over to Espungabera where we had our tea project last year, only that one was propelled by 2 huge guys turning a cog wheel. This ferry was modern in that it acutally was equipped with a motor!

In line waiting to board the ferry across the Inkomati River.

No life vests? No trained personnel? Over capacity? No problem! Things like this in the US would never fly...

Tracy and Sergio waiting for our turn to ride.

Once we made it safely across to the other side of the river, we were faced with adventure #2 - soft sand tracks that everyone generously referred to as roads. There were vehicles stuck everywhere - good ones even, equpped with 4x4 - so we were a little concerned about making it the 4km down to the beach lodge where we were supposed to pass the day. Mind you, we were in the middle of nowhere. Times like this I actually feel like I'm in Africa. There were mud huts with straw roofs, little kids running around doing anything possible to make a buck (my favorite was the little guys that made model helicopters out of banana tree stalks), goats all over the place and lots of sand and sun.

And this was the good part!

We stopped on the only remaining piece of asphalt from a road built who knows how long ago and strategized. I remembered tips from an off-road driving guide Rico had bought back in Chimoio and left in the bathroom as toilet reading. I told Sérgio to take some air out of the tires and that he should constantly wiggle the steering wheel back and forth as he drove so that we wouldn't form a rut in the sand. Between my tips and the fact that Sérgio just gunned it down the entire length of the sand road, we managed to make it down to the beach. We were all pumped up with adrenaline when we arrived, so we ate some sandwiches and ran down to the water.

I'm somewhat of a sissy when it comes to swimming in the ocean - I don't like strong currents, big waves, cold water or places where there are jellyfish / sharks / sea snakes / sewage / trash messing up the water. That said, Macaneta was unfortunately not the beach for me. It was clean, but the waves were gigantic and it was apparent that there was quite the rip tide. The water was also freezing and full of blue box jellies. Needless to say I didn't get in. But we did have a good time walking along the sand and soaking up the rays.

Windblown and intimidated by the ocean, but very happy to be away from our desks.

Daughter of a South African friend uses her flip flops to catch crabs.

Unfortunately, this photo was moments before this little one got stung by a jellyfish. It hurt, but she was okay in the end.

The oar on this fishing boat weighed at least as much as I do. I could barely budge the thing!

Obviously we had a great day at the beach. Good thing I have friends who invite me along on these outings because it's the kind of thing where you 1) must know your way around the rural areas, 2) must be skilled at off-roading, and 3) must have access to a vehicle. None of which I do. Hopefully there will be more outings like this in the near future. After all, for those of us in the Southern Hemisphere, it's SUMMERTIME!!

Ups and Downs

Last night a huge storm rolled in and I sat awake for most of the wee hours of the morning watching lightning strike seemingly above our building. The acompanying thunder was the loudest I've heard in ages and it got the kittens all agitated. They chased each other relentlessly around the room, trampling me in the process and making it impossible to sleep. Like I would have been able to, anyway, with the storm and all.

Despite the lack of rest, I woke up this morning strangely satisfied. The sky was full of low-hanging gray clouds and the sunlight barely made it through. It was cold and generally nasty the entire day. I like this stormy, gloomy weather because it seems to justify my mood as of late. When it's cloudy and raining outside, nobody wants to leave the house, right? Nobody feels chipper. Nobody can be bothered to do anything but curl up with a blanket and some hot tea and watch DVD's all afternoon. So on gray days my feelings are actually in line with those of the general population. Everyone feels down, I'm not the odd one out.

Is it possible for a person to develop geographically or situationally induced manic depressive disorder? I honestly don't believe I suffer from the disease, but I certainly feel like I exhibit it's symptoms lately. I go from feeling optimistic and like my life is totally on track, to feeling the most unbelievable numbness and lack of desire to do anything at least 15 times a day.

Sometimes I love living in Africa. Life is laid back, there is no pressure from deadlines, emphasis is on the things that matter in life like family and friends instead of consumer goods. I live in a beautiful country full of simple people where it's easy to get by with relatively litte. On the other hand, this place is maddening sometimes. Nothing works on time, nobody is reliable, resources are absent or outdated at best, most people live in extreme poverty and that makes me feel guilty all the time. I miss my family and hate that I am so far away from the people I love. I have so few friends here I can count them on two fingers. Literally. For all the benefits, I wonder why I insist on staying here when the negatives make me so depressed.

Sometimes I love my job and the opportunity it gives me to do two of my favorite things: write and work in a developing country. I feel I can make a difference, that as a result of my efforts local businesses will be improved, entrepreneurs will get start-up money, foreign investment will be facilitated and in general I'll have helped Mozambique on the path to sustainable development. Other times I feel like consulting is just a bunch of bullshit, that I am a fraud. How can I tell anyone how to make their business better when, 1) I've never owned a business myself, and 2) I know next to nothing about the industries my clients work in. I am so smooth in presentations and can write in such a way that it seems I know what I'm talking about, who will ever know the difference? I am constantly worried that someone will "figure me out."

Sometimes I'm energized and inspired by the people I work with. Other times I see right through the polished exterior to the political connections, false alliances and corruption that are behind the scenes in just about every job I've ever worked. I get tired of dealing with these people, of playing the game.

Sometimes I love the fact that my self-employed existance allows me to get up whenever I feel like it, set my own schedule, wear any old thing to work, take time off whenever I'm so inclined, and basically be the master of my own destiny as far as time and lifestyle are concerned. Then there are the days where I realize that I have absolutely no capacity for self-discipline, that I really don't work very hard at all, that I procrastinate to no end all the while fretting about the work to be done and the salary to be earned. My success is a direct factor of the effort I put into this job, and the fact that I'm not able to get my shit together is really quite disapointing. All I want to do these days is make jewelry and crochet, read and write blog entries, cook and drink tea on the varanda. All lovely passtimes, but I can't seem to buckle down and get my "real" work done, no matter how much I try to bribe myself or set goals.

This is the existance I've always hoped for: self-employed, reasonable earning potential, opportunity to live in an interesting place, multiple chances for travel. I'm starting to realize that maybe I'm not cut out for this. Will I ever be disciplined enough to make it work? Because now I'm certainly not. Sometimes I think my lack of enthusiasm for this job is a sign that it's really not right for me. Some days I downright hate consulting and anything associated with the business world and that I'd really be better off with another occupation. Then there's this voice that creeps up and says that the real problem is that I'm taking my blessings for granted.

I feel like I need someone to give me a bit shake and tell me to get my shit together before this opportunity passes me by. I've tried to shake myself but it never quite seems to work.

I know everyone goes through similar conflicts about work and life in general, but I feel like mine are really extreme. I am either super happy or down in the dumps and wanting to cry. There seems to be no middle ground. And yet, my intuition tells me that it's not yet time for me to leave Mozambique, no matter how frustrated or alone I may feel. There is some part of my destiny here that I must still fulfull. I have a feeling it has to do with me finally coming to peace with the doubts I've written about above, and whatever it is I choose to do when the answer finally becomes a bit more clear.

I have a strong feeling it may involve writing a book.

After 25 Hours, a Lovely Treat

In the middle of my torturously long trip from New Mexico back to Mozambique, I had a 9-hour layover in Paris. Normally, this would have me cursing, but on this particular trip I had the good fortune to meet up with a blogger who has increasingly become my favorite source for world news: Paris Parfait.

The plan was that I'd arrive at the airport, collect my luggage, and take a taxi over to Paris Parfait's apartment. I was hoping that my friend Elite could also meet us, but unfortunately we weren't able to coordinate a visit this time.

Putting a slight kink in our plans, Air France managed to lose my luggage. For the second time on this trip. Sigh. I had to spend about 2 hours hassling with the baggage services office to lodge a claim before I could head over to meet Paris Parfait. On the plus side, I didn't have to schlep my 100 pounds of stuff halfway across the city.

I had a hilarious cab ride over to PP's apartment. I can understand French thanks to Alliance Français classes when I was about 5 years old and the similarity of the other romance languages I speak, but really can't form a coherent sentence or say anything other than the basic greetings and a few random adjectives. No problem.

My driver picked up on the fact that I understood what he was saying and asked what languages I speak. When he heard Portuguese was on the list, he started to tell me about this one time that he gave a Brasilian drag queen a ride and the guy was changing clothes and putting on his glittery makeup in the backseat of the taxi! I've never had a funnier non-conversation with a person in my life.

I arrived safely at Paris Parfait's apartment (full of cute antiques and beautiful furniture, by the way) and we sat down for some tea and figured out what to do with the little time we had together. We opted for a nice walk around her neighborhood, followed by a homecooked meal by her husband.

This was my first time in Paris and I must admit the city actually lived up to my expectations in terms of being beautiful, romantic, historical, cultured, etc. Even in our short walk to a bridge and then to the local grocery store, I got a nice taste of that part of the city. I can definitely see why so many people just fall in love with Paris...

In this picture, you can see some of the houseboats that are docked along this part of the Seine. I asked Paris Parfait if people really live in them, and she said yes, that some of the residents are even full time.

The commuter train runs alongside the river and I spotted these cool garden plots from the bridge. Apparently it's a community garden where residents of the neighborhood can get a patch of land and grow their own vegetables. There was even a little old man watering his plants as we watched from above.

This was, without a doubt, one of the funniest moments I had in Paris. We were on top of this big bridge looking out at the Seine and all the gardens. Paris Parfait told me to turn around and look up the length of the bridge, where we'd just walked up from a nearby park. I looked up the bridge and saw this cute little family cycling, and some nicely painted historical streetlamps. "That's pretty quaint," I thought, and ooh-ed and ah-ed for effect.

Only whe we started to walk back over the bridge did I look up again and notice what Paris Parfait was *really* trying to point out - there was a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance! When she'd shown me the view earlier, I happened to be at the only angle where the Tower was obstructed. In the photo above, the Eiffle Tower is hidden directly behind the lantern part of the street light on the left. Silly me, I didn't take another photo because I figured the one above would surely have captured the Tower.

We stopped by the bakery and got a fresh baguette, which Paris Parfait gave me to hold to boost the authenticity of my Paris experience. We had the baguette later with spaghetti bolognese and let me tell you, it was the most delicious bread I've had in ages. Shame I had to rush out the door to get a taxi back to the airport, because if I'd had a chance I would have surely eaten at least half the baguette by myself, along with another good glass of red wine.

My taxi was late picking me up, but it ended up being no problem. Sheer exhaustion hit me as soon as I sat in the car and slept for most of the ride back to the airport. The check-in desk was just opening as I arrived, and I got the news that they'd managed to locate my luggage and had re-tagged it all to my final destination, Maputo. (I later found out that was a fatty lie, but that's a rant I won't go into at this point.)

The rest of my trip was uneventful, and I sat next to some really interesting people. On the way to Joburg, my traveling companion was the Bishop of the Anglican Church in Cape Town. On the way to Maptuo, I sat next to a Welsh camera reporter coming to Mozambique to do a piece on corporate social responsibility. He was with a group of Welsh executives that had made donations to orphanages here, and they were all going to visit the beneficiaries of their charity.

And that was my trip back home. Can't wait to do it again next year!

Send a Good Thought...

my Dad's way today. He is having some pretty massive dental surgery right about now if my time zone calculation is correct.

So send a supportive thought, a prayer, a healing vibe - whatever it is will certainly be appreciated. And when you're finished, go floss your teeth.

Like my dentist in California told me a couple weeks ago while I sat in his chair, "You only need to floss the teeth you intend to keep." Yikes!

Hope you have a speedy recovery, Dad.

Sunday Scribblings: Skin

This is my favorite part of my skin. I got this tattoo on my lower back while living in Austin and I love it! I suppose the fact that I thought about getting this very tattoo for 8 years before actually doing it makes a difference. I feel it is the perfect expression of who I am, and I love the fact that a visual expression of my personality is forever inked into my skin.

In case you can't tell, the image is of two people sitting back to back on a palm tree. The original image is etched in silver on a triangular pendant that I got when I was 16 and on a month-long bus trip through Brasil.

We were in Brasilia visiting the Templo da Legião da Boa Vontade (in English called the Temple of Peace or Temple of Goodwill), this enormous 7-sided white pyramid in the middle of the city. Suspended at the top of the pyramid is the world's largest quartz crystal weighing in at 21kg.

The thing to do at the Templo is to take off your shoes and walk along the spirals on the granite floor - one black and leading in toward the center of the temple, the other white and spiraling out. At the middle of the spirals, and directly below the crystal in the roof, is a copper disc that supposedly purifies and charges with positive energy whoever stands upon it. I did the whole spiral-walking, energy exchanging ritual at the Templo and thought it was pretty cool.

As I was walking out of the pyramid and back to our bus, an old man selling jewelry called me over to his stand. I tried to explain to him that I didn't want to buy anything, but he was very insistent. "This is for you," he said, and placed a silver pendant in my hand.

"No, no. I can't accept this. Thank you." I tried to refuse the necklace, as I was certain it was just a ploy to get my to buy something.

But the old man shook his head and said, "You don't understand. This gift is for you. I don't want any money. Please, take it. It is for you."

He was so serious when he looked at me that I couldn't bring myself to refuse his offering again. "Thank you," I said softly. I looked at the triangle pendant and tried to figure out the abstract scrawls. "What is it?" I asked the man.

"You'll see," he said, and motioned for me to go back to the bus.

Eventually I did see - two people back to back on a palm tree as if on a desert island - although many people see a different image. The most common ones are two hands pressed together in prayer, or the head of a bull.

I don't know what it is, but something about that image of the people resting on the palm trees just resonated with me. I wore that necklace for about 4 years without ever taking it off. Eventually the chain it was on broke and I began switching it out with some other necklaces (it's hard for a jewelry lover to be faithful to just one necklace!). Even thought I wear other pieces now, this silver pendant is still one of my absolute favorites and a powerful reminder of my past and who I am.

I'd show a photo of the original necklace where I got the idea for my tattoo but it's currently in Rio with Rico. The day he left Mozambique I pressed it in his palm, trying to hold back tears, as if him carrying a pocket-sized reminder of me would somehow lessen the saudades. I like the idea that Rico can look at the necklace, one of my most treasured posessions, and remember not only how the pendant hangs around my neck, and how I tend to grab onto it when I'm nervous, but how the dark ink looks on my skin.

Mourning Flight 1907

The news about the Gol 737 that possibly collided with a smaller Legacy jet and crashed into the Amazon has left me feeling sick.

According to news reports from Brazil's online newspaper O Globo, the pattern of the wreckage led the captain of the Air Force to believe that the plane hit the ground in a vertical dive - nose first. The media is still reluctant to confirm that there are no survivors, instead preferring to say that if any of the 155 people on board the Gol flight were alive, it would be an absolute miracle. The jungle in the area of the crash is so dense that the initial rescue team had to rappel in from helicopters, then cut down trees to make a clearing so that others could manage to land.

The Legacy was piloted by and carrying Americans, including a reporter from the NY Times, and was able to land safely despite some damage to the wing and tail.

Rico and I were talking last night about what the last minute of life must be like for someone on a plane that is doing a nose dive into the jungle. I'm not a particularly religious person, but I really hope that in these moments there is some sort of intervention, either on the part of a higher Being or as a built-in funcion of our souls, that in effect "shuts off" pain and suffering. I hope there is a threshold where a person about to die under horrid circumstances, be it a plane crash, torture, or any other type of accident or injury, ceases to feel physical pain and fear and is able, instead, to have a bit of peace.

My heart goes out to the families of the victims of this accident. It will be a complex and very interesting investigation over the next few months to determine what exactly was the cause of this disaster.

Must.Stop.Procrastinating

My current project is for a client that has a banana plantation and wishes to expand the hectares under cultivation and increase exports to South Africa. I'm having a terrible time getting motivated to finish the client's business plan so that we can start fundraising for the project.

The first problem is that this banana thing is an old project, not something new and exciting. This person was one of our very first clients, and he had some serious trust issues in the beginning about giving us the details of his business. Understandable. We were a new company and this client has never worked with consultants before. After about a year "developing" our relationship, the client finally decided to hand over the information necessary to create a business plan. We still lack several key pieces of information to finish the job, however, and coordinating with this client is not at all easy.

To be fair, however, we haven't pushed very hard to get this info as there is no formal deadline to finish this person's project. This is the second problem, the lack of a schedule to get the job done. No grant application deadline, no IFC-funded 30-day job period, no production start date by which we need to have funds secured. Nothing. I find it unbelievably hard to work when I'm not faced with a deadline, and am a master at just pushing my work back as much as possible. The client is not overly concerned as their company has enough funds already to start the expansion project on their own. They don't have enough funds to take it to the leve they envision - that's where we come in - but it's not like the client is idly waiting to start the project while we trot after money.

Speaking of money, the third problem has to do with exactly that. Since this client was one of the first clients Rico and B. secured upon starting this consulting gig 2 years ago, an atypical arrangement was reached. Since we did not have a track record as consultants (and because this client had never worked with consultants before), Rico and B. decided to waive any initial fees for our work and only charge a percentage on whatever funds we eventually are able to raise for the project. This was a necessary strategy in the beginning to get clients to sign on for our services, thereby enabling us to establish a good name for ourselves in Mozambique. Most of these initial clients had short projects that are already completed. But this particular client's project has dragged on, and on, and on.

The end result of this all is that we are working for free on a project that just creeps forward, trying to be disciplined enough to finish the business plan so that we might have a chance at a payday. It's especially hard to be dedicated to this project when we have other job opportunities out there with clients that will pay today.

I've given myself the next week to sit down and crank out as much of this banana business plan as possible, but God have I been procrastinating. I really must get it together and work. I feel a big obligation to this client, even if it is just to protect our reputation and deliver a finished project.

-------- ---- --------

In other news, I bought a bag of large pearl tapioca at the Indian grocery store last week. It looked really cool on the shelf, but now I'm at a loss as to what to do with it. All the recipes I've found online are either for bubble tea or involve instant tapioca. I'm interested in making a savory dish, although I'm open to a sweet pudding or something as well. Anyone have any suggestions? Monkey, Non Vocabulum - I'm really hoping one of you has some fabulous idea for what to do with this tapioca...

I've Got Mail!

I knew it was you!!

I just had a feeling in my gut that it was Telfair from Six Ten Pine that had sent me the mystery package from Australia. She retired from blogging at the same time she and her husband left Australia to move back to the States, but thankfully she's resurfaced over at Secondhand Gods.

Telfair is a brilliant, funny writer and a talented knitter to boot. In her package she sent me several balls of beautiful soft yarn, not to mention 2 boxes of Tazo Chai tea! I must admit I was surprised to see how my virtual friend had picked up on my favorite things.

As you can see I wasn't the only one excited about getting mail. Parceiro dutifully checked out the box and its contents, and after about 10 minutes of sniffing and pawing decided he was satisfied.

Pria, on the other hand, was not a pacifist like her brother. She hopped right in the middle of the package and started attacking a spool of fuzzy purple wool. I had to literally remove the yarn from her clenched jaws and scrabbling paws, as she managed to cling to it even as I lifted her out of the cardboard box.

I am so excited about using all this pretty yarn. Good thing my step-mom taught me how to crochet during my trip back home. I now know how to make about half of a really cool hair wrap headband thingy. I must e-mail her, though, to get an explanation for the remaining part of the pattern. Unfortunately I had to leave the country before I was able to finish my first attempt at a headband, so I now have 2 half-finished pieces lying around the house.

Telfair - thank you so much. You have no idea how this made my day. Heck, it made my year as far as care packages go. Please tell me how you sent this package - was it priority mail? Did it have a tracking number associated with it? I suspect that the reason my mom's package (and all of the other letters/postcards people have sent, for that matter) never arrived is because they weren't "important" enough. That is, they weren't associated with a tracking number that someone could theoretically trace and then lodge a complaint if the package/letter disappeared.

Whatever miracle allowed me to get mail, I am super grateful. Now if only I could manage to send things out of the country via regular post I would be completely satisfied...

Goddess of the Kitchen

Allow me to brag a bit here...

I am amazingly good at making up recipes. I know intuitively which ingredients combine well, how much of each spice to put in a dish, and how to replicate meals from my favorite restaurants. I am one of those people that looks at a seemingly empty cupboard and manages to prepare a semi-gourmet 3 course meal. I am a damn good cook and proud of it. Yeah!

The only problem is that since I make just about everything up and rarely use recipes, it's really difficult for me to replicate dishes or to teach anyone else how to cook. Increasingly I've been trying to keep track of the ingredients I use and write down approximate recipes in a handmade journal that Rico bought me in Malawi.

Today for lunch I invented a freakin' heavenly dish, it's like a green chile chicken enchilada but in the form of a meatloaf and without the tortillas. I had a bunch of ground chicken left over from making the boys their food, so I created this to use it up. It was beyond dee-lish. Here is a guesstimate at how to duplicate it, should you be so inclined:

Ali's Green Chile Chicken Enchilada Meatloaf

1 small onion, diced
1 big clove garlic, smashed
1/2 tsp brown sugar
1 pound ground chicken
4oz. (115g) diced Hatch green chile, canned or fresh
1 egg
3/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
6 crushed saltine crackers
2/3 cup cooked corn kernels, canned or fresh
1 tsp mexican seasoning or taco spice (vary according to taste)
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 tsp dried oregano

Sautee onion and garlic with brown sugar and a bit of olive oil until caramelized and golden.

In a large mixing bowl, combine onions, garlic, raw ground chicken, green chile, corn, saltine crackers, egg and spices. Mix well.

Add 1/2 cup of shredded cheese, blend in with chicken mixture.

Put mixture in a greased loaf pan, cover with remaining cheese.

Bake uncovered at 190C for 50 minutes or until browned on the edges and meat is cooked thoroughly in the middle.

Serve and enjoy a taste of mi tierra.

Unbelievable!

This morning I went out for about 30 minutes to go to the bank. When I returned to the flat, the guard handed me a piece of paper that had arrived in my absence. It was a very official-looking notice from the Correios de Moçambique (the post office) that I'd received a piece of mail!!!!

This is unprecedented, the first letter / package / postcard I've received in a year and a half of living in this country. I have no idea why this particular thing managed to reach me when all the others disappeared into the void of Mozambique's mail system (aka the customs officer's pocket).

The slip said the piece of mail is from Australia. I'm curious and so excited to find out what it is and who sent it. Now I just have to figure out what the next step is for me to actually be able to retrieve my piece of mail...

This occurrence renews my hope that it just may be possible for me to receive mail here in Maputo on a regular basis. I know this is wildly optimistic thinking, but perhaps it's worth another shot. Anyone inclined to help me test this hypothesis, feel free to send me a letter or postcard (but nothing of value, or that even looks marginally interesting from the outside).

Yay!

The Sweet Boys

Last night as I was talking to my dad on Skype, he asked how the boys were doing.

"They're good," I said. "They've grown like weeds and are really happy that I'm home. You should see how affectionate they are. They're the sweetest little kittens."

"Just wait until they knock something over or get into the paper towels again," my dad said. "I want to see how sweet they are then!"

As if determined to fulfill my dad's premonition, this morning Pria took a big ol' stinky crap right in the middle of my bed, then had the courtesy to frisk and scratch the blankets with his/her hind legs to cover up the deed, the way good cats tend to do in a litter box.

Needless to say, it wasn't the way I'd hoped to start off my day. At least I came in the room in time to see Pria pawing at the blankets with a guilty look on his/her face. I shudder to think how this story might have ended up had I not realized there was a present buried under the layers of fleece and cotton just waiting to be discovered.

I am happy to report, however, that the consistency of Pria's act of defiance was semi-solid. Looks like the homemade cat food is doing the trick.

A Night on the Town in Burque

After a sweet time in California, I headed back to New Mexico for a few more days with my dad and step-mom. I was lucky enough to have my time back home span a weekend, and I was able to catch up with some old friends from my days in the MBA program at the University of New Mexico.

The girl with me in the photo below is my fabulous friend Marlene. She and I met during my last semester of school and quickly became close friends. She recently got married to her long-time boyfriend Paul, and the two of them are self-employed real estate agents. The fact that we both have our own businesses, work from home, and work alongside our significant others gives us a lot to talk about even though our realities are quite different at the moment.

I met up with Marlene, Paul and a big group of friends for dinner that Saturday at one of my favorite restaurants in Albuquerque - El Pinto. Mar and I shared a chicken burrito with plenty of green, and had a couple of margaritas to wash it all down. After dinner we decided it was definitely not time to end the night so we all headed to Zinc, a wine bar in the Nob Hill district of the city. I'd never been there before and was suprised to see that Burque actually has a slightly swanky bar where you can listen to live jazz, have a good cocktail and - best of all - mingle with people of all generations. I wish Zinc had been open when I was still living there...

Here I am appreciating the jazz and G&T's with Mar's twin sister Charlene and Mark, a good friend who was also in the MBA program with us. (And yes, ladies, he's single. And sweet!)

Once we'd had our fill of jazz, we decided to go downtown to a club for some dancing. It's been ages since the last time I had a great night out like this one. It was old school night at the place we went to, which meant that they were playing all sorts of hits from the late 80's and early 90's. We all had a sobering moment when we realized that "old school" now refers to our generation!

Below are Mark, Chloe, Char and Adam, nice and sweaty after busting their moves all night.

We danced until last call, then I decided to stay the night at Mar's so that I wouldn't have to drive the hour back to my dad's house at 2am. Nights like this one make me remember how much I love to get a little tipsy and WORK IT OUT on the dance floor. I really should do this more often...

Natureba

Natureba, for those of you that don't speak brazilian portuguese, is what you call someone who is into organic foods, who may or may not be vegetarian/vegan, who has a preference for earth-friendly products, who supports local businesses, who loves the beach and the mountains and who is a bit of a hippie at heart.

Today I had a significant natureba moment. I was at the indian grocery down the street when I saw a glorious new product on the shelf: organic, non-GMO soy milk! (not that we've previously had non-organic, GMO soy milk or anything...) It was so exciting. I bought a big carton and had some with a banana and cereal this afternoon.

I bet Ricardo is reading this and silently going, "Oh, damn. Now I'm going to have to drink soy milk when I go back to Mozambique." All I have to say is that you shouldn't knock it before you try it, Rico. :)

Anyhow, my other big natureba moment has to do with the boys, Pria and Parceiro. I think I mentioned at one point before on the ol' blog that the kittens were having some health problems, specifically mysterious runny poo. I've come to believe that the boys' intestinal troubles are 100% the result of the crap that gets passed off as cat food. I mean, do you know what goes into cat and dog food? Think beaks and claws and the ground up bodies of other dead cats and dogs (I'm serious), and other nice things like ash and "filler". No wonder the boys have been ill - no animal deserves to eat that waste!

So how did I come to this conclusion about the food? Well, when the boys first came home with us they were eating Iams food that our friends gave us as an adoption gift. All was well in the poo department, despite the fact that these guys were abandoned in a dumpster at the start of their little lives. As soon as the Iams ran out, the boys got the runs (and some really monster gas, too). Given that only the lowest quality brands of pet food are available in Mozambique, I had no choice but to switch the boys to whatever kibble I could find in the indian shops in a particular week.

Then, as if by a miracle, Pria and Parciero started popping out solid poo while I was on my trip to the US. I was very grateful the kittens were well, but for the life of me couldn't figure out what had happened in my absence for them to recuperate so quickly (I was gone 3 weeks). And then it hit me. The entire time they were at my friend's house they were eating decent cat chow. I brought some back home with me to transition them over to the crap food again, and sure enough - as soon as the boys were back on the old chow the runnies came right back.

So what was my natureba solution in all of this? As of today, I am feeding the boys homemade cat chow! I got a recipe from a holistic vet online and it consists of the following:

700g ground muscle meat (don't mix meats from different animals)
300g ground organ meat (from the same animal as above)
2 eggs
250g ground vegetables (carrots, squash or pumpkin)
1 sheet clear gelatin
1 cup white rice
250ml hot water

Basically you cook it all up, the set it with the gelatin and hot water. Pria and Parceiro, who are normally very reluctant to eat their regular old cat chow, gobbled this stuff up as if they hadn't been fed all year. The result out the other end has yet to be confirmed, but I am hopeful it will be nice and solid.

I was feeling quite pleased with myself after the soy milk and the home made cat chow, so I decided to take some photos of my new favorite earrings. I made them on my last night in Albuquerque to coordinate with a carnelian and turquoise necklace I received as a graduation present a few years ago.

What started out as a simple photo of my ear turned into a full-fledged photo shoot! The light on the verandah was great, I was feeling pretty (you know those days where you just feel like you look good? aren't they lovely?), and also looking for a good excuse to procrastinate a bit from my suitcase unpacking. It all started out a bit practical and serious, and ended up with me laughing out loud at myself and my glamorous. In keeping with the natureba theme, I am without a spot of makeup. The results are below. Enjoy!

Ha ha. I crack myself up sometimes.

California (or, I can't think of a creative title)

This beautiful full moon over Mt. Diablo was our welcome to California. Ricardo took this photo off the deck of my mom's house just before we sat down to a fabulous scallop dinner. Earlier that afternoon Rico went through one of the essential experiences of getting to know American culture: Costco! We cruised around and bought this huge pack of scallops, some wild salmon, blueberries, strawberries, V-8 (I had a craving) and 3 bottles of local wine. I made a simple sauce for the scallops with white wine, butter, chicken stock and onions, my mom made asparagus and Thai red rice, and we sat down for a gourment, healthy meal. And boy did we need to detox on some healthy food after a week of enchiladas, tacos and sopapillas in New Mexico!

The next day we took BART to the Embarcadero and walked to the Ferry Building. There is a great view of the Bay Bridge and the water, and we braved the chilly weather for a few photos. Here I am with Ricardo, wearing my mom's Maui Jim sunglasses (that I liked so much she ended up getting me a pair as an early birthday gift).

And here I am with my sweet Momma Dog. I missed/miss her so much I start to cry just thinking about it. My mom is an amazing woman. She is beautiful, wise, strong and funny all at once. She gives great pep talks to my friends. She has a jewelry collection that I covet, and wears it all in style. She and I are so much alike, so close, that anytime we reach a small bump in our relationship it feels like the world is about to end. To me, at least.

Coming home is such a wonderful experience, but it can be really hard, too. I had a significant wave of culture shock when I got to the US, and I wasn't always the most mature person in the ways I chose to deal with it. My mom went out of her way to make sure that Ricardo and I had the best vacation possible, that everyone was happy and that things ran smoothly in the short time we had together. I got all hung up on the fact that I was once again in the land of schedules, appointments where you must arrive on time, concrete cities clogged with cars, a house where I am not the decision-maker and things are shared...it was pretty overwhelming at times and instead of just dealing with it, I'm afraid I made my mom feel bad, like I wasn't enjoying my trip.

We hashed it all out in the end, plus a lot of other stuff, but it still makes me feel bad. I hate the feeling that I've spoiled even a second of the precious time we have together. I know my mom feels the same way, and it's heartbreaking to realize that despite our fierce love for each other, we manage to fuck up sometimes. So it goes...

Anyhow...after the Ferry Building we walked down towards Pier 39. It was so bitterly cold, windy and foggy that we decided to take one of those bicycle-driven carriages. Our driver was a loon, but he got us to the sea lions much quicker than if we'd hoofed it. We had some coffee and fudge (yum!) to warm up, then sat and watched all the animals in front of the pier. Ricardo and I decided that the sea lions make noises uncannily simmilar to those made by hippos.

Unfortunately Rico had to leave the next morning to go back to Brasil. It was sad because I wish we'd had more time together, but he was going for a good reason: his mom's birthday on the 11th.

The same day Ricardo left, my friend Erin arrived from Austin. We met a few months after I moved to Austin in 2003 while waitressing at Carrabba's, an italian chain restaurant. Those were some tough months for me, but Erin became a great friend and helped me make it through to a better job and a better spot in my personal life. I had extra frequent flyer miles, so I decided to fly her out to Oakland for the weekend so we could catch up.

We met up with Jamie, another friend from my days in Austin, for some seafood appetizers and cocktails (including a champagne toast - we were really having a decadent evening). We ended up once again at the Ferry Building and took some great photos by the water as the sun went down and the city lights came on.

Here Jamie is dipping me to illustrate what her husband learned how to do in their pre-wedding dance classes. It was pretty impressive, especially considering we were balanced on a little wall and had just had said seafood, champagne and cocktails.

That weekend my aunt and uncle from Denver (the same ones Rico and I went to Botswana with back in June) flew in for a conference in San Francisco. We went to Chinatown for dim sum that Sunday and ate ourselves silly. Here we are (l. to r.): my aunt Michelle, my mom's husband Bob, me, my momma, and Unc (my mom's brother).

Here I am with Erin outside the dim sum restaurant, looking stylish and ready for a day of shopping in Chinatown.

I wish I'd had another 3 weeks to spend in California with my mom, but I have a feeling Rico and I will be back before long...who knows, maybe even to live for a while!

I Heart New Mexico

After our camping trip, Ricardo and I drove on the back road through the Jemez Caldera (the big bowl that is left from the explosion of one of the world's largest volcanoes way back when) to Santa Fe. We stayed for one night at a sweet little bed and breakfast just off the plaza and got a chance to recover a bit from the camping lifestyle of the previous night.

Rico had never seen anything like the City Different, and kept commenting that he felt as if he were in the wild west or on a movie set.

Everything about New Mexico - the architecture, the food, the art - is so normal to me that I sometimes forget what a trip it can be for someone who has never had a taste of this unique culture. I mean, where else are cow skulls and ristras staples in the home decorating realm?

If I had a dollar for every time Rico said something along the lines of, "This architecture is soooooo weird!" I'd be a rich woman after our trip to Santa Fe. Despite the strange-ness of it all, I think Rico really appreciated our experience.

Most of our time was spent wandering around the plaza and remarking how ridiculously expensive everything was! Ah, the perils of a tourist town... It was fun to watch everyone mill around, wearing cowboy boots and broom skirts and showing off their new southwestern jewelry purchases.

The best part of our trip was dinner on Saturday at a tapas bar I'd read a review about in the tourist magazine in our room. We were wanting a light, early meal and wandered in the restaurant around 6pm. After giving us a bit of attitude for not having reservations, the hostess showed us to the only 2 open seats in the house - at the bar, right in front of a stage where she informed us there would be a flamenco show an hour later!

We really lucked out, as our lowly bar stools turned out to be th best seats in the house. The music and dancing were very good, I got to scratch my Spanish itch by shouting out "Olé!" all night, and we had the most fabulous tapas imaginable. Ricardo tried scallops for the first time and was hooked, so much so that we had to make them again while in California.

The next morning we hit the road and made our way back to my dad's house via Albuquerque...

I took Rico up into the Sandia foothills and showed him the house my mom and I lived in for a few years while I was in middle / high school. The house is the one on the right in the photo above. We didn't used to have a neighbor when we lived there, but the view in the other direction is still spectacular.

You can see the entire city and beyond, all the way to the Jemez where we'd camped a few nights earlier. Moments like this I understand why I feel claustrophobic in cities where you have no view and can't see the horizon.

We also visited old town, the historical heart of Albuquerque. Here is the city's oldest church, San Felipe de Neri.

This is how Rico and I spent a good portion of our vacation: me driving (incredibly well given that I've not driven a "regular" car for 1.5 years) and Rico navigating and appreciating the scenery. Here he bravely held my camera out the window as we drove down I-25 to get a portrait.

Make a Wish

While camping with my Dad and step-mom on our second night in New Mexico, we stumbled across the most perfect valley full of aspens and Ponderosa pines. The valley was especially beautiful because this summer has been the wettest on record in New Mexico. There is green everywhere, from bushes and wildflowers in the usually brown foothills to the lush carpet of field grass that cropped up on the floor of the hidden valley. Truly a beautiful time for Ricardo to get to know my home state.

The valley was full of purple asters, mushrooms of every conceivable size and shape, small white daisies and dandelions - both the bright yellow blossoms and the puffballs of their seeds. I asked Ricardo if he knew what to do with a dandelion puff and he said no, that he'd never even seen one before. So we both picked a dandelion and I walked him through the make-a-wish ritual.


We carefully thought abour our wishes, then blew off all the dandelion seeds at the same time while my Dad caught the whole thing on the camera.


I was courteous and blew my seeds down wind, but Ricardo blew his dandelion directly into my face and down the front of my sweatshirt. I was reminded of those sycamore "itch bombs" that we used to crush and put down each other's pants and shirts in elementary and middle school in Albuquerque. Needless to say the rest of the hike was an itchy experience for me, but my wish did come true - the black clouds and thunder in the skies didn't materialize into a downpour before we were safe and dry under the super tarp my dad had rigged back at our campsite.

The Hidden Valley

Before I left Maputo, my dad asked if there was anything in particular I'd like to do while in New Mexico. My answer was an easy one: camping!

My dad and I have a sweet tradition of going camping in the Jemez Mountains northwest of Albuquerque. In 1998 we discovered a perfect site that my dad later baptized "Camp Stinky" and have been going there pretty much yearly ever since. My dad is a camping maniac, though, and he goes at least once a month, weather permitting.

Anyhow, it's been a particularly rainy summer in New Mexico and as a result there have been all sorts of rockslides and roads washed out from all the water. The main road leading to Camp Stinky was closed, and even the hidden back route was too treacherous to risk in my dad's PT Cruiser that Ricardo and I had borrowed. So it was with heavy hearts that we decided to abandon our favorite campsite and settle for another location. Little did we know that our new spot, later christened The Hidden Valley, would be such a beautiful spot it now rivals Camp Stinky for the best site in the mountains.

Here is the spot Ricardo and I picked out for our tent after much deliberation. Rico had never been camping before and it was fun to be able to show him the ropes for once on something outdoorsy and sports-related.

After setting up camp we my dad, Laura (step-mom), Rico and I all went for a hike into this gorgeous valley not 200 meters from our tents.

Here we are posing in a clearing. You can get an idea of the size of this valley from the picture below of my dad and Laura walking.

It was nice and sunny for the first part of the hike, then some pretty ominous clouds rolled in and we could hear thunder rumbling in the not-so-far-off distance.

But like good old New Mexico, the weather was able to be sunny and stormy all at once. Isn't this Ponderosa pine beautiful? My favorite thing about these trees is that if you get up close and stick your nose in the nooks and crannies of the bark, the smell is exactly like vanilla extract! At least I think so. Rico said it was more like cigar smoke. Go figure.

Here I am with my dad. I'm sporting some nice under-eye circles and was suffering from a serious bout of allergies at the time. My dad looks positively radiant, though, beaming in the understated way that only he can manage.

In one direction the sky was completely black. In the other, lots of sunshine and puffy clouds. Turns out the storm won out in the end, but thankfully the torrential rain only started after we were back at camp and under a big tarp eating Reese's peanut butter cups.

After the rain we built a campfire (!) and had some green chile stew and tortillas. I can't remember the last time it was permitted to build a fire in New Mexico because of the string of droughts over the last 8 or 9 years. But this year, thanks to the rain, we were able to show Ricardo the full camping experience. The only thing missing were s'mores, but I suppose we can do that next time.

In Africa Again

I'm in Joburg right now, the tail end of what has been a trip full of hassles. Air France managed to lose my luggage again (!), but thankfully they were able to locate my bags before I left Paris. The agent there assured me that my bags were checked all the way to Maputo, but of course it wasn't that easy. I had to collect my luggage here in Joburg and redo my check-in, only to be slapped with a US $60 overweight charge thanks to Air France's inability to check my bag to my final destination. I hassled with their customer service people for a while before realizing it was a futile attempt on my part. When I was informed that there was no manager available for me to speak with, I just picked up my backpack and went into the women's room for a good cry. Sometimes that's the only thing that will truly relieve my stress and exhaustion, just sob it all out and start over.

All things considered, if US $60 is the price to ensure that my bags arrive in Maputo on time and that nobody pilfers my precious things during the layover in Joburg, I suppose it's well worth the frustration.

My next (and final) plan leaves in about an hour. Then I get to go home, somehow manage to get all of my luggage up 3 flights of stairs, hope that we still have energy credit in our meter so that I can take a hot shower, then go pick up the kittens around 7pm. The thought of cuddling at home with the boys is what is enabling me to make it through this last bit of what's been a totally overwhelming trip.

Highlight of it all: meeting Paris Parfait for dinner and a walking tour of her neighborhood during my super-long layover. It was wonderful and I can't wait to share more. I've just realized, however, that we failed to take a picture together. Ah, well - just a good excuse to do it again!

Leaving Home to Go Home

Yesterday I was standing in line at a coffee shop in downtown Albuquerque, waiting to order some mint tea with my friend Tomas, and totally started to cry as I looked over the muffins and scones on the counter. I don't want to go "home" yet, don't want to endure the 36-hour trip back to Africa, don't want to finish packing my gigantic suitcases, don't want to have to say goodbye to my family.

I'm even a bit teary right now. I always cry when I leave my mom, and did so in grand fashion before my flight from Oakland to Albuquerque last week. But I can't say I've ever sobbed before leaving my dad, at least not that I can remember. Not that I don't miss him just as much, I'm just generally better at holding it together around him. There was something about this trip, though, that I feel will break the tear-free pattern. I've felt so comfortable here, so loved and appreciated, I honestly don't want to leave.

On the positive side, I will be meeting Elite and Paris Parfait for a late lunch and city tour in Paris during my 9-hour layover there tomorrow. Of course I am looking forward to seeing our kittens, who I'm certain have had tremendous fun with their caretakers while I've been away!

A (Relatively) Technology Free Vacation

This is the longest I've spent without my computer or cell phone since I can remember. It's been wonderful, but being without my connection to the world has made me feel somewhat lost and behind on everything at the same time.

We've just arrived at my mom's house in California and have, for the first time in a week, a high speed internet connection and a laptop to borrow. I am taking advantage to update here before spending yet another glorious day outside and doing something other than type and surf the net.

Ricardo and I had a great time in New Mexico with my dad and his family last week. We spent a beautiful night camping, hung out in Santa Fe and stayed at a bed and breakfast, drove in the Sandia mountains and checked out the house where I used to live, had a Labor Day barbecue at my Dad's house in the country, and ate as much New Mexican food as is humanly possible in one week. Ricardo learned the hard way that jalapeno peppers are not meant to be eaten whole, although he did also figure out that green chile, when ingested in controlled portions, is truly the food of the Gods.

We have many pictures but as I'm having a break from technology I will only get around to downloading and posting them later this month when I'm back in Mozambique.

We flew early this morning from Albuquerque to Oakland and have been enjoying the warm sun since arriving. My mom made us a healthy breakfast (to balance out all those enchiladas and sopapillas from last week), and Ricardo and I picked figs off the tree in their backyard to have along with our cottage cheese and eggs.

I've been reunited with my cat Azul, who for the time being doesn't seem to recognize me. Perhaps she does, though, and this silent treatment is just her way of letting me know exactly what she thinks about having been left in a house full of lowly dogs. My mom and her husband have 2 huge Australian Shepards who Azul has learned how to deal with quite well considering that the last time she saw a dog she bit me and drew blood. My mom has been taking really good care of the cat in my absence and Azul basically has free reign in this house, including a cat door that leads to the deck.

In addition to the cat and the 2 dogs, there is a new animal resident at my mom's urban California house: a rooster! A small Japanese Bantam has installed itself next to the garage and struts around eating cracked corn and reject produce from my mom's kitchen. He's beautiful, his little feet are completely covered in big showy feathers.

Well...we are getting ready to go to Costco to buy food, then I have an eye appointment so I must finish my tea and find my purse.

I hope you are all doing great!!! Tell me what you have been up to in my total absence from the blog world.

Ali made it to ABQ!

Ali asked me to tell everyone she and Ricardo made it to Albuquerque. Rico's trip was eventless. No problems with immigration. Ali, instead, arrived in Houston to find her luggage never left Paris. How she will solve this one remains to be seen in today's terrorism-driven luggage handling.

Right now Ali is camping with her Dad and family. No internet. No instrusions. I hope it is a stress-buster for her and that little hands work while she is gone to bring her luggage back. Ali deserves nothing less.

Continue to write everyone! I love reading what you have to say.

Katherine
Ali's Mom