I have barely given one thought to this trans-Atlantic jaunt next week. What with the bachelorette hooplah in Austin, the minutiae of nuptial planning plaguing almost all of my thoughts, the attempt to find a place to live post-wedding, and last but definitely not least, the impending doom I feel coming upon me as I prepare to take the first of two major exams meant to finally shed myself of the "substitute teacher" moniker. Oh, and then there is the pesky little matter of a certain volcano spewing ash hither and yon over important parts of Europe. Parts that I must fly through to get to Istanbul. So what do I decide to do at work today? Spend 45 minutes looking for non-existent peacock-themed cupcake liners. Try to find them, I dare you. When my wrist felt as if carpal-tunnel was setting in and the liners in quest were nowhere to be found, I gave up. 45 minutes of my life I will never get back.
I can safely say that perhaps scheduling a trip to Europe so close to my wedding and exams has not been one of my most brilliant ideas, but what's done is done. Besides, I occasionally like to live on the edge. At least I have my passport, which as of yesterday, at least one member of our little group still did not have. As in, it has not yet been issued by the U.S Department of State. Now that is living dangerously.
And speaking of walking the wild side, brace yourselves. I have not purchased a Lonely Planet guidebook to Istanbul/Turkey (gasp!) to accompany me on this trip. Those of you who know me, know that I rarely leave the U.S without said guide. You just never know when that thing will come in handy. For example, in a crowded Tanzanian bus station last November, in the midst of teeming throngs of over-zealous cab drivers, fumes of a bajillion buses, eager touts waiting to sell me something I didn't need, and a no-show ride, I was able to somewhat calmly pull my guide out and find the nearest spot to access the internet. Of course, communicating this to someone proved to be another issue, but no matter, thanks to Lonely Planet, we had a PLAN! I digress. You get the idea of my passionate feelings on LP. So now, throwing caution and all responsibilities to the hopefully ash-free wind next Tuesday, I will depart for a quick trip to Turkey. I will, I hope, return with the following:
1. A wedding ring
2. Ideas for future lesson plans to inspire my minions of young minds
3. Shoes! I never need an excuse to purchase footwear, but certainly going to another country always qualifies.
4. A calm outlook on life that will last for at least the next 6 weeks.
Speaking of calm-brace yourself for a rant completely off the topic of this blog. This is fresh, which is why this tangent begins....now. WHY do people lose all sense of politeness and decorum and ETIQUETTE when it comes to weddings??!! I have just arrived home after a very long day to find yet another rsvp card in which the person has graciously responded with a "plus one" where none was given. READ THE ENVELOPE! There are budget and space issues. You didn't get a "plus one" for a very good reason. If you are not dating anyone and you are already going to know a bunch of people there, then just come and enjoy yourself-no date really necessary right? good grief.
Am I being unreasonable here?
If you have any thoughts on anything mentioned in this post, please weigh in. From ash, to weddings, to your own tales of stress and woe, wedding or travel, let me hear from you. It may serve to calm me down just a tad. I am normally a very calm person. Some people even go so far as to call me "stoic." Not today though.
Oh, and if you should happen to know where I can find peacock cupcake liners, tell me and make a girl happy.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
The Three G's
Gluttony, my Girls, and the Glory (as in glorious weather and a glorious good time.) This bachelorette trip was all that was promised and hoped for.
1. Crepes. I am not typically a fan of what I like to call "froo-froo" food, but these were excellent. All chocolatey and berry-ish.
2. A spicy Thai dish laden with vegetables and well, spiciness.
3. Copious amounts of chips, salsa, and guacamole.
4. The Mighty Cone
6. Two extremely delicious veggie tacos. Both were bursting with some things I have never had on tacos before. Was it moss? 3 leaf clovers? No idea, but it all got eaten.
7. Several chicken fajitas marinated in a Polynesian Plum sauce.
8. The most amazing onion rings ever. Onion rings are pretty standard wherever you go, but the standard has now been raised. I think the not-so-secret ingredient was simply..........black pepper. Imagine that.
9. One kind of gross pizza. But it sure hit the spot at 3 AM.
You all get the point. I said I was going to eat, and I meant it!
We did a little walk up Mt. Bonnell, where of all things, there was a little wedding going on. Of course we crashed it (from afar) and arrived just in time to see them pronounced husband and wife. Awwww.
After this, a sunny drive to Town Lake where we stuck our feet in and chatted. Pulled feet out twenty minutes later to find leeches nestled right at home on legs and feet. Gross, and it incited near panic in at least one of us. Not me, proud to say.
And the night life? WHOA. I have never seen anything like it, not in any place I have lived or traveled. Period. 6th street (and the surrounding streets) has now earned the Travelin' Fool title for Most Happenin' Spot in the world. Oh and apparently, you can appear in public wearing nothing but some skimpy underpants. There was a young lady doing just this on Friday afternoon while protesting something. We were so shocked, we protested by checking with a nearby policeman on whether this was legal. (yes, we are somewhat nerdy) He assured us it was, as long as the person was clothed in underwear. !!! So if you ever go, and you happen to forget your clothes, no worries. Just wear your underwear.
Keep Austin Weird!
(official Austin slogan, not my own creativity).
PS-the group pic above includes a stray bachelor--someone we know who was in the area at the time. he made a swift exit when all the real bachelorette fun began ;)
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
If the B & B is a Rockin'......
Headed to Austin today, but couldn't resist this little story before I left. Enjoy.
A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to stay with two of my girlfriends at a bed and breakfast somewhere on the Eastern seaboard. It shall remain nameless and exact locationless. It was quaint, charming, comfortable, adorable, lovely, tastefully decorated-all the things bed and breakfasts are supposed to be.
But we didn't get any sleep.
Why you ask?
Well, as a subtle bumper sticker once told me, "If the van's a rockin', don't come a knockin." I was approximately 9 when I saw this and just so happened to be in the car with dear old Dad. Being 9, in 1989, I was fairly innocent and unaware of the goings-on of adults. Today, there are plenty of 9 year olds that know way more than me on certain subjects, but I will save that for an unfunny post on moral decay in our society. Just sit tight for that one.
Anyway, that day, I piped up and asked dear old Dad what on earth does rockin' and knockin' mean? Following a palpably uncomfortable silence, I realized that for some reason, he really didn't want to answer my query, and that it likely had to do with something icky and mortifying. Something I did NOT want to hear or discuss while being stuck in the car with him. He mumbled something about people being crass and inappropriate (or something to that effect) and then told me to ask him when I was older. Enough said, I was sure to NEVER ask him such a thing, then or at any other time. I digress. Let's get back to the B & B.
After a lovely evening, we fell into bed around 1 AM. Just in time for the romp above us to get into full swing. And by romp, I mean marathon. Now, I don't want to get too graphic, as it is just not in my nature to do so. And I also don't want to offend any of my six readers. But let me tell you, the soundtrack we heard above our heads would put any in the steamy romance (and by romance, I mean something else) movies to shame. At nearly 30, I like to think I am still fairly innocent, and my sense of propriety refused to allow me to believe what I was hearing. Shortly thereafter though, there was no mistaking. We all sat there in amused horror, because it's like a train wreck-you really can't tear yourself from it. Assuming that this was just a one-time event and then we could all get some sleep, we waited it out. When silence came, we drifted off to sleep. Rudely awakened five minutes later by Round II, we were flabbergasted. By the end of Round III, cranky. Still later, Round V found us on the verge of angry and looking for a solution. In all of my angry brilliancy, I decided that the best option was to stomp up the stairs, stomp especially loud outside of their room, flick some lights on and off, and cough as if I had suddenly contracted tuberculosis. Now mind you, we were the only other people besides them staying there that night. And they knew that at least I was there, because they saw me when I checked in. When this did not work, I pounded on the ceiling of our room. This apparently caught their attention because there was a cease and desist.....for all of three minutes. Then, you guessed it, right back at it. Round VI. At one point, one of the girls finds a decrepit radio to play, something, anything, to drown out the exhibition going on above. Because by that point we were convinced that there was something else at work here: medication? clearly. an affair? possibly. people who like to show off? Oh yeah, most def. Now, I am not a hater, nor do I begrudge anyone their expressions of love. (keeping things family friendly here!) But come on now!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Have some consideration!!
Siiiiigh. Around 3 AM, an uncomfortable sleep overtook us. A sleep punctuated by other noises of the night-train whistles, each other, tree limbs creaking, you name it. Either way, we woke up feeling decidedly unrefreshed, a little shocked, and as always in this blog, amused. Oh, and slightly terrified of seeing them at breakfast. But I had already determined that if they had the nerve to show their faces, I would not be above lobbing a few snarky comments in their direction. Thankfully, they apparently were still in bed. Well, I guess so. They were clearly up all night doing other things.
Can anybody relate to this? Been kept up all night in a hostel/hotel/b&b for this or another less amorous (and more G-rated!) reason?
A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to stay with two of my girlfriends at a bed and breakfast somewhere on the Eastern seaboard. It shall remain nameless and exact locationless. It was quaint, charming, comfortable, adorable, lovely, tastefully decorated-all the things bed and breakfasts are supposed to be.
But we didn't get any sleep.
Why you ask?
Well, as a subtle bumper sticker once told me, "If the van's a rockin', don't come a knockin." I was approximately 9 when I saw this and just so happened to be in the car with dear old Dad. Being 9, in 1989, I was fairly innocent and unaware of the goings-on of adults. Today, there are plenty of 9 year olds that know way more than me on certain subjects, but I will save that for an unfunny post on moral decay in our society. Just sit tight for that one.
Anyway, that day, I piped up and asked dear old Dad what on earth does rockin' and knockin' mean? Following a palpably uncomfortable silence, I realized that for some reason, he really didn't want to answer my query, and that it likely had to do with something icky and mortifying. Something I did NOT want to hear or discuss while being stuck in the car with him. He mumbled something about people being crass and inappropriate (or something to that effect) and then told me to ask him when I was older. Enough said, I was sure to NEVER ask him such a thing, then or at any other time. I digress. Let's get back to the B & B.
After a lovely evening, we fell into bed around 1 AM. Just in time for the romp above us to get into full swing. And by romp, I mean marathon. Now, I don't want to get too graphic, as it is just not in my nature to do so. And I also don't want to offend any of my six readers. But let me tell you, the soundtrack we heard above our heads would put any in the steamy romance (and by romance, I mean something else) movies to shame. At nearly 30, I like to think I am still fairly innocent, and my sense of propriety refused to allow me to believe what I was hearing. Shortly thereafter though, there was no mistaking. We all sat there in amused horror, because it's like a train wreck-you really can't tear yourself from it. Assuming that this was just a one-time event and then we could all get some sleep, we waited it out. When silence came, we drifted off to sleep. Rudely awakened five minutes later by Round II, we were flabbergasted. By the end of Round III, cranky. Still later, Round V found us on the verge of angry and looking for a solution. In all of my angry brilliancy, I decided that the best option was to stomp up the stairs, stomp especially loud outside of their room, flick some lights on and off, and cough as if I had suddenly contracted tuberculosis. Now mind you, we were the only other people besides them staying there that night. And they knew that at least I was there, because they saw me when I checked in. When this did not work, I pounded on the ceiling of our room. This apparently caught their attention because there was a cease and desist.....for all of three minutes. Then, you guessed it, right back at it. Round VI. At one point, one of the girls finds a decrepit radio to play, something, anything, to drown out the exhibition going on above. Because by that point we were convinced that there was something else at work here: medication? clearly. an affair? possibly. people who like to show off? Oh yeah, most def. Now, I am not a hater, nor do I begrudge anyone their expressions of love. (keeping things family friendly here!) But come on now!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Have some consideration!!
Siiiiigh. Around 3 AM, an uncomfortable sleep overtook us. A sleep punctuated by other noises of the night-train whistles, each other, tree limbs creaking, you name it. Either way, we woke up feeling decidedly unrefreshed, a little shocked, and as always in this blog, amused. Oh, and slightly terrified of seeing them at breakfast. But I had already determined that if they had the nerve to show their faces, I would not be above lobbing a few snarky comments in their direction. Thankfully, they apparently were still in bed. Well, I guess so. They were clearly up all night doing other things.
Can anybody relate to this? Been kept up all night in a hostel/hotel/b&b for this or another less amorous (and more G-rated!) reason?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
A Bachelorette's Last Hurrah
Next week, I am headed to Austin, Texas to celebrate my waning weeks of near unbridled freedom. It has been nice these past 30 years. (For the record, I am NOT 30 just yet). I suppose a few sacrifices shall need to be made here and there to ensure wedded bliss and that's ok-it's all part of give and take and.......love. Awwww. But anyway, the full extent of these sacrifices will not be taking place prior to next week and so off to Austin I GO!
I am pretty pumped for this trip. After all, two of my BFF's who are also doubling as bridesmaids, have been talking about the home of their alma mater practically from the moment I met them. "Hook 'em horns" is an expression now permanently lodged in my soul. The promise of delectable Tex-Mex awaits. The chill vibe of the live music capital is waiting to be confirmed. Austin is beckoning. Time to see if it's all it's cracked up to be.
As I am not in charge of this trip, I am unsure of our exact itinerary and agenda. I have a distinct suspicion though, that it will be pretty darn fabulous. And here is a little sad fact for you-I am going to be spending four days or so with six amazing friends. Yet, what is numero uno in my brain right now? FOOD! If you know me at all, you are not surprised in the least by this. After all, I like to eat first and second lunch, followed by various snacks and an early dinner and then chocolate in any form. But I must blame two of those amazing friends for this -they have filled my head with visions of Tex-Mex deliciousness for seven years now! Seven! Here are two places that have really impeded my levels of productivity this week- www.chuys.com and www.mightycone.com.
Now, the cone place is not Tex-Mex, but I must say that I am completely intrigued by the menu and the fact that everything is apparently neatly ensconced within a cone. Then I found out that it's located in a trailer on Congress, along with a bajillion other trailers laden with various cuisines and well, now I feel that aside from stuffing ourselves, we now may not get much else accomplished on this trip. Yup, that's how excited I get about good food. Forget the scandalous bachelorette games, the questionable knock on the door, and the scanty attire. Bring on the eats.
More upon my return. And if anyone has any good recommendations for what to do, see, and of course eat :) in Austin, bring it on!
I am pretty pumped for this trip. After all, two of my BFF's who are also doubling as bridesmaids, have been talking about the home of their alma mater practically from the moment I met them. "Hook 'em horns" is an expression now permanently lodged in my soul. The promise of delectable Tex-Mex awaits. The chill vibe of the live music capital is waiting to be confirmed. Austin is beckoning. Time to see if it's all it's cracked up to be.
As I am not in charge of this trip, I am unsure of our exact itinerary and agenda. I have a distinct suspicion though, that it will be pretty darn fabulous. And here is a little sad fact for you-I am going to be spending four days or so with six amazing friends. Yet, what is numero uno in my brain right now? FOOD! If you know me at all, you are not surprised in the least by this. After all, I like to eat first and second lunch, followed by various snacks and an early dinner and then chocolate in any form. But I must blame two of those amazing friends for this -they have filled my head with visions of Tex-Mex deliciousness for seven years now! Seven! Here are two places that have really impeded my levels of productivity this week- www.chuys.com and www.mightycone.com.
Now, the cone place is not Tex-Mex, but I must say that I am completely intrigued by the menu and the fact that everything is apparently neatly ensconced within a cone. Then I found out that it's located in a trailer on Congress, along with a bajillion other trailers laden with various cuisines and well, now I feel that aside from stuffing ourselves, we now may not get much else accomplished on this trip. Yup, that's how excited I get about good food. Forget the scandalous bachelorette games, the questionable knock on the door, and the scanty attire. Bring on the eats.
More upon my return. And if anyone has any good recommendations for what to do, see, and of course eat :) in Austin, bring it on!
Friday, March 26, 2010
China, Oh China
So right now, not gonna lie, I am in a little writing slump. This is most unfortunate, considering that I have two other articles that must be written and I have struck nary a key for either of them. Writing on this blog makes me happy though, so I cast paying work aside to write here. However, today I will be cheating and taking the easy way out. I found an old email that I wrote back in 2006 while I was traipsing about China and am going to reprint it here for you readers. It is a bit entertaining, if for no other reason than my glaring rewrite of Chinese history in the last paragraph. Enjoy!
Dear everyone,
So far so good. the past two days have been more exhausting than the plane
ride, i must say! we are in beijing, staying a few blocks from tianemen
square. we have been "recuperating" from our journey here by doing any
number of non-restful activities, such as traversing the Forbidden City
(which should heretofore be known as "the city formerly known as forbidden"
due to the teeming massess of tourists), and walking the circumference of
beijing. apparently Beijing has a metropolitan area the size of Belgium. no
joke. i may be exaggerating about walking the circumference of it, but i am
with two boys right now who do not believe in doing things the easy way.
(TAXIS ARE OUR FRIENDS!) We randomly met up with this Spaniard named David (
a very cute Spaniard by the way) and we have been adventuring with him since
we got here. We will be joined tonight by his Venezuelan friend, who i
suspect will also be dashing, and we are all going to climb the Great Wall
tomorrow! Since the Great Wall is one of the main reasons I am here, I am
quite excited.
However, on tap for today is a bicycle ride. Now, considering the
teeming population of China, the congestion of city streets and my tendency
to run over people flat on my bike (think: Rod, 8th grade homeschooling PE)
this will likely prove to be a terrifying, albeit memorable escapade. For
the Chinese people. :)
China is definitely chock full of history and culture. The Forbidden
City is where the last emperor of the Ming dynasty lived, right up until
1922 and then Communism started creeping in, via Chairman Mao! Whose body I
can see on display in Tianemen Square for a quick 2 seconds, should I so
desire. They LOVE him here. And my mastery of Cantonese? Forget it. I just
got hello down yesterday. And food? We went to a market last night where
they were selling any number of delicacies on a stick-octopus, TINY SPARROW
BODIES (!) whole baby snakes, cicadas, SCORPIONS, grasshoppers, etc. It was
not for the faint of heart, to be sure. I am ashamed to say that I headed
straigtway for McDonalds.
Anyway, more after the Great Wall! Write me!
Claire
Monday, March 15, 2010
A Bosphorus Birthday
It's official, I will be spending some time in Istanbul, Turkey next month. Just got the ticket this past weekend. I am headed there for a long weekend, the kind you usually spend cleaning your closets and staying up late and generally lazing around. Not this time. Nope, I shall head to Turkey to make use of my long weekend. The crazier part about this is that I am doing this.....31 days prior to my wedding. My fiance isn't going with me. This could possibly qualify as insane, or at least prove detrimental to my relationship and/or any hope of a smooth wedding day.
What accounts for this madness you ask? Well, my childhood friend who posesses rather extravagant tastes, has decided that in order to lessen any potential angst associated with turning the big 3-0, he must spend his birthday in Europe. With 10 of his closest friends. Hence, I have christened this mini-vacation "Birthday on the Bosphorus." I really just like saying the word "Bosphorus"-I wasn't even completely sure what or where it was until prior to getting involved in this trip. So, for those of you who may also be Bosphorus ignorant, it is a strait, the world's narrowest used for international navigation and it forms part of the boundary between Europe and Asia. Since we will be in Istanbul, I plan on seeing plenty of the Bosphorus, possibly wading in it (can you even do that?) and pictures will abound in future posts. Bosphorus Bosphorus Bosphorus.
Now, let's get back to the fiance and the smooth wedding day. Truthfully, he is not wild about the idea of me traipsing off once again, so close to our wedding. I mean, really-there aren't too many guys out there who are urging their women to head off to foreign lands a month before they are to marry them, especially if the guy himself isn't even going. But neither is he making it difficult for me either. After three years together, he knows what makes me happy and he knows that aside from him, travel is darn near at the top of the list. I also attempted to justify it by suggesting that I buy our wedding rings over there because they will be cheaper and the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul has far more of a selection than say, every kiss begins with Kay (jewelers). However, I don't think he was entirely convinced by this angle of my argument. I just can't imagine why he didn't leap for joy at my thriftiness.
In short, I have a good man. He is not able to come with us, but that doesn't make him any less supportive of me going. A keeper, yes oh yes he is. With a honeymoon coming up, two trips for him simply just is not feasible. Darn that real job! Living the life of a substitute teacher these last six years has ensured that I just don't fully get "asking for time off." What is the meaning of all that nonsense?! If I don't want to work, I don't! If I want to go somewhere on a weekday, or for a month, I do! I will say that I am a little glum that he won't be coming with us. But if he came on this trip, he can't go on our honeymoon. And what's a honeymoon without a husband?
Ok, so maybe my wedding rings mission isn't entirely legitimate. However, if I am going to be a real Social Studies teacher (and I am going to be certified, as of next month....FINALLY!), I have to know about as much of our wonderful world as possible right? I feel the best way to become acquainted with the world is to visit its far-flung reaches, its well-known icons, its quirky islands, and its magnificent cities. The list goes on. It's my job to make the world come alive for my students, one country at a time. And by my last count, I have about 165 to conquer before I become the best Social Studies teacher EVER. There-now if that doesn't justify the whole shabang, then I don't know what will. We'll call it....lesson planning .
What accounts for this madness you ask? Well, my childhood friend who posesses rather extravagant tastes, has decided that in order to lessen any potential angst associated with turning the big 3-0, he must spend his birthday in Europe. With 10 of his closest friends. Hence, I have christened this mini-vacation "Birthday on the Bosphorus." I really just like saying the word "Bosphorus"-I wasn't even completely sure what or where it was until prior to getting involved in this trip. So, for those of you who may also be Bosphorus ignorant, it is a strait, the world's narrowest used for international navigation and it forms part of the boundary between Europe and Asia. Since we will be in Istanbul, I plan on seeing plenty of the Bosphorus, possibly wading in it (can you even do that?) and pictures will abound in future posts. Bosphorus Bosphorus Bosphorus.
Now, let's get back to the fiance and the smooth wedding day. Truthfully, he is not wild about the idea of me traipsing off once again, so close to our wedding. I mean, really-there aren't too many guys out there who are urging their women to head off to foreign lands a month before they are to marry them, especially if the guy himself isn't even going. But neither is he making it difficult for me either. After three years together, he knows what makes me happy and he knows that aside from him, travel is darn near at the top of the list. I also attempted to justify it by suggesting that I buy our wedding rings over there because they will be cheaper and the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul has far more of a selection than say, every kiss begins with Kay (jewelers). However, I don't think he was entirely convinced by this angle of my argument. I just can't imagine why he didn't leap for joy at my thriftiness.
In short, I have a good man. He is not able to come with us, but that doesn't make him any less supportive of me going. A keeper, yes oh yes he is. With a honeymoon coming up, two trips for him simply just is not feasible. Darn that real job! Living the life of a substitute teacher these last six years has ensured that I just don't fully get "asking for time off." What is the meaning of all that nonsense?! If I don't want to work, I don't! If I want to go somewhere on a weekday, or for a month, I do! I will say that I am a little glum that he won't be coming with us. But if he came on this trip, he can't go on our honeymoon. And what's a honeymoon without a husband?
Ok, so maybe my wedding rings mission isn't entirely legitimate. However, if I am going to be a real Social Studies teacher (and I am going to be certified, as of next month....FINALLY!), I have to know about as much of our wonderful world as possible right? I feel the best way to become acquainted with the world is to visit its far-flung reaches, its well-known icons, its quirky islands, and its magnificent cities. The list goes on. It's my job to make the world come alive for my students, one country at a time. And by my last count, I have about 165 to conquer before I become the best Social Studies teacher EVER. There-now if that doesn't justify the whole shabang, then I don't know what will. We'll call it....lesson planning .
Friday, March 5, 2010
You Want Tampons?
Feminine hygiene!! Yes, the subject of any thought-provoking and inspirational post. Sorry folks, this was just too comical to pass up.
There we were on Zanzibar, lolling through each day at our own pace, enjoying life on the island. It was a major effort just to get there, and we had no plans to do anything until the moment we had to leave. Then comes along a little "friend." You women know about this. You males do too, although you can never REALLY know until and unless you find yourself unprepared for this friend, whilst on an exotic island off the coast of southeastern Africa. Amanda comes to both of us and asks if we have any of the necessary products. We both had a smattering of things, but not enough to suffice. This was going to require some proactive seeking. However, we were seemingly in the middle of nowhere, we hadn't seen but two other tourists since our arrival, there was no electricity, and why should we assume that the relief of a shiny blue "Tampax" package would be in the imminent future? Fatma told us that Mombasa, the village store, (also a city in Kenya) was about a twenty-minute walk from our bungalow. However, Fatma had clearly been misguided on previous directions; our confidence in her was slightly shaken. Without a single alternative though, Amanda and I set out late one sultry afternoon, hoping to find "the goods." After the requisite twenty minutes, we got off the beach and walked into the village, hoping to see Mombasa in all of its glory, waiting to sell us some feminine products. Alas, 'twas not to be. There was nothing except a dusty road, some squawking chickens, and a woman fanning herself in the shade of her house. Not a hopeful sight.
We called out to her, shouting the name "Mombasa." Apparently we thought that would cause her to get right up and give us turn-by-turn directions. Confusion spreads across her face and we quickly realized our efforts here were going to prove futile. As we were about to leave, she calls out something in Swahili and a guy comes out of her house, also looking similarly confused. She rattles off to him and he warily approaches us. We repeat the name "Mombasa" over and over again, pointing the direction we think it is, and he seems to get that the crazy white people need to go to the store. He turns on his heel and we start to follow him, assuming that he is going to take us to the corner and wave in the general direction, at which time we will merrily continue our pursuit of products. However, he appears to take his duty quite seriously, and next thing I know, we are back out on the beach, headed towards what we hope is Mombasa.....along with him and all of his friends.
We quickly realize that we and the Village People would be making this journey together, and that they are quite content to serve as our escort in the dangerous mission of acquiring feminine products. They are pleased as punch to be strolling along with us, and as for us, well, we are just plain amused at this point. Who knew this would turn into yet another event? Our attempts at conversation soon fell weakly by the wayside-their English was limited and our Swahili non-existent. No matter though, the boys were quite content to lead the way in silence. After an additional twenty minute walk, I began to fear that we were actually walking to Mombasa, Kenya, and not the store. Perhaps we had not made our destination clear enough amidst all the pointing and squawking and posse-gathering. What could we do though? Nothing. Alas, a few minutes later, we wend our way through some fishing boats, up off the beach, through the "backyards" of some houses and lo and behold-Mombasa!!! The Promised Land. Or so we hoped.
Stepping inside was like stepping back in time to ye olde general store, African style. That place had everything. It was dim and dingy, sweltering and stuffy. There is only one little aisle by the counter in which to stand and peruse. You could also stand on the street and poke your head in the window. Then you must just call out your order to the shopkeeper while all the other customers around you wait your turn. Right then was a good time to ponder what "tampon" is in Swahili. Never really thought that would be on the "need-to-know" list for life. Resigning ourselves to craning our necks across the counter, we intently search for our prize. Spying a shiny package we excitedly wait our turn. Except that some unfortunate kid has been sent with a list, probably by his mother, to Mombasa to do what seems like the grocery shopping for an entire month. So we wait, and wait, and wait. Our posse waits too. So now everyone-the boys, us, and the small crowd we have attracted- is standing around, waiting for us to purchase tampons.
Finally, the shopkeeper turns his attention to us and we point to what we think is our catch. Unfortunately, it is condoms. "You want tampons? I don't have" says our man. We are crestfallen, but not for long. Instead, he hands us none other than a package of Always! Granted, it's not at all what Amanda would have chosen had she actually had a choice. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Yes please! We threw in some cookies and enough ice-cold bottles of Fanta to thank our posse and started the return trip. Handing the drinks to our new friends, slow smiles crossed their faces and they pranced off, probably to aid some other hapless mzungu in their quest for necessities.
Bemused, we marveled that we had yet again found ourselves at the center of yet another event. I am quite accustomed to purchasing my feminine products in the anonymity of Wal-Mart. I also know right where to find them when I need them and have never needed to enlist the help of nearly an entire village. But you know? It's all part of the adventure, and more importantly, the fun. I can honestly say I have never found myself in this comedic position, with a village of Zanzibarians scoping out every move. It's the stuff of legend.........and blog posts of course.
Anybody have any similar quasi-embarrassing experiences?? Perhaps not with tampons, but you get the idea. Share away if you do.
There we were on Zanzibar, lolling through each day at our own pace, enjoying life on the island. It was a major effort just to get there, and we had no plans to do anything until the moment we had to leave. Then comes along a little "friend." You women know about this. You males do too, although you can never REALLY know until and unless you find yourself unprepared for this friend, whilst on an exotic island off the coast of southeastern Africa. Amanda comes to both of us and asks if we have any of the necessary products. We both had a smattering of things, but not enough to suffice. This was going to require some proactive seeking. However, we were seemingly in the middle of nowhere, we hadn't seen but two other tourists since our arrival, there was no electricity, and why should we assume that the relief of a shiny blue "Tampax" package would be in the imminent future? Fatma told us that Mombasa, the village store, (also a city in Kenya) was about a twenty-minute walk from our bungalow. However, Fatma had clearly been misguided on previous directions; our confidence in her was slightly shaken. Without a single alternative though, Amanda and I set out late one sultry afternoon, hoping to find "the goods." After the requisite twenty minutes, we got off the beach and walked into the village, hoping to see Mombasa in all of its glory, waiting to sell us some feminine products. Alas, 'twas not to be. There was nothing except a dusty road, some squawking chickens, and a woman fanning herself in the shade of her house. Not a hopeful sight.
We called out to her, shouting the name "Mombasa." Apparently we thought that would cause her to get right up and give us turn-by-turn directions. Confusion spreads across her face and we quickly realized our efforts here were going to prove futile. As we were about to leave, she calls out something in Swahili and a guy comes out of her house, also looking similarly confused. She rattles off to him and he warily approaches us. We repeat the name "Mombasa" over and over again, pointing the direction we think it is, and he seems to get that the crazy white people need to go to the store. He turns on his heel and we start to follow him, assuming that he is going to take us to the corner and wave in the general direction, at which time we will merrily continue our pursuit of products. However, he appears to take his duty quite seriously, and next thing I know, we are back out on the beach, headed towards what we hope is Mombasa.....along with him and all of his friends.
We quickly realize that we and the Village People would be making this journey together, and that they are quite content to serve as our escort in the dangerous mission of acquiring feminine products. They are pleased as punch to be strolling along with us, and as for us, well, we are just plain amused at this point. Who knew this would turn into yet another event? Our attempts at conversation soon fell weakly by the wayside-their English was limited and our Swahili non-existent. No matter though, the boys were quite content to lead the way in silence. After an additional twenty minute walk, I began to fear that we were actually walking to Mombasa, Kenya, and not the store. Perhaps we had not made our destination clear enough amidst all the pointing and squawking and posse-gathering. What could we do though? Nothing. Alas, a few minutes later, we wend our way through some fishing boats, up off the beach, through the "backyards" of some houses and lo and behold-Mombasa!!! The Promised Land. Or so we hoped.
Stepping inside was like stepping back in time to ye olde general store, African style. That place had everything. It was dim and dingy, sweltering and stuffy. There is only one little aisle by the counter in which to stand and peruse. You could also stand on the street and poke your head in the window. Then you must just call out your order to the shopkeeper while all the other customers around you wait your turn. Right then was a good time to ponder what "tampon" is in Swahili. Never really thought that would be on the "need-to-know" list for life. Resigning ourselves to craning our necks across the counter, we intently search for our prize. Spying a shiny package we excitedly wait our turn. Except that some unfortunate kid has been sent with a list, probably by his mother, to Mombasa to do what seems like the grocery shopping for an entire month. So we wait, and wait, and wait. Our posse waits too. So now everyone-the boys, us, and the small crowd we have attracted- is standing around, waiting for us to purchase tampons.
Finally, the shopkeeper turns his attention to us and we point to what we think is our catch. Unfortunately, it is condoms. "You want tampons? I don't have" says our man. We are crestfallen, but not for long. Instead, he hands us none other than a package of Always! Granted, it's not at all what Amanda would have chosen had she actually had a choice. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Yes please! We threw in some cookies and enough ice-cold bottles of Fanta to thank our posse and started the return trip. Handing the drinks to our new friends, slow smiles crossed their faces and they pranced off, probably to aid some other hapless mzungu in their quest for necessities.
Bemused, we marveled that we had yet again found ourselves at the center of yet another event. I am quite accustomed to purchasing my feminine products in the anonymity of Wal-Mart. I also know right where to find them when I need them and have never needed to enlist the help of nearly an entire village. But you know? It's all part of the adventure, and more importantly, the fun. I can honestly say I have never found myself in this comedic position, with a village of Zanzibarians scoping out every move. It's the stuff of legend.........and blog posts of course.
Anybody have any similar quasi-embarrassing experiences?? Perhaps not with tampons, but you get the idea. Share away if you do.
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