(in)coherent observations at 36,000 feet

british airways is a remarkable airline. movie choices and fuzzy blankets are the least of it. on my way to london, the flight attendants kicked off the journey by wandering the cabin handing out plastic zipper baggies of crayons and coloring books and other funs to any children on board. i had never seen that before. i tried to sink down in my seat in an attempt to get one for myself. but at some point i turned 23 and that's a hard truth to hide. so i flew on without any coloring books but with a hefty amount of bendryll.

entrance into the developed world was an experience to say the least. i didn't know what to absorb first. the white lighting, the shiny floors, the ever-flushing toilets with ever-stocked toilet paper. i couldn't decide so instead i absorbed nothing and stared at the snow out the airport window. but i will note one aspect of western society that i couldn't help but inhale. men's cologne. cologne is worse than rare in parts of the world that have more important things to worry about than under arm smell. but cologne is a wondrous thing that i love to smell and found myself leaning in awkwardly close to the men i stood in line with.

and standing in line served as an interesting cross-section of what's been happening while i've been away. groups of classmates on skying trips. men in well fitting blazers and stylish shoes. women wrapped in silk scarves and chanel bracelets to cover up that they ought to be married by now. and while all of europe it seems has decided to keep tucking their pants into their boots, the entirety of western civilization has decided to start coloring their hair. not even blonde or wild unnatural colors. just any color not their own. i swear i didn't see a single head of hair its natural color until i landed in seattle where hair dye is harmful to the environment and therefore not allowed upon penalty of being declared unworthy to live on the west coast. (fact: on my flight into boston i asked for coffee several times and kept reusing the same styrofoam cup. the flight attendant asked me if i was from california... i told him i was currently living in east africa, at which point i was given free wine for the rest of the flight. fantastic and yet unfortunate considering i had been attempting a rigorous sleep/no-sleep schedule in order to be on seattle time before i got there. instead i toppled over into the empty seat next to me and slept soundly until we were on top of the boston airport and i was being woken up to stow my tray table.)

and being in boston was lovely. the accents. the swearing. the locals opting for function over fashion. i nearly froze to death in the oh-so lovely airport where i spent a long and fitful night trying to sleep on a baggage trolly cart with a cup of duncan doughnuts coffee and my ipod. by the time 6am rolled around i was like an a.d.d child. i had waited long enough to get to washington state. i sat down on that airplane between two delightful ladies from dallas and we talked and talked and told stories and shared pictures and cell phones and pointed at the mountains out the windows and on a saturday afternoon i finally saw seattle for the first time. and aside from the biting cold, it was a wonderful welcome.

i went for a walk on wednesday while my gracious and gorgeous hostess was in class. i found a travel bookstore and i found a public library. and i found that in u.s. cities, particularly those concerned with fuel emissions, pedestrians are treated with the highest respect. sidewalks are kept clean and crosswalks are honoured and eyed with caution. a hundred feet from the crosswalk and on-coming cars are screeching to a halt for anyone on two feet. after living in a place where walking through town is taking your life in your hands, i learned to love the attention. i strolled around, head held high, crossing busy streets chewing my bubble gum. coming upon a host of trash cans i confidently took out the gum and dropped it in the nearest bin. at which point i realized i had used the recycle bin. i literally gasped out loud and ran for the nearest doorway for fear of being bum rushed by enraged seattlites. not surprisingly, i found myself in a coffee shop. i took off my coat and drank a hot chocolate and tried to act natural.

thursday i had an interview. the interview. the all-day-long teach for america interview hosted by ex-elementary school teachers who talked with so much enthusiasm and fervor that i found them hard to match! every time i spoke my pitch got higher and my eyes got wider until i swear we were SHOUTING AT EACH OTHER!! but it was fun to give a mock lesson and meet new people and eat a subway sandwich. yums. and now i have a few weeks to wait until i find out. miss carter anyone? i guess we'll see. it's weird to have this semester winding down already. job interviews and apartment searches. life just keeps rolling along doesn't it. airplanes and temporary beds and more airplanes. time stops for no one i guess. at least that's what they say.

flying back was an experience as well. the jfk airport was hosting a movie set. no exciting story there. i didn't see anyone of particular interest. just the holding room for the extras and i wondered for a second if i could get away with joining them. i know a thing or two about a craft service table.

beyond that is mostly dreams and delirium. i used to envy people in airports. on the rare occasion that i wasn't the one flying, i would covet the plane tickets and carry on baggage that wasn't my own. i wanted to be moving. i wanted to be going somewhere. but this time, this last bout of international travel, i didn't feel this at all. i didn't feel much really. but this time i watched outside the waiting lines. the security personnel. gate attendants. men and women who woke up to their alarms and shared their breakfast and locked their front door on the way to work. the front door that they'll be back to by 5. i coveted their groceries and their electricity bills. and then i got on another plane and flew to another airport and slept on another bench of plastic chairs.

and landing in brussels was maybe the most disturbing bit of the whole trip. i've walked into a few airports in my day. crowds of people and busy janitors and bustling food courts. music on the intercom and colored light beaming from store fronts. but not in brussels. in my sad and sleepy state i walked down the frosted jet bridge in the wake of my own white breath, waiting for the comfort of close bodies and coffee shops. instead i walked off into a void. a beige tiled void. colossal vaulted ceilings, off white walls and hallways with the breadth of the titanic. and no noise. no music. absolutely no pictures on the walls except for the occasional black and white shot of david beckham in his underpants. we all walked in silence, fanning out into a wide spread smattering with plenty of room to spare in the vast space. the place was almost entirely lit with natural light from windows and sky lights. and it stayed as silent as a shoe box. until the intermittent pa announcement would run. once in english, next in french, and last in german. and then a hush. the whole thing was weirdly disconcerting and when i fell asleep at my gate and woke again in line to board i convinced myself i had dreamt up the wonderland in my state of fatigue.

and now i'm back. back in this place that feels so familiar to me. i'm legally a resident now. a ugandan working resident. when i got off the plane and passed all the sorry suckers who had to buy visas and walked through the 'returning residents' line at customs, i'm sure i was glowing. what a feeling! unfortunately that feeling has quickly turned into a feeling of exhaustion. i'm not sleepy, per say. considering i slept quite literally all day. but i am tired. so i'll go now. pop a few benedryll and try to sleep through the night. on to more days. more time that doesn't stop or even slow. on and on and on. and i'll just have to see what comes next. that's all we can do. try. and try our best.

xoxo

fly the ocean in a silver plane

i never walk barefoot outside here because people tell me not to get strange bugs in my feet. but today i did it anyway. and i'd forgotten how human it feels to have warm grass underneath your feet. sometimes we'll do whatever we can to feel human. sometimes it involves tears or traveling or cigarettes or waking up with strangers. sometimes you just need to be able to hear traffic outside your window. but today it just took standing in warm grass with my bare toes.

i think in the world we live in right now, we need all the help we can get to feel human. i wish all it took was standing in the sun. but sunshine, however lovely, can't love you back. it can't heal your heart and it can't heal your diseases. it can give you a sunburn though. maybe that helps us feel human too sometimes. a little bit of pain.

not to mention, standing in the sun alone is still just you standing. as human as it feels to know the earth, there is a point when humans need to know each other. what a face looks like close up. what entree to share. someone to tell you when you're lying. someone to put aloe where you can't reach the sunburn between your shoulders. people need people. and no i'm not quoting barbara streisand. yuck.

i heard a quote yesterday that says 'love is what you do.' there was a second half to it. something comparative. like 'and life is what you live.' or 'not what you are.' something like that. but i don't remember. if i were to finish that quote though, i would say 'love is what you do, not just what you think about doing.' and i've thought about doing for so long that i'm afraid i've forgotten what it means to actually do. because love takes sacrifice. and i don't want to be a coward.

"I am happy to report that in the war between reality and romance, reality is not the stronger." - john steinbeck
i hope so john. i'm counting on it.

no one throws a party like ma teresa can, you can't catch me i'm the ginger bread man

pretend with me for a while...

your phone rings.

you: hello?
them: hi.
you: how are you?
them: fine.
you: who is this?
them: you don't know me.
you: i guess not, but that's ok.
them: tell me about yourself.
you: well, i'm living in paris.
them: ooooo, jealous! drink lots of good wine and have so much fun.

your phone rings.

you: hello?
them: hi.
you: how are you?
them: fine.
you: who is this?
them: you don't know me.
you: i guess not, but that's ok.
them: tell me about yourself.
you: well, i'm living in africa.
them: wow, good for you! i'm glad you're out making a difference in the world.

i don't have any further thoughts on the matter. i don't have any analysis to bring it full circle. i don't know what i think. i'm still trying to analyze.

i can't even quite figure out why i can't get it out of my head. i'm not in europe. i'm in africa. and? i'm in uganda. so what. there are about 31,195,754 of us here. what do you have to say about it?


you're out making a difference in the world.


you're out making a difference in the world.



you're out making a difference in the world.




you're out making a difference in the world.





you're out making a difference in the world.

life is like a box of chocolates

simply having a wonderful christmas time! my precious friend debbie sent me an email with that sentiment. of course it only warms one with christmas cheer if you sing it in an oh-so paul mccartney sort of way. as it is, i did have a simply wonderful christmas. may family was here with me! in africa! you must not have heard me. let me repeat myself.

my family came to uganda... it was fantastic. simply.

anecdote #1: here we go a cantata-ing
can-ta-ta (noun) a medium-length narrative or descriptive piece of music with vocal solos and usually a chorus and orchestra.

the christmas cantata in kampala was a 'must see' as we were told. and so we went to see it. and it really was lovely! beautifully descriptive music and expert vocal soloing and choral accompaniment. it was the most christmasy i'd felt the whole season. until some ridiculous woman got up and gave some shpeel about blessings and i threw up in my mouth a little. but the highlights for me would include the little hip hop dancers who did back flips off the stage and especially all the songs about snow. and white christmases. context people. context.

anecdote #2: candy and cocktails. i think those were their names...
my parents, being the beautifully generous people they are, had a christmas surprise in store for us all when they took the fam to spend christmas day and then some in a many-starred hotel in downtown kampala. hot showers. clean sheets. laundry service. food coming out your ears. i could not have imagined a more perfect christmas gift. and in the spirit of festive moods and foods, we went for christmas dinner in the hotel restaurant where we proceeded to stuff ourselves like a christmas turkey.

and then the entertainment appeared. for the next three nights, at every meal, deuce bigalow and his two lovely chinese entertainers would take the stage singing classic covers such as 'we've only just begun,' 'easy (like sunday morning),' and 'hips don't lie.' each night their shorts got a little shorter and by saturday they were in fishnets. merry christmas to all. and to all a good night...

anecdote #3: mzungu, mukono, matooke, matatu
annie: yeah, i really don't like matooke. it's just mushy banana.
family member 1: i'll take some matooke, waiter.
family member 2: i would too please.
annie: hmm...

one of the best aspects of my family as travelers is that we're all willing to try everything at least once. even if told not to. within the first two days the fam had been exposed to much of what life here is about. being shouted at. mzungu! mzungu! (white person! white person!). riding a matatu (a 15 passenger van used as a taxi that seats 23). eating matooke (mashed up unripe matooke bananas. see above dialogue). and walking the hot dusty hill from campus into mukono town (grocery shopping. pineapple purchasing. occasional obama debates). mother, father, sister, and sister all tried it. even if just for once.

and now they're not here any more. and i think i didn't realize how special it was to have them here until they weren't. bouncing on the hotel bed. sitting in traffic for two hours. making dinner. none of those things are quite as doable when you're doing them alone. especially the bed jumping. you just look crazy.

and now as the new year approaches i think even more often about them. last night my boss and his wife had me and phil up to their house for dinner. after delicious indian food and hot cookie pie we sat in the living room and i spilled all the contents of my head all over their coffee table. do you two feel like you're the people you thought you'd be when you were younger? do you think the values that define your personal economic lifestyle also define your integrity? what should my mind be most preoccupied with? part of me thinks i hit a wall of micah and joellen withdrawals and word vomited all over them for lack of a more familiar place to spew them. but they proved to be patient and wise and just what i needed in that moment.

poor phil sat quiet on the couch while i bogarted the conversation.

but i think what was most significant about the whole ordeal was the realization of where my mind has wandered. i don't know what it is i want. do i want to live in a place that makes me laugh? do i want to have a career i can be blushingly proud of? do i want to be not only family but also neighbors? i don't know! i just don't know much any more.

a sweet friend of mine sent me some fun mail several weeks ago. in it, she included chocolate kisses for the office staff. i hid a handful away in my desk drawer before putting the bag out on the conference table. don't judge me. now every once and while, i get an overwhelming email or i read a bbc report or hear a story or remember a nightmare and, before it has time to get me down or get me scared, i open up my desk drawer, peel back the foil paper and put a kiss in my mouth. sometimes i close my eyes. sometimes i wipe away tears. but i always feel better. the chocolate always melts. and if i ever feel like i know nothing else in the world, i do know this. the chocolate always melts. and there are so many chocolate kisses in my life. family. friends. sunny weather. low cost of living. organic vegetables. and unfortunately, many more. because as mark always says, the greatest burden for the american young person is the stress of choices. and so, even for all of those chocolates in my life, i'll stick with the ones in my desk drawer. the simple ones.

because sometimes you just need a kiss on the mouth.

1995 called, they want harrison ford back

1. the grasshoppers are leaving

2. immigration around here is like playing 'king's quest.' yes you may have your passport back but first, you must go to the bank in kampala, retrieve a receipt and bring it back to me in 24 hours! tomorrow i will send you for a basket of golden apples!

3. students are leaving in 2 weeks

4. as it turns out, you don't cry water. you actually cry a complex chemical makeup of protein hormones and a natural painkiller (who knew??). in addition, tears come from your eyes.

5. i'm out of coffee grounds

6. i fell in a hole. it left a scar on my foot

7. i miss nachos now. it's happening again!

8. my family will be here on the 17th... MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

9. new addition to my life's 'to do' list: see the northern lights

10. remember that time carissa had mono and i made her take 3 benedryll to sleep and then asked her to cut my hair? yeah... i do.

11. manchester united is number 3. behind chelsea and liverpool (??). but who cares. bama is UNDEFEATED!

12. yes nicole i did steal your mint oreo and no, i'm not sorry!

13. there is a spider the size of a 4 year old child in my dorm bathroom. he's been there for four days, not moving, in the same spot. we decided that he was dead. then we poked him and he ran up the wall. only a very specific kind of evil has that sort of patience.

14. it stopped raining

15. i've been eating samosas like my life depends on it

16. sophie doesn't swear

17. yesterday in staff meeting we scheduled our way through june. my weekends are planned. i know when i'm flying out. weird.

18. did anyone notice how it's december?

19. sometimes when i forget what it felt like to drive my car with the windows down, i listen to counting crows

20. people are shouting in the office right now and it's giving me a headache

21. mountain dew just came to east africa. UGANDA HAS NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED!! do the dew...

22. i ate pizza by lake victoria last week. it was delicious and beautiful

23. there are few things i genuinely take very seriously. strawberry scented softlips chapstick is one of them

should i have gotten a business degree...

i think i figured out this week why i love wild places. the colorado rocky mountains. the sipi falls of uganda. i always seem to be drawn to these sorts of powerful places. and i think i can say why. landscapes like these move entirely independently of me. the wind in the trees, the rush of waterfalls and rivers, the speed of a storm coming over the mountains. the force of nature in wild places, big, strong, untouched places, moves and breathes with speed i could never catch. i could never control. it makes my finger tips tingle! it makes me want to curl up in its shadow and be small. be unseen in the presence of something so untamed. it makes me want to be a bit more invisible. which is unexpected considering my preoccupation with the conundrum of anonymity.

i've never quite sorted out what would be worse: going out in a blaze of glory while leaving a world of possibility behind, or dying alone where no one knows you are. there are days when my worst fear is being unimportant to any other life. those are the days i feel paralyzed by insignificance. but then there are days, more frequent it seems when surrounded by east africa, that i find peace and rare and precious rest in the prospect of being still and small. walking through life quietly. i don't want to be a big deal. i want to own a used bookstore.

and i'll tell you, there is no more powerful feeling of anonymity in the world than your five-foot five-inch self standing in the spray of a 175 foot waterfall.

there are lovely landscapes here. and this is a lovely home. and the weather around here has been really lovely too these days! it feels like fall all over the place. which is odd considering uganda doesn't really have a fall. or any variation of seasons to be honest. but for whatever reason, it's been breezy and cool. this has been nothing more than a nice change for pace for me these days. but... i remember when fall weather was a lot more than that.

i remember when breezes and bundling up made me think of leaves and pumpkins. which made me think of fireplaces and hot chocolate. which made me think of christmas trees, cooked turkeys and the gospel of luke. which made me think of no school for weeks! because i used to schedule my life by the seasons. i used to map out my days by holiday vacations. and if i try really hard, i can remember why. i can remember how three weeks at home in a christmas sweater could justify months at a school desk. i can remember how the three months between school years was actually what life was. september to may were just obstacles. obstacles in the way of what was actually important. ant hills and butterfly wings. ice cream trucks and bathing suits, sprinklers and bike rides, marigolds and fireworks. all the rest of it was just traffic lights.

but then traffic stopped. and now i'm in a world where there are no seasons. i don't spend my mondays waiting for friday. i don't wait at the window listening for the ice cream man. i don't spend my mornings and my lunch hours watching the clock. well... not always. my days aren't determined by the coming holiday. i don't get to count down to kid things anymore. my calendar is marked with pay days and paying debts. i still look forward to good things. to my family coming to africa (eek!). to the sundays i spend eating brunch with amos. to the days i finish a book and get to pick up an new one. but what kid measures their days by dog-eared pages in a novel?

i guess i'm not a kid.

but i guess i can try. i can eat ice cream. i can run through a sprinkler. i can be small. i can be still. i can be a bit more invisible. in the corner of my used bookstore.

theme songs for the road

i've always been really good at losing things. i've lost homework, car keys, the left shoe from a pair of red flats. i've always been waiting to grow out of it. surely someday i'll be organized enough to keep a pair of shoes together! but i guess i'm still waiting. since being here i've lost a cell phone, a pillow case, 5,000 shillings, and about 9 pounds. maybe i could have anticipated losing those things. but what i never did anticipate was feeling lost.

i've amassed alot of road maps in my time. moving state to state. driving place to place. florida. illinois. oklahoma. tennesse and everything in between. all of the above and maybe more are in folds and wrinkles in the back seat of my car. i've used them all. i've read them in the rain. i've held them open over the stearing wheel. i've torn them in the open-window wind. they have gotten me from place to place to place and back again. little red and blue lines telling which way to turn and what to stay away from. this being the case, there can't possibly be any man out there more suited for me than mister rand mcnally. my knight's armor shines with tail lights and turn signals and he saves his damsel from culdesacs and cops with bad attitudes.

road maps are great. but i have to ask, where are the maps for getting around life? what about those potholes and police officers? rand darling, how could you have failed me?

i feel like i've gotten lost somehow. or at least i've gotten stuck. i'm sitting at the most unexpected intersection of all. there are no red lights here. nothing has stopped me. instead, i've come to a crossroads of all green lights, all go signs, all endless options. where do you want to go? what do you want to do? who do you want to be? go. Go. GO!

but maybe i don't want to go any further. maybe i'm too tired to turn the engine over. maybe i'm done starting again. maybe dave matthews said it best when he said, 'turns out it's not where but who you're with that really matters.' in which case... where don't i go?

more green lights. more people in more places. all of us dissolving like sugar cubes in warm water. slowly separating away in this direction and that, sweetening our surroundings but doing it with one less grain of sugar at our side. sugar cubes. how despairing. wouldn't we rather be like licorice? all twisted together, all sweet and all insoluble.

insoluble. maybe that's what i want my super power to be.

in the mean time i'll just cut all my hair off and get a pedicure...