Monday, July 25, 2011

A transition into reality...


I'm back to the real world...as if being in Africa was surreal or fake.  It felt like such an adventure that it couldn't be real.  
Even after a day of being back, my time there is such a blur yet set so vividly in my mind.  I was welcomed by what seemed to be the most comfortable temperature Minnesota has reached within the past few weeks; weather seems to make dramatic changes in my presence.  My jet lag is just beginning to hit me.  I woke up at 3am; it took me a minute to figure out where I was.
Mochudi? no
UB? no
Airplane? too comfortable for that.
U of M? possibly...
Home? oh yeah, right.

Today I was finally able to make pancakes; my deprivation was silenced.

I sat out in the sun for maybe 20 minutes until I got to bored; no wonder I'm so pale.  If my genes didn't keep me from getting any sun, my hatred for heat and short attention span sure do.

The familiarities of home are hitting hard; it's slightly too overwhelming.  Just as I began to feel at home in Gabs, I'm thrown back in Minnesota.  My apprehensions of school, work, and my future are hitting even harder.  Deadlines are already coming up at the end of this week, emails are filling my inbox, and loans are still ever present in my life.  Adventures come at a price.
I wouldn't trade in a single second spent in Africa, but my mind can't possibly silence itself with all of these pressing thoughts.

And how do I even begin to explain how it was in Africa? What do I say to "How was it?"? I could spend hours detailing each and every day there; "amazing" suffices.

I think I can use a few days of relaxation.  Let's just see if life allows it.

Back Home. Hello Lake Minnetonka. 



Sunday, July 24, 2011

Welcome back to hipster nation..yah you betchya


    To begin, I luckily had the fortune to fly from Botswana to Dubai with Jodi; it was such a relief having a travel partner.  The ride to Dubai was surprisingly okay.  I had a seat open next to me, and spent the majority of the ride drinking wine and listening to music.  It’s amazing how much one glass of wine can affect you on a plane.  I maybe slept for 20 minutes thanks to my Chardonnay.  By the end of the flight my ankles were sufficiently twice their original size, joy. 

    Somehow, the Dubai airport managed to be just as smelly and unpleasant as before.  It was crowded, no one understood how to walk efficiently, and people still didn’t fully grasp the necessity of deodorant.  I stopped at the same Starbucks to get an iced Americano, bad idea.  They made it completely wrong and put whipped cream on top instead of half and half mixed in.  Jodi’s drink was basically shit in a cup, excuse my language.  Not only did they first make it a milk chocolate iced mocha instead of white, they made it with water!  I have never tasted such terrible coffee, even on the planes.  So, I finally declared that I will abstain from any coffee until I reach Minnesota soil and Caribou territory; sweet sweet heaven.
One thing I have learned throughout my travels is to take full advantage of the perfume stores, but to avoid the salespeople.  Also, bring sleeping pills…a lot.  I have yet to sleep for longer than 20 minutes.  I think within the past 24 hours I have gotten 25 minutes of sleep.  The rest of my time has been spent in a lethargic half-awake slumber fumbling with my headphones trying to get the other ear to work.  I can’t wait until I get my new Skullcandy’s in the mail!  Mad props to Target for the free shipping.

    My flight from Dubai to London was doubly exciting; I had a whole row to myself.  There weren’t as many interesting movies, so I spent most of my time making a playlist and finding new music.  I did watch Toy Story 3, Love and Other Impossible Pursuits (?) and 2 minutes of Red Riding Hood, up until the point that I realized Amanda Seyfreid reached her peak in Mean Girls.  Nevertheless, I wasn’t sitting next to anyone who made me want to vomit, so it was a positive experience.

    Gatwick was a nightmare though.  Somehow it felt like a sauna in there and my suitcase wheel was broken to the point that I had to drag it around; my arm felt like it was going to fall off.  I spent about 20 minutes trying to find my check-in area, which happened to be in a remote corner that I am convinced was previously hidden.  Getting on the plane, all I could see was hipsters; oh how my Dinkytown memories flooded back.  I ended up sitting next to two, both of which spent the year travelling in Europe, one of which goes to the U of M. 

    I cannot begin to explain the relief I felt when I heard everyone speaking about “bAgs” and “pooting them away.”  How I missed the glorious Minnesotan accent.  Unfortunately I am not near the window seat, so I won’t be able to see how green MN is on the way in.  I’ll survive.  As long as it isn’t humid when I get in, I think I’ll be okay; but I’m sure it’s more probable that I will ride a Zimbabwe train again before MN isn’t humid.

I’m almost out of iPod battery, I have 4 hours and 11 minutes on my computer, and I’m unusually hungry.  And I really want a Kindle.  We will see how this goes.


Welcome to Botswana; where the stop lights are optional and so are the lanes.


My first experiences in Botswana were those dealing with transportation.  It was our first ride out of the airport and we were on the left side of the road, going what seemed to be 80mph, and in a combi.  I was already anxious of finally arriving in Africa, and the lack of a speed limit or traffic regulations didn’t ease my worries.  A Zebras game had just ended at the stadium, and the streets were congested with blue and white fans, combis, taxis, and what seemed to be an unusual amount of Audi’s.  While trying to enjoy the scenery, all I could think about was how I wanted to slam on the breaks or steer the combi to safety.  Only 20 minutes through and I am about 98% sure we got in an accident.  We either hit the car in front of us or a traffic cone, but the driver seemed completely unfazed by it; TIA. 
After a less than positive start to driving in BW, we were then thrown on the combis to fend for ourselves at about 10 at night our second day.  Cramped into the back of the van, fumbling for pula, and unable to distinguish anything familiar in the dark, we were all terrified.  Luckily we made it to the Oasis Motel unharmed, but I think each of us were somewhat traumatized by the experience.
I can describe my many terrible taxi experiences, but they all boil down to about the same blueprint:
Taxi is not licensed. Taxi overcharges us. Taxi bottoms out on every speed bump (and if you were not already aware, there are probably 10 times as many speed bumps as people). Taxi man hits on us. Taxi almost hits pedestrians, animals, or other cars. Taxi follows up to two traffic laws out of about 50. 
Our trip to Serowe was not exactly a luxury tour either.  Our bus there was so full there were people standing in the aisles and sitting two to a seat.  You can imagine how hot it got.  Roughly 5 hours with no opened windows and only short blasts of “air” that lasted for literally 1 second every 7 minutes; we counted.  The bus driver was a tease in every sense of the word.  To make it even better, I had two kids behind my hitting my head and pulling my hair for at least half of the trip; I don’t think I’ve ever so strongly considered pushing a kid off a bus.  The way back may sound like an interesting ride…but it was miserable at best.  5:30am, we were picked up outside of our cabins in safari trucks.  Most of us were underdressed, assuming we would make the 20km trip to the bus station in combis.  Nope.  We drove in the back of the safari trucks on the highway, about 20 minutes in below freezing weather and harsh wind.  By the end we were either in tears or complete shock.  Safari trucks have slightly lost their appeal. 
My experience in an ambulance wasn’t much better, and was illegal in every sense of the word.  On one of the clinic days, Lizzy and I decided to observe home based care in Gaborone.  One of the male nurses arranged for us to be driven to the facility and told us to call when we needed a ride back.  Now, you would assume that if we drove a regular car there, we would drive the same back.  False.  We were picked up in an ambulance at peak traffic time.  With the three of us in the front seat, the driver attempted to dodge traffic by driving on the median to get into the left turn lane.  Well, sticking out in clear sight was a traffic sign…we assumed that he would have seen it like any other person on that road.  Yet another falsity.  He blew straight through the sign, taking off one of his side mirrors, scraping the passenger door, and taking out a side window…not to mention completely destroying the sign.  How can we not help but think it was our fault?  Clearly ambulances aren’t supposed to chauffer lekoa around Gabs…but either way, we were indirectly blamed for the incident.   By the end of our time in the clinics, said ambulance was still MIA. 
But, my friends, the crème de la crème of transportation woes is our trip to and from Victoria Falls; never again.  The way there was sleepless, cramped, cold, and just odd.  We took an 11 hour bus ride to Kasane, Botswana which was both cramped and uncomfortably cold.  It began with a prayer for our safety…somehow not as comforting as it sounds.  We made several pee stops, but in the most remote areas with about 3 small bushes to do your business behind.  Our privacy was soon thrown out the window and traded for bathroom breaks.  2am and maybe 20 minutes of sleep, and we were stopped in the middle of nowhere to get off the bus.  Considering everyone was half awake, there was little explanation in what we were doing.  We had to walk through a puddle of chemicals, which we now know is for treating foot in mouth disease, thinking it was some spiritual adventure.  When we got off the bus we realized we weren’t even in Kasane, where our hotel was arranged to pick us up.  Luckily we got everything sorted out, and our trip across the Zimbabwe border was quick and simple.
The way back, however, is one that I hope no one will have to go through.  We went to the Falls with several alternatives to get back, but unsure of which to take.  We decided to take a train from Vic Falls to Bolowayo, Zimbabwe which is near the Botswana border.  Apparently we were the talk of the town, and everyone was gossiping about the crazy white girls taking a local train.  If only we knew this ahead of time.  The train first lost its appeal at first glance; but I kept “don’t judge a book by its cover” in mind.  That was thrown out as soon as we boarded.  The bathroom was a bowl with a hole in the bottom that emptied onto the tracks.  The emergency doors, despite their warnings to remain locked at all times, did not close, and freely swung open when the train was moving.  Let’s say going to the bathroom was a danger in itself.  The bedroom was not necessarily in sync with my expectations. 
About a 10ft x 10ft square, it had two ‘couches’ that each folded out into three layered beds with maybe 2 feet in between.  Confined doesn’t even begin to explain it.  Within our first minutes in the car, we managed to find several bugs…which soon lead to plenty more; I was on bug patrol for the remainder of the ride.  Fearing the ride ahead of us, the rest of the girls managed to drink a bottle of Captain in a matter of minutes.  I was too preoccupied with not getting attacked by bugs to drink.  The train stopped at least 20 times, and went maybe 30 mph maximum.  The windows were frosted before the end of the night, and even if I were comfortable, the freezing cold kept me from getting anywhere near sleep.  I spent the night at the farthest edge of the bed, trying to avoid touching the wall where any potential bugs could be.  I managed to wrap myself in every layer of clothing I brought, yet still that was not anywhere near the amount I needed.  Getting off that train was the second biggest relief of the trip.  However, we soon realized we were stranded in Zimbabwe with no sense of direction.  Luckily, a local man opted to help us find a bus ride back, which turned out to be one of our most difficult tasks of the trip.
The 7 of us piled into his small car and drove around the town to each separate bus station hoping to find one going into Botswana.  No such luck.  Not only did most people not understand us, most places were not even fully running.  After an hour of driving around, we finally decided to take a combi to the border, walk across, and get a combi from there to Francistown.  The combi to the Botswana border was sketchy to say the least.  As we were driving away, our chauffer was trying to grab and stop the driver…we still don’t know why.  You can imagine the kind of picture that burnt in our minds.  Luckily we made it to the Botswana border unharmed; the biggest relief of the trip. Touching Botswana soil, then having it cleaned off of our shoes three more times on the way back, was a luxury.  We arrived at the Francistown bus rink just minutes before the last bus to Gaborone was leaving.  The ride back was spent sleeping from exhaustion or trying to silence our minds from thinking about how badly we had to use the restroom.  Either way, we were on our way to Gabs finally.  We took the first taxi we could find at 10:30pm when we arrived to the station, and ended up piling into a minivan for only P30.  Peace.
The rest of my time in Botswana was relatively silent regarding transportation.  I always expect some kind of complication in the process, but that’s Africa for you.  

Final thoughts...

So…by the end of this trip I expected to be certain of which career path I was choosing and to be a different person.  I’m not sure if either worked out according to plan.

I think if anything, I have been assured that I am equally, and increasingly, passionate about medicine and public health.  I can see myself playing critical roles in both disciplines.  So, in the last month I have left of summer, I need to decide which death test I am going further in to debt for. 

I think I have yet to change many of my beautiful qualities:
I still manage to crave and drink massive amounts of coffee
I still have a ridiculous amount of dirty laundry; this time I’m still wearing it
I still hate spiders and feet
I am still obsessed with searching iTunes, and will go to drastic measures to do it
I’m still pale.

What has changed?
I like baths; preferably with 2 inches of hot water
I can fall asleep before 1am

Some of the luxuries I miss from home:
Non-bran cereal
Not-rooibos tea
Pilot G-2 pens
A ridiculously large selection of notebooks
Blending in
Not being proposed to or told if my skin were darker, I would look like a Motswana with a “nice African figure”

What will I miss?
Street food
The exchange rate
Cheap groceries
Combis
Safaris
Being greeted by everyone
Speaking Setswana
Walking everywhere
Fatcakes, samp, pap, man sized lunch bars, and Toppers
Bull & Bush nights
Monkeys eating our food

I think this list can go on much longer than the previous.  However, I am excited for Minnesotan accents and the lake.

Friday, July 22, 2011

And life goes on...

"We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us" [John Steinbeck]


    11:51 pm...in less than 12 hours I will begin my long journey back to the tropical rain forest that is now Minnesota.
    Saying goodbyes have never been easy, but even more so now.  I am leaving new friends and a new home.  I think no matter where I go in life, a part of me is permanently attached to Botswana.  My goodbyes are only simple "until next time"s or "I'll see you again"s.  It's so difficult to accept the fact that I may not see these people ever again.  We were brought together across the world, we have grown together, and have experienced the many trivialities of this country; it's hard not feeling some kind of bond.
    Still, life goes on.  One day I will return, even if it's in one year or twenty.  I've realized that it normally takes a great deal of difficulty getting to the places you want to go, whether it's smelly flights or bug infested train rides.  But once you are there, your true journey begins.
    I have fears of leaving, fears of coming back to the US, and fears for my future.  I don't as if my time is finished in Botswana, I'm afraid of how overwhelming the states will be, and I'm still unsure of what I will do with the rest of my life.  Maybe two days worth of travel will solve that...maybe not.
    Expect some travel updates in the near future along with my last odds and ends from my time in BW.

Ke a leboga Botswana.  The lekoa will be back someday.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Victoria Falls: Disney World for Adults

“But we have lived enough to know, that what we never have, remains; It is the things we have that go.” [“Wisdom”- Sara Teasdale]


    The holiday weekend served to be the perfect end to an unforgettable experience.  Seeing the largest waterfall in the world was a life changing moment in itself.  My journey to and from was a growing and learning experience to say the least.  If I wasn’t convinced before that I would come back to Africa, I surely am now.

    We began our trip to the Zimbabwe side of Victoria Falls with a 12 hour bus ride to Kasane, Botswana.  With below freezing temperatures, bad headphones, and rock hard seats, there was little room for sleep let alone my legs.  It seemed as if we took the most inconvenient route to get to Kasane, while making multiple pit stops in the bush, with surprisingly the smallest amount of bushes to pee behind.  To make the trip even better, we were stopped at 2 in the morning to walk in a chemically treated puddle to treat for foot in mouth disease; the first of many instances. 

    We arrived an hour and a half late and just outside of Kasane with no sense of direction.  We picked up a combi to the bus rink, where a bus from our hotel picked us up to go to Vic Falls.  A 35$ visa and 60 minutes later we arrived to the center of Vic Falls, where we could see the spray from the water in the distance.  We were dropped off at Shoestrings Lodge, which is the night club/backpacking centre/hostel/rosta joint of the town.  I finally felt like I was on vacation. 

    Our rooms were camp styled hostels, with two bunk beds and leg room.  The lodge had an outdoor restaurant and bar, spa, and pool.  Most of the people staying there were backpackers and saunterers (reference from “Walking” by Henry David Thoreau, which I began reading on the bus ride).  We took a sunset cruise that night, which had unlimited drinks that we took full advantage of.  We were able to see hippos, crocodiles, and an elephant.  The ride reminded me of home on Lake Minnetonka; all it needed was 100 more boats and an Al & Alma’s charter. 

    We spent the rest of the night waiting for dinner and then catching up on sleep.  We began the next day with shopping in town and in the open craft market, beginning my home sickness for Gabs.  Zimbabweans are relentless sellers.  They will accost you on the street, and will not leave you alone until you are either outrunning them or deemed ignorant and unable to speak English; we settled for the latter.  After 20 minutes we were all irritable and uncomfortable, but we still trekked on to the holy land of craft markets.  Imagine the State Fair grounds flooded with wooden carvings, small kiosks, and sellers screaming at you to come and see their work.  Multiply that by annoying, and you have the open craft market.  To make matters worse, I felt like my stomach was at war with my intestines and was on the verge of throwing up the whole time.  Maybe throwing up on a vendor would give them a hint that I didn’t want to buy their unoriginal wooden carvings.  By the end of the trip we high tailed it out of the market yelling “no hablo ingles” and never looked back.

    The afternoon was unforgettable in so many ways.  We took an elephant back safari, which was the most amazing thing I have ever done so far.  I got to ride Tatu, who I originally named Thor, with Steven the driver.  It was surprising how rough her skin was and how coarse her hairs were.  She was the oldest of the women and was a mother to the other elephants.  Still, she had little manners and had no trouble ripping down branches and veering off track whenever she pleased.  We were able to see two lions, buffalo, kudu, and wild elephants throughout the trip.  At the end we got to feed the elephants and take pictures.  I don’t think I stopped smiling once, I felt like a kid at Disney World.  I was able to buy Tatu’s footprint, the proceeds of which go to the anti-poaching organization.





    The rest of the night was spent at Shoestrings dancing and people watching, and moved to the Hunters bar until 2 in the morning.  I met some interesting people throughout the night, but can honestly say that I can do without a repeat.  When given the choice between clubbing in Zimbabwe and sleeping, I’d much rather sleep. 
We went to the falls the next day, an experience pictures and words cannot possibly do justice.  Standing at the edge of a cliff looking at the falls was breathtaking and overpowering; I have never seen something so unbelievably beautiful.  We were soaked from the spray, but that only made our time there more enjoyable.  I was able to stand just inches away from the falls, and with rapids and a double rainbow behind me, I felt invincible.  I’ll leave my descriptions at this, because you just have to go there to see it yourself.









I’ll leave our transportation woes for another blog…a novel of a blog.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Time is a Luxury.

"Difficult times have helped me to understand better than before, how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in ever way, and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever..." [Isak Dinesen]

"You can't change the past, but you can ruin the present by worrying about the future"


    For some reason I am in a quote-y mood.  I just realized that the University’s wireless will let me search the iTunes store.  How have I missed this for so long?!  I have been so musically deprived; all the while I could have walked across the street and solved the problem.

    My time here is certainly and quickly coming to an end, and I am not sure how to feel about it.  I can’t help but thinking about the luxuries I’ll be welcomed with upon my return to the beautiful state of Minnesota.  But I catch myself thinking, “How can I be so preoccupied with these thoughts when I am already in such a beautiful place?”  I do miss home, but I am sure as soon as I step onto the airplane I’ll be missing a second home. 

    I can keep thinking about how unfair it is that I only have 7 weeks total, and only two more left.  But why bother, when I can think about all of the opportunity left within those two weeks?  I still have two more days in the clinic, a four day holiday weekend that will be spent in Victoria Falls, and plenty of nights to spend around Gaborone, not to mention 21 other people to spend this time with. 
I’m nervous for leaving a place I love so much; I know 7 weeks will never be enough, but I will make it into as much of an experience as I can.  Maybe this feeling of not being ready to leave will motivate me even more to come back.   I am trying to make every moment as enriching as possible, and to truly appreciate every second.  I know that there are things I miss at home, and there are things I will be happy to leave here, but it’s the same the other way around. 

    Knock on Wood: But I am lucky enough to have evaded the flu that is circling around our group, traveler’s diarrhea, and chicken liver.  I have seen plenty of animals, none of which attacked me.  I’ve yet to have been stung by a mosquito.  I have only seen 3 spiders.  I have spent under 1,000 USD (let’s pray it stays that way).  I haven’t gotten sun burnt and I don’t think it has gotten anywhere near 100F; I can’t say I’ve avoided attractive farmers tans, however.  And, luckily, the exchange rate is still in my favor.

Time will fly, but that is inevitable.  As long as I’m flying with it, I think I’ll be fine.