Hello from Botswana!

K briefly steps out of house - waves cheerfully - runs back inside to do more "moving stuff."

You Say, "Overkill." I say, "Nairobi and Johannesburg airports."

"But Kristin," you might ask, "wasn't the suitcase already locked and isn't a spiffy, darn near impenetrable yet subtly stylish Samsonite suitcase?"

Funny story behind that one. It wasn't locked. The night before my flight to Cameroon I was busy doing standard "night before long trip" stuff. But I was also cleaning the house and cooking meals for the visiting FAO who would be staying at our casa while we were away. (She canceled at the last minute and is a truly lovely person so I'll probably forgive her someday.) Anyway, I stayed up all night working. This will surprise none you who have lived with me or seen me 10 minutes before a dinner party. I like things to be just so.

What I neglected to do was to check the suitcase keys in the actual suitcase. Turns out I had the wrong set and did not realize this until my ride showed up 2 HOURS EARLY to take me to the airport. He had another rider with an earlier flight and could I be ready to go right now because the traffic would be just horrible and we would both miss our flights if I took any longer. I think I went through all five stages of grief right then and there, taking just a little extra time for Anger and Bargaining.

So I ran upstairs, tried to lock my suitcase, discovered the problem, ran all over the house looking for the other set because there wasn't time to switch suitcases. Breakfast dishes were abandoned in the sink. The beautifully written note I prepared for our house guest remained unsigned and without the phone number of the Embassy Point of Contact I meant to add. It is truly amazing that the house didn't collapse in the face of all this chaos. Wait, part of it did collapse - but that's another entry.

No keys, no hints, nada. I gave up and lifted my suitcase, not realizing that in not locking it I also had not shut it completely. And guess what... it opened and clothes spilled onto my floor.

At this point I probably screamed something not suitable for family ears. Suffice to say I was somewhat taken aback and expressed appropriate disbelief and frustration. Loudly.

I stuffed everything back into the suitcase, closed it, latched it, dragged it down the stairs and out to the car. At the airport I had it shrink wrapped and hoped for the best.

(Side note: it wasn't just my stuff in there btw. Lance was limited in his earlier suitcase weight so I was bringing a considerable amount of his clothing for an important conference. It was all neatly folded and packed until it fell all over the floor. You wouldn't think things like that would happen in real life. Turns out they do.)

The luggage arrived safely and I had it wrapped again for our trip from Cameroon to Senegal. No one knew if there was a wrapping service at the Senegal airport so I improvised. What you are seeing above is my suitcase, wrapped in shopping bags, wrapped with packing tape. You might be able to make out my name and "Gaborone, Botswana" too just so the thieves would know they were getting female clothing from a warm climate. Actually, it was more like a good 75 yards of totally awesome West African Fabric since I was wearing several layers of clothing to allow for more fabric in the suitcase. Don't even ask how heavy my carry-on was.

So that's the story behind my suitcase. It made all the flights that I did and for that I am eternally grateful. One last postscript. When Lance and I were at the airport, he noticed that more than half of the bags going to South African Air planes were similarly wrapped whereas bags going elsewhere were not. We few, we happy few, we band of Johannesburg-bound travelers. We know what's overkill and what's necessary to make something look like too much trouble to steal.

Happy Father's Day!

zip zop zoobie
zabba dabba dweebe
whoop whoop we be
singing HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

And so are these guys:

We love you guys!!!! Happy Father's Day!!!
Lance and Kristin

The good news is my luggage made it.

Hey Everyone,
Kristin here. I'm back a few days early while Lance works on a Visa then is off to Angola. Cameroon and Senegal were great and I'll write about them when L. returns with the camera. In the meanwhile, I just though I would update you (vent vent vent) about what awaited me back in Gabs..

As the title states, the good news is that my luggage made all the connecting flights. Safe, sound and slightly scuffed so no worries. Many many yards of amazing fabric are in there so I was happy to see it. Then the fun started.

First, my ride didn't show up. The travel agent has a driver, he was suppose to be there, it was dark, I was alone, he was a no show. Grr. Then all the taxi drivers disappeared. Then I realized my cell phone battery was dead. Then a very nice guy let me use his phone to call Thom and Debra who took me home. I promised them cookies. All was well again.

Everything looked normal. Smelled a little musty. I've been put so no big deal right? I send Thom and Deb on their way.

Then I start noticing weird stains on the kitchen wall, on the fridge and in the cabinets.

Then I notice the entrance to the attic is open - this is where the rats were tap dancing a few months ago.

One of the doors to the kitchen is blocked and a moist towel is on the (wooden) floor.

The kitchen ceiling panels are bowed, my mop and bucket are outside and the water is turned off. I think I missed something rather exciting.

So, yeah. I'm back in the house with no water, mold on the walls in the kitchen, evidence that somebody cleaned things up but didn't email or leave me a note saying what happened. The heater in the bedroom is also broken, I'm cold and I really would like to take a shower. or flush the toilet. or have a cupa tea. Mostly, I would just like the power to stay on tonight and the house alarm to not go off because that would really just kinda stink.

In response, I have taken Nyquil because I dare not temp Murphey's law by taking anything stronger. Screw you world. I'm going to bed. Fully dressed because, did I mention the heater isn't working? Many work orders sent tonight.

Still, it's great to be home.

Hey from Senegal!

Greetings from the coastal town of Dakar. The Atlantic is back on the wrong side of the map but we don't mind. Ourselves, our luggage and most of our remaining sanity made it thought the 10 hour flight. (Don't ask.)

Our hotel is very comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable as it provides both shampoo AND conditioner which is surefire indication that we can't afford this place. But, it also has a bidet (get it, "but"?) which inspired Kristin's google-research entertainment for the evening. Who needs Netflicks!?!

Tomorrow morning, Lance starts helping out with the conference and Kristin represents the good people of America to yet another unsuspecting culture. If any of you travel through Africa and people immediately show you the purple fabrics, you know I've been there.

Hey From Cameroon

Lance and I are in our hotel in Limbe, Cameroon having completed the perilous drive from Yaounde, and ending the evening eating fresh Barricuda (no food poisoning yet!) on a lava black sand beach. This FAO stuff is rough y'all. A few more days and we go to Senegal. A few more minutes and I get to go to sleep.

zzzzzzzzzzzzz

Observations from the Microwave

Did you know that homemade chicken soup can explode in a microwave and all those lovely veggies that you so cheerfully diced can hide in the darnedest places and produce smoke on subsequent uses if you don't find them all? As of last night, so do I.