I swear, time stands practically still when you’re looking at photos of food and dreaming up ridiculous recipes that you’ll never attempt. Right now I’m thinking on potatoes. Pan-fried, butter-slathered, delicious potatoes. I finally bought my first bottle of ketchup to enjoy with the starchy goodness.
Yeah, didn’t buy the potatoes.
What can I say, I panic in groceries stores.
But I have more than potatoes to share with you, Mama. Returned back to site after a few weeks of here-not here. Traveled to Gobabis (about 2 hours east of the capital) for Christmas and New Years. Got my nails did and my biltong on. Journeyed back to Windhoek for a COS (closure of service) conference. That’s right, I’m going home in less than 80 days. There was surprisingly little fighting on who gets to go home first. There are 4 of us heading back the first day and then the remaining 10 are either trickling home within 6 months or extending for a third year. I, however, selected dayo numero uno. So that barely gives me time to figure out what I’m bringing, let alone plan a trip to Cape Town before heading back to get a serious job.
Absolutely ridiculous if you think about how much American food I have hoarded under my kitchen sink. It’s just so difficult to let go of things. But since I WILL be judged for shipping home spice packets and sea weed, I guess I’m going to start eating 1 American treat a day. Seriously, I have that much. I even have things from the first package I received. Yup, it’s that crazy up in this hood.
BUT it’s a good thing since the mail has been cut off. Heading home in 3 months means no more presents. You just never know when things have to vacation in Bermuda before coming here.
Now that I’m back at work I’m scrambling to finish projects and pass all the reins over. I don’t have any more afterschool programs (we haven’t started up since I just returned to site). But I may need one more go-around to finish off my service. I do have a few groups in nearby villages that I need to meet with. Time to convince my counterparts to file our transport forms! I’m excited for my outreach lunch! They always boil their eggs so much nicer than me.
Yeah…step one to readjusting to America will probably have to be cooking lessons. Meh, life’s an adventure when you don’t measure. But it could also become a horror flick. Just saying…