Saturday, September 13, 2014

12 Sept 14: A 12 Step Guide to Caring for Your New RPCV

In honor of the two-year anniversary of serving my country in Africa, I've written the following humorous, yet dead serious guide to dealing with me when I come home in 36 days. :)
Only 36 days til pastries and cappuccino!
Disclaimer: I'm writing this based on my experience. If you're a PCV and this doesn't reflect on how you feel, I don't care. If you've not developed antisocial tendencies or parasites and this blog doesn't apply to you, well...aren't you lucky?

A 12 Step Guide to Caring for Your New RPCV

Congratulations on receiving your newborn RPCV, or Returned Peace Corps Volunteer! Your RPCV is a rare specimen, having earned their status with blood (and intestinal worms), the sweat of two miserable Kalahari summers, and enough tears to fill up a swimming pool (wait, what's a swimming pool?) "RPCV" is a badge of honor that your Volunteer will wear for the rest of their life. Please use this guide to care for your RPCV as they transition from their old, dirty life into their shiny, new one.
Ooooh America!
1. Your RPCV is going to be weird. Really weird. They've lived in extreme isolation for two years, often going weeks without having a conversation beyond superficial greetings with another human being. You might have to dig to get them to talk about themselves. At site, RPCVs don't talk about themselves unless they're in the company of other Americans. Most villagers lack the English vocabulary to have a deep conversation about feelings. And after getting enough "You don't have any problems. You're an American. You're rich. AND you're white." they stop trying.


2. Keep in the mind that your RPCV will have no idea what has happened with American politics or pop culture for the last two years. If you talk about current events, they will be lost. If you find yourself saying "Have you seen...Have you heard the new...?" you can stop. The answer is no, they have not seen/heard anything that has happened since 2012. Most likely, their contribution to the conversation will be limited to "One time in Botswana...In Botswana, I..." Your RPCV doesn't mean to be boring but hand washing clothes and picking thorns out of their feet are all that they've known for two years. They didn't have tv. They didn't have internet. When they had wifi, they spent most of their time trying to update blogs, return emails, apply for grad school, and file PC reports. Miley Cyrus' latest antics were not a priority.
Peace Corps Volunteers celebrate major holidays by making forefather beards from pillow stuffing.
3. RPCVs live in limbo (especially at first), a confusing place between being American and...something else. Somewhere between hipster and hobo. They're citizens of the US but also of the world. They've known what it's like to live without and they no longer need "stuff" to be happy, which makes them extraordinarily unsuited to life in America, not to mention hard to buy for. Because of the things they have done and the things they have seen, they are extremely sensitive. Not delicate. Sensitive. Please guard their feelings and be careful with your words. Understand that their awkwardness is not intentional, their reluctance to talk is not personal, they're just..new.

4. Waste hurts your RPCV. A lot. Complaining irritates them. Hasty generalizations about Africans will definitely piss them off. Needing a lot of alone time does not mean that they aren't happy to see you, it just means that they aren't used to constant social stimulation.
Waste not :)
5. Prepare a space for your RPCV to stash junk. RPCV's are hoarders because you never know when you're gonna need to make a toilet paper roll flower bouquet. Or when you're gonna need that two inch scrap of wire to fix a chair. They are the world's most resourceful people.

6. Your RPCV might pee in the toilet and forget to flush. For two years, their philosophy has been "if it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down." Gently remind your RPCV that in America, we flush every time. Old habits die hard.
"What do I do with this pee?"
7. Under no circumstances should you ever comment on the physical appearance of your RPCV beyond "You look great!" Contrary to what most people think, your RPCV did not have diarrhea for two years straight. Their diet likely consisted of carbs, carbs, and more carbs. Volunteers do their best not to sink into an abyss of depression and comfort eating is part of that strategy. Suppress your urge to blurt out "Wow! I didn't think you'd GAIN weight in Africa!"
Peace Corps Volunteers don't know what looks good but that's ok!
8. If your RPCV seems lazy, they're not. RPCVs become accustomed to a slower pace of life, often going whole days without "accomplishing" anything. This is normal. Eventually your RPCV will find a hobby and get a job like a good little American.

9. Your new RPCV may be a complete stranger to you. Chances are the remarkable experiences that they've had have changed them, mostly for the better. They may have different interests than they had before they left. Resist the tempation to compare your old friend to your new RPCV. The last thing an RPCV wants to do is have to explain/defend why he or she no longer enjoys hot tubs (too hot!) and fast food (their GI tracts become maladjusted to digesting that much grease in one sitting.)

10. Your RPCV may have sleeping habits which you find bizarre. If you keep in mind that Peace Corps Volunteers rise and set with the sun, you won't be alarmed when your RPCV goes to bed at 8 p.m. Try keeping them up with kettlecorn and the latest season of Orange Is the New Black, but bear in mind that RPCVs need their 10 hours of sleep, and probably a mid-day nap too.
Your RPCV might hang dry their clothes in the hotel bathroom.
11. Your RPCV may say inappropriate things at inappropriate times. Pooping in a bucket for two years can cause a loss of shame on the part of your RPCV, thus making any bodily function fair game for casual conversation. When they discuss their bowel habits at the dinner table, don't be offended. Most likely, they're not used to eating at a table. Meal time is simply another opportunity to ruminate over the Bristol Stool Chart with the people they love.

12. Most importantly, keep in mind that no matter how hard you try, you can NEVER understand what you're RPCV has been through. Two years of chronic stress and not having their basic needs met has been hard on your RPCV. They have given of themselves everyday for 800 days. There may not be much left to give. They may have a meltdown in the cereal aisle at Walmart because they have become unaccustomed to making so many choices at one time. Be supportive and gentle but don't say things like "I know how you feel" or "It's just cereal! It's not a big deal!" Encourage your RPCV to attend events and socialize within your city's RPCV community. A good head rub also helps.

All shiny and new!
If you follow this basic guide, accept the fact that your new RPCV is NOT the same person they were before they joined the Peace Corps, feed them lots of protein and drip coffee, and encourage their sense of wanderlust, you will help ease the transition from hairy, dirty Peace Corps Volunteer to happy, well-adjusted RPCV.


Saturday, July 26, 2014

July 2014: Sarah hitch hikes across the country with a sick dog and marries her off.

Meet Sandy! Sandy-the world. The world-Sandy.
Sandy, when she first started coming over.
Sandy's story is a compelling tale of miracles and human kindness. I came upon Sandy when I was trying to revive a puppy that belonged to one of the teachers at my school. The puppy was Sandy's, the last living puppy of her litter. Like most dogs in Botswana both Sandy and her puppy had been neglected. Unfortunately, the puppy died of "tick fever."

Having realized I was a friend, Sandy started visiting me at my house. The nutrient demands of lactation combined with the fact that her owner didn't feed her had left Sandy emaciated and frail. I couldn't help but give her my leftovers, which she gobbled down without complaint. Eventually, I started cooking for her: lentils, meat, spam. She loved it all. After a month, Sandy abandoned her owner and moved into my yard!

By this time, I had started hitch hiking to the next village over to buy her real dog food. She was gaining weight and had enough energy to play with the other neighborhood dogs! One morning I woke up and Sandy's insides were hanging out. I had no idea what was wrong. A prolapsed uterus maybe? Was her uterus just going to fall out of her body at any time? In a panic, I packed up my tent, some clothes and Sandy's belongings, and with Sandy in my arms, I headed to the village hitch hiking spot. 10 hours later a very nice truck driver dropped Sandy and I in Gaborone, where an emergency veterinarian picked us up.

Sandy ALWAYS finds the most comfortable spot in the house.
Dr. Mike diagnosed Sandy with a venereal tumor, something he had seen hundreds of times in Botswana. He was confident that it would resolve with four weekly doses of chemotherapy administered IV (given by me.) Sandy stayed overnight in the hospital and I stayed with a friend-of-a-friend who took me in, sight unseen. The next morning, I picked up Sandy and we made the tiring 8 hour trip back to the village. The animal angel who housed me, a lovely lady named Sheilagh, generously offered to pay for Sandy's chemo treatment.
After taking her ALL the way to the capital, I decided that the time had come for Sandy to become an inside dog. I told her original owner that because I was taking care of her, paying for her treatment, etc. that she belonged to me now. Bottom line: she's mine. I bathed Sandy to remove any ticks I hadn't picked off and she became my new snuggle buddy. I walked her three times a day and she quickly adjusted to indoor life. 

When the time came to administer her chemo, I was confident that I could do it. I'd worked in many vet clinics, had drawn blood, and assisted in surgery. I was confused. Apparently dogs don't enjoy being stuck with needles and Sandy, though extraspecial, was no different. I enlisted the help of some very nice nurses from the local hospital (one a nurse anesthesiologist) but we failed to give her chemo. I came to the realization that Sandy needed a kind of care that I couldn't give her in the bush. She couldn't be cured by my love alone.

After a MAJOR FREAKOUT, Sandy and I hitch hiked again to the capital city. Seana, a Peace Corps Botswana staff member, took her in, offering to take her to her chemo appointments, have her spayed, and then vaccinate her. Talk about an Animal Angel. I said a sad "good bye" to Sandy knowing that she was in the best of hands. Sandy re-started her chemo and quickly became a best-friend to Seana's gardener, Thory. Thory allowed Sandy to sleep on his couch and hand-fed her chicken when she was sick after chemo. This is HIGHLY UNUSUAL for someone in Botswana, as they typically don't even let dogs inside the house. Thory is another special miracle that entered Sandy's story at just the right time.

Thory hand-feeding Sandy after her chemo appointment.
Sandy quickly adjusted to her new life with Seana and Thory. She was spoiled rotten with the best treats, toys, and her very own bed! Sandy finished her chemo, was spayed, and vaccinated!
Sandy loves clowning around!
When Seana had to go out of town, a PCV named Christina volunteered to house sit for her. Christina has a giant horse dog, Pula, who became fast friends with Sandy. Sandy now lives with Christina and Pula in a large house in Gaborone. Thanks to the kindness of all of the angels who have helped her, Sandy is FULLY RECOVERED! Her tumor is gone, she is healthy, and she is enjoying her new life with her best friend.
Sandy looks good!
Last week, me and some other volunteers decided that Sandy and Pula's romance needed to become official. We held Botswana's first dog wedding at Christina's house, complete with wedding outfits and a dog-friendly cake. 

The bride, groom, and the rest of the wedding party.
Pula, Meera (bridesmaid), and Sandy pose for wedding pictures.
The wedding "cake"

Despite everything she's been through, Sandy still has a smile on her face!
Lisa and Christina serving up the wedding cake!

The blushing bride.
The happy, exhausted couple!
Nothing better than a belly rub.
Me with Pula.
So what lies ahead for Sandy? Sandy loves her life with Christina and Pula but eventually she needs a forever home. If left in Botswana, Sandy will likely end up being the victim of another negligent, abusive owner. Sandy needs to go to the good ol' US of A! There are several people who are interested in adopting Sandy but it costs $1500 to send a dog from Botswana to America. And Sandy just refuses to get a job. I have created a gofundme page for her cause. Through the kindness of strangers, most of whom don't even know me or Sandy, we have raised $975! I have set the goal at $1500, an increase since I first listed the page, to accommodate all of the expenses that go into flying a dog home. The fundraising ends on September 1st (to allow me time to get the money to the person responsible for sending her to the US.) If you would like to contribute to her cause (and she'd be eternally grateful) please click on the link below. Every dollar counts!!

http://www.gofundme.com/ag907g

Sandy, miracle dog.
For those of you who have donated, we thank your from the bottom of our hearts. Sandy is truly a four-legged miracle!


Friday, January 10, 2014

NYE 2014: Some thoughts...

2014 starts in an hour. I can't wait. I love New Years. Not because of the parties and the booze and the kissing at midnight. Because on New Years day you can wake up and be that person that you wanted to be the year before but for some reason you couldn't quite manage. For most people, New Years is an exciting time, overflowing with the promise of positive change. We make resolutions to lose weight, take more time for ourselves, hone some virtue that we lack, etc. New Years is a catalyst. It's also an excuse. An excuse to postpone until later the hard work that we perceive would lead to happiness. A pass to procrastinate. How many years in a row have I told myself, "If I lost 5 pounds, I'd look so much better in my Christmas photos. Oh well, I'll join a gym after New Years." And then after my New Years resolutions fail, I give up until the next year. "Well, it's March and I haven't done anything. Guess I'll have to wait until next year."

We don't realize that every single day holds the potential of new beginnings. We just have to make the choice that tomorrow is going to be the day that we shed the habits that no longer serve us and start fresh. We don't need to wait around for a 1 in 365 day to do it. We are our own catalysts. So instead of making New Years Resolutions, let's make All Year Resolutions. And when we feel like we've made so much progress in our personal development and then we suffer through a week with our in-laws, leaving us feeling like we've taken two steps back, let's remind ourselves that everyday can be New Years Day.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

January 2014: ALL ANIMALS and plants! Woohooo!

It's been a long time coming. A blog post of nothing but the animals and plants that I love. The animals include my chicken flock (look for an update on Ruby's babies!), goats- Jethrow and her baby, Elmer, and some random donkeys. The plants are the most recent pictures of the herb jungle that has become my garden!

Look through these pictures for a special announcement at the end! Those of you who know me well probably won't be surprised...
Ruby's babies!
Ruby's babies as teenagers!!! There are 5 of them there enjoying a family dust bath.
Wanda, best friend to Millie.
Just a typical evening in the Stewart yard. Jethrow, Elmer, and the gang.
Jimmy, Ruby, and Wanda.
Wynona. Look at that fancy hairdo!
Creepiest chicken family photo ever.
Look at this big boy! Ricky Stewart.
Timmy Stewart, most recent patient in the Millie M. Stewart Rehabilitation Yard. When I came home from Zambia
her foot was all tangled up in wire. She was hiding behind my gas tank, unable to walk or hunt for food. I cut her free, cleaned her wounds, and hand fed her until she could walk. Now she's completely recovered except for one of her toes.
It turned black from lack of circulation and I think it's gonna fall off. But she doesn't seem to mind!
Elmer loves world puzzles...eating them.
Timmy. You can see her little black toe.
Timmy and Francesca.
Green peppers that don't look like green peppers.
Sage
Salad fixin's
Herbs n' green peppers
Basil gone wild!
Basil, fennel, and sage
Baby bell peppers!!!
Oh hai, donk!
The official announcement...drum roll please...I've decided that after Peace Corps, God willin and the creek don't rise, I'm going to VET SCHOOL!

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

December 2013: ZAMBIA!! Sarah Snuggles a Cheetah, Walks a Lion, Swims in Devil's Pool, and Rafts the Zambezi

After going to Namibia, I experienced what is common among PCV's upon returning to site: post vacation blah. I had no motivation to do anything other than watch re-runs of Are You Afraid of the Dark and teach my once-a-week PACT Club. My best friend in Botswana, Diane, mentioned that she was going on vacay in Zambia after our Mid-Service Training (MST) in December. She invited me to go and, after tossing it around in my brain for all of 30 seconds, I decided to make it happen. I wanted to see Victoria Falls, one of the seven wonders of the world. I also wanted to see some animals in Chobe National Park, a safari mecca. 

But first, Mid-Service Training. I left my village the last day of November to have a few days in the big city, in air conditioning, before I had to meet up with my fellow PCV's. I relaxed, played 10 cent video roulette at the casino, and slept on a real mattress. Although I was happy to hang out with Diane, MST was a typical Peace Corps conference: volunteers complaining about the lack of support from the organization and medical. We aired our grievances, cried a little bit, and reflected on our challenges/successes from the past year. After three days of that, I was beyond ready for another vacation. Is it bad that one vacation every two months just isn't enough?

Kazangula border crossing, Zambia and Botswana
After MST, Liz, Eden, Diane, and I set off for two days of bus travel to Zambia. We travelled as far as Francistown the first day and spent the night with the volunteer there. Early the next morning, we boarded another bus, determined to make it to Livingstone by nightfall. Six hours later, we got off the bus at the Kazangula Border Post. Zambia and Botswana are separated by a wide river, crossable only by ferry. The ferry first loads a semi-truck, then the pedestrians walk on and stand as the ferry crosses the river. Best part about the ferry? It's free!


Free ride across the river!
After getting off the ferry and going through immigration, we hired a van to drive us the half hour to Livingstone. Livingstone is a major tourist town, named after the first European to see Vic Falls (he went on to become an anti-slavery activist!) He was so impressed by the giant waterfall that he named it after his queen, Queen Victoria. But enough history. We checked in at Jolly Boys Backpackers, unpacked, showered, ate, and went to bed. One of the advantages of staying at a backpackers hostel is the interesting people you meet there. The first night, I met an awesome guy named Mike, a former marine traveling the world.
Jollyboys Backpackers. Lots of lounging space.
My first full day in Livinstone was by far the best experience I've ever had on a vacation. I signed up to go on a "cheetah and lion interaction." I had heard good things but I was without some of the required "equipment." I needed close-toed shoes and long pants. I had brought neither so I rushed to a cheap clothing store, bought a pair of clearance shoes and some leggings, and ran back to the hostel just in time. A gentleman picked up me and Eden and drove us to a big cat sanctuary. The sanctuary rescues cheetahs, lions, and caracals from the wild and rehabilitates them. They also have a few cats that were born in captivity that serve as ambassadors to raise money and awareness.

Caracal
After paying for the excursion and snapping some photos of a caracal, we were led to a large grassy area bordered on all sides by dense bush. Three men were waiting for us there. Beside the men, three cheetahs were stretched out on the ground relaxing. Each cheetah wore a harness and a leash similar to the kind your dog would wear when you take him for a walk. I started by petting the cheetah, which progressed to hugging the cheetah, kissing the cheetah, spooning the cheetah, and finally, being groomed (licked) by the cheetah. I was in animal lover heaven. After bonding, me and my new cheetah friend, Leela, went for a walk. Leela is a three year old female, born and raised in captivity. We walked around the bush for about 30 minutes
before the cheetahs had to return to their enclosure for the morning.

Me and Leela the Cheetah!


A little kiss kiss.

Leelah loves to be scratched on her chin. She purrs just like a giant house cat!
Just spooning a cheetah. No biggie!
Leela and I take a walk!
Eden, our guide, the other ladies in our group, and I went back to the office to receive instructions about the next part of our adventure: lion interaction. The lions are twice the size of the cheetahs, much more aggressive, and much more deadly. We weren't able to kiss them and hug them and snuggle them. Sad face. We had strict instructions not to touch their heads, always approach them from the back, and to talk to them when we approach. We met three adolescent lions, two females and a male. One lazy girl decided to cool off by laying on her back and spreading her legs wide. I can proudly say that I am a woman who has rubbed a lion's belly. That's right. A LION'S BELLY! After lots of pictures, we took the lions for a walk.
Just pettin' a lion.
Me and Eden with the lion cubs.
Bet you didn't know that lions like to have their bellies rubbed!
Got your tail!
 Apparently lions don't like to wear harnesses. When I asked how I was supposed to walk Terry the lion, the guide said "Just grab his tail. That's how they walk in the wild." GRAB HIS TAIL? Are you sure about that? I grabbed Terry's tail and he didn't mind. We walked through the bush, Terry every once in a while spotting something he wanted to chase. Keep in mind that lions are just big cats. Terry would think about chasing the animal, then he'd lay down, exhausted from the effort it took to consider such an exertion of energy. The lionesses would come up and join him, laying in the shade, yawning. Then we'd have to walk ahead like we didn't care about those lions. They'd eventually get jealous that we were "leading the pride" and they'd catch up and go ahead of us. We walked them back to their enclosure so that they could spend the rest of the day napping in the shade.

I know you've always wondered "how do you take a lion for a walk?" Now you know!
 Of everything I did in Zambia, hanging out with lions and cheetahs was my favorite. It's hard to describe the feeling of being sniffed, considered, and then accepted by a cheetah. An animal that could rip your throat out, but chooses to lick your face and snuggle instead. My colleagues in Peace Corps jokingly refer to me as the animal whisperer, but that day I felt legit.

Booze cruisin down the Zambezi.
Diane, Eden, Liz, and I spent the next day hanging out at the hostel. The hostel has a pool with a small waterfall, lots of lounging areas, and mango trees galore. I can't even estimate how many mangos I ate. They'd fall off the trees willy nilly, just waiting to be eaten by a hungry traveler. That afternoon, Liz and I showered and put on our finest dresses and even, gasp, makeup! We signed up for a dinner sunset cruise on the Zambezi River, aka a booze cruise. For those of you who aren't familiar, a booze cruise is a boat ride in which you eat dinner, watch the sunset, and drink all the booze you can in two hours. Let me just say that 1) I got my money's worth, and 2) I am never going on a booze cruise again. Vodka + chronically dehydrated volunteers = one way ticket on the Hot Mess Express. That's all I'm gonna say about that!


The next morning I woke up only mildly hungover. Thank goodness too because that was the day that we had planned to go to Victoria Falls! The four of us took a taxi to some fancy schmancy hotel on the Zambezi, the rendez vous point for our excursion. A small boat picked us up and took us to Livingstone island, a tiny island in the middle of the river. We were met by a man with a tray of traditional maize drink in tiny glasses. How classy is that?!? Led by a guide, we walked a ways to the most beautiful scenery you can imagine, a waterfall spilling over a cliff, so far down that it is obscured by the steam rising from the falls. In Zambia, Vic Falls is called Mosi oa Tunya, the smoke that thunders. It really is smokey and the smoke really does thunder. Because we are adventurous Peace Corps Volunteers, just looking wasn't enough.

Mosi Oa Tunya, The Smoke That Thunders, the amazing VICTORIA FALLS!
WHEEEE!!! Devil's Pool.
 During the low season, you can swim out to a small pool on the edge of the falls known as Devil's Pool. Believe it or not, we swam against the current to this tiny pool. We climbed out, over some rocks, and back in. The pool is unimaginably deep and scary as hell. You have to hold on to the edge to keep from being swept over. One by one, we climbed onto the edge and looked over while the guide held our legs. It was awesome and terrifying at the same time. After spending a few minutes in Devil's Pool, we swam back to our clothes, toweled off, and followed our guide to our next activity: breakfast on the island! We ate our breakfast in a classy, fancy tent like real rich safari people. We had eggs benedict, toast, and coffee. It was the first proper breakfast I'd had in...a year?

Breakfast at Victoria Falls.
That afternoon we laid by the pool and enjoyed word puzzles. Then it started raining. And just like Forrest Gump it rained and rained and rained. It rained for the rest of our trip. I started to think that maybe I'd somehow ended up in Vietnam, a Vietnam somehow inhabited by Zambians. 
Word puzzlin like champs.
 The rain didn't matter so much the next day as we climbed in the truck for our all day rafting trip. Life jackets, helmets, and a short safety briefing later, we were hiking down the gorge to the wild Zambezi River. All four of us, plus one random lady, were in a raft together. Our guide, Steve, sat in the back with two giant wooden oars. Although we had paddles, Steve did most of the work. On our very first rapid, one of 25 we'd be going down that day, we capsized, sending all of us rushing down the river. We were, literally, down a river without a raft. Rescue kayakers swooped in to save Liz and I before we got too far away. Yeah, I said RESCUE KAYAKERS. Serious business.

Rafting trip of doom.
Being trapped under water beneath an overturned raft is terrifying. Being swept down the river through more rapids, constantly pummeled by water and running into rocks...that's worse. And that happened to use three times. There's  a reason rapid number 7 is called Gnashing Jaws of Death. Class 4 and 5 rapids, no experience needed. Right. We came upon a rapid that was so dangerous that we had to get out and walk around. Steve, fearless leader, went down the rapid in the raft all by his lonesome. But anyway, after the third flip, discouraged and bruised, we climbed out to have a quick lunch. I was about ready to call it quits but Steve assured me that the afternoon rapids weren't nearly as bad. We shuffled the weight around (me and Liz) and finally got our paddling coordinated. The afternoon was smoother sailing. We didn't capsize once but we ended the day cold and shivering from the cool temperatures and all day rain storms.

But wait! There's more! If nearly drowning three times isn't enough for ya...the rain had caused massive rock slides along the sides of the gorge. The first time it happened I was like "Hey! Anybody else hear that train?" We looked to our right and it wasn't a train, it was a wall of boulders the size of exercise balls falling down the rock face and into the water. We paddled frantically to avoid being crushed to death, and luckily, none of the kayakers were hit.

 I slept really well that night, despite my aching muscles and fried nerves. Our last day in Zambia, we were blessed with a clear morning. Liz, Eden, Diane, and I went to the local market looking for authentic crafts and fabric. The women of Zambia wear long pieces of fabric wrapped around them like skirts and dresses. They are called chitenges. Chitenges of all colors and patterns can be purchased at the market. I went crazy and left the market with 7 chitenges. I couldn't help myself. I also bought a signature Zambian purse made out of the same fabric.
Shopping!
 During my stay, I befriended several PCV's who are based in Nambia. We hung out and played cards during the rainy times when we couldn't go out or swim. Our last night in Zambia, one of the PCV's, an Indian guy named Mayank, took us out for Indian food to celebrate my birthday. He treated us to a delicious meal and two bottles of wine. After dinner, we said goodbye to him as he boarded a bus to Malawi. Mayank is one of those awesome people that you meet at backpackers hostels. Even though we had only known each other for a few days, he took it upon himself to make my birthday the best birthday I had ever had. If you're reading this, Mayank, thank you again!

Birthday dinner and dancing with my girls!
After a long, wet week in Zambia, we crossed the ferry back into Botswana. A short taxi ride later, we arrived at the Chobe Safari Lodge. We set up our tents on the concrete patio of one of their fancy, expensive canvas tents. It was still raining and it was our only chance of staying dry. Of course by then, everything we owned was damp from the water in the air but at least we wouldn't be rained on directly. Liz and Eden decided to spent the extra money to rent the fancy tent (it has beds in it!)
Our tenting area. In case you can't read it the sign says "BEWARE CROCODILES"
 I spent my last two days in safari heaven in Kasane. Diane, Eden, and I went on a 3-hour land safari. I saw a herd of elephants, a pair of giraffes, lots of monkeys and baboons, wart hogs, water buffalo, and mongooses. Diane and I went on a water safari in the cold rain and saw hundreds of hippos. During the rainy season, the hippos leave the water to graze on the lush, grassy islands. Hippos feel most comfortable in the water so when our boat would get too close, they'd jump in all crazy to hide. At one point, a hiding hippo jumped up out of the water JAWS style beside our boat. I almost peed myself. Did you know hippos can launch their big ol' selves out of the water like that? Me neither!
Rainy safari in Chobe National Park, Botswana

Elephants!
Oh hi!

Giraffes are BIG.

Who needs a beauty shop when you've got friends to groom you?

Baby elephant lady

Me and Diane on our boat safari!

Hippos are hongry. They have a staring problem too.

Nom nom nom!

Ermagerd! Sooo maanny hippos!
Hippos like to swim too.
On December 17th, I boarded a bus for home, sad that vacation was over but looking forward to drying out. I rode with the girls to Nata and then got out as I was going in the other direction. I quickly got a lift to Maun with a teacher. I always take a ride in a car over a ride in a bus. She dropped me off in Maun four hours later. I immediately got on another bus for Ganzi, determined to get as close to home as I could that first day. After 12+ hours of travel, I arrived in Ganzi, greeted by one of the new PCV's. Peggy welcomed me to her home, where we chatted for a couple of hours before I passed out. The next morning, I made the relatively short 4 hour trip to my village. And that was the end of vacation.

I'm wearing a traditional Zambian chitenge. That's 12 feet of fabric clumsily wrapped around my big ol' body.
I relaxed for a few days and then it was Christmas time. Christmas is just another day when you live in a strange country thousands of miles from friends and family. But we do the best we can to enjoy it/avoid getting drunk and crying ourselves to sleep. On Christmas eve, I met up with two other PCV's, Ashley and Adriana, at Adriana's house in Kang. We spent Christmas eve and Christmas day eating good food, drinking bad wine, and enjoying each other's company. I went home on the 26th, spent a quiet NYE at my house, and counted down the days until...

TODAY!!!! I've been waiting for TODAY to happen for a year now. Today I am flying to America. That's right. AMERICA! I'm meeting my mom in Miami for two days of shopping and eating and then we're off on a Carribean cruise! Sunshine, snorkeling, food, beaching, food, food, and food are in the forecast. And also spending quality time with the love of my life: my mama. I'll be returning to the desert on January 18th with 10 months to go until the end of my service.

One of my All Year Resolutions is to do a better job at updating my blog. After this post, I'm gonna put up some bonus short blog posts. I want to start blogging not only about my experiences, but also about the many random thoughts and ideas that occur to me on weekly basis.
Thank you to those who are still following my life here! I promise to do better this year so that you won't have to read hours-long blog posts!

Namaste!