I got here fine. The flight from Vienna was super easy: very empty (so I was able to stretch out), decent movies (Nanny Diaries, Bourne Ultimatum, and then this awesome Bollywood movie about the India National Women's Field Hockey Team...it totally fed my love for teen sports/competition movies), and good food (including good, strong coffee).
I went through immigration etc with no problem, my bag arrived (miraculously), some security guard said I could bypass this entire security/x-ray checkpoint (I was doubting whether he was for real, I understood him correctly, or both...but did it anyway), changed some money, and walked out. Then I panicked. I hate walking through that last step before you hit the masses. I feel protected until then and immediately overwhelmed after. Plus I sort of forgot that I was the white, foreign guy whom everyone wants to "help". I got really anxious and wanted to barrel through (to what, I'm not sure), but fortunately had someone tell me how to get a taxi. I meant to ask at the change forex but forgot, so now I'm relying on someone who may or may not be scamming me. Feeling that skeptical about other people's motives is really uncomfortable, and I'm never really sure if I'm rightly protecting myself or overreacting unnecessarily in those situations. Anyway, there was a taxi stand that is pre-paid, by distance, clearly marked, and ultimately cheap enough that I didn't care (like $8 for a half hour ride). But it was this weird system where the woman who takes your money at the stand assigns you a cab (air conditioned ones are more expensive, for one); you take that receipt with the cab number to stand number two, who gets the driver for you. I skipped stand number two by mistake and just found some dude who found the cab, put my stuff in, and then ran off (with my receipt...see paranoid skepticism above) to find that cab's driver. He was over at some restaurant (don't you love it?) so we drove there and guy #1 ran in to get him. Then we finally got going.
I think I'd psyched myself out about this a little, mostly because it wasn't Africa. If I were going to Nigeria, I think I would have been a little less freaked (at least that's what I tell myself). But for some reason, the true foreign=ness of this place to me was freaking me out. In a lot of ways, I'm that arrogant American coming in with little knowledge of the culture, language, etc; I'm slowly getting better at either not doing that as much or being more okay with it, I'm not sure which (or which is better/worse). Combined with all the talk of how many people there are here, how crowded everything is, etc., I was letting myself get a little wrapped up in it before it had even started. Then in the cab I saw all the people walking along the streets, the commercial stalls that are sort of falling in, the misspelled, hand-painted signs, and I felt okay. It was quite odd, actually, but I didn't really question it. I just sort of had a feeling that it was going to be okay. Something felt recognizable, some analogy to someplace else I'd been, and I calmed down a little bit.
We finally made it to the apartment after a number of wrong turns and having to ask for directions a handful of times (that made me feel more comfortable, actually). I walked up the (unlit) stairs and found the place. I felt bad for ringing the doorbell so late, but it seemed like everyone was up once I walked in. There are six guys living here in three bedrooms (I'm sharing a room), so there's a lot going on just within the apartment already. One of the six is the main guy (I don't think he owns the place, but it's clearly his to be renting), who is very nice, self-employed (software developer or something?) and works from home. Another is the manager of a big department store (some UK chain I'd vaguely heard of) at this huge mall nearby. One guy works at JP Morgan, although I don't know doing what. One guy I don't know much about. The department store guy (my roommate) and JP Morgan wanted to talk, so we were up until 2 talking. They both wanted to know a lot about Harvard, which was fine to talk about. I'm avoiding being very specific about what I'm here to do because of its ties to the gay community (and who knows how that might go down...my sense is probably fine, but you never know), so I'm planning on not talking about my own work very much.
Last but not least is the full time servant, who is one of the six who lives here. I think that's more than standard, at least among all the other places I was looking to stay, but it's still so weird to me. He cooks all the meals, cleans, does the laundry, etc. Like, he brought me tea in bed (at my roommate's request, since I still have no idea what the hell's going on and I don't think Sanjay, the servant, speaks much English). I think I just equate this level of "help" as either extravagant and unnecessary or makes me think of slavery. Either way, it's weird.
The one thing that I can now smell and otherwise understand is what this weather.com forecast means. The general forecast is always "Sunny", but the actual details are:
Right.
So the goals for the day are to head out to the mall, get a SIM card, walk around the neighborhood a bit, call the people I'm working with to connect up with them, and just kick it. I also have to go to the supermarket for bottled water and toilet paper (I so forgot about that, and there's clearly none here).
I went through immigration etc with no problem, my bag arrived (miraculously), some security guard said I could bypass this entire security/x-ray checkpoint (I was doubting whether he was for real, I understood him correctly, or both...but did it anyway), changed some money, and walked out. Then I panicked. I hate walking through that last step before you hit the masses. I feel protected until then and immediately overwhelmed after. Plus I sort of forgot that I was the white, foreign guy whom everyone wants to "help". I got really anxious and wanted to barrel through (to what, I'm not sure), but fortunately had someone tell me how to get a taxi. I meant to ask at the change forex but forgot, so now I'm relying on someone who may or may not be scamming me. Feeling that skeptical about other people's motives is really uncomfortable, and I'm never really sure if I'm rightly protecting myself or overreacting unnecessarily in those situations. Anyway, there was a taxi stand that is pre-paid, by distance, clearly marked, and ultimately cheap enough that I didn't care (like $8 for a half hour ride). But it was this weird system where the woman who takes your money at the stand assigns you a cab (air conditioned ones are more expensive, for one); you take that receipt with the cab number to stand number two, who gets the driver for you. I skipped stand number two by mistake and just found some dude who found the cab, put my stuff in, and then ran off (with my receipt...see paranoid skepticism above) to find that cab's driver. He was over at some restaurant (don't you love it?) so we drove there and guy #1 ran in to get him. Then we finally got going.
I think I'd psyched myself out about this a little, mostly because it wasn't Africa. If I were going to Nigeria, I think I would have been a little less freaked (at least that's what I tell myself). But for some reason, the true foreign=ness of this place to me was freaking me out. In a lot of ways, I'm that arrogant American coming in with little knowledge of the culture, language, etc; I'm slowly getting better at either not doing that as much or being more okay with it, I'm not sure which (or which is better/worse). Combined with all the talk of how many people there are here, how crowded everything is, etc., I was letting myself get a little wrapped up in it before it had even started. Then in the cab I saw all the people walking along the streets, the commercial stalls that are sort of falling in, the misspelled, hand-painted signs, and I felt okay. It was quite odd, actually, but I didn't really question it. I just sort of had a feeling that it was going to be okay. Something felt recognizable, some analogy to someplace else I'd been, and I calmed down a little bit.
We finally made it to the apartment after a number of wrong turns and having to ask for directions a handful of times (that made me feel more comfortable, actually). I walked up the (unlit) stairs and found the place. I felt bad for ringing the doorbell so late, but it seemed like everyone was up once I walked in. There are six guys living here in three bedrooms (I'm sharing a room), so there's a lot going on just within the apartment already. One of the six is the main guy (I don't think he owns the place, but it's clearly his to be renting), who is very nice, self-employed (software developer or something?) and works from home. Another is the manager of a big department store (some UK chain I'd vaguely heard of) at this huge mall nearby. One guy works at JP Morgan, although I don't know doing what. One guy I don't know much about. The department store guy (my roommate) and JP Morgan wanted to talk, so we were up until 2 talking. They both wanted to know a lot about Harvard, which was fine to talk about. I'm avoiding being very specific about what I'm here to do because of its ties to the gay community (and who knows how that might go down...my sense is probably fine, but you never know), so I'm planning on not talking about my own work very much.
Last but not least is the full time servant, who is one of the six who lives here. I think that's more than standard, at least among all the other places I was looking to stay, but it's still so weird to me. He cooks all the meals, cleans, does the laundry, etc. Like, he brought me tea in bed (at my roommate's request, since I still have no idea what the hell's going on and I don't think Sanjay, the servant, speaks much English). I think I just equate this level of "help" as either extravagant and unnecessary or makes me think of slavery. Either way, it's weird.
The one thing that I can now smell and otherwise understand is what this weather.com forecast means. The general forecast is always "Sunny", but the actual details are:
Right.
So the goals for the day are to head out to the mall, get a SIM card, walk around the neighborhood a bit, call the people I'm working with to connect up with them, and just kick it. I also have to go to the supermarket for bottled water and toilet paper (I so forgot about that, and there's clearly none here).
Labels: airports, india, mumbai, transitions, transportation, travel
There's some hot new music coming out this fall that I'm excited about. I've fallen into a music funk lately, mostly due to being away from iTunes for the summer, and secondarily as an attempt to spent less frivolously, and thus not buying much new music.
However, come fall, it's on.
I'm a big proponent of albums to mark the transition into a new season. It just seems fitting to find a new soundtrack to complete the change. And fortunately, this year, there's a lot to look forward to. Here's my short list:
The New Pornographers have something new out today, in fact. Here's a glimpse. They're in Boston 10/23.
The Go! Team has something new coming out in either September or October, and will be in Boston on 10/25. They're aways a good party.
Beiruit also has some new EP coming out that sounds really good. It's called Lawn Gisland. Appropriately, they'll (really he'll) be in NYC 9/24-25.
Dreamy, Jens Lekman is also having something new coming out. Did I mention he's dreamy? He's going to be in Boston 10/29. There's a glimpse at Stereoscope, a favorite music blog, which you can find here. It's discotastic. And dreamy.
Other new things (Boston concert dates in parentheses): Stars (10/19), Spoon (10/17), Junior Senior (missed them in august; the new CD starts with handclaps), and MIA is getting great reviews.
Looks like the second half of October is going to be a busy concert season. Conveniently timed with Fall midterms and Fall1 finals. Music will probably win out.
However, come fall, it's on.
I'm a big proponent of albums to mark the transition into a new season. It just seems fitting to find a new soundtrack to complete the change. And fortunately, this year, there's a lot to look forward to. Here's my short list:
The New Pornographers have something new out today, in fact. Here's a glimpse. They're in Boston 10/23.
The Go! Team has something new coming out in either September or October, and will be in Boston on 10/25. They're aways a good party.
Beiruit also has some new EP coming out that sounds really good. It's called Lawn Gisland. Appropriately, they'll (really he'll) be in NYC 9/24-25.
Dreamy, Jens Lekman is also having something new coming out. Did I mention he's dreamy? He's going to be in Boston 10/29. There's a glimpse at Stereoscope, a favorite music blog, which you can find here. It's discotastic. And dreamy.
Other new things (Boston concert dates in parentheses): Stars (10/19), Spoon (10/17), Junior Senior (missed them in august; the new CD starts with handclaps), and MIA is getting great reviews.
Looks like the second half of October is going to be a busy concert season. Conveniently timed with Fall midterms and Fall1 finals. Music will probably win out.
Labels: fall, music, transitions
Joburg, then Leaving On a Jetplane
0 Comments Published by Ben on Tuesday, August 14, 2007 at 6:37 PM.
I took the bus back from Maputo, getting in around 5pm. I made a call to the place where I was staying, and a driver came to get me quickly. I wanted out of that bus terminal ASAP.
The place where I stayed was a full-on internet Monet. There was some story about it being this palace some dude built back in the day. All I know is that it was now sort of dingy and a little gross. I had a room to myself, fortunately, although I don't think it was actually much nicer than any of the dorm options. But it was fine.
Joburg was cold and overcast the whole time I was there, which made my anticipation for leaving even stronger. I barely had 24 hours there, so it wasn't a big deal, but if I've learned anything lately, it's within that amount of time before travel, I just get antsy. I want to get going already. So my whole time there sort of felt like that.
When I checked in, I did ask if there was a crafts market somewhere closeby, and fortunately there was. There was little worth buying in Malawi, and the one in Mozambique was just too busy and overwhelming. I needed to pick up a few things, so I planed to do that in the morning to kill some time. It was apparently a 20 minute walk, which seemed easy enough at the time.
The thing about Joburg is that there is security EVERYWHERE. Seriously, every house has a tall cement wall, a security system, either barbed wire or an electric fence, and often a guard dog and/or human guard. And along the walk, house after house, it just sort of got to me. I noticed getting physically more and more tense, especially since there were few other people walking around. The security quickly became so absorbed that I even found myself becoming sketched out by any black south africans I saw. It was so weird. It's almost like the security system becomes a chicken/egg phenomenon, or maybe more appropriately a self-fulfilling prophecy. The place just made me so tense and uneasy; I just didn't like it.
I got what I needed to get, got some lunch, and then it was time to get to the airport. I flew from Joburg to Cape Town, then London (where I had only 1.5 hrs layover, had to get a security guard to escort me to the front of the transfer line and even then had to run about half a mile because my gate was closing), then New York, then Boston.
The place where I stayed was a full-on internet Monet. There was some story about it being this palace some dude built back in the day. All I know is that it was now sort of dingy and a little gross. I had a room to myself, fortunately, although I don't think it was actually much nicer than any of the dorm options. But it was fine.
Joburg was cold and overcast the whole time I was there, which made my anticipation for leaving even stronger. I barely had 24 hours there, so it wasn't a big deal, but if I've learned anything lately, it's within that amount of time before travel, I just get antsy. I want to get going already. So my whole time there sort of felt like that.
When I checked in, I did ask if there was a crafts market somewhere closeby, and fortunately there was. There was little worth buying in Malawi, and the one in Mozambique was just too busy and overwhelming. I needed to pick up a few things, so I planed to do that in the morning to kill some time. It was apparently a 20 minute walk, which seemed easy enough at the time.
The thing about Joburg is that there is security EVERYWHERE. Seriously, every house has a tall cement wall, a security system, either barbed wire or an electric fence, and often a guard dog and/or human guard. And along the walk, house after house, it just sort of got to me. I noticed getting physically more and more tense, especially since there were few other people walking around. The security quickly became so absorbed that I even found myself becoming sketched out by any black south africans I saw. It was so weird. It's almost like the security system becomes a chicken/egg phenomenon, or maybe more appropriately a self-fulfilling prophecy. The place just made me so tense and uneasy; I just didn't like it.
I got what I needed to get, got some lunch, and then it was time to get to the airport. I flew from Joburg to Cape Town, then London (where I had only 1.5 hrs layover, had to get a security guard to escort me to the front of the transfer line and even then had to run about half a mile because my gate was closing), then New York, then Boston.
Labels: johannesburg, south africa, transitions, travel
I flew out of Lilongwe on a Tuesday. Like the flight in, the plane was about 3/4ths Americans, which was a little odd. In fact, someone I knew was on the plane The azungu magnet is really strong, no doubt.
I got into Jo'burg around 4:00, picked up my bags, got some cash, and went to find the information booth to find a bus that apparently goes from the airport to the bus station. I find a police officer instead, who tells me there is no such bus, but to take a taxi instead. I needed to get to the bus station ultimately for an overnight bus to Maputo, but since I couldn't hang out at the bus station (or get there for cheap on this bus to pick up my ticket before heading back out), I take him up on the suggestion.
He directs me to a driver, and I pay what seems like an exorbitant amount of money to get into Jo'burg (it was like $35, which is cheaper than to get into Manhattan from JFK, but seems like an arm and a leg compared to Malawi prices). There was traffic on the freeway, so we cut through town, which they're not actually supposed to do because of crime, particularly car-jacking, but it actually made for a nice tour of the city. At Simon's suggestion, I went to Melville, which is this cute neighborhood on the west side of the city, sort of like the South End in Boston or Dupont in DC. I got out of the cab, making up some story that I was meeting friends for dinner, and the driver was insistent on seeing me inside. He sort of rubbed me the wrong way the whole drive in--he was a nice enough guy, I didn't feel unsafe, but he wouldn't stop complaining about everything that was wrong with South Africa. Apparently, it was the Nigerians, Congolese, and Zimbabweans who were ruining everything and making it unsafe. Right. In any event, I tried to ditch him as best I could, knowing full well that he would want to take me to the bus station later. I told him I'd call him if I couldn't get a ride from my friends, and hoped he'd bugger off.
Simon had suggested a particular intersection of Melville, so to avoid looking like I didn't know where I was going, I just went in the first place I could find. I had a nice meal, essentially mediterranean/greek food, then walked down the block to a bakery and hung out there for a while, hit a bookstore next door to pick up books in English while I had the chance, and then got in a cab (the girls at the bakery called it for me) and went to the bus station.
I was catching a 10:00pm bus and got to the station around 9:00. It was *so* sketchy. The station itself is quite large and enclosed, but getting into the drop off area was dark and not well lit. The driver chided me for putting my wallet in my back pocket. "This is Joburg, man. Keep that where they can't get it," he said. I was a little weirded out, but I wasn't really feeling unsafe until he suggested that I should be. I quickly went from the car inside to find the ticket office, and sit and wait. I saw three other Americans waiting for the same bus, which made me feel slightly better, but there were a bunch of drunk guys around inside asking for money which made me stay a bit tense. In retrospect, it was not entirely unlike being at Port Authority at night, which is sketchy in its own right. But by virtue of it being notoriously unsafe Joburg, I just felt tense the whole time.
Fortunately we got on the bus and took off no problem. I had strategically placed myself with a bag next to me and ended up getting two seats to myself, which was a gift on a crowded bus and actually afforded me a few hours of sleep. Including the two hours that we were essentially parked on the road at the border waiting for it to open.
Once the border opened (at 6:00), we were told to get off the bus, and not really much more than that. I grabbed my stuff and followed people into this building, waited in line, handed over my passport to be stamped, and then dismissed. I thought, "wow, that was really easy. I didn't even have to pay for my visa afterall." Oh naive me. It was only after being dismissed did I realize that I had only just left South Africa.
We leave that building and have to walk up this hill, across the border. It wasn't far, but it did seem pretty weird to be crossing the border by foot.
The Mozambique side was not nearly as calm and efficient as the South African. There was just a crowd of people standing outside the building in a couple of different lines, with an armed guard blocking one door. We realize that one of the lines is for mine workers only (Mozambicans coming back from the South African mines), so we went to the other one. And while there was plenty of space inside, the guy wasn't letting anyone in. After a little while of waiting patiently, I looked back at the other Americans, one of whom suggested that she use her US Embassy badge (they were peace corps volunteers and so she had something from when she was at one of the embassies). I said that I would go and see what an American passport would get me before that. I walked up, looked the guy in the eye, showed my American passport and walked in no problem. It's very good to be an American sometimes.
Then the problem arose that I didn't have a visa and needed to get one. There was absolutely no direction or help as to how to do that, so I just got in line. It wasn't until I got to the front of the line that the bus driver saw me and pulled me aside. "Yes, I need a visa," I told him. He grabbed a form, scribbled it complete for me, and told me to say that I was with these three other passengers he was helping get visas. I did that and proceeded to wait with them.
And wait. And wait.
In total, we were there for 2 hours. He finally emerged again, behind the actual immigration desk where he must have been pushing these through. One of the women was waiting on like 14 different passports for her whole group, but it still seemed like we were there for four times as long as it "should have" taken. I'd heard that it was easy (and about half the cost) to get a visa at the border than from one of the Mozambique embassies. I was quickly disabused of that idea.
We finally get back to the bus, with the driver announcing as we ran to the bus that the other passengers were getting annoyed. Oh well. We hopped on and quickly took off. Only to stop about 3 kms later, pulling off to the side of the road for no apparent reason. After about another half-hour, some guy comes on the bus yelling at the woman who was waiting for the 14 passports, and it became clear that we'd left him behind. Oops.
Within another hour and a half and we're in Maputo after all.
I got into Jo'burg around 4:00, picked up my bags, got some cash, and went to find the information booth to find a bus that apparently goes from the airport to the bus station. I find a police officer instead, who tells me there is no such bus, but to take a taxi instead. I needed to get to the bus station ultimately for an overnight bus to Maputo, but since I couldn't hang out at the bus station (or get there for cheap on this bus to pick up my ticket before heading back out), I take him up on the suggestion.
He directs me to a driver, and I pay what seems like an exorbitant amount of money to get into Jo'burg (it was like $35, which is cheaper than to get into Manhattan from JFK, but seems like an arm and a leg compared to Malawi prices). There was traffic on the freeway, so we cut through town, which they're not actually supposed to do because of crime, particularly car-jacking, but it actually made for a nice tour of the city. At Simon's suggestion, I went to Melville, which is this cute neighborhood on the west side of the city, sort of like the South End in Boston or Dupont in DC. I got out of the cab, making up some story that I was meeting friends for dinner, and the driver was insistent on seeing me inside. He sort of rubbed me the wrong way the whole drive in--he was a nice enough guy, I didn't feel unsafe, but he wouldn't stop complaining about everything that was wrong with South Africa. Apparently, it was the Nigerians, Congolese, and Zimbabweans who were ruining everything and making it unsafe. Right. In any event, I tried to ditch him as best I could, knowing full well that he would want to take me to the bus station later. I told him I'd call him if I couldn't get a ride from my friends, and hoped he'd bugger off.
Simon had suggested a particular intersection of Melville, so to avoid looking like I didn't know where I was going, I just went in the first place I could find. I had a nice meal, essentially mediterranean/greek food, then walked down the block to a bakery and hung out there for a while, hit a bookstore next door to pick up books in English while I had the chance, and then got in a cab (the girls at the bakery called it for me) and went to the bus station.
I was catching a 10:00pm bus and got to the station around 9:00. It was *so* sketchy. The station itself is quite large and enclosed, but getting into the drop off area was dark and not well lit. The driver chided me for putting my wallet in my back pocket. "This is Joburg, man. Keep that where they can't get it," he said. I was a little weirded out, but I wasn't really feeling unsafe until he suggested that I should be. I quickly went from the car inside to find the ticket office, and sit and wait. I saw three other Americans waiting for the same bus, which made me feel slightly better, but there were a bunch of drunk guys around inside asking for money which made me stay a bit tense. In retrospect, it was not entirely unlike being at Port Authority at night, which is sketchy in its own right. But by virtue of it being notoriously unsafe Joburg, I just felt tense the whole time.
Fortunately we got on the bus and took off no problem. I had strategically placed myself with a bag next to me and ended up getting two seats to myself, which was a gift on a crowded bus and actually afforded me a few hours of sleep. Including the two hours that we were essentially parked on the road at the border waiting for it to open.
Once the border opened (at 6:00), we were told to get off the bus, and not really much more than that. I grabbed my stuff and followed people into this building, waited in line, handed over my passport to be stamped, and then dismissed. I thought, "wow, that was really easy. I didn't even have to pay for my visa afterall." Oh naive me. It was only after being dismissed did I realize that I had only just left South Africa.
We leave that building and have to walk up this hill, across the border. It wasn't far, but it did seem pretty weird to be crossing the border by foot.
The Mozambique side was not nearly as calm and efficient as the South African. There was just a crowd of people standing outside the building in a couple of different lines, with an armed guard blocking one door. We realize that one of the lines is for mine workers only (Mozambicans coming back from the South African mines), so we went to the other one. And while there was plenty of space inside, the guy wasn't letting anyone in. After a little while of waiting patiently, I looked back at the other Americans, one of whom suggested that she use her US Embassy badge (they were peace corps volunteers and so she had something from when she was at one of the embassies). I said that I would go and see what an American passport would get me before that. I walked up, looked the guy in the eye, showed my American passport and walked in no problem. It's very good to be an American sometimes.
Then the problem arose that I didn't have a visa and needed to get one. There was absolutely no direction or help as to how to do that, so I just got in line. It wasn't until I got to the front of the line that the bus driver saw me and pulled me aside. "Yes, I need a visa," I told him. He grabbed a form, scribbled it complete for me, and told me to say that I was with these three other passengers he was helping get visas. I did that and proceeded to wait with them.
And wait. And wait.
In total, we were there for 2 hours. He finally emerged again, behind the actual immigration desk where he must have been pushing these through. One of the women was waiting on like 14 different passports for her whole group, but it still seemed like we were there for four times as long as it "should have" taken. I'd heard that it was easy (and about half the cost) to get a visa at the border than from one of the Mozambique embassies. I was quickly disabused of that idea.
We finally get back to the bus, with the driver announcing as we ran to the bus that the other passengers were getting annoyed. Oh well. We hopped on and quickly took off. Only to stop about 3 kms later, pulling off to the side of the road for no apparent reason. After about another half-hour, some guy comes on the bus yelling at the woman who was waiting for the 14 passports, and it became clear that we'd left him behind. Oops.
Within another hour and a half and we're in Maputo after all.
Labels: malawi, maputo, south africa, transitions, transportation, travel
It was actually really sad to leave, more than I thought. I think it was helpful that it came in waves: I left work and work people on Friday, then Kayesa on Saturday, then split from Lauren and Kim on Saturday, then everyone else on Monday. But in the car ride to Lilongwe on Saturday, after we left Kayesa, which included a fond farewell from the staff to see us off, it first hit. I turned around and said, "Wow. I just left Mchinji. I don't really know what to do with that." to the girls in the back. And it was true, I didn't really know what to make of it.
For all my anxieties going into the trip (most of which hit like a ton of bricks just before leaving), I knew all along on some level that this was the thing that I was supposed to do this summer. But like most everything, I had no idea why and how until it was over.
I feel like I grew up a lot in seven weeks, got over a lot of things--patterns, fears, habits, inhibitions--that I was ready to shed, and identified some other ones as well. The work I was doing really forced me to get out of myself, to ask for help, to be persistent and follow through, to be patient, to admit that I don't already have all the answers or can figure it out alone, most of which are otherwise pretty standard modus operandi.
This was the first time that I had ever really been a foreigner. In some key ways, this was very much doing what many peoples' college study abroad experiences seem to do. I'd never been challenged (or felt challenged) by being an outsider before. I was always traveling somewhere where I knew the language, was with someone always who did, or where everyone I was meeting spoke English. My cultural and other biases hadn't really been put to the test yet either--I am really glad that I could start to see things from other perspectives and not just stay in my own. I was out of my comfort zone a lot, away from many things that keep me grounded (which I now see how much I take them for granted), and had to just keep moving through it all. I had to try things that had been things I was/would have been reluctant (or resistant) to take up at home.
A key reason why I chose to go abroad was to use this as a test run for working internationally, and I think this trip also served that function really well. I definitely think that I could live the expat life from spending those last few nights and some others early on living with expats. But I also have a sense of living in the real "field," and what that means. There are limitations of both settings, but suffice it to say that what I want and think I can handle is much clearer in this regard as well.
Lastly, but certainly not least, I feel like I have a really strong focus on what sort of work I want to do, what interests me, and what I'm hoping for professionally in the future. Some of that is a matter of topic of work (not just about a certain disease or population, but really addressing the distant determinants of health by non-directly health policy related work), some is about level of work and influence (i.e., living in the city as an expat, or in the field more as a direct worker), and some is a matter of what gaps do I see that I need to fill in the next year to get there.
In short, I guess I feel rejuvenated, much clearer about myself and who I want to be professionally and personally. It might not have changed my life, but I'm pretty certain it's changed me.
For all my anxieties going into the trip (most of which hit like a ton of bricks just before leaving), I knew all along on some level that this was the thing that I was supposed to do this summer. But like most everything, I had no idea why and how until it was over.
I feel like I grew up a lot in seven weeks, got over a lot of things--patterns, fears, habits, inhibitions--that I was ready to shed, and identified some other ones as well. The work I was doing really forced me to get out of myself, to ask for help, to be persistent and follow through, to be patient, to admit that I don't already have all the answers or can figure it out alone, most of which are otherwise pretty standard modus operandi.
This was the first time that I had ever really been a foreigner. In some key ways, this was very much doing what many peoples' college study abroad experiences seem to do. I'd never been challenged (or felt challenged) by being an outsider before. I was always traveling somewhere where I knew the language, was with someone always who did, or where everyone I was meeting spoke English. My cultural and other biases hadn't really been put to the test yet either--I am really glad that I could start to see things from other perspectives and not just stay in my own. I was out of my comfort zone a lot, away from many things that keep me grounded (which I now see how much I take them for granted), and had to just keep moving through it all. I had to try things that had been things I was/would have been reluctant (or resistant) to take up at home.
A key reason why I chose to go abroad was to use this as a test run for working internationally, and I think this trip also served that function really well. I definitely think that I could live the expat life from spending those last few nights and some others early on living with expats. But I also have a sense of living in the real "field," and what that means. There are limitations of both settings, but suffice it to say that what I want and think I can handle is much clearer in this regard as well.
Lastly, but certainly not least, I feel like I have a really strong focus on what sort of work I want to do, what interests me, and what I'm hoping for professionally in the future. Some of that is a matter of topic of work (not just about a certain disease or population, but really addressing the distant determinants of health by non-directly health policy related work), some is about level of work and influence (i.e., living in the city as an expat, or in the field more as a direct worker), and some is a matter of what gaps do I see that I need to fill in the next year to get there.
In short, I guess I feel rejuvenated, much clearer about myself and who I want to be professionally and personally. It might not have changed my life, but I'm pretty certain it's changed me.
Labels: Lake Malawi, mchinji, transitions
Travelin Thru (and it's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday)
0 Comments Published by Ben on at 9:17 AM.
My last 24 hours in Malawi were in Lilongwe, essentially just waiting to fly out. We got back from Senga Bay around lunchtime, when we met Simon at a favorite lunch spot (sesame chicken, and well done; I opted for a burger which came raw, and then fell back to the sesame chicken for my second attempt), and other people from Kayesa came by on their way from the airport. I was glad to have seen Alicia (one from Kayesa) one final time.
We (Heather, Emily, Simon, and I) did our regular pilgrimage to the big grocery store, and then Simon and I were going in the same direction, so we took a minibus across town. I has asked D if I could stay with her this last night--she is housesitting for a colleague who was on leave for the month and I wanted to avoid paying for a hotel if I could help it. She agreed with no problem, so I hung out at a hotel nearby her place until she was off of work.
She picked me up on her way, we hung out and cooked a stir-fry with her roommate (there are two house-sitters), had some chocolate and tea to finish and ended up having a great conversation just the two of us at the end. A lot of it was around being alone, or okay in your own skin, much of which actually foreshadowed this trip.
The next morning I just hung out at the house, watched some TV once the power came back on (and by tv, I mean The New Mickey Mouse Club E! True Hollywood Story specifically) until my taxi came. I got to the airport a bit too early (like an hour, really), but I just hung out, got a coke, and made some calls to say goodbye to people. And then I left Malawi.
We (Heather, Emily, Simon, and I) did our regular pilgrimage to the big grocery store, and then Simon and I were going in the same direction, so we took a minibus across town. I has asked D if I could stay with her this last night--she is housesitting for a colleague who was on leave for the month and I wanted to avoid paying for a hotel if I could help it. She agreed with no problem, so I hung out at a hotel nearby her place until she was off of work.
She picked me up on her way, we hung out and cooked a stir-fry with her roommate (there are two house-sitters), had some chocolate and tea to finish and ended up having a great conversation just the two of us at the end. A lot of it was around being alone, or okay in your own skin, much of which actually foreshadowed this trip.
The next morning I just hung out at the house, watched some TV once the power came back on (and by tv, I mean The New Mickey Mouse Club E! True Hollywood Story specifically) until my taxi came. I got to the airport a bit too early (like an hour, really), but I just hung out, got a coke, and made some calls to say goodbye to people. And then I left Malawi.
Labels: food, lilongwe, malawi, transitions, travel
Recap on my last week in Mchinji
1. It sunk in that I was leaving.
2. It sunk in that I had a lot of work left to do.
3. I panicked a little.
4. I calmed down.
5. I got to down work.
5a. At one point, I was going to take a motorbike out by myself, but it was deemed unsafe for me to drive alone. Not for any external safety reasons, just because I was clearly a novice and too erratic on the bike. I'm sure the show of the azungu doing (poor) laps around the flagpole outside the office was a sight.
5b. I hired a taxi, rode more public transport, and at one point, got a ride from D, the other intern who was in town representing the funder with dedicated transportation, to where I needed to go.
6. I ended up getting a lot of work done.
7. An impending departure made my own limitations clear and I started going easier on myself about not getting to do everything I wanted to.
7a. I feel like I had just hit my stride here last weekend and now it was suddenly time to leave. I could easily have spent another two weeks to a month to dig into the work I was doing to have experienced more and get a better product. When I got here eight weeks seemed like an eternity; now it seems like I just got here and I'm not quite ready (personally or professionally) to leave.
8. Six and seven were directly facilitated by a good talk to C, whom I have only spoken with twice since she left.
9. I had that I-just-took-my-last-final feeling after my last meeting on Friday afternoon. I realized that one some level, I was getting some closure and wrap up from the whole experience, a cosmic sign that it's the right time to go.
10. I left (see next post).
1. It sunk in that I was leaving.
2. It sunk in that I had a lot of work left to do.
3. I panicked a little.
4. I calmed down.
5. I got to down work.
5a. At one point, I was going to take a motorbike out by myself, but it was deemed unsafe for me to drive alone. Not for any external safety reasons, just because I was clearly a novice and too erratic on the bike. I'm sure the show of the azungu doing (poor) laps around the flagpole outside the office was a sight.
5b. I hired a taxi, rode more public transport, and at one point, got a ride from D, the other intern who was in town representing the funder with dedicated transportation, to where I needed to go.
6. I ended up getting a lot of work done.
7. An impending departure made my own limitations clear and I started going easier on myself about not getting to do everything I wanted to.
7a. I feel like I had just hit my stride here last weekend and now it was suddenly time to leave. I could easily have spent another two weeks to a month to dig into the work I was doing to have experienced more and get a better product. When I got here eight weeks seemed like an eternity; now it seems like I just got here and I'm not quite ready (personally or professionally) to leave.
8. Six and seven were directly facilitated by a good talk to C, whom I have only spoken with twice since she left.
9. I had that I-just-took-my-last-final feeling after my last meeting on Friday afternoon. I realized that one some level, I was getting some closure and wrap up from the whole experience, a cosmic sign that it's the right time to go.
10. I left (see next post).
Labels: azungu, malawi, mchinji, transitions
like dave matthews, so much to say
0 Comments Published by Ben on Wednesday, August 01, 2007 at 9:33 AM.
i'm writing this from maputo, mozambique; specifically, from this really interesting arts space that has a food cafe, internet cafe, gallery and performance spaces. I think I am going to come here tomorrow night for a dance performance and Friday night for a chorus something or other (my portguese is based on abstracting from my french, which is to say, pretty poor these days...thus, i couldnt read the poster very well to see exactly what it was). But in any event, besides fighting with a non-english keyboard here, i am quite enjoying myself so far. I have plenty of updates on my laptop to upload about finishing up things in malawi and then getting here just this morning, but i just wanted to put up something to say that i am around still. plenty of stories, maybe even pictures to come soon. in the meantime, i am really enjoying maputo, whose character puts lilongze to shame for sure. in any event, more soon.
Hard to believe i will be back in the states this time next week...time really does fly...
Hard to believe i will be back in the states this time next week...time really does fly...
Labels: malawi, mauto, transitions, travel
Two weeks from now I'll be in Malawi.
People keep asking how I'm feeling about it, whether I'm excited/ready/nervous or not, and I don't really have a good response. I tend to say, "not yet," to be polite and stop myself from oversharing my emotional and psychological process about it. The real answer is I don't feel anything yet. I did have a good meeting about it yesterday and left feeling jazzed about going. So it's becoming more and more imminent and slightly less abstract, but I'm still too much in the transition to make much sense of it all.
Part of this transition is school ending, which hasn't sunk in yet. The end of the semester was a whirlwind that didn't end for me until three days ago. It's a little surreal to be be halfway done this program. And moreso to be saying goodbye to people for the summer. I've come to expect to see certain people everyday and they're not there anymore. The plane crash analogy really does seem to apply--somehow we're all surviving this thing together. It's feels awkward to split off and go do our own things again. I guess that's partly why I want to keep some central place to tell people what's going on; otherwise this summer just becomes a three line introduction in a class in Fall1 that no one really knows about. I don't know why I'm feeling weirdly existential about the end of the year, but I am. The building feels really empty without students here. Kae will have to be my rock through the transition. I will double check what she gives me back.
What I do know right now is that I'm definitely not ready. For anything, it seems. I essentially have to pack and move out before when my subletter arrives on Saturday. I'm going to the doctor on Friday to get malaria meds and any shots I didn't get for Kenya. I need: to find things like my outlet converter and my kenyan cell phone (and get it unlocked); figure out Skype, which seems to be the cheapest way to call back and forth; finish getting Medex insurance; resolve logistics for the apartment while I'm gone; buy a bunch of stuff--a few new clothes, body products; see people where possible; settle things up on the projects I'm working on at school.
It seems like a lot but it always gets done...so long as I do it. In the meantime, I'm heading to MD this weekend, which will be a good break.
***
A post-script, disclaimer, and introduction:
I've never been totally clear on how I feel about or what I want from a personal blog. I've had them in various iterations over the years (one of which spawned this domain name; see below for more details); they always become something between a past-tense to-do list or ramblings on whatever came into my head, neither of which I thought were very interesting. Plus there's that weird conversation where you start to tell a story someone had already read on your blog. They're also more demanding than I think; posts, even bad ones, take a while to write. All previous attempts have thus been doomed to fail. A major benefit, however, is efficiency: I can keep in touch with people--more accurately, more people can keep up on what I'm doing--faster and easier by posting in one place. So, (previous failures => existing domain name) + (Upcoming trip with limited email access) + Efficiency = Blog.
About the name: Yeah, Hon was available, seemed like a nice homage to Maryland roots, and represented my intentions for a chatty blog. For more thoughts or verification on the "hon" phenominon, check here, here, or here. It clearly has nothing to do with Malawi. Or Boston. Just go with it.
People keep asking how I'm feeling about it, whether I'm excited/ready/nervous or not, and I don't really have a good response. I tend to say, "not yet," to be polite and stop myself from oversharing my emotional and psychological process about it. The real answer is I don't feel anything yet. I did have a good meeting about it yesterday and left feeling jazzed about going. So it's becoming more and more imminent and slightly less abstract, but I'm still too much in the transition to make much sense of it all.
Part of this transition is school ending, which hasn't sunk in yet. The end of the semester was a whirlwind that didn't end for me until three days ago. It's a little surreal to be be halfway done this program. And moreso to be saying goodbye to people for the summer. I've come to expect to see certain people everyday and they're not there anymore. The plane crash analogy really does seem to apply--somehow we're all surviving this thing together. It's feels awkward to split off and go do our own things again. I guess that's partly why I want to keep some central place to tell people what's going on; otherwise this summer just becomes a three line introduction in a class in Fall1 that no one really knows about. I don't know why I'm feeling weirdly existential about the end of the year, but I am. The building feels really empty without students here. Kae will have to be my rock through the transition. I will double check what she gives me back.
What I do know right now is that I'm definitely not ready. For anything, it seems. I essentially have to pack and move out before when my subletter arrives on Saturday. I'm going to the doctor on Friday to get malaria meds and any shots I didn't get for Kenya. I need: to find things like my outlet converter and my kenyan cell phone (and get it unlocked); figure out Skype, which seems to be the cheapest way to call back and forth; finish getting Medex insurance; resolve logistics for the apartment while I'm gone; buy a bunch of stuff--a few new clothes, body products; see people where possible; settle things up on the projects I'm working on at school.
It seems like a lot but it always gets done...so long as I do it. In the meantime, I'm heading to MD this weekend, which will be a good break.
***
A post-script, disclaimer, and introduction:
I've never been totally clear on how I feel about or what I want from a personal blog. I've had them in various iterations over the years (one of which spawned this domain name; see below for more details); they always become something between a past-tense to-do list or ramblings on whatever came into my head, neither of which I thought were very interesting. Plus there's that weird conversation where you start to tell a story someone had already read on your blog. They're also more demanding than I think; posts, even bad ones, take a while to write. All previous attempts have thus been doomed to fail. A major benefit, however, is efficiency: I can keep in touch with people--more accurately, more people can keep up on what I'm doing--faster and easier by posting in one place. So, (previous failures => existing domain name) + (Upcoming trip with limited email access) + Efficiency = Blog.
About the name: Yeah, Hon was available, seemed like a nice homage to Maryland roots, and represented my intentions for a chatty blog. For more thoughts or verification on the "hon" phenominon, check here, here, or here. It clearly has nothing to do with Malawi. Or Boston. Just go with it.
Labels: malawi, summer, transitions
