Where in the World Am I?

That's Tollywood, not Bollywood

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 12:31:00 +0000

We found out Mike's next assignment. We are headed to the site of India's second-largest film industry, yet the home of the largest physical film studio in the world. It's the home of the largest snow park in Asia and one of the largest zoos in Asia. It's a burgeoning IT capital.

It's also a city that's more than 400 years old and the region is known for biryani rice dishes.

It's Hyderabad! We are very excited.

But it will be a few months before we leave here, so we suddenly have to do all the things we meant to do here but haven't gotten around to yet. It's going to be a busy few months.

Newsflash: The Sun Is Strong on the Equator

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 17:41:00 +0000

When I went to bed on Sunday night I noticed my shoulders were sore. I hadn't done anything with them to warrant soreness, no lifting of weights or wearing of heavy packs. I fell asleep and forgot about it until the next morning.

The next morning my shoulders and the back of my neck were bright red. Like lobster shoulders. I'd worn a t-shirt all day Sunday. I could see the lines on my shoulder from the tank top I'd worn on Saturday.

Saturday!

Saturday was the day of the Marine Corps Ball. I was at the tent most of the day helping the Marines set up. I made a conscious effort to stay under the tent all day. The only time I was out from under the tent was the seven minutes I spent walking between my house and the tent. That's how strong the sun is here on the equator and that's how sensitive my skin is.

I must have taken idiot pills instead of my vitamin on Saturday morning. Why didn't I put on sunblock? I've lived here for over a year with absolutely no sunburn and it's because I'm obsessed with staying pale and moisturized. I never step outside without it. What happened to me?

On the bright side, the redness did not appear on my shoulders on Saturday night, while I was wearing a strapless party dress. I'm all itchy-shouldered now, but I had a great time on Saturday night.

I'm a gluten-free athlete

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 06:00:00 +0000

Hey, I've been profiled as a gluten-free athlete! Check it out at the Gluten-Free Fitness blog. Thanks Erin!

Be sure to bookmark Erin's blog for lots of gluten-free fitness information.

Halloween with Some Local Legends

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 05:57:00 +0000

We actually had Halloween last weekend, because last night was the Marine Corps Birthday Ball. Two entirely different kinds of dressing up.

For last weekend's party, Mike and I went as two local legends:

If you've been paying attention recently, you can probably guess.

Gustave and Patrice Faye!

I have awesome skills with cardboard and green paint.

Sometimes We Only Have Ourselves

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 11:23:00 +0000

On Monday evening just as we arrived home we received a message. The guards at a friend’s house had called the guards at our house. The housestaff was concerned because they hadn’t seen Madame all day and her bedroom door was closed. Her husband was out of town and not expected back for a few days. We decided to stop by the house to make sure everything was okay. Another friend was with us. We hoped to be just some folks stopping by, all neighborly like, but there was a palpable feel in the car that we were more like a search party.

When we first pulled up to the house, I noticed the outside porch lights on and felt relief, thinking she'd turned them on. But then Mike mentioned that the guards probably turned them on. We banged on the front door, no answer. We banged on side doors and back doors, no answer. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard a faint sound from inside the house. They have a lot of animals, though, including a noisy parrot, so I couldn’t confirm the sound. But Mike heard the definite cry of a person in distress inside the house.

We returned to the front door. It was locked and our copy of the spare key didn’t work. Fortunately for this situation (but not great for other circumstances) Mike was able to break in. He came back around from the inside and unlocked the door to let me in. He’d heard our friend crying from her bedroom. I rushed back there.

She’d been seriously ill all day, vomiting and dizzy. On one hand, we were relieved that things weren’t any worse than that. But on the other, I’m no doctor and with no fever, the symptoms of either malaria or the flu weren’t present, and that was the extent of my amateur diagnosis. Mike called a nurse that I work with. All I could do was provide bedside manner and Gatorade. She was close to dehydration, with all the vomiting and having been too weak to get out of bed for anything to drink all day. She was fairly lucid though, and directed me around the house to make sure all her pets were fed: birds, fish, and a dog.

Once the nurse arrived, I let her take over. My friend kept saying we shouldn’t have come, she’s been sick like this before, she didn’t want people to make a fuss over her. But I say that if you’re so sick and weak that you can’t get out of bed for 10 hours even for a glass of water, that’s when it’s time to call for help. Having guards around the house all the time makes you feel like you’re never alone. Sometimes that’s annoying, but other times it’s nice to know someone’s watching out for you.

The nurse stayed with her all night. We left after Mike did some repair work to the window he’d broken in through. The next morning, she was much better and called me at work to thank me. She still insisted that all the fuss wasn’t necessary, but she did appreciate it. The nurse thinks it might actually be some sort of inner-ear problem. She’ll be traveling through the States next month so will be able to be checked out.

The evening drilled home how much we have to take care of ourselves here. There’s no 911 to call and we’re lucky the situation wasn’t any worse. I feel a constant need to stay up-to-date and refreshed with my first responders training. In the States it’s easy to take for granted the fact that professional help is just a phone call away. But even in the States, sometimes it’s not. Here’s the most practical lesson I learned from the night: Keep your cell phone charged and make sure your contact list is easy to decipher, in case you have to hand the phone off to someone else to make calls. In a time of distress you don't want to waste seconds or minutes trying to find the right numbers.

How to Pick Up Chicks

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 06:41:00 +0000

We have a new chick. The previous chick died shortly after I announced it to the world. The mother hen, in her exuberance to protect the chick, kept stepping on it. Apparently there have been several chicks that have died even before they were old enough to leave the coop.

A couple weekends ago when some friends came by the house with their kids, the kids stopped and squealed, "A chick!" This was the first I'd seen or heard of it, but there it was. A little yellow speck hopping around after the hen. It already looked larger and stronger than the previous chick, so we had hope for it.

The days have gone by with us respecting the hen and the chick and watching it grow from a distance. It's getting larger and straying further from the protection of the hen, but not too far.

Yesterday some friends came by with their young son, almost two years old. He likes to chase the rooster around the yard but this was the first time he'd seen the chick. The rooster and hen were not happy with him trying to get so close and for a few seconds it looked like they were going to attack him. The rooster actually flapped and squawked and flew right over the kid's head. (Luckily he just laughed, rather than being terrified.) But the hen and rooster, in their attempts to protect the chick, ended up abandoning it. There's a short retaining wall in our yard and while it's a cinch for roosters, hens, and two year olds to scramble over, it's insurmountable for a chick.

Our plan was to catch the chick or at least herd it to another part of the yard where the hen could reunite with it. The chick wanted nothing to do with us, but luckily ran in the direction we wanted him to, toward one of the hen's favorite corners. And under a large bush where no one could see him.

We decided to leave the yard to the chickens so the family could get back together. We went upstairs and watched from the terrace as the hen cautiously made her way down to the bush. The chick started peeping when it realized mamma was nearby. The hen started calling to it. She went into the bush and we expected the chick to follow her out.

Apparently she couldn't convince the chick to leave. She left the bush, and spent the last hour of daylight pacing between the coop and the bush. As the sun was going down, the chick got nervous and started peeping, and even took a few steps out into the yard. But the hen seemed torn between her instincts of going to the coop at sundown and wanting to stay with her chick.

We got headlamps and flashlights in order to make another attempt at catching the chick. The hen was obviously distraught over the situation so we figured the best thing to do was to try and get the chick back to the coop. We came close. We finally saw him, all hunkered down, and succeeded in scaring him out of the bush. Only for him to run too fast for me to catch him without falling, stepping on him, or dropping a flashlight on him. He ran around for a bit, luring us away from the bush, then scootered right back in. By this time it was quite dark. We thought it was best for nature to take its course and wait until morning. We had two social engagements (a rarity for us!) so couldn't spend all night searching for a chick that didn't want to be found.

We were pretty distressed at the thought of losing another animal. Nature, Africa, circle of life, and all that stuff. It gets exhausting after a while.

Our night guards were having trouble getting the hen and rooster into the coop. They are the ones who close it up for the night and open it every morning. The hen had disappeared and they thought continuing the chick search would bring her out of hiding as well. Mike said to give him 15 more minutes of searching time, then he'd quit to get dressed and go out. He went back out into the yard armed with more flashlights and headlamps for the guards.

I decided not to watch. I could here cheeps and squawks and yelps from inside while I was getting ready. I expected the chick to get stepped on and tragically end the whole ordeal. But after a few minutes Mike came back into the house, announcing victory.

The hen had returned to the bush to hunker down for the night with the chick. And this time she wasn't letting it go. Somehow Mike and the guards were able to herd both her and the chick together back toward the coop. The rooster and the hen went in peacefully, but the chick decided to hide under it. So Mike and the guards had to scare the chick out of hiding while the hen and the rooster went berserk inside the coop. Eventually the whole family was safe and sound inside for the night.

They are unusually quiet this morning, but I saw the chick hopping around. Everyone seems to be okay, maybe just a little more wary of us.

A little side note: The bush that the chick and the hen kept returning to was full of eggs! She must be using it as a secret nest, and that's why we keep getting chicks even though the eggs are being collected from the coop regularly.

Soup Trees and Buzzing Bees

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 02:50:00 +0000

When you're out running or walking, and you smell something horrible, and you rule out sewage and burning garbage, it might be what Mike and I refer to as a soup tree. This is a tree that smells terrible when it blooms. It doesn't smell like piping hot tasty soup. It smells like old chicken soup that's been sitting on the counter for three days.

And there's some kind of local bee that loves it. At least, I assume they are bees. The ridiculously loud buzzing sounds coming from the tree indicates, to me at least, zillions of bees. You know how in the fall in New England you might have a bunch of bees swarming around an apple tree? It's kind of like that, only it doesn't smell like sweet fermenting apples.

It's soup and bee season again. I noticed one smelly, buzzing tree on my run on Monday and a second one while running yesterday. We've also been catching periodic whiffs of them from our terrace. Yesterday when I ran under one, I noticed little green specks raining down from it. Whether they were bee droppings or tree droppings, I really didn't want to stick around and find out. I didn't want to end up smelling like that tree.

I'm not complaining about the trees, simply noting them and how I've never smelled a tree before that wasn't sweet when it blooms. I'm sort of fascinated by them and the bees that love them.

We don't have gorgeous fall foliage. We have soup trees.

Check it out

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 10:59:00 +0000

Gluten-free Halloween candy and more this week at What I Eat.

Best Mountain View

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 08:02:00 +0000

Yesterday morning we finally saw the spectacular mountain view that’s been eluding us throughout this so-called rainy season. It gets so hazy during the dry season that we can't see the mountains and it's easy to forget the Congo is just a few kilometers away. I never get tired of the fact that I can see another country from my back porch. (This photo was taken by a friend on a previous wonderful view day from his great back porch view.)

Unfortunately the view is gone again today. This rainy season has brought all of the mosquitos but very little of the nice views and pleasant temperatures that a rainy season is supposed to provide.

Singing & Dancing with Umudeyo

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 16:54:00 +0000

On Friday night we went to a show at the Centre Culturel Francais. It was a group called Umudeyo, a local group that combines traditional Burundian music and dancing with modern music and dancing. Electric guitars onstage beside gourds and sticks.

It was pretty awesome. The dancers were particularly talented and athletic. The songs all told stories and even though they were in Kirundi it was easy to see what they were saying. They were conventional tales of man-woman relationships, youngsters versus elders, and the ever-present land dispute. Apparently these themes are hilarious to Burundians. While I enjoyed the singing and dancing, I just didn't get the jokes.

Umudeyo performs at CCF every couple of months. And with the cafe attached, there's a full night of seeing a show and drinking Amstel.

A University of Hope in Africa

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 12:05:00 +0000

I collect books and manage an internal library for my office. When my office was packed to the gills and people were still bringing books in to me, my boss gave me permission to find a library here in town to donate them to.

My French tutor is a professor of English and Theology at one of the universities here, Hope Africa University. The school teaches in both French and English and they are in severe need of all sorts of books, but especially English-language books. The first person I turned to when I had some books to offload was, of course, my tutor. I had two Webster's dictionaries -- one of them a massive third edition -- and some reference books on Africa. He said the students would love them.

On Friday visited the university for the first time. My French tutor arranged for me to deliver the books in person to the headmaster. It was so great to see the school and meet some of the students and other teachers. The headmaster gave me a tour of the three rooms that make up the library. They have plenty of empty shelves just waiting for books. I can't help but have a soft spot for other English majors and their need for books.

There was a catch. The school is run by American Methodists and my tutor is quite religious. I had to attend chapel on Friday morning. I'm not religious but I was curious to see how the students celebrate. Chapel turned out to be a showcase for some very talented communications majors. Musicians, singers, and actors all get involved. It was an enjoyable service.

It was very inspiring to see how hard these students work. You might say I have hope for them. And I can't wait until the next time I have more books to give them.

Bicycling in Burundi

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 15:42:00 +0000

I have a guest poster. It's Mike! He wanted to share his mountain bike riding adventures. (He posted this on a mountain bike forum as well.) He's got some awesome photos to share at the bottom of the post. Enjoy!

As most of you know, I've been living in Burundi for a little over a year. Living here was an adjustment and work was hectic, and the security situation left us quite restricted. I just wasn't in a place to even think about biking. But things have gotten better and we security goons have been easing back the restrictions for those of us under our provenance. So I reassembled my Turner and rebuilt my Evil into a singlespeed, and we've begun exploring. I take a few security precautions and items of equipment while we're out there, but I still honestly feel that during the day we're just as safe as anywhere else. Medical care and transportation, however, barely exist, so we do play it safe risk-wise while riding.

Burundi is entirely mountainous, except the plain on the lake where the capital of Bujumbura is. There are roads into the hills but the vast, vast majority are unpaved and the main thoroughfares really are footpaths. Outside of a few real population centers, the entire country is evenly rural--very few "wild" places, and pretty much every square inch is lived on/ subsistence farmed by people living in small clusters. There are some larger coffee and tea plantations as well.

So yeah, anyhow, we've started riding up the dirt roads and out into the country and hitting the footpaths, crowded as they are. It's been incredibly liberating and positive and just a damned lot of fun. The tracks we've found have been somewhat technical... tiny off-camber ribbons of dirt with large dropoffs on either side in many cases, and every corner needs to be carefully considered b/c you're liable to run into a dude carrying a bundle of thatch, bananas, or a dinette set on his head.

As soon as we're out, the child network of "Mzungu!" alarms goes out through the countryside and everyone comes running, but we've learned how to handle all the attention and have a good time. We tend to bring big smiles to people's faces, which is nice, and things that seemed aggressive to me months ago I now just know to be business as usual.

We've also hit the roads for some mileage, and really seen how the bicycle is the dominant form of transport here. You see them when you drive, but you just don't see quite how many are parked on the side of the road as you dodge the psycho traffic and motorcycles. We collected a huge peloton of guys loaded with massive towers of bananas, 55g drums, passengers, huge bags of charcoal, etc etc as we headed north on the pavement yesterday. There's a Chinese model of cruiser which completely dominates central/ east Africa. They hook 'em up with rebar cargo racks/ passenger seats, paint 'em with many layers of housepaint, hang decorations all over, and ride these machines everywhere. Having a bike is a pretty big deal. Most of the velo-taxi riders don't even own their bikes, but are working for someone who does.

Alas, during most of this I've been camera-less, and/or just too busy to take photos. But we finally got a camera out on this morning's ride. My battery died before we climbed to the more technical/ singletracky portions, but I did get a few photos from the lower dirt roads/ doubletracks/ wide singletracks. A friend's photos should be available soon and I think he got a few more good ones higher up.

With that, here's this morning's ride:

One of the many portages; erosion is no joke with a heavy rainy season twice a year.

This enterprising kid grabbed my bike and ported it while I was taking the photo, so I let him have a ride.

Taking a short break with some short kids.

Easy spin with mobile cheering and motivation entourage.

(Click on photos to make them larger.)

Hiking Kibira Forest

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 03:59:00 +0000

Recently we packed up our hats and waterbottles and headed out past the village of Bugarama for a guided tour of the Kibira forest with Burundi's own crocodile hunter, Patrice Faye. The forest is beautiful and amazing. It's one of the only bits of undeveloped land in the country. It's an old forest and has a primeval feeling about it. More than one person made a Jurassic Park reference. I honestly would not have been surprised to see a brontosaurus emerge from the leafy canopy.

We started the walk through a tea plantation. I've started recognizing tea bushes by their alarmingly bright green leaves. The path through the plantation is cut lower than the vegetation, so the bushes hang over you. You know you're in a jungle as soon as you step off the road onto the path. The path is nearly invisible and the tea bushes envelope you. Even Patrice walked by the path and one of the local guides brought him back to it. And he does this trek almost every weekend!

From wikipedia: The Kibira National Park is a national park of northwestern Burundi. Overlapping four provinces and covering 400 km², Kibira National Park lies in the mountains of Congo-Nile divide. It extends from the border with Rwanda almost as far south as the town of Muramvya. It is estimated that around 16% pf the park consists of primary evergreen rain forest.... It is composed of montane rain forest containing several vegetation strata.... It is a zone rich in both animal and plant biodiversity: 644 plant species have been found in the park, as well as about 98 species of mammal (primates, servals, African civets, etc.). Bird life is also rich and varied, with 43 families and more than 200 species identified.... More than three-quarters of the water in the country’s largest dam – providing more than 50 percent of the hydroelectric energy consumed – comes from this forest. Thus the park, situated as it is on the Congo-Nile ridge, plays a fundamental role in regulating the hydrological system and protecting against soil erosion.

As you trek through the old-growth forest it gets dark and cool. It's just like being in a movie, with forest-jungle noises all around you. The Kibira is an area where there are still wild chimpanzees, and spotting one was a goal of mine for the day. Unfortunately we didn't see any. But speaking of Jurassic Park, we saw gigantic worms, snails, and slugs. We also saw two vipers. One was an adult, but it was dead. It was very cool to be able to see it close up, harmlessly. The other was a juvenile, but very much alive. Patrice scooped it up to take home. He milks snakes for their venom in order to make antivenoms.

Patrice Faye runs several guided tours throughout Burundi, including a pirogue trip in the Rusizi delta in search of Gustave, the world's largest Nile crocodile. We will definitely be calling on him again. We'd love to spend another day in the forest searching for chimpanzees. I'll leave Gustave alone.

Photos at my flickr album.

Careful, there's a beverage here

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 11:41:00 +0000

Last night we had our much anticipated and much planned La Fete Lebowski, a celebration of all things Big Lebowski. We wore robes, we (Wii) bowled, we watched the film, and we made white russians (which we call mzungus here), a drink with which no Lebowski celebration can be without.

We stockpiled vodka and Kahlua for months. When I traveled through Nairobi earlier this week I grabbed an additional bottle of each from the duty-free shop and it's a good thing, because we opened those last two bottles. They can both be purchased here but can be quite expensive and may not be top quality.

When making white russians in a country where you can't run down to the Ralphs for some half-and-half, it's important to test your recipe ahead of time with the different milks you have available. As far as I'm concerned, white russians made from irradiated pouch milk are utterly disgusting. We decided to use our fresh milk source and everyone raved about how great our white russians were.

In a place where beverage options can be mind-numbingly limited at parties--Coke, Fanta, Primus, Fruito, Amstel grande and Amstel petite--expect that more people will choose to drink your signature drink than, well, you expect. We bought a lot of extra milk for the party and didn't think we'd go through it all. We assumed that the cream, sugar, and alcohol content would keep folks to one or two white russians each. (I certainly couldn't have had more than two without yakking.) But a novel beverage choice was extremely popular and by the time the movie ended we were out of milk; folks were adding dry milk powder, Lebowski-style, to straight Kahlua.

Mike and I took turns tending bar and used a simple, basic recipe:

1 part Kahlua

1 part vodka

1 part full-cream milk

over ice

Some people added additional splashes of their favorite ingredient.

Vodka and other distilled beverages are widely regarded as gluten-free. However, if you're unsure, find a potato-based vodka with no additives. Most sources state Kahlua as being gluten-free. (It sneakily contains dairy, which is what gives some people a reaction; however, if you're drinking white russians I certainly hope you are dairy-tolerant.)

I actually didn't get to drink much white russian. The one that's in the photo is one I made earlier in the day, while we were prepping for the party and testing proportions. I only took a few sips because I didn't want to be wasted before the party even started. Then, later, I made one to drink while watching the film but I put it down on a table for a minute and it disappeared. After the film I tried for the third time, just to discover we were out of milk. And I didn't relish the thought of milk powder so I gave up for the night.

We have enough Kahlua and vodka so that the next time we buy milk I can make a white russian to sit and enjoy quietly.

Cross-posted at What I Eat

On the road

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 03:28:00 +0000

I'm also blogging at What I Eat this week.

Mall Culture Shock

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 14:39:00 +0000

I'm in Nairobi for a couple days. I arrived this afternoon. Tomorrow I'm taking a work-related exam that I've been preparing for for weeks. Nay, months probably. Today should be a day of relaxation and mental preparation. I was doing fine with the relaxation bit until I left my hotel this afternoon to explore the shopping center next door. It's been a long time since I've been in a big mall-like atmosphere and I was looking forward to the change.

I barely lasted an hour in the mall-slash-food-court-slash-supermarket -- with a movie theater, gym, water slide, and mini-golf course -- before I'd had enough. While I enjoyed the novelty of shopping in a gigantic grocery store and picking up some Thai take-away, I didn't enjoy the crowds. A mall is a mall, and the crowd in Nairobi is just as obnoxious as the crowd at Potomac Mills in Northern Virginia. At the time I was there, the mall seemed like it sprawled on forever. But now that I think about it, I don't think it was anywhere near as big as Potomac Mills.

I spent most of my time wandering around the supermarket. It was like a Wal-Mart, with food and other groceries alongside electronics and other household goods. I just wandered around, marveling at how much stuff there was. There's so much stuff out there to buy! What do you do

with it all? Where did it all come from? I've found that I don't notice I'm missing things in Bujumbura until I go someplace else and see them. I realized that there were many things I wanted, but very little that I actually need. I was completely paralyzed by all the choice. I managed to remember the snacks I'd intended to buy, just before throwing up my hands in frustration. I'm at the point in overseas living where I can't tell the European brands from the American grands anymore. But I did get a kick out of the Malaysian version of Pringles, Mister Potato. (Unfortunately they contain gluten, just like their American cousin.)

But even as I was trying to ward off panic attacks, I was still thinking about how I want to go back to eat dinner at either the Chinese or Japanese restaurant tomorrow night. And how I want to pick up a few groceries for Mike since I have the opportunity. I'm hoping that just like in the States, Monday night at the mall will be a tad slower than a Sunday afternoon.

(The photo is from A Geek in Korea. Mall security guards where eyeballing me all over whenever I pulled out my camera. I decided Mister Potato wasn't worth jail time or anything. I managed a couple shots of the mall, which I'll show off when I get home and have my uploading cable.)

"Bring me the ranch dressing hose!"

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 03:31:00 +0000

--Homer Simpson

We're heading into that time when we seriously think about where we'll move to next. We probably won't find out until December but we have lists of cities to ponder and we can submit some preferences. Some of our top choices in Africa and Asia have already been taken, which is disappointing. But we have plenty to choose from and I think we'll pretty much be happy anywhere we end up. We can keep ourselves entertained.

I did a super-scientific analysis of the list based on benefits and perks from Mike's employer, deliciousness and gluten-freeness of local cuisines, and warmth of the weather. The winner of my analysis was Havana. Rum! Yucca frita! Graham Greene! It's actually on our list of preferences, but not near the top.

In researching cities, I'm alarmed by the number of TGI Fridays that are popping up India. I'm also concerned by the number of people who complain about the cost of ranch dressing in Asia. My method of analysis seems quite different from other Americans. I can understand missing some of the comforts of home. I'm going to Nairobi this weekend and I'm thrilled at the chance to restock my supply of Milka bars. But lack of Milka bars isn't the first thing I'm going to tell someone when they ask me about living in Burundi. I want to learn about culture, history, and local cuisines first. (And how easy is it to import a cat?) Availability of American, or even European, goods, is a minor detail I'll worry about when it's time to actually pack. I guess I just expect that no place is going to be the same as the United States, so there's no sense worrying about it.

And isn't that sort of the point of living overseas?

I'm playing our top choices close to the chest. I hate to talk about a place too much and then not get it. I'm in the mode where I've made my preferences known to Mike and I'm ready to sit back, forget about it, and be surprised. And after I'm surprised, I'll share the surprise with you, gentle reader.

Afternoon Mini-Hurricane

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 14:40:00 +0000

I love these storms that come barreling down the mountain. The heavy rain only lasts for 20 minutes or so, but the storm dumps plenty of water.

Now I know what snakes eat for lunch

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 11:24:00 +0000

Ellie and I had a run-in with a snake this afternoon. I'm telling myself it was a harmless house snake and even though I can't find an exact match for it online, as long as it wasn't a green mamba I'll sleep soundly tonight. (Click on the photo to see it full-size.)

I was settling in with some afternoon studying when I glanced toward the front door and wondered why Ellie was beside herself at the screen, watching a piece of green string out on the patio. Duh, of course that's not green string. I did what anyone would do. Not close the door, but grab my camera and wonder how close I could get before finding out if it was venomous or not.

It was a few feet from the door but because of the screen I couldn't get a good shot. It was green with some blue and it had a white underside (and according to wikipedia, where everything is always correct, that coloration indicates not a mamba). Its "neck" seemed unusually thick. I was ninety percent sure it was a harmless house snake so I opened the door and took a couple steps out (stupidly, I'll admit, in bare feet). My running shoes were just outside the door, but it didn't occur to me to put them on and anyway I might have scared the snake away before I could take a picture. I was able to get around it so I was parallel to it and snap a better photo.

But then it started moving toward the front door, putting itself between the door and me. There's about an inch of space between the floor and the bottom of the door and I really didn't want the snake going inside, where Ellie was waiting for it not-so-patiently. But I was frozen in place. All I could do was watch it slither over my running shoes, up the screen a few inches, then back down onto the patio. It stopped for a few seconds, then slithered off into the yard. It left behind a present for Ellie and me -- a half-dead, half-digested gecko. So that's why it looked so thick right behind the head. We disturbed its lunch.

As I've been writing this, a third snake species has popped into my head: boomslang. The coloration is similar to the house snakes and they eat chameleons, geckos, and other small reptiles. They are quite venomous. However, they aren't usually terrestrial and even less likely to be out in the open. I'm sticking with house snake.

I'm not afraid of snakes, but I prefer that they stick to their territory and I'll stick to mine. And I really don't want another gecko hunter hanging around. Between Ellie and our woodland kingfisher (he's back; we've had two great sightings this week!), we're on the verge of a gecko shortage.

(I just went back to open the door; it's too stuffy in here with it closed. The half-digested gecko has disappeared.)

We Have Coucal Confirmation

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 15:34:00 +0000

For weeks some big birds have been skulking about in our bushes. We suspected they were coucals and I was even pretty sure black coucals. This afternoon, however, we were treated to a clear view of not one, but two white-browed coucals sitting in trees and sending out their calls. We'd always assumed this particular call was from laughing doves, but after today there's no doubt that what's referred to as a "water bottle bubbling" sound in our bird books comes from these white-browed coucals.

I'm not giving up on the idea that at least one of the skulkers is a black coucal. I've seen some flashes of black and rust that seem brighter than the white-browed coucal.

One of our bird books refers to coucals as "cumbersome." They certainly do not seem very graceful. They plod along the ground awkwardly and they are not inconspicuous when trying to find cover in bushes. The black coucals have a somewhat sleeker appearance, but the white-browed coucals have a blustery look. They make a lot of rustling noises, which you'd think would attract predators. But, maybe they let their guard down in our yard because it's a relatively safe area.

Top photo: White-browed coucal from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White-browed_Coucal

Bottom photo: Black coucal from http://www.cse.iitk.ac.in/~amit/birds/index.html

It's going to be a long short rainy season

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 12:24:00 +0000

The short rainy season should be starting any minute now and I couldn't be happier. We had a terrific preview of it on Wednesday, with the wind blowing so hard it rained under the doors and windows into the house, and our terrace became a shallow pond. The filling that had been stuffed into many potholes washed away and a stream came rushing down the gully behind our house. It was quite a storm.

And everyone hoped it meant that the rainy season had officially begun. But instead, impossibly it seems like the last few days have been even hotter than the rest of the dry season. Humid, too, which is cruel if it's not going to go ahead and rain.

The electricity is certainly acting as if the rainy season is here; it's been fluctuating like crazy for the last week.

Do you remember that Sesame Street clip where it's hot and still and everyone's waiting for the rain with great anticipation? That's what it's been like here for the last few days.

We are among some of the lucky people here who have air conditioners. I hate using it during the day unless it's absolutely necessary (for the most part the heat is bearable with a fan on; plus I like all the animal noises from outside). The last few days it's been absolutely necessary, but because of the wonky electricity I've been trying to turn on as few appliances as possible.

Right now I see some ominous clouds forming behind the mountain. I hope they develop into rain some time between now and the next two hours, before we leave for an outdoor party.

The photo is from one of the first big rains last year. Wednesday's was like that, only during the daytime.

Avoiding the Burundian Health Care System, Just Barely

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 11:21:00 +0000

"In the dry season of his thirty-third year, Michael Tannenbaum was run over by a parliamentarian riding a motorcycle."

Mike took a Wes Anderson approach to his incident last week. His knee's a little banged up, but nothing serious. He was crossing the street, on foot, at a busy intersection that we have to walk through nearly every day, when a motorcycle hit him. And it wasn't just any run-of-the-mill moto-taxi driver. This was the personal bike of a member of Burundi's parliament. We can laugh about it since no one was seriously hurt. But the danger from auto accidents here actually is no laughing matter.

Probably a greater health risk than contracting malaria is having an auto accident. They happen all the time because of the lack of any sort of safety and driving training for the local population. (Yet they have numerous Auto-Ecoles here. I can't figure out what they're teaching.) All we can do is try to take care of ourselves on the road to avoid accidents. There are no medical or emergency services that are any where near American standards of care. I've met several doctors and nurses, and they all genuinely work hard. Some have even been trained in France and Belgium. But even the most well-intentioned doctor can't do a good job under the working conditions here. Training is usually sub-par. Health worker salaries are dismal. Equipment is always broken or missing. Many hospitals do not have electricity 24 hours a day. When a friend broke her arm, she went to five different clinics before she found both a working x-ray machine and a technician who knew how to use it properly.

We do our best to stay healthy and in one piece. Sometimes maybe we border on paranoia with our carefulness. But you never know. Even when you look both ways before crossing the street, a motorcycle driven by someone who is virtually above the law could come out of no where.

I don't know which is grosser

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 09:32:00 +0000

That there’s so much dust on my office wall the ants have cleared a bright white trail, through all the dust down to the paint.

That I have that many ants traveling through my office.

There's no denying it.

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 16:47:00 +0000

Vicky’s been talking about the Shred. I recently got in touch with some old running friends. I was told I’m nearing high blood pressure territory. Watching the IAAF World Championships on television ignited a spark of what I used to feel like. I’ve been a slug and it seems like I have a completely different body than the one that climbed Kilimanjaro a few months ago.

It’s time to start running again.

Over the last couple of weeks (since the blood pressure announcement) I’ve made a conscious effort to reduce my alcohol consumption and increase my mileage. It was slow and painful at first. It’s still slow and painful, but slightly less so. I’m setting small goals. First, get up early to run after a night of too much food and drink. That first morning hurt. But I told myself that if I could get up and run under those conditions, I had no excuse not to get up and run under any other conditions. So that led to my second goal: Get up early and run two days in a row. What was that I said about under any conditions? I got up and did it.

Last December there was a marathon and half-marathon here in Bujumbura. I’ve been contacting everyone I can find to see if the races are being held again this year. I’m confident I can be in half-marathon shape in December if I have a race to look forward to. But I face a dry spell of not even a 5K race between now and then to keep me motivated. Bujumbura just doesn’t have organized races.

(But we do have a mountain, and boy am I feeling that mountain nearly every morning.)

To the peeps

noreply@blogger.com (Stephanie) — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 13:12:00 +0000

1. I've noticed some new followers and subscribers recently. Welcome and thanks for reading! Stay tuned, as in a few months we'll be finding out where we head to after Burundi.

2. We have a new little peeper-cheeper. We noticed that we had fewer fresh eggs than we should have and that we didn't see the hen outside of the coop for a few days. But we didn't really think much of it until two days ago when I saw a little speck of a critter following the hen around the yard. There's a chick! He's chirping and cheeping up a storm.