My Journey Home

Note: I realize by the time you read this, I will have landed, seeing as I have not internet access on the flight, meaning I can’t post until I land. However, the urge to write hit me during the flight. It may not be a bakkie, but there are some thoughts than only come to you kilometers high.

  Here I am. SAA Flight 075. Namibia-to-Johannesburg. After two years, I am actually leaving Namibia. I’ve commented on more than one occasion how beautiful Namibia is. It’s also a very sparsely populated country. One of the smallest populations per space. I know this. I’ve seen it from the ground. I kind of noted it flying in. Now, after two years, as I sit in a window seat and look out at the country I’ve called home for the last two years, it’s remarkable. I can see small villages off in the distance. I can see long stretches of road. I can see towns. I can see farm land. I can see hills. And, I can see how far everything is from everything else. Now, it’s true, there are parts of the O-lands where you have towns/villages right next to each other. But, most of Namibia is not like that. It’s incredible to look out. No clouds right now. Sunny. Massive visibility. When the Namibian national anthem mentions “contrasting beautiful Namibia” it is referring to both the people and the land. From up here, the people all look the same. The diverse landscape, however, is incredible. Yes, I am feeling a tad sentimental. I think I’m entitled to a little of that right now. Okay, we’re descending. Got to go.

Note: Now in Jo-burg Airport

  Okay, it’s official. I have left Namibia. Sitting in the Mugg & Bean, sipping all the coffee I can drink. I got a couple bottles of wine at Duty Free (2 red, one white) so I can maybe do a tasting. I was debating getting a nice bottle of scotch, but the truth is, they may cost more, but I know where to get good bottles of scotch back home. South African wines? Not so much (granted, I’m sure 5 minutes on Google would even that one out).Besides, South Africa is known for its wines. They came with these little animal things you put on your glass so you can know whose glass is whose. Think my mom will like that gift. I also got a beautiful painted ostrich egg and traditional style shirt, as well as an SA soccer jersey for myself.

  Flying into Jo-burg was weird. Looking out at a big city; population: more people than all of Namibia, multiple times over. It was massive. Honestly, it blew my mind. Just imagine how the US is gonna look. Not so spread out and all. Chatting now with a man from Mozambique about it (and about how Namibians are frickin’ wimps when it comes to spicy and need to learn to enjoy more kick in their food).

  I guess not is as good a time as any to write about my last night in Namibia. Shortly after writing the blog post about leaving, I went to the Peace Corps office to drop off my guitar for Den and say some last goodbyes. After that, I took a last trip to the braai stand outside of that Standard Bank. Damn, I’m going to miss Namibian street meat. Honestly, street foods might be one of my favorite parts of traveling. You learn so much about people and a culture from the cheap eats on the streets (okay, I admit I’ve had a couple free shots in the airport, some wine on the plane, and may still have some of last night in my system).

I interrupt this story to announce my chicken and avo wrap has arrived. The lady asked if I wanted any sauce for it, and I obviously asked if they had hot sauce (for my wrap and the side of chips). She brings me a bottle of Tabasco, 350ml. I think that must be heaven right there. Or, at least, heaven must have them on every table. Sorry for the sidetrack. Now, back to the non-hot-sauce-related story.

  So, after getting our meat, Shayna and I went to the Old Brewery. They no longer brew beer there, but it is filled with craft shops. She had no idea about the upper part, so I showed her that NamCraft and Diamond Works (so she could look for something for when her parents come). We got some gifts, me for my friends and family I will soon be seeing, her for some people getting married. Shayna is an interesting girl. We were joking that she’s basically lived her life a year behind me. She joined Year Course, working for MDA, the year after me, getting back to the US around the time I was arriving for my summer with MDA after my freshman year. She’s a health volunteer a year behind me. She wants to go to Tulane, my alma mater, for her masters. I gifted her my mezuzah when I left. When Taylor found out I’m Jewish, she spent a couple weeks trying to play matchmaker, even singing wedding songs. Sorry, kid, not happening. But thanks for the laughs. Anyway, I got a solid haul. I already had some makalani nut keychains and kapana spice for people, a couple wood carved animals, some shitenges, and (for myself) a springbok horn bottle opener. I got a second horn for my dad, some Himba bracelets (over-priced, but I didn’t have a chance to get back to Opuwo). I got an adorable bushman hand-knitted doll (a mouse with a little backpack). I could lie and say I’m planning on bringing it back and giving it to one of my younger relatives, but let’s be honest, it’s for me. It’s adorable, and it’s something I can maybe give to my own kids, if I have any, and start telling them my story. I got some jewelry for Amy (I had both Shayna and Alicia approve the purchases, and they feel you’ll be satisfied).

  After dropping Shayna back off at the Peace Corps office, I returned to Chameleon Backpackers’ Lodge to gather my things. They didn’t have any room for me that night, so I was to move to another backpackers’ lodge, the Cardboard Box. The Box’s bar is a bit nicer and open later. They have whiskey and they have Hansa on draught. After trying to call the taxi driver the Chameleon people gave me, I got impatient, ran out to the road, flagged down a taxi, told him to come around to where I was, and went from there. About 5 minutes later, I was on the road to The Box.

  After arriving, I took about an hour to go through my bags. I tried to lighten everything as much as possible, tossing what I could, making sure nothing in my carry-ons were illegal. I knew my bags were overweight, but f*** it, two years’ worth of stuff was in there. When I was done, I SMS-ed some friends and took a quick shower and nap while waiting. Around 5:30-ish, a group of friends arrived, some for the beer, some to see me off. Shayna, Alicia, Sachi, Oskar, and a friend of Oskar’s who was actually staying at The Box for the night. It was my kind of night. The beer was flowing, but it was low-key. No clubs, no terrible music; just good conversation and reflecting. We got some pizzas for dinner. Around 10 (maybe a little after), I went to the fridge (backpackers’ places tend to have somewhat decent kitchens and large fridges, as the cater to people trying to save money while backpacking across a continent or country; most even let you stay in tents, rather than your room). I came back down with what was left of the herbal liquor I’d purchased at the Kristal Kellerei winery all those months back (about a year-and-a-half) during my second reconnect. I poured a round of shots for my group of friends and pretty much everyone else in the bar. We toasted me. A little later, I took the last three shots on my own. A little after midnight, we said our goodbyes. I’ll admit that while I actually liked everyone in the group, Alicia, my little buddy for the last two years, since the day we met in Philly, was the hardest. Which makes sense. She’s been an amazing friend to me. But, she’s got an amazing third year project coming up.

  This morning, I woke up, had breakfast, and headed to the airport. There was some stress caused by someone at the lodge having been robbed and demanding the place be locked down and everyone searched by the police. Sorry, but I was in a rush. I finally got the airport, but paying for my overweight bags took some time. I made it through security in time to use the can and buy some coffee just before they called for boarding. After taking a call from my mom, I made sure to call Taylor one last time and send messages to Esna, Martha, and Den (the clock had run out on time for calling).

  So, that’s where I am so far. Gonna finish up one last cup of coffee, hit the head, pay my bill, and make my way to my gate. We board in about half an hour. Next stop, Dakar (well, the tarmac; I don’t think I leave the plane), and finally, DC, family, friends, certain comforts I’ve been without for two years, washing machines, fast Wi-Fi, and, of course, DC sports. So, I may add to this during those two legs, or maybe not. Anything after I land will probably get its own post, as I begin the next chapter (think of this post as the interlude, a short story linking books one and two, not part of either story, but important to bridge the gap).

Note: Layover in Dakar

  This is a tad weird. I’m hearing American accents all over the place. Other than the Peace Corps trainings and conferences, this is the first time I’ve been in a situation that seems to be predominantly American, and for some reason it’s more striking than those PC situations.

  We’re in Dakar. A little after midnight right now. For some reason, I’m super f***ing wired. Haven’t had much caffeine since Joburg (or, any I can think of). Watched a few movies/shows during the flight, listened to some music, busted out the iPad to read. Saw the pilot episode of “The Flash”. I’m thinking that one and “Arrow” might be my new shows this summer (any other recommended shows, those of you who know what I like? I have taken a couple sleeping pills out so I can pop them for the Dakar-DC leg. I think sleeping will be smart.

  Every time I land and takeoff, this all gets more real. Met a couple other Southern Africa RPCVs on the flight. Like, from years ago. Zambia, South Africa, and I think one other, but I forget. It just hit me that this flight is the first time I’ve had both my passports on me at the same time. A certain someone tried to give me advice about pillows and long flights. Looking at the passports and realizing I’ve had one since my age was single digits, she may have seen more countries recently than I have, but I’m no newby to international travel.

  Got that Carbon Leaf song “International Airport” running through my head right now. Not sure why lyrically, but the title certainly fits my life at the moment. Still got about 45 minutes until the next takeoff. At least I get to stay on the plane this time. I’ve been through security twice so far, and I still had to have my bag hand-checked before boarding this flight. I think America might be getting a tad paranoid, no?

  Vuvu, the wood-carved elephant who spent the last year-and0a0half or so on my windowsill, protecting me, is in my carry-on. For some reason, that does make me happy. Okay, time to do a Sudoku. Maybe listen to some music. Hopefully we leave on time for this final leg. I’m ready to be done being in transit.

Note: Over the Atlantic

  They’re about to serve breakfast. Got a little sleep. Very close to America, though not sure exactly, as the flight map is no longer working. However, based on what they said at the start of the flight and the estimated time of arrival from the beginning, I’m guessing about 2 hours. Not looking forward to how long security will take, and a little nervous about my bags (I had to pay extra as they were about 5kg overweight, total, and the woman was having issues printing my receipt. Hopefully they made it. If I have to fight with SAA to find my clothes going both directions, I’ll be a tad pissed. Guess I’ll just have to wait and see. No use getting worked up about hypotheticals until they happen. Gonna finish eating and change soon. Red Peace Corps polo (yes, Taylor, with my pin), safari hat, aviators, and jeans. Or, as the girl who picked the outfit for me called it, “Afrikaans Dundee”. I’ll worry about trying to readjust later, for now, I’m gonna get off the plane being me.

  Do wish this cold would’ve gone away. Windhoek was much colder than Khorixas, and I got a little sick there. Being on a plane, with the cycled air, not moving around much, etc., hasn’t helped.

AMERICA!!!

  I made it. When I first saw the morning lights of DC, I almost cried. I’m going to miss Namibia, but home is home, as OAR has sung about. My luggage made it this time. It was pretty quick through passport control and customs, and my dad was there waiting for me. Now, to head home. Not feeling super great, exhausted, stomach feeling a bit ravaged, and the DC humidity is killing me. Give me a couple days, and I’ll get into the re-adjustment to life in America.