It’s Thursday afternoon and for the first time since I arrived I’m bored.
I expected it, planned for it - not very well obviously - and reassured myself that, when this day came, I’d be proactive, pull my finger out and get busy.
I have numerous books. I have the entire series of Grey’s Anatomy and Sex and the City and a newfound obsession for making my own clothes.
It’s sunny, slightly windy and warm. Mt Meru has, today for the first time in a week, broken through the clouds and Africa looks perfect.
And I’m bored.
Not the I’m-just-going-to-sit-and-twiddle-my-thumbs-for-4-hours-til-it’s-a-reasonable-hour-to-sleep sort of boredom that makes staring at a nearby volcano seem entertaining in not romantic. No, that sort of boredom I’d dreamt about during those last stressful weeks at home and have spent the past month enjoying to the extreme.
No, this is the my-legs-are-starting-to-twitch-and-all-I-want-is-to-be-surrounded-by-randoms boredom. That doesn’t work here. I haven’t made human contact for 3 hours (busy day over at Kesho Leo), so between the two lazy dogs and the cat that seems to have lapsed into a coma on my keyboard – I’m entirely without social entertainment.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Old habits die (suprisingly) easy...
As communications manager it only seems fit that I begin by contributing to the FWS blog. So here is the latest installment - link to the actual blog is on the right. Enjoy...
I touched down at Arusha airport sleep deprived, dusty, slightly emotional, annoyingly hyperactive and full of pre-conceived ideas about how my life would look in Africa.
As an avid daydreamer I had no trouble creating a parallel universe during my months of preparations. Hours spent ‘working’ were instead cultivating a world in which all things African took on a decisively romantic tone. Dusty, potholed desert lanes lined with caricatured mud huts and donkeys were just the beginning – in fact it was the anticipated hardships and lack of luxury that gave these delusions such an exotic feel. I was loving it.
There was definitely something to the idea that not only would this drastic shift in lifestyle be a much needed change of pace – but that I would adapt seamlessly and give up any and all preconceived ideas of what I needed to keep sane. I would become a true blue African. Duh
So you can imagine my surprise when, definitely not according to the daydream plan, I began to replace those old, deeply embedded personal rituals in favour of some very unexpected, slightly neurotic habits.
I touched down at Arusha airport sleep deprived, dusty, slightly emotional, annoyingly hyperactive and full of pre-conceived ideas about how my life would look in Africa.
As an avid daydreamer I had no trouble creating a parallel universe during my months of preparations. Hours spent ‘working’ were instead cultivating a world in which all things African took on a decisively romantic tone. Dusty, potholed desert lanes lined with caricatured mud huts and donkeys were just the beginning – in fact it was the anticipated hardships and lack of luxury that gave these delusions such an exotic feel. I was loving it.
There was definitely something to the idea that not only would this drastic shift in lifestyle be a much needed change of pace – but that I would adapt seamlessly and give up any and all preconceived ideas of what I needed to keep sane. I would become a true blue African. Duh
So you can imagine my surprise when, definitely not according to the daydream plan, I began to replace those old, deeply embedded personal rituals in favour of some very unexpected, slightly neurotic habits.
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