I’m glad I got a chance to Skype with my parents early on Sunday morning. Apparently Delta/KLM hadn’t updated the flight status of my previous flight from Dar Amsterdam, and it appeared that my flight had never arrived. Even the people working at Delta couldn’t tell my parents where the plane was.
Anyway, after a brief chat with them I got on the plane and found my seat. I immediately started feeling a little ill and tried to fall asleep and let it pass. There were no air vents to adjust, and no signs of sleepiness either, so I tried to just relax and let it pass. Unfortunately I waited too long, because by the time I decided I had to find the bathroom we were already taxiing. I had to ask the person sitting in the aisle to get up for me, but she told me we were about to take off so I shouldn’t get up. I hesitated and she refused to budge, so I rebuckled my seatbelt and tried desperately to mentally power my way through.
After about 1.5 more minutes I decided there was no turning back. I didn’t take no for an answer this time, and made it all the way to the bathroom door when the stewardess at the end of the aisle directly in front of me got on the over head speaker and said, “Ma’am, return to your seat immediately.” I had thought ahead enough to have a motion sickness bag in my hand and figured that waving at her should be enough of a clear sign. Of course, it wasn’t. She said “No. Return to your seat. No. Go sit down. Now.” With her stupid Dutch KLM accent and a very don’t mess with me tone, it was clear that I had better return to my seat.
I fortunately had just enough time to sit back down before losing my kibbles. I was hoping to make it until the plane started taking off so the loud jet noises could cover for me, but of course the plane was called back at the last minute because the fog lights weren’t working properly. We had to sit there for 20 more minutes before getting the green light and taxiing back to the runway.
No one came to see what was wrong for me or anything. My seatmate just sat there the whole time reading her newspaper and ignoring me. I was too exhausted to move, but finally mustered up some strength to find a trash can after about half an hour. On my way, I found a flight attendant. I told him I was pretty sure I had food poisoning or something, so he gave me a bottle of coke and some Imodium. Another flight attendant was nice enough to ask my seatmate to move and give me some room to lie down. It was a tight squeeze, but I was appreciative of the breathing room.
Unfortunately for me, I spent the remaining 7.5 hours of the trip with a fever and never-ending nauseousness running back and forth to the bathroom, bag in hand. I was rather struck by how unfriendly everyone was. The only person who would even talk to me was a Registered Nurse from Nigeria.
I finally made my way to the back of the plane to ask the flight attendants about getting some water. Unfortunately I came across the lady on the loud speaker and had to apologize to her about our little encounter. We actually got into an interesting conversation. It included everything from her advice on food poisoning, to warnings that I could be quarantined upon my arrival, to her extreme delight that I knew that her home country, Suriname, is not in Africa. Apparently I’m the first American to ever know where her home country is – thank you Georgetown SFS.
Anyway, it was a pretty rough flight for me up until the very end. When I finally got off the plane, I pulled myself together and headed as fast as I could to Customs. I managed to get past with little trouble, pick up my bags, and phone my parents (apparently my phone can hold a charge after 3 months. They didn’t expect me to get out so quickly, and were apparently sitting in the Starbucks letting a man from Jerusalem use their computer.
I was thoroughly exhausted from the flight and was so relieved to see them and collapse into a big group hug. As for this random guy from Jerusalem, my parents have apparently picked up an appreciation for hospitality after giving me up to the Tanzanian community for the past three months, and were already getting started paying it forward. It turns out this guy was an economist who spoke 5 languages (Hebrew, Arabic, English, French, and Russian….all fluently except for Russian) and was on his way to a conference to meet Obama the next day. His hotel was in New Carrollton, so after helping him find out its exact location on the computer, they offered to give him a ride.
On the way back I asked my parents to stop by Georgetown to say hi to a good friend and grab some frozen yogurt at my favorite place in Du Pont. I was a little overconfident with my newfound second wind, but it didn’t prove to be too much of a problem. We gave our new friend a quick tour of things on our drive back through the city and had a great time laughing and learning more about each other.
When we finally got to his hotel I went inside to find a bathroom before hitting the road again. After about 5 more minutes of being on the road, my dad asked for his phone – he is a little obsessive about checking his phone messages. It was nowhere to be found, and as we tried to work backwards in time to figure out who had it, we realized I had been talking to my sister on the phone when I walked into the hotel bathroom. I called 411 within 10 minutes of leaving the hotel, and when I finally got a hold of a member of the hotel staff they told me they couldn’t find the phone. Way to go, Chelsea.
When we got home, I waited up for a bit for my sister to get home and then passed out in my bed for the next 10 hours. I woke up the next morning feeling infinitely better and oh so happy to be home. I called Verizon, found out that someone had been using the internet on my dad’s phone earlier in the morning, and had therefore definitely been taken from the hotel bathroom. Welcome to America. We have old phones lying around the house to transfer numbers too in exactly these circumstances so it ended up being no big deal.
I’m back to normal times and forms of communication now and will be working on some sort of calendar for my last 5 weeks at home. Can’t wait to reconnect with everyone in between walking the dogs and family bonding time!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Random Tidbits
There are a bunch of random memories from my trip that I’ve been meaning to write about while I was in TZ, so I guess I’ll just compile them all here before I forget. I hope to continue with some bigger posts on education, tribes, the differences between TZ and the US, and my personal reflections on the trip at a later time, but I’ll keep these clips short for now (or short-ish, to be more precise).
Soda Can Story
While I was walking home after Skyping with Mr. Shekdar’s 4th grade class for a second time a few weeks ago, I stopped at a small local store (duka) for a drink. Everyone here drinks out of 400mL bottles which cost 400 TZ shillings (if a Coke product) wholesale or 500 shillings at the store. You can also buy small 300 mL bottles for 400 shillings at the store, but that’s mostly just for kids.
Anyway, I was really thirsty and opened the cooler to help myself to a drink. If you drink a soda you usually have to wait and give the bottle back to the store for them to recycle. I didn’t feel like waiting, so I just grabbed a can from the fridge. The cans are just 330 mL, so I gave the woman and the store a 500 shilling bill and waited for the change.
Instead of waiting for the change, she waited for me to give her more money. I was very confused by this and asked her how much more she wanted. It turned out to be 1,000 shillings! That’s twice as much money as a bottle and not as much liquid! Of course, this was the only day I decided to open the drink before drinking it. Unfortunately I had no more money on me and had to ask if I could pay her later. Luckily I have made sure to greet her from the road almost every day in Swahili, so my friend had no problem waiting for the money. I, however, felt like quite the idiot.
Deborah Washing Clothes
I had gotten a little bit behind in the washing-of -the-underpants department in my last few weeks here and had to scramble at the end to get everything clean. I had a whole rotation system between washing clothes and packing and was having a good old time getting all of my things together when my little friend Deborah (the house girl’s daughter) game to help me pack.
Deborah, while extremely cute, is usually quite a pain because she is almost always the most interested in the item I want her to touch the least. However, on that day, for some reason, she decided to make herself useful. I didn’t know what she was doing, but she went into my bathroom, presumably to do some perusing of the shampoo bottles and soaps. I let her be for a few minutes as I continued to pack. After a little while I began to get suspicious and went into the bathroom to see what she was up to. Low and behold she was leaning over the big bucket, barely reaching, but diligently washing my underpants in the soapy water! At just one and a half years of age I was very impressed by her hard work. I of course helped her find something else to do, but not before snapping a few pics.
Rooster on the Safari
On my very mini safari to Ngorongoro Crater I had the chance to see a lot of very cool birds, as well as the other safari creatures you’d expect to see (elephants, hyenas, a lion, warthogs, wildebeest, zebras etc.) While observing these beautiful creatures out of the roof of our Land Cruiser, I became very confused when I heard the unmistakable crow of a rooster. I assumed I must be imagining things, but after another 2 minutes I heard it again. I looked everywhere for the bird, even though I couldn’t imagine how a rooster would have arrived at the bottom of the crater with all the safari animals. The third crow just a few seconds later was interrupted mid call, and I when I turned around to see what it was my host sister was standing there on toying with her phone. Apparently that’s the sound of her incoming text messages.
Maasai at the Beach
On the second to last day of my trip to Zanzibar I was dropped off by my guide at a random beach hotel and told that he would come pick me up several hours later. I had to pay an entrance fee of 2,000 shillings, order lunch for myself, and find entertainment. I was initially rather annoyed with this since all of these things were supposed to be covered in the cost of my trip, and leaving me to play by myself was never in the itinerary.
However, after a few minutes of getting settled, I relaxed and decided to just go with it. From the hotel I could see the beach, except it appeared to be about a kilometer off in the distance. I challenged myself to make it all the way out there even though the waiter at the restaurant told me that the tide would come in just a few short hours. Off I went, holding a kanga over my head to protect my unfortunately white skin from the blaring afternoon sun. After a few minutes I came across a group of three boys catching small fish by smacking sticks against the sand in small pools of water. As I continued on, the water got to be about ankle deep, but the real ocean border was still far off in the distance. I came across a ton of cool creatures including fat, sand-colored starfish, skinny starfish with bright red lines across them in cool vein-like patterns, conch, and other random ocean life.
After awhile I began to feel that I would never reach the ocean. I decided to quit and just stick to observing the creatures on the sea floor. When I got back, I took a nice long nap on the beach, and woke up to find that the ocean had come all the way up to the hotel beach, fully covering all the animals I had seen before. I went for a nice swim in the ocean, and then went to go find myself a soda.
In the process of getting a drink I made friends with several members of the hotel staff. The majority of these guys were Maasai (a tribe I have yet to write about). I was really excited to actually get a chance to talk to them and ask them a few questions.
One of my questions about their tribe was the practice of polygamy. I was especially interested in whether they are allowed to marry members of other tribes, which I learned is an absolute no-no. The guys were so quick to tell me that Maasai don’t marry people of other tribes that I thought I must have misunderstood the question when one of them asked me if I would be his girlfriend. I immediately challenged his request given their previous statement, but as it turns out, Maasai are allowed actually allowed to marry Maasai or mzungu – just not other Swahilis. Unfortunately I denied the request, although if his courtship proposal had turned into a marriage he would have had to go kill a lion for my father and give him a bunch of cattle. Pretty cool deal if you ask me.
Soda Can Story
While I was walking home after Skyping with Mr. Shekdar’s 4th grade class for a second time a few weeks ago, I stopped at a small local store (duka) for a drink. Everyone here drinks out of 400mL bottles which cost 400 TZ shillings (if a Coke product) wholesale or 500 shillings at the store. You can also buy small 300 mL bottles for 400 shillings at the store, but that’s mostly just for kids.
Anyway, I was really thirsty and opened the cooler to help myself to a drink. If you drink a soda you usually have to wait and give the bottle back to the store for them to recycle. I didn’t feel like waiting, so I just grabbed a can from the fridge. The cans are just 330 mL, so I gave the woman and the store a 500 shilling bill and waited for the change.
Instead of waiting for the change, she waited for me to give her more money. I was very confused by this and asked her how much more she wanted. It turned out to be 1,000 shillings! That’s twice as much money as a bottle and not as much liquid! Of course, this was the only day I decided to open the drink before drinking it. Unfortunately I had no more money on me and had to ask if I could pay her later. Luckily I have made sure to greet her from the road almost every day in Swahili, so my friend had no problem waiting for the money. I, however, felt like quite the idiot.
Deborah Washing Clothes
I had gotten a little bit behind in the washing-of -the-underpants department in my last few weeks here and had to scramble at the end to get everything clean. I had a whole rotation system between washing clothes and packing and was having a good old time getting all of my things together when my little friend Deborah (the house girl’s daughter) game to help me pack.
Deborah, while extremely cute, is usually quite a pain because she is almost always the most interested in the item I want her to touch the least. However, on that day, for some reason, she decided to make herself useful. I didn’t know what she was doing, but she went into my bathroom, presumably to do some perusing of the shampoo bottles and soaps. I let her be for a few minutes as I continued to pack. After a little while I began to get suspicious and went into the bathroom to see what she was up to. Low and behold she was leaning over the big bucket, barely reaching, but diligently washing my underpants in the soapy water! At just one and a half years of age I was very impressed by her hard work. I of course helped her find something else to do, but not before snapping a few pics.
Rooster on the Safari
On my very mini safari to Ngorongoro Crater I had the chance to see a lot of very cool birds, as well as the other safari creatures you’d expect to see (elephants, hyenas, a lion, warthogs, wildebeest, zebras etc.) While observing these beautiful creatures out of the roof of our Land Cruiser, I became very confused when I heard the unmistakable crow of a rooster. I assumed I must be imagining things, but after another 2 minutes I heard it again. I looked everywhere for the bird, even though I couldn’t imagine how a rooster would have arrived at the bottom of the crater with all the safari animals. The third crow just a few seconds later was interrupted mid call, and I when I turned around to see what it was my host sister was standing there on toying with her phone. Apparently that’s the sound of her incoming text messages.
Maasai at the Beach
On the second to last day of my trip to Zanzibar I was dropped off by my guide at a random beach hotel and told that he would come pick me up several hours later. I had to pay an entrance fee of 2,000 shillings, order lunch for myself, and find entertainment. I was initially rather annoyed with this since all of these things were supposed to be covered in the cost of my trip, and leaving me to play by myself was never in the itinerary.
However, after a few minutes of getting settled, I relaxed and decided to just go with it. From the hotel I could see the beach, except it appeared to be about a kilometer off in the distance. I challenged myself to make it all the way out there even though the waiter at the restaurant told me that the tide would come in just a few short hours. Off I went, holding a kanga over my head to protect my unfortunately white skin from the blaring afternoon sun. After a few minutes I came across a group of three boys catching small fish by smacking sticks against the sand in small pools of water. As I continued on, the water got to be about ankle deep, but the real ocean border was still far off in the distance. I came across a ton of cool creatures including fat, sand-colored starfish, skinny starfish with bright red lines across them in cool vein-like patterns, conch, and other random ocean life.
After awhile I began to feel that I would never reach the ocean. I decided to quit and just stick to observing the creatures on the sea floor. When I got back, I took a nice long nap on the beach, and woke up to find that the ocean had come all the way up to the hotel beach, fully covering all the animals I had seen before. I went for a nice swim in the ocean, and then went to go find myself a soda.
In the process of getting a drink I made friends with several members of the hotel staff. The majority of these guys were Maasai (a tribe I have yet to write about). I was really excited to actually get a chance to talk to them and ask them a few questions.
One of my questions about their tribe was the practice of polygamy. I was especially interested in whether they are allowed to marry members of other tribes, which I learned is an absolute no-no. The guys were so quick to tell me that Maasai don’t marry people of other tribes that I thought I must have misunderstood the question when one of them asked me if I would be his girlfriend. I immediately challenged his request given their previous statement, but as it turns out, Maasai are allowed actually allowed to marry Maasai or mzungu – just not other Swahilis. Unfortunately I denied the request, although if his courtship proposal had turned into a marriage he would have had to go kill a lion for my father and give him a bunch of cattle. Pretty cool deal if you ask me.
So Far, So Good!
Well I arrived in Amsterdam at 10:30am Holland time. The plane managed to brake just fine, and the nun never stopped being a royal pain in my back. My flight still seems to be going as scheduled, so I’ll board at about 1:00pm for my 2:05pm flight home.
The Amsterdam airport doesn’t yet have free Wi-Fi, although it is apparently coming soon. I had to pay $12 Euros for 90 minutes of internet time. The guy selling me my pass code required all of my flight information and my driver’s license, which I found to be a little sketchy, but I wanted to be connected so badly I just sucked it up. Of course, my computer ran out of battery on the plane, so when I went to go charge it I unfortunately discovered that my converter for the African outlets is not the same as what I need here. I had to go back to the stand and cough up another 12 Euros, but what the heck? I’d already paid for the internet connection.
Anyway, I’ve been writing a bunch of blog posts while waiting for planes, so I’ll be going through them this morning and hopefully posting a bunch before catching my plane for the last leg home. Can’t wait to be home!
The Amsterdam airport doesn’t yet have free Wi-Fi, although it is apparently coming soon. I had to pay $12 Euros for 90 minutes of internet time. The guy selling me my pass code required all of my flight information and my driver’s license, which I found to be a little sketchy, but I wanted to be connected so badly I just sucked it up. Of course, my computer ran out of battery on the plane, so when I went to go charge it I unfortunately discovered that my converter for the African outlets is not the same as what I need here. I had to go back to the stand and cough up another 12 Euros, but what the heck? I’d already paid for the internet connection.
Anyway, I’ve been writing a bunch of blog posts while waiting for planes, so I’ll be going through them this morning and hopefully posting a bunch before catching my plane for the last leg home. Can’t wait to be home!
An Uncertain Landing
Everything went relatively smoothly yesterday. I spent the day exploring Dar es Salaam with Godfrey and made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I was only concerned my bags would be too heavy, but they ended up being within the limit.
We boarded the plane a little bit later than the scheduled time, but it wasn’t too much of an issue. When I got on the plane I immediately asked for a glass of water so I could take some Benadryl. On my flight here I ignored the advice to do so and found myself unable to sleep in these uncomfortable seats. The flight attendant totally blew me off and made some snappy comment about finding my seat before making requests. I just went to the next flight attendant who was standing closer to my assigned seat closer to my seat and she was happy to help me.
I struggled to get the pills out of their packaging while the same cranky flight attendant told the passengers to close their own overhead compartments since the flight attendants are tired of doing it every day. It sounded like we were ready to go, so I popped the pills, turned on my iPod shuffle, and closed my eyes.
Not 45 seconds after I had shut my eyes did the pilot come online and start jibber jabbering in Dutch. I thought it was a regular announcement, so by the time he got to translating his announcement into English and saying words like “brakes” and “delay” I wanted to kick myself for not paying more attention. We had to wait an incredibly long time for who knows what, with the Benadryl making my eyelids heavier with every minute that passed. Somewhere in the wait I heard something about, “The engineers trying to fix it, but if they can’t we’ll have to take all the bags off the plane, which will take a long time.” Of course, they couldn’t fix it (whatever it was), so we had to wait another 45 minutes to unload all of the cargo.
We finally took off at God knows what time and began our journey to Amsterdam. Unfortunately the Benadryl wore off around 3:30 am, which may or may not have been a long way into the flight. Out of curiosity, I decided to ask my neighbors what had happened. What I heard was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but laugh...
Apparently the fuel line was broken. They tried to replace the pipe, and couldn’t, so they had to take all of our baggage off the plane. When I asked my neighbor what this had to do with fixing the fuel pipe, he seemed adamant that taking off the bags was a sufficient solution to a leaking fuel pipe. I didn’t believe the explanation at all, but was more preoccupied figuring out what was in my checked baggage and how and when I would be able to get it back. I mean, clearly we wouldn’t be flying with a broken fuel line, right?
Well a few more hours into our journey I got up to go to the bathroom. I got talking with this guy who had been climbing Mt. Kilimamjaro. He seemed thoroughly exhausted and defeated. I kept asking him questions and we finally got the part of the story where the volcano in Iceland had delayed his travels by a full week. Even worse, this flight to Amsterdam was now so late that he would be missing his connection to Wales and have to spend another day waiting for a plane to take him home. I felt really bad for the guy, but figured I’d just go ahead and ask him what was going on with the plane since he seemed to speak English with an accent I could at least understand.
The real story, or at least the one he told me, is that when they were doing a final check of the airplane at the airport, they noticed the hydraulic brake line was leaking. They were unsuccessful in fixing it, but decided that if they took of 4 tons of cargo they would be able to fly safely. The passangers’ bags were first, so they had to take time to get them all off before removing the cargo. We probably weren’t separated from our baggage, but our brakes are still broken. I’m actually writing this blog from the plane, very interested in what this landing is going to feel like. I guess landing with no brakes is safe. They didn’t ask the passengers to take a vote on it or anything so, so I guess they feel confident enough to take our lives in their hands with no breaks.
In any case, the battery is running low and the food is on the way. I’ve been catching up on a bunch of movies and TV shows on the plane while trying to ignore the oversized nun sitting behind me who keeps asking me very loudly to keep my seat in its full upright position and avoid any reclining since her legs don’t’ have enough room. I listen for about 5 minutes before putting it back again, at which point she likes to jam her knee into the back of my seat, completely ruining any potential for rest that I have.
I can’t be too upset though; my six hour layover has given me enough of a buffer that this 3 hour delay shouldn’t leave me stranded in Amsterdam. Fingers crossed!
We boarded the plane a little bit later than the scheduled time, but it wasn’t too much of an issue. When I got on the plane I immediately asked for a glass of water so I could take some Benadryl. On my flight here I ignored the advice to do so and found myself unable to sleep in these uncomfortable seats. The flight attendant totally blew me off and made some snappy comment about finding my seat before making requests. I just went to the next flight attendant who was standing closer to my assigned seat closer to my seat and she was happy to help me.
I struggled to get the pills out of their packaging while the same cranky flight attendant told the passengers to close their own overhead compartments since the flight attendants are tired of doing it every day. It sounded like we were ready to go, so I popped the pills, turned on my iPod shuffle, and closed my eyes.
Not 45 seconds after I had shut my eyes did the pilot come online and start jibber jabbering in Dutch. I thought it was a regular announcement, so by the time he got to translating his announcement into English and saying words like “brakes” and “delay” I wanted to kick myself for not paying more attention. We had to wait an incredibly long time for who knows what, with the Benadryl making my eyelids heavier with every minute that passed. Somewhere in the wait I heard something about, “The engineers trying to fix it, but if they can’t we’ll have to take all the bags off the plane, which will take a long time.” Of course, they couldn’t fix it (whatever it was), so we had to wait another 45 minutes to unload all of the cargo.
We finally took off at God knows what time and began our journey to Amsterdam. Unfortunately the Benadryl wore off around 3:30 am, which may or may not have been a long way into the flight. Out of curiosity, I decided to ask my neighbors what had happened. What I heard was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but laugh...
Apparently the fuel line was broken. They tried to replace the pipe, and couldn’t, so they had to take all of our baggage off the plane. When I asked my neighbor what this had to do with fixing the fuel pipe, he seemed adamant that taking off the bags was a sufficient solution to a leaking fuel pipe. I didn’t believe the explanation at all, but was more preoccupied figuring out what was in my checked baggage and how and when I would be able to get it back. I mean, clearly we wouldn’t be flying with a broken fuel line, right?
Well a few more hours into our journey I got up to go to the bathroom. I got talking with this guy who had been climbing Mt. Kilimamjaro. He seemed thoroughly exhausted and defeated. I kept asking him questions and we finally got the part of the story where the volcano in Iceland had delayed his travels by a full week. Even worse, this flight to Amsterdam was now so late that he would be missing his connection to Wales and have to spend another day waiting for a plane to take him home. I felt really bad for the guy, but figured I’d just go ahead and ask him what was going on with the plane since he seemed to speak English with an accent I could at least understand.
The real story, or at least the one he told me, is that when they were doing a final check of the airplane at the airport, they noticed the hydraulic brake line was leaking. They were unsuccessful in fixing it, but decided that if they took of 4 tons of cargo they would be able to fly safely. The passangers’ bags were first, so they had to take time to get them all off before removing the cargo. We probably weren’t separated from our baggage, but our brakes are still broken. I’m actually writing this blog from the plane, very interested in what this landing is going to feel like. I guess landing with no brakes is safe. They didn’t ask the passengers to take a vote on it or anything so, so I guess they feel confident enough to take our lives in their hands with no breaks.
In any case, the battery is running low and the food is on the way. I’ve been catching up on a bunch of movies and TV shows on the plane while trying to ignore the oversized nun sitting behind me who keeps asking me very loudly to keep my seat in its full upright position and avoid any reclining since her legs don’t’ have enough room. I listen for about 5 minutes before putting it back again, at which point she likes to jam her knee into the back of my seat, completely ruining any potential for rest that I have.
I can’t be too upset though; my six hour layover has given me enough of a buffer that this 3 hour delay shouldn’t leave me stranded in Amsterdam. Fingers crossed!
Last Day of School
When I walked into the Kindergarten classroom to say good morning to all my little friends for the last time, I was so overwhelmed that I actually had to go outside and collect myself. I’ve had a really great experience here at Chumbageni and am finding it hard to believe that these kids will be a lot more than just a ten minute walk away from my house in a few days.
Anyway, I spent almost the entire morning giving out a huge pack of stickers my mom sent me last month. The kids were so excited to get to choose which one they wanted and where they wanted to put it, and were very sure of their selections even though there were about 100 different options. I was happy to have something somewhat purposeful to be doing, and also to get to say goodbye to each child individually. I went from desk to desk from Kindergarten up to 2nd grade, probably interacting with over 200 different kids.
After sticker time the Kindergarten class invited me to come drink ugi with them. We all sat in a big circle and drank this sweet porridge like food and said goodbye to each other. There was barely enough ugi to go around, so the Kindergarten teacher and I took very small cups for ourselves.
One of the girls in the class saw I had finished very quickly and came over to offer me some of hers. After pouring a bit of her ugi into my cup, other students began following suit. Before I knew it there was a whole line of kids coming to give me ugi. The whole thing was far too cute for me to refuse, although I was a little less than happy about the exchange of so many cooties. I must have been given 3 or 4 full new cups of ugi by the students, but was luckily able to continue the chain by giving my ugi to other kids in the circle. I guess the cooties must have done their job since I am now dreading boarding my plane with a brand new stomach bug. But that might also be due to my stupid decision to eat raw fish at a sushi restaurant the day before travelling home. I don’t know where my brain has gone, but my stomach is certainly displeased with my decision making abilities.
In any case, I spent the rest of the afternoon just talking with people and saying goodbyes. We had a big goodbye party at the end of the day. I spent the rest of the day packing and saying goodbyes to the many visitors who showed up throughout the evening. Even after just 3 months, I apparently met quite a lot of people! And while I am not one for goodbyes, I couldn’t avoid them since it is considered very rude in this culture to leave without saying goodbye to each and every person either in person or on the phone. It was an exhausting but great reminder of all the great people I have met and experiences I have had here.
Anyway, I spent almost the entire morning giving out a huge pack of stickers my mom sent me last month. The kids were so excited to get to choose which one they wanted and where they wanted to put it, and were very sure of their selections even though there were about 100 different options. I was happy to have something somewhat purposeful to be doing, and also to get to say goodbye to each child individually. I went from desk to desk from Kindergarten up to 2nd grade, probably interacting with over 200 different kids.
After sticker time the Kindergarten class invited me to come drink ugi with them. We all sat in a big circle and drank this sweet porridge like food and said goodbye to each other. There was barely enough ugi to go around, so the Kindergarten teacher and I took very small cups for ourselves.
One of the girls in the class saw I had finished very quickly and came over to offer me some of hers. After pouring a bit of her ugi into my cup, other students began following suit. Before I knew it there was a whole line of kids coming to give me ugi. The whole thing was far too cute for me to refuse, although I was a little less than happy about the exchange of so many cooties. I must have been given 3 or 4 full new cups of ugi by the students, but was luckily able to continue the chain by giving my ugi to other kids in the circle. I guess the cooties must have done their job since I am now dreading boarding my plane with a brand new stomach bug. But that might also be due to my stupid decision to eat raw fish at a sushi restaurant the day before travelling home. I don’t know where my brain has gone, but my stomach is certainly displeased with my decision making abilities.
In any case, I spent the rest of the afternoon just talking with people and saying goodbyes. We had a big goodbye party at the end of the day. I spent the rest of the day packing and saying goodbyes to the many visitors who showed up throughout the evening. Even after just 3 months, I apparently met quite a lot of people! And while I am not one for goodbyes, I couldn’t avoid them since it is considered very rude in this culture to leave without saying goodbye to each and every person either in person or on the phone. It was an exhausting but great reminder of all the great people I have met and experiences I have had here.
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