Home Comings and Goings

 I recently got back from a much-needed break, much of which I spent in the bathtub eating Twizzlers. I don’t even really like Twizzlers that much, but someone had given them to my dad, and it usually falls to me to finish off the house candy that no one else wants—it’s a job I take seriously.

Naturally, the trip to my parents’ house involved many conversations that included the following phrases: “When are you going/coming home?” “So glad to have you home!” “Are you happy being home?” The convenient thing about those conversations, is that I had them in two countries with people who weren’t talking about the same “home.”

Unfortunately, both Air Canada and Ethiopian Airlines seemed to work hard to make sure that I didn’t get home (either one) as planned. Also, important side note: Canadians who work in the Toronto Airport are not as nice as Canadians are supposed to be. And Air Canada is the actual worst of all airlines I’ve taken for customer service, and you should remember that I’ve flown Sudan Airways and Air Asia. Once Air Canada finally got me to Nashville, they didn’t have my bag. And there was no one to report to that my bag didn’t arrive and no Air Canada personnel anywhere in the vicinity (and I searched the airport). So I had to leave the airport without my bag. I then called Air Canada’s 24 hour help line and no one answered. Probably in Canada, 24 hour help lines only apply to daylight hours, and in the dead of winter, this probably means that there is one half hour of customer service access per day, if it isn't  snowing. I tried to call their lost baggage department the next day during office hours (even Canadian office hours) and no one answered. I finally got a hold of someone in ticketing who referred me to someone who referred me to a link on a web page. After I spent an hour filling out an ambiguous repetitive report, I got an email back telling me that I would hear from a representative in the next “35 business days.” I laughed out loud and then I screamed. Then my dad and I drove back to the airport and found my bag sitting in the Air Canada office and an Air Canada employee all huffy about not having any information about it. Hey people reading my blog who travel: DON’T fly Air Canada if you can possibly avoid it. And if you are reading my blog, Air Canada, please be advised that I would like 5 free tickets and a million dollars to compensate for my pain and suffering and also because I had to help translate for a French-only woman in your country and French is one of the official languages there. WHY IS AIR CANADA SO TERRIBLE?

But I still had fun times on the North American continent, hanging with the nieces and nephews, buying them nerf guns and dolls and lots of candy and having a gummy bear fight, requested in advance by one of the nephews, which involved us freezing on the back porch flinging candy at each other. Good times, though very cold. I decided if my life were a storybook, the title would be “10,000 Cups of Tea, One Woman’s Quest to Survive the Frozen Depths of Her Parent’s Ice Cave.” I’m not sure how much hot tea I consumed over the course of my visit but it was on par with my candy consumption, and remember: I ate a Family Sized bag of Twizzlers in the bathtub.

The one who requested the
gummy bear fight is in the front.

The one who let the other one have a gummy bear fight
as long as it didn't happen in her kitchen.
Also, Marian-we don't have any photos together?!

Teaching the kids how to make traditional New Years Eve bala-bala

He helped make them, but could not be enticed to taste one.

I told Marian I bought these for her kids.
She didn't believe me, but I might actually do it someday.
I'm really susceptible to those big brown eyes.

I did buy and help assemble the t-rex

Marian calls this a fail, but I kind of like the honesty.
I'm dropping the baby to kiss the dog, the oldest responsible child
is following directions, but no one else really is and it's too dark
to see the one obedient child anyway. Good times.

Hardest part of the trip is always saying goodbye to the one who cries.
The other ones are fine, and I can say goodbye with normal fleeting sadness,
but the tears! The tears hurt Auntie's heart.

Back in Chad, I jumped back into important life stuff after a brief, unplanned layover in Togo. I used that time to reconnect with an old university friend from there who was not in country, but hooked me up with his driver who showed me around town until I realized that it was getting increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open.

Already hard to keep the eyes open.

My tour guide in front of the beach you can't see.
I took a lot of other terrible photos in Togo.
Don't worry: I won't share them here.

The important life stuff in Chad involved being back with Joe, whom I missed dearly, and giving him and many other people the presents I bought for them. Everyone loved the presents except for Joe, who prefers a couple of goat horns he dug out of the fire pit to the processed dog treats and bacon-flavored plastic chew toy I lovingly selected for him.

Joe's new collar thanks to the Frizz Fam

So happy to be back together

I want this goat horn. Keep your fake bacon!

I’ve also spent hours in the office reading through emails and also staring at emails and not reading them because there were so many and most of them were really boring.

And I was tasked with taking care of two ladies who came out here to do some research on the Chad life. I mean, I was sort of tasked with it. It was assumed that I would plan a trip for them, and I planned many things, one of which was to visit our biosand filter project just outside of town. When we got out there, we stopped and talked to some of the villagers, and they asked some questions. We were going to go wander around the village, when one of the men that I’ve known for a while told me that there were hippos out. I suddenly forgot that I was there for a reason and told the guy that we would go out and see the hippos—let’s get a boat and go! They told me that boats aren’t really traveling right now while the river is low (dry season), but we could wade across to the island and get a closer look.

In hind sight, I probably should have asked the visitors if they wanted to go see the hippos instead of wandering around town. I should have informed them that there would be wading involved and proximity to dangerous animals. But none of that really seemed important at the time. Fortunately, I think they also enjoyed it, so it was fine. Yes. They enjoyed it. I mean, they didn’t complain to my face, so it’s a win!

Hippo footprints!

They look fine, right?

Hippo family! Four big fat ones.

This guy, named Joe (prob not spelled that way though),
was our hippo tour guide.

Hippo selfie-very important.

Dorcas pointing out the hippos and telling me that she doesn't approve
because they will destroy her garden (you saw what their footprints do).
Hippos are cool but mean.

Anyway, it’s good to be back. Join us next time for when I tell the story of “Island and Desert Travel Times.” Unless I tell the story of “Sending the Puppy to America” first. Barely February and I’ve already got so many stories. This is the life. Don’t be too jealous though: I still have to heat up water on the stove if I don’t want to take a cold shower in the frigid Chadian winter.

Survival skills

Oh yeah-we also went to a Joss Stone concert.
She came to Chad for unknown reasons and it cost 4$. 

She came into the audience, and I tried to hide, but Annie
made me get this photo first for the sisters.
Upon further reflection, I've decided I don't really like concerts much.
I don't appreciate forced audience participation because aren't we paying YOU to sing?
And the only thing more terrifying than a performer coming into the audience to make people dance
is someone dressed up in one of those giant costumes at an amusement part because WHAT IS IN THAT THING?
But it was fun to hear Joss sing about marijuana and watch Steve play some pretty amazing guitar.