Traveling with Parents

 

So I realize that I only posted once on the blog last year and that means I probably only have to post once this year to keep the habit going. And my dad keeps asking me to write stories I tell him for the blog, and he’s also asked me to send him the photos I took in Guatemala (which I have not yet done), because that is where we went to celebrate him arriving at his 70 year of life. We were supposed to go to Malta, but his wife, my mother, decided that she has spent to many hours of her life on trans-Atlantic flights and too many wakeful jet lagged nights. So she plotted against us and convinced Dad that Guatemala would scratch his wanderlust itch and fulfill a life long dream while achieving her goal of joining in on the fun without changing time zones. She did an impressive amount of work (one conversation) to convince him and then he spent a lot of time on the internet planning the trip. So in the end, Mom and I went on the trip having mostly no idea where we would be visiting, but trusting to Dad and the youtube videos that he found interesting. My contribution was teaching them how to use airbnb and Uber, using my international sim card, and my transaction-fee-less atm card. I also bought a couple of interesting books on Mayan civilization, which Dad and I read while we were wandering their old empire.

I will not write about each place that we visited, but Dad planned a great trip and I think you should definitely visit Flores, Tikal, Antigua, and Panajachel if you go to Guatemala, which you should absolutely do during your lifetime.

My favorite place we visited was probably Tikal because I have long loved the ancient civilizations and the mystery of the end of the Mayan Empire always piques my interest. Seeing their 4 tallest buildings poking up over the top of the jungle canopy was fascinating, as was remembering that these buildings were hidden for years and almost completely forgotten—it’s hard to believe when you’re down on the ground looking up at them, but when you climb up to the top of the buildings and see the other 3 well over the tree tops but nothing else except trees for miles, you can kind of get it.

Anyway, this is not a travel blog encouraging you to go visit other places. If it were, it is failing. None of you have ventured out to visit me in my various homes around the world, always in peak tourist destinations like South Sudan and Chad. This is a blog to make fun of my parents trying to speak Spanish to Guatemalans and ending up speaking in Indonesian instead…just kidding, it’s not. I already  made fun of them to my sisters who can appreciate it because they also speak Indonesian and enough Spanish to know which is which. My parents spoke excellent Spanish back in the day. They studied in Costa Rica, but unfortunately left just before I could be born there and get a Costa Rican passport, which would have been really cool to have. My mom thinks it wouldn’t have been fun to have a baby in San Jose in the 80’s, but she would have been fine. And now who is suffering? Me. With only 1 passport. (Maybe if I had two passports, I could have had a travel blog…)

Guatemalan bajaj

Back to the language mixing, it is not usually something I do, so I tended to be the one explaining to them that it will not help to yell louder over the boat engine, the driver did not understand you when you asked him what is over there in Indonesian. I will admit however, to pronouncing Spanish words starting out with a French accent on the first syllable but a Spanish one at the end because you actually have to pronounce all the letters at the end of a word in Spanish, which you do not have to do in French. Also, I am fully prepared to admit that my parents speak much  better Spanish than I do. However, I was gratified when the driver asked to speak with me on the phone, presumably because he decided that while my dad understood him better, he understood me better with my limited Spanish vocabulary that was not interspersed with Indonesian words. I was possibly slightly less gratified when he spoke to me on the phone like this “Voy…a…hablar…mas…despacio….” I mean, it was helpful though…

But the good thing is that my travel habits have been developed over the years out of my own parents’ travel habits so we travel well together. We do not want a guide to tell us every single detail he has memorized about every inch of every building we are visiting. We are fine oohing and ahhing in our own ignorance and looking up things that we are curious about later. We like to try new foods and are not afraid of a good street food option. We like to walk and explore. We are all cheapskates but as we get older and realize we can’t take it with us, we spend a little more than we would have back in the day. Dad said, “It’s just a little less for your inheritance later,” which I’m fine with because I would probably have spent it traveling around somewhere interesting anyway. But sorry to the sisters who are also getting less now…

I would also like to shout out to my Mom who is a tiny bit older than my Dad and easily walked over 20,000 steps in a day. All her friends were amazed. She would also ask me questions sometimes like “is ‘apa ini’ Spanish?” (It is not.) I told my sisters because it reminded us of when our grandmother visited Indonesia back in the day and before going in a toilet, she wanted to make sure she was going in the right room, and in her genteel Tennessee southern accent called over to my dad, “Does ‘pria’ mean ‘ladies’?” and he said, “Try it and see!” (It does not mean ‘ladies.’)

Anyway, I’m back in Africa now and the parents are back in the US. We are back to normal life, which means dog walks and church stuff and grandkids (plus all the other volunteer activities they are doing at schools and charities) for them and visa issues, airplane-acquired colds, and emails for me. I did have a fun trip with Ethiopians to Kenya for a conference on fluoride, which might be fun to write about if I can motivate myself to write about it someday. This blog is for my dad, out of guilt for not sending him all the Guatemala photos he has asked for yet. Hopefully this will appease him for a few more months.

In June 2026, they will have been married for 50 years, so I took some romantic photos...

Antigua

Who would guess that minutes before this photo,
they were arguing about who interrupted whom
and who wasn't listening to whom...true love...

Dad loves a good boat trip...

He was very entertained by visiting a village that 
is also called San Pedro...

We walked 22,000+ steps this day in Panajachel-
not a problem for these old guys...

Volcanos and tropical flowers--a big part of our lives... 

So I can say I posted on the blog in 2023

It’s been a very long time since I have written on the blog. The only excuse is extreme laziness. People keep asking me about it. And some people have even said, “Oh this will end up on your blog for sure!” And I feel bad because nothing has ended up on my blog at all recently. This is concerning because I write the blog so that when people tell me to write my memoirs, I can just send them to the blog, but if there is no blog that means that someday I might actually have to write them. I guess I could just use the laziness excuse again.

Fun time in Kenya

Well, here are some short recaps on various things that have happened to me this year, which I’ve been told should show up on the blog:

My parents came to visit me! It was their first time in Africa, and they opted to fly via Addis Ababa, one of a few options on the way to N’djamena. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but it turns out we arrived right before Ethiopian Orthodox Christmas, which is just after not Ethiopian Christmas and not Ethiopian New Year. Ethiopian Airlines did not manage increased amounts of baggage well. One guy told me he brought 15 pieces of luggage with him. We each only had one suitcase, but none of them came for 3 days. My mom and I had decided to go for comfort over fashion for the trip. My dad drove me crazy in all the airports as he slowly and methodically took off his belt and shoes at each security check (fortunately this time he did not bring a pair of scissors in his carry on—he did forget his covid vaccination card again, but we had a photo so it was fine), but he looked decent in all the photos. Mom and I looked…comfortable but not fashionable. We were just about to go buy new clothes when all my contacts who I had roped in to help us find the bags managed to pester the right people into finding the suitcases. We got them the day before we went on to Chad, so that was lucky for us.

5am in the airport, looking as good as most people do at 5am in the airport 

Lost bags in Addis International

Other than the bag stuff, we had a great time in Addis, visiting my friends and trying the food. I forgot that injera is somewhat of an acquired taste and that my parents’ tolerance for spicy food has decreased with age and distance from Indonesia, but they liked most of the food anyway.

With Moussa and Alala in Chad

In Chad we crammed into my tiny house full of happy dogs and plenty of sand. I had so many friends to visit and we drove out to Dourbali to spend the night chez Moussa as well. My dad had promised to paint a mural on the wall of his church building. He’d spent weeks designing it and running it by Moussa who had opinions. The final design was chosen, my dad did an official picture, using all the good colors and framed it up nicely too for a present. When we got to Dourbali, he threw his back out trying to push the truck out of a sand pit even when I told him not to. Then he was in agony for several days until the medicine Claire prescribed fixed him up again. Fortunately, he was still able to get the outline of the mural up on the walls—with two of Moussa’s pastor friends holding him up.

Holding up my Dad as he draws

Not bad for a guy who can't stand up on his own

A local church member colored the mural. I have a full photo of it somewhere, but couldn't find it.

The other highlight of the trip for my parents (besides meeting a million people I talk about all the time, telling me how much nicer Claire’s house looks than mine, and eating pain au raisin at Amandines) was visiting the hippos in the river. Dad told me he really wanted to see some cool African animals and apparently Joe and Pika don’t count. We got to see a big group of hippos just a few meters away from us. Then we went to Kadessou’s house where his wife had prepared a huge feast and he gifted a giant Massa shield to my dad. It was an epic day for Dad who was actually walking around unassisted by that point, thanks to Claire Bedford, PhD (pharmacist Doctor). Mom was tough and feisty the whole trip and went on extra visits while Dad was convalescing in bed with Joe keeping him company and Pika guarding the door.

Taking photos of hippos, with Mom walking slowly in the background,
wearing my clothes.

Hippos!

Mom with Nadji and family, while Dad convalesced chez moi

With the Massa shield

I was a bit concerned about the Massa shield making it all the way to America. It would have been destroyed as toxic waste if my parents were Australian because it is made out of local grass and wood, but I was mostly concerned about they allowing it as checked baggage. Fortunately, due to my consistent presence in Hassan Djamous International Airport, people know me there and I talked my way inside (normally illegal without a boarding pass) so I could get it wrapped in plastic and checked with their other bags. 

My airport friends who like that I speak Arabic gave me their badge so I could go inside with my parents.

Supervising the wrapping of the shield.
It made it all the way to Nashville!

After that visit, I was traveling every few weeks: within Chad, Niger, Uganda, DRC, Jordan. and Madagascar. Madagascar was for fun…a friend who doesn’t want to be named and I needed a bit of beach time and relaxing fun. Fortunately, said unnamed friend is a wonderful organizer and all I had to do was buy my ticket and keep her going until she could get to the trip date because she was exhausted and overworked. 

I thought I would catch up the blog after my parents left, after the Niger trip, after the Uganda/DRC trip, after the Jordan trip, after the Madagascar trip, but it’s months later, I’ve been on the Kenya trip and the Cambodia trip and the Ethiopia trip, and I still haven’t managed to pull it off. 

Niger/Chad travels

Some of my favorite South Sudanese in Uganda

Rolex with Philip on the way to DRC

Sunrise on the Nile #nofilter

Went to Jordan for work, but got to see old friends and their 4 kids
(they didn't have the kids back when we lived in Lebanon together years ago)

Reunited with my Arabic teacher in Jordan
(2007 pics below and present day above)

Good times with my favs in Kenya

❤️

Zip-lining with the Chad and Niger guys in Kenya

Work hard/play hard at neverthirst

I did not get many photos in Cambodia.
Ok-I got a lot of photos, but most are close ups of food, not interesting for other people.

Ethiopia fun

I feel like I should call it a Year Off from Blogging because I am very unmotivated and also very lazy and always tired. I’ve accepted the fact that I am aging rapidly and my body is just not capable of all the activities that used to be so easy for me—typing things on the computer, eating 6 bags of gummy bears for dinner, not having back issues.

I did finally decorated my living room, thanks to birthday presents from friends,
 after all the pointed comments from my parents.

For my birthday we also went kayaking and ate lots of cake

I had all the best of intentions to write about each trip. I also meant to write about my kayaking birthday celebration, our new kitten, watching Biola and Bukola’s kitten for them for a few weeks, the river clean up project we started, all the fun adventures I’ve had with my new group of deaf friends who are patiently teaching me Chadian sign language. Fortunately Chadian sign language is closely related to American Sign Language since it was an American missionary who brought deaf education to Chad (among other African nations). I would tell you to go look up Andrew Foster on the internet because he was a very interesting man. Because I’m super nice, here is a link to his wikipedia page: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Foster_(educator).

They patiently help me learn new signs

Abiola and Bukola before they popped over to Nigeria for a few weeks. Kitten not pictured

We're paused for rainy season because the river is so high,
you can't get down to the shore anymore because the shore has come to us.

Road trip with Antani and kids and friends.
13 people in my truck!

Boat trip with Kadessou

Probably most of the funny stories would have been about our brain damaged cat, Ziguégué. We, using the internet in the way it was intended, have diagnosed her with cerebellar hypoplasia, which is literally brain damage. It means she walks like she is drunk, turns lots of accidental somersaults, and makes Manon and me laugh a lot. She also is deeply in love with both dogs, especially Pika, and loves to try to jump on her and attack her tail. Pika does not find this as amusing as Manon and I do.

We got her when her eyes were still closed and fed her
yoghurt and evaporate milk with a syringe.

Antani, Abiner, Joe, Pika, and Zig came with me to the airport for one of my trips.
I had Barka drive because he told me had a license. That is when I found out he doesn't
know how to drive a stick. So I yelled "embrayage" (clutch) when I needed him to push it with his foot
and shifted gears for him with my hand. Then I called Mariassou to pick them up.
I have high hopes that Barka will learn how to drive manual transmission soon.

I’ve also discovered that my Chadian friends do not respect the names I’ve chosen for my pets. For several years, Joe has been known around the neighborhood as “Gane Gueye”. Initially I thought they were calling him “Danaby” because of his beautiful tail (it's hard to hear on the street while walking the dogs), but they said they want to call him Gana Gueye because Joe is a cool dog and Idriss Gana Gueye is a cool Senegalese footballer. I’m fine with that because I am a fan of the Senegalese team. 

Moussa decided a long time ago to call Pika “Kakilé”, a Fulfulde word meaning something like “beware of the dog.” It does suit her until you get to know her and realize all she wants is to unconditionally love you and lick your feet or arm for about 20 minutes while you’re watching a movie (or Le Bureau des Légendes with Manon and me).

She did not appreciate being a fake wet nurse for Zig.
This may be partly why Pika runs away whenever Zig gets too close.

And Antani has been calling Ziguégué “Karambani,” which she says is Ngambaye for someone who is always getting into things (she thinks—she isn’t Ngambaye, but the Ngambayes are proud of their language and it has been incorporated into a lot of Ndjamena slang). It is apt. I’ve been told by others that it is actually Chadian Arabic. I think that is more likely as it is one of the 4-5 languages that Antani speaks. Ziguégué, for the record, is Chadian Arabic for a small gift or snack. People were concerned if we called her that then the dogs would think she was fair game to chew on, but they have never once come close even to biting her (though they’ve growled at her when she has bitten their tails/legs and tripped over them when they’re eating). This was unexpected because there is a cat that hangs out on our roof that they hate passionately. They’ve tried so hard to jump on to the roof, using the fire of their fury, and chomp its head off, but they’ve not managed that just yet.

She's a music lover

Zig and I like the stringed instruments

Happy playing together

And here I am, back from yet another trip since I started writing this but not having finished, and then Claire mentioned again that I’ve not written on my blog in a while (true) so I went back to read over when I wrote. And I’m thinking it’s good enough for now…There are things that happened that haven’t been mentioned, but if you want to imagine my life, bref—it’s crazy amounts of travel, visiting people and places I enjoy, eating all my favorite foods from those places (shekela tibs, rolex, klichi), having meetings that are sometimes productive, filming lots of videos for neverthirst donors… interspersed with a few weeks at home, working on the computer, taking Hausa lessons when the internet is working (as I write this it is not working, which is why I’m actually finishing this but how will I post it?), playing with my dogs and cat, watching French tv shows with Manon, helping Sabit and my deaf friends learn a bit of English, trying to speak better French so I can be nice to Manon who really appreciates when I bother to use the subjunctive tense, hanging with Claire chez moi when she needs to get away from the hospital, making Thai food with Antani during a rainstorm, running slowly around my neighborhood remembering when I used to be young and fast, plotting the downfall of the Cameroonian bar next to my house, which has started having weekend parties that go from 3pm to 5-6am (unacceptable), taking my friend’s kid to the French bakery near our houses and filling her up with chocolate ice cream, eclairs, and cake and then sending her home…anyway, it’s not a bad life.

I did not take this photo. It was in the news when a hippo decided to trot down the street,
and the military came out to make sure no one died.

I'm so lucky to have Manon as a neighbor because not only will she
pick me up from the airport, correct my French without laughing (sometimes),
get arrested with me when we go out looking for hippos on the river, but she also
accepts all the pathetic animals I bring home unquestioningly and even helps take care of them.

Pre-Eid visits with Pastor Moussa

My favs who I always visit on holidays.

I was Claire's plus 1 at the coronation party for Charles at the British Embassy

Post-spilling chocolate ice cream all over her dress, 
we played with Zig at my house.

Non-Massas at the Massa Festival

I should probably write a blog post about the cat next...