Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Well, we're here in Mbabane to write the post newsletter again. Life is not super-exciting, and we're stretching for filler as usual. We did discover a place to get a cappucino fix near the new hostel (the old place closed down due to high rent), after one of the staff stopped us in the middle of the street and hauled us in for a tour (the place is unmarked, and only about half finished by the looks of things.)

I am endeavouring to get a decent trumpet (rather challenging, I have located 3 trumpets for sale in the whole damn country), but I think I'm just going to have to make a purchase. Finding valve oil promises to be a dastardly conundrum, however. My old band director has started appearing in my dreams as a result of this trumpet idea, and it makes me more nervous than I'd like to admit. Playing trumpet in high school was kind of a terror between the bullying upperclassmen, super-competitive atmosphere, and screaming director. Playing the tuba was far superior inasmuch as even though my section was balls-to-the-wall screaming insane ("DON'T PUT THAT FUCKING SHIT DOWN ON THE CONCRETE, YOU'LL SCRATCH THE SHIT OUT OF IT! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!"), at least they didn't give a damn for competition, the aforementioned screaming director, or most anything other than a good joke, a good joint, and hard liquor. I got in the way of none of those three, so we got along just fine.

Lunchtime. More later? Stay tuned.

Monday, January 5, 2009

So, we're all trickling back in from vacation. We had an epic run up to Mozambique, 12 hours to Tofo thanks to the driver running a side-business selling booze at any number of spots along the route.

It rained for four solid days, our things got soaked, mildewed, etc. Our hut was made from reeds and the water came through the walls and puddled on the inside. Justine and I went out exploring for lack of any desire at all to spend time on the beach. There were marathon Uno sessions. We met Peace Corps South Africa, Mozambique, Malawi, Botswana, and Namibia, along with lots of other random mostly South African folks. The streets of the nearest town, Inhambane, ran with water a foot and a half high, and we waded through on the sidewalk, praying not to stick a foot in something deadly all the while. The storm drains gaped open, except where the water overcame them and made whirlpools in the flooded streets. It was all pretty interesting once you got used to being wet and to losing the hope of ever being dry again.

Finally the sun came out and we spent a few days in the usual beach amusments of sunning, swimming, and running before heading back to Swaziland for the New Year. There was a big contingent of PCVs at the (one) nightclub in the country. I kissed almost everyone when the clock ran out, an accomplishment of which I'm absurdly proud.

My resolutions are the same as ever. You know me.