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.