Just warning you now, I might pick my nose in public. I apologize in advance if you catch me with my finger up there, digging deep for gold. People here are constantly picking there noses, like mid conversation they embark on a fierce hunt… its one of the worse Mozambican habits that has worn off on me. I also might tell you that you are getting fat and need to iron your shirt. Sorry.
I am going to die from the cold. I can’t even handle a cool 70 degree evening breeze here without putting a sweater and wool socks on. Thus I have instructed my mother to meet me at the airport with my Ugg boots and the biggest jacket she can find.
I need a burrito, a haircut, a soy latte, an IPA and a glass of non-Portuguese red wine within 24 hours of touching down on American soil. Perhaps in that order.
I have been feeling this intense urge to go to Costco. I just need to see a bunch of useless shit in bulk. For example, a one gallon jar of pickles. What are pickles anyway? Cucumbers that have been drained of all nutritional value?
I think I might be overwhelmed by my Costco experience, but I plan on eating a massive cup cheap frozen yogurt to cope. As of yet, I haven’t decided whether to go with vanilla, chocolate, or swirl, but I am pretty sure I won’t want berry compote.
I am terrified to drive a car.
I have become this incredibly calm person and I am afraid the constant stimulation of the states might cause me to hide in a corner. I wouldn’t say that I was fantastically high strung before, but I was known to be a bit anxious and perhaps dramatic at times. Now I am so calm and un-phased by worldly chaos that I am afraid I might be considered boring. If I bore you, just ask me questions and hopefully I will be able to think of something interesting to say.
Also, please don’t call me a party pooper if I go to bed at 9pm and wake up at 5am. I am a teacher, my life is pretty G (as in granny) rated. I mean there isn’t much to do here after dark, and then the sun comes up at like 4am now and I have to get an early start to fetch water before heading to work.
This makes me sound spoiled, but I don’t know what I will do without the beach for a month. Ok, I take that back, I am going to spend a few days at a beach house in Oregon with my family… beautiful, yes, but rocky and rainy is just not the same as my tropical paradise where there are sometimes more monkeys than people on the beach.
HIV has become such a normal part of my life, I am pretty sure I am going to mention something about it in passing and shock the pants off people.
I no longer speak normal English. Rather, I often forget a word in my mother tongue, or use phrases that are direct translations from Portuguese and just sound strange in English.
I also talk with my hands. Hey, I am an English teacher, it usually takes a song and dance to get my students to understand what I am saying.
So the general rule is: when you travel, don’t drink the water and be careful what you eat because your tummy needs time to adjust. I wonder then, now that I am used to the food/bacteria here, will I get really sick in America?
When you ask me, “How’s Africa?” I will probably just answer, “It’s good,” without further explanation. I mean really, you gotta give me a little more direction to go with or at least a jumping off point. It’s like when someone asks you, “How’s life?” I mean you sort of have to say good even though it is complicated and absolute monkey shit at times but at least usually eventful. However, if you were to jump into the juicy details and just go off spouting TMI, the person who was just politely greeting you but doesn’t really give a damn would run for the hills where they would passionately lament ever bothering to ask, and perhaps vow to never again succumb to such seemingly obligatory theatrics of politeness.
No, I don’t love it so much here that I plan on staying forever. Boo ya, I am excited to come back to the land of the free and home of Obama… from sea to shining sea.
Oh yeah, I think I know the Mozambican National Anthem better than the American. I mean, I have sung it every morning, four days a week, for the past nine months. Ask and I might sing a few bars for ya… although I was once told by a very close friend that I should never sing in public. So all requests are made at your own risk.
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