Ready? Drum Roll Please...

So finally, here they are: the promised photos, sure to disappoint, but posted nevertheless. The movers still haven't shown, but things are nearly in order now because I broke down and moved all the stuff they were supposed to pick up into what we charitably call the dining room. It's not as though we'll be eating there any time soon anyway; we have no table. Maybe, if we're lucky, we can snag one from someone who's leaving in September.

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But back to the stuff you really want to know. We'll start with the view from the balcony:

As you can see, we've got lots of palm trees. The thing about palm trees is that even when the wind is hardly blowing their tops swing back and forth outside your bedroom window with such ferocity that it gives you the impression that there's a hurricane in the making. I suspect this might just be my personal bias though, as most of the palm trees I've seen in my life, until now, have been on Weather Channel special news reports. Now, if you look closely you can make out a few of our neighbours in between the palm trees (click on the photos to get to larger versions).

This is the living room, followed by the bedroom and the study. Got to love the bars on the windows. If the wall surrounding the building (can be seen in views from balcony) complete with guards didn't already do it, this last finishing touch really drives home the prison analogy. The really funny thing though, is that none of those windows or the sliding door are ever locked. Ah, the appearance of safety. I also like how the bars reflect onto the framed lion photograph hanging above the bed to make it look like a zoo animal.

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As you can see, our place is a bit empty at the moment and would benefit greatly from some real artwork. Not that I don't love the lion (a leftover from the former tenant), I just think he's better suited for a game room or a bar than above my bed. I'm hoping that maybe I can convince my artist sister to send me some of her paintings. I'll have to do it fast though. Judging by the way her work is starting to sell I won't be able to afford it before long.

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Well, I should go now. The water isn't working so I've got to call the plombier. Too bad that's the only plumbing-related word of French I know. This should be interesting...

Happy 4th on the 3rd! and the Fine Art of Schmoozing

Just got back from a 4th of July celebration at the American Embassy. Do I need to explain the significance of the 4th of July for my non-American readers? American Independence Day. Usually involves BBQ, fireworks, loud music (preferably country-western if you can handle it), parades, and all things stereotypically American. In the words of a long-time family friend, "A great day to be an American".

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Yes, I am very aware that it's not the 4th today, but the 3rd of July. I guess the people at the embassy wanted the whole day off, and who can blame them. But I have to say no Independence Day celebration has ever crept up on me quite like this one did. Someone at T's office had mentioned it to me last week and said that he might be able to get me an invitation; I guess the event is rather limited in number. It didn't seem likely and when I didn't hear anything more about it I assumed that he wasn't able to work it out. But then, around quarter to six tonight I got a phone call informing me that someone would be by to pick me up at half past six to take me to the event. Oops.

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With no plans about what to wear, no running water, greasy hair, and a bad case of garlic breath, I was feeling rather short on time. Now, dressing for such an event is always a tricky business - unless you're male, naturally, in which case 1: you probably don't really care that much how you look, and 2: you can just throw on a suit and look acceptable for nearly all occasions. But dressing for such an event when you're female and you've just moved to Africa and left a fair deal of your clothes behind is particularly difficult. And to top it off, you're in Africa. Even if you had all of your clothes you still couldn't find anything resembling what most everyone else will be wearing. So, to recap: short on time and no idea what to wear. Solution: basic black dress. Too bad mine was freshly wrinkled, straight from the suitcase.

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Luckily, Elisabeth saved my rear by ironing the dress for me (I would do it myself but I have no idea where the ironing board is and I think she wants to keep it that way... ) and the water magically turned back on just in time for me to brush my teeth six times and take a quick shower. I swear I have an angel.

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The reception was nice enough. Most of the people there were not American, though. In fact, the majority were local, which, I think, is a good thing, even if it did mean that my black dress was a little out of place in the sea of bright-coloured, wrap-around prints. There was a live band playing a rather odd selection of music, but decent nevertheless. No dancing, though. Red, white and blue everything, of course. Burgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, baked beans, chicken wings and a flag cake. Oh, and ice cream. And mosquitoes. Lots of mosquitoes. In my rush to get out the door, bug-spray didn't factor in. Itch, scratch, itch, scratch. Good thing I'm still taking the malaria meds.

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In terms of networking, it was the place for me to be. I'm sure I would have met all these people at one point or another, but in this case sooner is better than later. Whether or not some form of interesting employment here is in my future remains to be seen, but at least my network of friends is sure to benefit from tonight's appearance. One thing is for certain, though. I need to work on my schmoozing skills.

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Schmoozing: v. int. To converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection. Don't believe me? http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/schmooze. So now that we've cleared that up, any suggestions on how to improve my skills? How about significant schmoozing stories of your own? Anyone? Please? Desperately seeking help here.

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In other news, I haven't forgotten about the photos of the flat. It's still not put together because the movers never came. They were supposed to come on Friday afternoon. And then it was moved to sometime yesterday when they failed to show. And now another day has passed and I've given up hope. The rumour here is that if you need something done you need to know the people personally or it takes forever. Seems right so far.

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And sorry for all the "-"s between paragraphs. Something's up with the formatting on blogger. Can't get it to work right any other way.

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*Photo from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/barrypeterson/181644402/

P.S.

Mangos are delicious! Also, people really do carry things around on their heads. Anything, and all the time.

Dog Plays Dead in "Living" Room

So I had my camera out in preparation for finally taking some photos tonight - though it looks like it'll be tomorrow now... sorry - and I remembered that I had a few pictures that I took when I was State-side last that still needed to be uploaded. This was one of them. There is, indeed, a reason for posting this photo (other than the fact that I love my dog and can never have enough photos of her). It's a tribute to my Keene NH home, to which, I've just recently learned, my parents will - for sure now - be saying their farewells.

The above photo, taken just a few minutes before I left for the airport, was one of my last glances at what will no longer be my parents' living room. Next time I come "home" this is what I'll see instead (with a few additions, as in a house, I hope!):

Goodbye Keene; hello Westmoreland!

A Place for Everything, and Everything in Its Place

The guys left again last night, this time for a week in South Africa. T's colleague will be flying straight home to Denmark from there, so from now on it will be just us. It was, as always, a sad parting; Elisabeth was nearly in tears after saying her final goodbyes. For the record, tears make me uncomfortable. Tears from people I don't know very well yet make me very uncomfortable. But it was also a relief as now we're free to settle into our own, new routine. And I fully intend to do so.

And I fully intend to start by rearranging the flat. With T gone until Saturday, Elisabeth and I are more than keeping busy moving things from here to there, and then back, and then from here to over there, and so on. One of the first places to get the major overhaul is the kitchen. "Complete lack of storage space" pretty much sums up the situation in there. Actually, maybe if you added the phrase "ant infestation" to that it would be a more comprehensive description. We're going to have to buy some tight sealing Tupperware.

But getting this flat in order is going to be more than a one day project. In fact, it will probably be September before everything is in place. We have no dining table or chairs, no guest bed, nothing on the walls, no plants, etc. What we do have, and in abundance, is empty space. Photographs of said empty space will be posted tomorrow, when the junk heaps growing in every corner have been redistributed evenly across all rooms.

So why am I wasting my time blogging? you ask. Simple, at the moment we're knee-deep in a case of "we can't to this until that is done first". And, in this case, "that" means waiting for the movers to come and pick up T's colleague's stuff. But every once in a while the plumber shows up to give us a quote on fixing the kitchen sink, or some such thing, to break up the monotony.