a fresh perspective

So, I was wandering around my apartment on Tuesday night - lonely and a little depressed about moving, trying to finish off a bottle of merlot (did you know it's illegal to 'move' alcohol?)-- and I started thinking about some of the differences between the U.S. and where I've been recently. Here goes:

Shower: my first morning back home, I waited for 10 minutes for the shower to warm up - and then realized that I was in America and the shower had been hot for 9 minutes already, and would stay hot as long as I wanted it to. It was great.

Driving: my little car is like a ladybug compared to the monstrous landcruiser I've been driving in Uganda - it literally swallows me - you can barely see me inside. I've had to readjust to driving on the right side of the road - I keep catching myself thinking left, and then saying, "No, Abigail - right, right!!" Also it's a little strange to have to park in designated areas - in Gulu, I could literally park in the middle of the street - and maybe an hour or two later, a lazy policeman would walk by and say, "Madam, this area is not for parking." I could probably convince him to let me stay though...

This is the vehicle I drive in Gulu - on the left.

Feet: it is impossible to keep feet clean in northern Uganda. It doesn't matter what shoes I'm wearing or where I go that day - when I get home there will be a layer of fine, red clay dust from my ankles down. Here, I can wear open-toed sandals and by the end of the day - I can still tell what color my toes were in the morning.

Humidity: Each evening, since being back, I have opened up my screen door and windows to let a little fresh air into the apartment. Immediately, I'm hit with a wave of oppressively hot, humid air that makes me run to close windows and start the A/C. I don't think I was ready for Virginia in July.

Smells: no, not my smell - the smell of my surroundings. The scent Uganda always reminds me of some weird combination of BO, goats' milk, and dust. In the U.S. I'm sure there is a different smell, but I don't notice it - probably because I'm already accustomed to it.

Speed: I am doing a little more eating-out than usual (due to the move and to the fact that I prematurely packed all my kitchen items), and it is unbelievable to me that I can order a meal, and the food will be ready within minutes. In Uganda, I've waited hours for a meal. I often want to offer to go out back and kill the chicken myself, but I think that would be considered rude.

Eating is surely a lesson in patience - unless you are prepared and take snacks, which I do - no patience for me!

Dance: well, every single weekend - all night long, we are out dancing - the Africans love it, and they love teaching me new moves. Thankfully, they don't care about my already-learned crazy 'strokes' as they call them. Not so much, in the US.

Me trying to shake it like the Acholi ladies

My colleague Joel (r), showing Telex (l) how to dance Shakira.