pieces

Every time I leave a country, I feel like I'm leaving a piece of my heart behind there. It sounds silly, but it's completely true:  there's a little piece of my heart at the top of Machu Picchu, waiting for the sun to come back out from behind those rainclouds. There's a splinter of my heart in Greece, sitting by the Mediterranean sea. I left a shard behind in Kenya, where I know that my friend Sheila will always welcome me 'back home' with open arms. There's a slice of my heart in El Salvador, probably gorging itself on pupusas right now. Of course there's a fraction left in Spain - not just in Salamanca, but in Barcelona and Sevilla and Cordoba. Another piece is floating down the Zambezi river. My heart will never be the same after all those weeks and months spent in northern Uganda - those tiny towns of Pader, of Kitgum, of Gulu, of Amuru - and all the pothole-filled roads in between are still holding on to part of my heart that I will never get back. There's even pieces left in places that I've spent little amounts time - like Milano or Prague or Tegucigalpa or Drumnadrochit.

You might think this is very bad for a heart - all those cuts, all that scar tissue. Do you know how the body operates when you're weightlifting?  Muscles get all these tiny rips and tears, then the effect of rebuilding over those tears is how we build muscle. I think my heart has gone through something of that process. Not to say that it doesn't hurt - can you imagine feeling like you're never quite whole because part of you is longing for another place in the world?  Your other friends from Gulu, your other favorite coffee shop from Milano, your other cute salsa-dancing crush in Salamanca, your comfy pillow from Nairobi? It's a horrible feeling, especially in the midst of leaving.

Humans naturally build community - we seek like and not-so-like minded people to bolster our lives and make us feel whole. Here in Juba, it was hard for me to make meaningful friendships because people live such transient lives - you basically need a backup group of friends for when all your A Team friends go on vacation or are traveling to Bor.

I mitigate the pain of leaving by leaving a door open for my return - I don't think there's a country I've ever been to, and said, "Well, that's enough of that place - I am sure I'll never come back."  I could not say that, even if I tried. Leaving is the worst feeling in the entire world, but it also serves to remind of what bonds can be forged in unusual settings. I've met up with friends from abroad all over the world. So, with one week and one day until I leave South Sudan... my heart is in pieces around the world, and it feels like it's breaking all over again to depart.  So what do you do?  Cry a little, let your heart rip again, promise to come back, and look forward.

Vic Falls

I took a long weekend to visit my first World Wonder, Victoria Falls. My boss insisted on me taking an extra day in order to really enjoy it...

I took a tiny plane on Zimbabwe Airways - the plane delayed, but whatever. This driver picked me up to go to the lodge where I was staying (I'm pretty sure I remember he proposed to me on the way there - I had to pull out the 'My parents will not let me get married in Africa' card).

The lodge I where stayed was completely open-air: when I first walked in, there was a little monkey playing in my room! The warthogs and baboons wander freely around this campground - that's the reason I chose to stay there, actually. There are birds and bugs and snakes and all sorts of creatures all around, and the breeze runs straight through the little lodge.

I had arranged a river cruise down the mighty Zambezi river. Not until a loud group of flirty South African businessmen explained it to me, did I know this was actually a booze cruise! It was totally fun - we saw hippos and crocodiles (my first time for both!). The sunset was so beautiful it made my heart ache a little. Plus, I got to drive the boat. Sound familiar?

That night, my South African friends invited me to the Boma restaurant but I slept through the night and totally forgot about them!

The next day, I woke up early enough to watch the watering hole from the breakfast buffet - saw all sorts of deer, birds, buffalo, and monkeys passing through. It was very peaceful. Then it was time to go to the falls.

The Falls are an amazing display of power and beauty - they're so gigantic, I couldn't believe my eyes. The spray from the falls rises 1.7 kilometers in the air - you can see it from miles around and it rains down on the whole park. Of course, with my i-don't-need-a-raincoat attitude, I was soaking, dripping wet by the end of our 2 hour hike. It was hilarious - i know all the locals were thinking, 'That silly american girl.'

In the afternoon, I decided to go on a couple of ziplines and a free fall swing into the gorge. I am writing this 8 months later, and my heart still pounds to remember the 75 meter drop! The guides kept telling me to scoot closer to the edge of the platform (read: cliff) so that I could jump off, and I kept saying, "No thank you." I think that was the strangest experience to have all by myself - I still don't know why I decided to do it without any witnesses :)

Sunday night I went to the Boma restaurant where traditional dancers and drummers played all night. Some of us ended up dancing on stage... and by us I mean me, but the dancers were quite insistent! I kept thinking to myself - how could anyone not love this? a traditional Zimbabwean dance party and the music sung by the band had such beautiful harmony.

Monday I wandered around the little town of Victoria Falls - there are lots of little touristy shops, and so much beautiful southern African art to look at. I wanted to buy it all.

I also went to the open-air market, thinking I might pick up some trinkets... not so much. The sellers harassed me in such a frustrating manner: I started making up fake names & ages for myself (I think I was 28 year old Amy from New York - just what came to me in the moment). I always think of my dad in those moments when salespeople really frustrate me because - even though salespeople sometimes frustrate him, he finds a way of telling them so firmly and politely. I pander, and then get annoyed and create a fake self.

Despite the annoying market vendors, I had a fabulous weekend. It was a time of renewal fo sho.