Home

     I've been home for three months now. I can hardly believe how quickly the time has flown. Re-adjusting to the US hasn't been as difficult as I thought it might be, but part of that is that I've been lucky enough to hide out at my parent's house, which is it's own little oasis of 8 acres in the country. But, it hasn't been all peaches and cream. My first week back I went to the grocery store. It took approximately 90 minutes, 7 phone calls to my mother, asking an employee for help, and supportive texts from Steph after I realized I'd been standing in the same spot for roughly 15 minutes with nothing in my cart. I never understood how overwhelming the grocery store was until that moment. I immediately regreted getting upset at one of my sisters when I sent her to the same store with a list and she came home without half the items I'd asked her to pick up when she was just back from the Peace Corps. It also made me a little sick to look at all the options we have here in the US. Why on earth do we think we need all these choices? It's greedy.
     A few days later I had made the trek down to D.C. to renew my BLS with my favorite instructor and to grab coffee with one friend and lunch with another. I left about 2:30 pm expecting to meet my mom to shop at Sam's Club (I had recovered from the grocery store and thought it best to conquer Sam's Club with someone else). I eventually had to call my mom saying that I was going to be late because of traffic. How could I have possibly forgotten about Baltimore-DC traffic? It was dreadful. When my mom suggested I just meet her at the grocery store, I emphatically said no. I got home about 2 hours later and it was all I could do to not climb in bed I was so exhausted and overwhelmed. It was strange. I was perfectly fine doing certain activities, but then out of nowhere I'd be overwhelmed by something absolutely ridiculous and literally just want to crawl in bed.
     Amazingly enough, when I started working again in a US ICU, I wasn't overwhelmed. I'm temporarily working at Johns Hopkins and while it took a few days to get back into the rhythm and nail down my time management again, that's nothing extraordinary. Most of that relies on simply learning the workflow of the unit and that's nothing new to me having done travel nursing since 2013. My entire perspective has changed. A staff nurse from another unit asked if we had a very specific type of supplies and I suggested just jerry-rigging something. Here I thought I was being resourceful so that the nurse wouldn't need to discard a perfectly useable piece of supplies. Apparently jerry-rigging is frowned upon here. I watch staff nurses throw away perfectly good linen because it's soiled... or they aren't in the mood to separate the pads from actual linen. I hesitate to write this because I know Julie will read it and freak out. Lack of linen (or really anything) was a constant issue in Internal Medicine at CHUB.
     I think I'm still trying to process everything. I miss so many things about Rwanda and then I don't miss it at the same time. It is a relief to be home but sometimes I feel out of place. I am living in my hometown for the first time in eight years and it's become a stranger to me. I frequently wonder if I can I even call Baltimore home anymore. Then a long 'O' slips out of my mouth and I realize that you might be able to take the girl out of Baltimore, but you can never take Baltimore out of the girl no matter where in the world she is. When something happens I want to turn around and tell Julie and Vanessa and Steph and Stacey and Melody and Tiff and Emily... they have become the voices in my head (in the non-psychotic way of course) but they are hundreds, if not thousands of miles away. Not to say I don't enjoy being able to visit my friends here and pick up the phone and call them. I missed them dearly and I'm glad to be back to meet all the children born since I went away. I am glad to have the simplicity of my parent's home to escape to and I absolutely will not complain about extremely fast internet and Netflix. But I've hardly picked up a book to read in the two months I've been home.
     I don't know where I'm going to end up, or what I'm going to do with my life, but I suppose it will all work out. I've decided that if my brother is still figuring out what his next move in life will be at the age of 49, I'm doing pretty well for 30. I do still get the, "you need to settle down" lectures and the "you're still single?" looks of horror sometimes, but I don't mind. If anything, I am more and more confident with who I am each day and what I want... it just might take me a little longer to get there.
     This is the point where I tell you all this is it. No more blogging from me... at least not until the next adventure. I want to thank you for reading. Apparently I've had readers from all over the world exploring my life in Rwanda. I never thought someone from Germany, Ukraine, or Thailand would find this interesting, but apparently they have. I also want to thank my family and friends for all the love and support during my time abroad. It was a rough year for many reasons, some expressed through this blog but many not. However, it was also a fantastic year and I really couldn't have done it without you all. Big thanks to everyone who spent the cash on sending me some pretty awesome care packages and cards. The goodies have not been forgotten. Thank you.

Final Lesson Learned:
1) Experiences are worth everything. They will shape you and become a part of you forever. If ever given the opportunity between saying yes and no, say yes. You will never regret saying yes.

Home

"Somebody told me don't stare at horizons unless you are ready to run."

~Michael Franti~

Say Goodbye

     I've been trying to write this for over six weeks now. I have started and stopped it too many times to count. Forgive me if its a little out of sorts... I like to write in "real time" and didn't change some of it. It's been hard to return home and yet at the same time a relief. It's hard to describe everything that has been going through my head and feeling.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

     Today I left Butare. By the time I post this I will have been home for several days, having kept my arrival home fairly quiet so I can relax, sleep, and slowly begin to adjust back to life in the U.S. Not to mention that I'm only home for a few days before I leave again for a long wedding weekend in the Carribbean for a close friend. Ten days ago my roommates left me. Julie and Vanessa departed Rwanda July 27th. Sunday afternoon after a lovely brunch we had to say goodbye. We'd all held it together extremely well until time came for me to hop in Ex-Pat 1 (the fond nickname of Jeff and Stacey's car I rented for my last two weeks). As we all hugged and cried Julie told me that she couldn't have done the year without me. What she doesn't realize is that I wouldn't have survived the year without her or Vanessa as well.

     The drive back to Butare consisted of the same winding roads I'd been driving or riding along for a year, except this time I couldn't stop crying. My Rwandan family was gone. Tiffany and Jared had left the weekend before. I went to the airport with Jeff, Stacey, and Sam the night before. Jim and Emily were leaving in a day or two. Everyone was gone. I'd finally pulled myself together as I pulled into our driveway. Charles greeted me formally with "maraho" and asked how I'd been in the few days since I'd seen him. I almost burst into tears again. When I entered the house I did. We had left Rupert at his new home and the house was extremely empty and quiet. At that point, my last two weeks in Rwanda looked as though they were going to be extremely lonely.

     I went to bed early, resolved to get to work early Monday morning and distract myself. I was actually pretty successful at this. I worked long and hard, well into the night and finally, four days before my scheduled departure, I finished everything. I gave my office keys to Medie and left the hospital for the last time to head home and pack. I had to unpack and re-pack and repeat it all several times before I was done. Turns out that my problem coming home wasn't weight, but small bags. Many items were left and donated to the Burundian refugees who continued to cross the border daily. 

     Like I said, I left Butare this morning. I made sure to wake up early so that I could watch the sunrise. It was a beautiful and I thoroughly enjoyed watching it creep over the ridge with my final cup of tea.

Even with my bags packed and house emptied, I didn't feel as though I was leaving. Little Vanessa insisted on driving with me to Kigali. Heaven forbid I do the drive alone. She was constantly looking out for us and it certainly was hardly proper for me to be driving myself around the country if she could prevent it. So the two of us headed for Kigali. Once we arrived, I met Renee and unloaded all the kitchen stuff I'd been able to fit in Ex-Pat 1 as well as my big bags. Renee and Julie will be sharing a house in Kigali since Julie will be returning to teach at the University of Rwanda in Kigali. After we had finished I took little Vanessa to the bus station and watched as she disappeared in the mob that was the craziness of the Kigali bus station. I waited a few seconds taking it all in for the last time before heading east.

Dry Season: the dust from the road covering
the trees along the eastern roads.

     I wanted to do something African before I left. I was torn between spending one final night at Lake Kivu or one final night in Akagera National Park. I finally decided on Akagera, which is where I'm writing this. Actually, this is where I'm writing this:

I'm at the park Game Lodge, which is a simple hotel up on a hill with a pool. It's been hot and the drive was extremely dusty. So I'm relaxing and gazing at the lakes of Rwanda and hills of Tanzania through the haze. 

I was told when I arrived at the park gates that the lions were released today. If you haven't heard the news, last month seven lions were donated by South Africa to Rwanda through the Africa Parks program. They have been in quarantine and apparently my timing was perfect. My hope is to find them and see them tomorrow as I drive through the park. We shall see. I'll be very lucky to spot them, so I'm not holding my breath, but it would be a pretty awesome Rwanda farewell.

Rwandan sunset

Thursday, August 6, 2015
     I'm back in Kigali at Julie and Renee's new home to spend my last night. Today I drove through Akagera and enjoyed the peace of it. Sadly, I did not find the lions, but I did see some great animals and some great views. Surprisingly, I got to see a hippo out of the water grazing about midday. It's extremely unusual for hippos to leave the water during the day. Typically they stay in the water during the day and then come out at night to graze and eat grass. More people die from hippos than any other animal in Africa, so I remained in Ex-Pat 1 while observing him for a little bit. He was huge.

Sunrise over Lake Ihema

It was a perfect day. The weather was gorgeous and while I didn't see the lions, I got to see African animals in the wild my last full day in country. I was on no one's schedule and I could just enjoy sitting in a quiet spot to observe the animals just doing their thing. There is nothing like being alone in the wild and watching the animals. Having a herd of zebras race across the road in front of you, warthogs toss their tails straight up and trot away, buffalo resting five feet from your car, hippos grunting from the water... it is all so surreal that this has been in my backyard and life for the last year.

Peak-a-boo!

Nap Time!

     When I returned from the Eastern Province I picked Rupert up from what we hoped would be his new forever home, however, the landlord changed his mind and would no longer allow our friends to keep him. I arrived and discovered that the poor pup had lost a lot of weight in the two weeks since we left him. Our friends told us that after their landlord forced them to keep him tethered on a long rope he started to refuse to eat. He was super happy to see me and after I saw Sheila (Julie's other new roommate) and Renee with him, I knew that Julie wouldn't need to find him a new home upon her return. They were thrilled to have him and he is a fabulous dog. I am sure that he will put weight back on in no time. Sheila, Renee and I got dinner and drank a bottle of champange before calling it a night. My last full day in Rwanda was over.

Renee and Rupert

Sunday, August 9, 2015
     I made sure to sleep with my bedroom door open my last night in Rwanda just in case Rupert needed some comfort as he adjusted to his new house. It's a good thing I did because just before 3:30 am we all were woken up by shaking and roaring. Two minutes after the earthquake stopped, another even stronger earthquake hit. Poor Rupert was startled as I grabbed him and hugged him in a door frame. Later when I looked the quakes up they were very shallow and 5.5 and 5.8 magnitude respectively radiating from Lake Kivu in the west. I can only imagine how strong it would have felt had I still been in Butare, even closer to the lake. Despite the rude awakening, I couldn't help but smile. I had only been in Rwanda two or maybe three weeks when I was awakened by a gentle vibration of my bed that had become so familiar to me having lived in San Francisco prior to my arrival. When I woke up like that just a few weeks into my adventure I revealed in the feeling of familiarity. Now, on the day I was to leave, nothing felt familiar anymore.
     It was an easy morning of sleeping in, eating some breakfast, walking Rupert through the neighborhood, packing the final few things, and enjoying my last shower before the long flights home. Vianney, the guard at the new house loaded my four suitcases, carry on, and backpack into Ex-Pat 1. I gave hugs to Renee, Sheila, and Rupert and I was off. I swung by UTC and picked up Bob before heading the ten minutes to Kigali International Airport. Bob is the trusted car mechanic who took Ex-Pat 1 into safe keeping until Jeff and Stacey's return.
     Everything was loaded onto a trolley for me and miraculously the check in agent didn't weigh my carry on, which was suppose to be 8 kilos. It was 9 kilos and after he didn't weigh it, I took some heavier things out of my backpack and into the suitcase. All my checked bags were just under 23 kilos and I was incredibly impressed with my inherited packing skills (you should see me and my mom's skills in action). I was nervous though. I had no idea what I was feeling and I was just praying that my luggage would make it after I'd heard horror stories of Ethiopian Airlines.
    My flights home were pretty epic on paper. First flight to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia then a two hour layover before switching to Lufthansa for a flight to Frankfurt via Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. Then finally a flight to Dulles and a two hour drive home to Monkton. In total, it was roughly 27 hours of flying and I figured it would take a total of around 30 to reach my final destination. A very long time.
     I boarded my first flight in typical African fashion, walked across the tarmac, everyone got on at once and quickly and that was that. I was suppose to have the aisle seat but a man was in my seat and since my flight was at about 4 pm, I wanted the window so that I could look out. I watched three of my bags loaded into the cargo hold and tried to ignore the feeling that perhaps the last one didn't make it. The flight from Kigali to Addis Ababa was beautiful and quick. I got to see the green hills of Rwanda fall away and as I was looking east and the sun was setting in the west Lake Victoria sparkled below.

     Once in Addis it took awhile to get back through security and I checked in with Lufthansa. I made sure to mention to them that I was suppose to have an aisle seat and I didn't on my last flight, so could they make sure that I had aisle seats for the rest of my flights. They checked me in and said no problem and I let it go at that. After landing in Jeddah at roughly 2 am I was awoken from my napping by the new passengers boarding. Jeddah to Frankfurt ended up being one of the worst flight of my life. My fellow passenger didn't speak any English, which isn't a big deal except he kept asking me for help with his tv and needing to get up for the bathroom. It was 4 am! I had an eye mask on! Please leave me alone and let me sleep! I was exhausted and I am not a happy or nice person when I am lacking sleep.
     I was ecstatic to deplane in Frankfurt. My fellow passenger sitting in front of me from Addis was a nice guy and we got to chatting. Turns out Chris is from Maryland but had been working in Ethiopia for some time. He had left his fiancee in Addis for a month and returned home for some training for work. We grabbed breakfast and coffee/tea and enjoyed chatting about work and life. Unfortunately, Chris was on the later flight to DC so I left him to enjoy more coffee while I went to catch my last flight home. I was exhausted having barely slept and had been awake for basically a day.
     Needless to say, I was not happy to discover that my seat on this last flight was not an aisle, or a window, it was an economy center seat. I wanted to cry. I asked the agent at the desk if there was anything they could do, but the answer was the flight was full. I must have looked like a complete wreck because the flight attendant who greeted me in the Economy section took one look at me and asked if I was ok. Well I told her I wasn't and then almost burst into tears. She told me to give her my name and she would see what she could do, but I told her the gate agents already said that there was nothing they could do. She told me that you never know what might happen. Sure enough, there were two no shows and she bumped me to economy plus about 15 minutes later. It was the best flight of my life. Aisle seat, no one next to me, a huge tv full of movies I hadn't seen, a bottle of water, a huge seat that reclined a ridiculous amount, a foot rest, real silverware, and even a glass from which to drink my complementary wine. I was in heaven and expressed my gratitude profusely to this amazine Lufthansa angel. I slept, I ate, I drank and by the time we were flying over the familar Northern Virgina landscape I was 110% better.
     Sadly, that feeling last about 20 minutes once I stepped onto US soil. I flew through customs, was told welcome home, called my family from my USA phone number, and went to collect my baggage. And that's when the 20 minutes of awesomeness wore off. Because sure enough... my two duffle bags were missing. Then no one could find the Lufthansa baggage agent, then they told me I should have checked oversized baggage claim (which my bags clearly were not and I had already done that anyway), and then they couldn't tell me where my bags even were because their system was down. I held it together, filled out the paperwork and without too much of a delay headed to my final checkpoint before I could find my dad. I stupidly overanswered the customs police by answering the question, "have you traveled to Africa in the last 3 weeks?" with "yes, I've been living in East Africa and haven't traveled to West Africa." Apparently, now I was giving him attitude and then all I wanted to do was give him attitude. I bit my tongue, listened to him lecture me, answered his next question of, "have you been to the west African nations of Guinea, Sierra-Leone, or Liberia?" with an emphatic "No" (fighting every urge to not roll my eyes at him) and finally swung through the double doors and out a second set of doors to step into the hot and humid East Coast air. My dad was just pulling up in my mother's car (thankfully he remembered not to bring his Mini Cooper because all my luggage wouldn't have fit... then again, only half my luggage made it) and I immediately burst into tears when I saw him. I could not stop crying. Dad just laughed, gave me a hug and told me they'd find my luggage. I was just so exhausted despite a solid nap on the last flight that I just couldn't handle it anymore. It was uncontrollable. We naturally got stuck in Baltimore-DC traffic but 34 hours from the time I left for Kigali International Airport I arrived home.
     I managed to stay awake until 8 pm last night and then crawled in bed, surprised that it was still light out. Remember when I thought it was so strange that it was pitch black in Rwanda every day between 6 & 6:30 pm? Now I was surprised that the sun was still setting at 8 pm. This morning, true to form I was awake at 5:30. When I wandered down to the kitchen to fix some morning tea, I found my dad with an extremely surprised look on his face digging into the coffee I had brought back for him. He thought I would sleep the day away, but jet lag is jet lag, and in Rwanda it was already almost noon. I wasn't really sure what to do with myself today. I have appointments tomorrow and I realized that I could actually unpack everything because I was staying. It's strange to be home. I didn't tell many people, if any really that I was returning today because Thursday morning I hop a flight to Puerto Rico for my friend's wedding. Plus, it's an easy transition home to my parent's house. I spent my entire life in this house even if transient in the last eight years. The rooster was crowing when I wandered into the kitched and my dad cooked fresh eggs for breakfast that he'd collected the afternoon before. I haven't mustered up the courage to wander out into the American culture shock that awaits, but I'll get there.
     It's good to be home.

Lessons Learned:

1) When given a once in a lifetime opportunity, don't hesitate to take it.

2) People who support you, encourage you to take a chance, who send you cards and care packages, who will text you about silly things that are going on in their lives, who FaceTime audio and video you to brighten your day, who invite you on vacation, who don't forget you despite being halfway around the globe, those people are the ones that you hold on to for dear life.

3) I think adjusting to a new culture is going to be just as hard as returning home.

 

Farewell Rwanda

Textbooks for Rwanda

     As many of you know I had a social media campaign for textbooks get slightly out of hand in my first few months here. I had only been here a few weeks when I discovered how much student and staff alike enjoyed textbooks. I had one student ask if I could photocopy an entire book for him. Toying with the idea of coming home at New Years, I thought I'd be able to bring an extra suitcase of textbooks back with me. So I posted on Facebook asking friends to share the post if anyone still had their old books that they wished to give away. 

     Well, by the time I got home at New Years for a brief visit the amount of books was astounding and there was no way I was going to fit them all in a suitcase. Start phase two of the book project... Begging for money to ship the books. Again, I took to social media and email and friends and slowly but surely my family and friends and friends of friends and parents of friends and friends of friends of friends came through and donated just over $4,200 to help me ship the books from Maryland to East Africa. Then it got even better. A neighborhood acquaintance of my parents and good friend of our family friends happens to have a shipping company. He assessed the damage, which was over 40 boxes of nursing, medical, paramedic, and occupational therapy textbooks sprawled down the front hallway and surrounding the edges of the first floor rooms. My mother had started to worry about the foundation of her 130-135 year old home and rightly so. The total weight of the books was just shy of 1 ton coming in at 880 kilos.

     The journey was long. The books were picked up February 19th from my parents home in Monkton. From there they went to downtown Baltimore, to New York, to France, to Tanzania, to  Kigali and finally they arrived in Butare late in the evening of July 14th. When Julie and I walked into our office the next morning it was like Christmas! So many boxes and what fun we had opening them all and organizing them. After that (and the many questioning looks we received by patients, their families, and staff as empty box after empty box came out of our office and into the hallway, we divided over 500 books between the departments. The idea was to create a library for each department so that the staff would actually utilize the books during their everyday practice. Over fifteen departments received books. They are, the ICU, Internal Medicine, Surgery, Pediatrics, Neonatology, Accident and Emergency, Theatre, Nutrition, Physiotherapy, Social Work, the Physicians Center of Excellence, the Pediatric Farm Feeding Project, Orthopedic Surgery, Clinical Training and Research, and the Director of Nursing. Furthermore, we gifted 20-30 books to the In-Charges of the nursing departments as well as some BLS and Research texts to our promising instructors and twins. It was pretty amazing work. 

     The donated money was used to build extremely nice bookshelves to house all of the books as well as customs and transport fees from Kigali to Butare. With the remaining money I purchased materials for the BLS Program that I have worked on here that has been such a success. With still leftover money I made a donation to the Pediatric Farm Feesing Project, which has been a huge undertaking by both Medie and Dr. Emily. Part of the project is to teach mothers better ways to cook (for instance please stop cooking your vegetables for eight hours) and nutritional value of foods. They have hired a cook to prepare food properly and to train mothers who are down in the hospital kitchen. They have also hired nutrition students to teach parents proper nutrition. The $800 donated to the project will go specifically to the students and cooks salaries. I asked that the money be used for educational purposes since that is what the money was originally intended. The remaining $500 donated was left in the capable hands of Dr. Jeff Dixson who will be staying for a second year in the internal medicine wards. Jeff plans on using the money again, for strictly educational purposes like buying white boards and markers for the departments as well as bulletin boards. He has promised to run things by me first, though I completely trust his judgment. I am so thankful to everyone who donated their money, time, books or company. Whether it was $5 or $500, every little bit counted, every book has found a new home and CHUB will continue to grow and improve because of you. I especially want to thank again, Robert Pace and Mainfreight USA for shipping the books. Especially his beyond wonderful manager, Jackie Long, who tirelessly and effortlessly answered my 5 million questions over a five month period. They are both saints. In addition, I'd also like to thank the friends who used their own money to mail their books to me in Rwanda themselves and those who mailed or drove books from all over the country to my parents. Finally, I'd like to say thank you for all the funny things I found tucked in the books... From my babysitters price slip from her lower school, to a photo of my friend Sonya whom I worked with in Haiti, which marked the page of how to deal with unruly patients, to a motivational notecard to my longest friend in the world from her big sister about passing the boards, to $5 for a study break while studying for the boards, and finally my mothers Christmas present from my sister-in-law that somehow got mixed in (don't worry mom, I'll bring it home), they provided me with some great laughs and smiles. 

     I cannot say thank you enough and neither can the hospital. I am thrilled. They are thrilled. 

Thank you. 

Lessons Learned:

1) There is so much good in this world. 

A Goat Roast

        If you may recall my first experience with goat in Rwanda did not go over so well. (Life Lesson #1- if you accept food, don't ask what it is until you've swallowed it and there's no chance of it making another appearance at the table). Fast forward 11 months and I was on my way to Medie and Robbin's for a goat roast. I was less apprehensive of this meat mainly because this time around, it wasn't going to be wrapped in intestine and everything Medie and Robbin make is absolutely delicious. Two HRH colleagues, Claire and Isobelle came down from Kigali with Simone, a visiting Community Health Nursing Student from University of Maryland. We arrived about 4:30 pm and low and behold, the goat was indeed roasting away over the pit.

     I was excited. Medie has been working in Rwanda longer than the majority of us and loves doing this type of thing. Robbin had bought the goat that morning and had it slaughtered in their own back yard. Someone then skinned it and Robbin stuff it with lemon and rosemary. It smelled incredible when  we showed up.

Zingalo Appetizers

We started to mingle with the crowd a mix of mzungus and Medie's friends from the neighborhood and hospital. It wasn't long before Adolf, the grillmaster came around with appetizers. Having just told Isobelle the story of my first goat/intestine encounter, I was not going to ask what exactly he was offering. But Isobelle did. Zingalo as it turns out is not only the intestines but also the stomach of the goat. I'm not going to lie, I took one piece of the skewer and ate it all. Rather chewy as it turns out and not the best plan. Since I find it extremely difficult to waste food, the second piece I ate I attacked differently. This time instead of eating the entire thing I nibbled the intestine slowly unraveling it until I was left with what I assume was a piece of stomach. MUCH better. My sisters and I have always been texture freaks (I couldn't stand tomatoes for the longest time) so this was the much better approach to zingalo. It was pretty tasty actually.

Robbin and his goat

Yes, that is hair on the tail of said goat

Finally, after about 8 hours of roasting the goat was ready! Medie had sterilized some banana leaves and spread them on the table and the men lifted the bamboo poles and got to work carving the meat off the bones. It was quite a site to be seen. We ended up making goat tacos with asian cabbage salad on the side. It was so delicious.

Claire holding the bamboo poles as the goat
is removed for serving

After dinner the fire was built up and Medie's friends played guitar and sang. The women who play traditional drums joined in too. The women are part of the group Ingoma Nshya (A New Drum), an all female drum troupe based in Butare. Playing the drums is traditionally done by men here in Rwanda as it is a symbol of authority. I can say that this was the first time I'd witnessed women openly playing. The group formed after the genocide as a way for women to express their emotions and is open to survivors of both sides of the genocide. It was great to see them playing and singing with the guitar players and afterwards having some of the young men ask the women to show them how to properly beat a drum.

     If you want to learn more about the troupe, watch the documentary "Sweet Dreams." I have yet to be able to watch it but it tells the story of the troupe and probably gives a great background (at least a better one than I can give). One of the troupes partners is our local ice cream shop, Inzozi Nziza (Sweet Dreams). The shop provides education and business to the women in the troupe and is still the best ice cream in all of Rwanda (and just one of Butare's claims to fame).
     After hours of fun with old friends and new Claire and I called it quits and came back to my home to crash. It had been one of the coolest Rwandan experiences of my time here.

Lessons Learned:
1) It's good to get out of your comfort zone, whether that's mingling with new people or tasting new foods.
2) There's just something about a bonfire that brings people together.

Tennis in Rwanda

     Again, always playing catch up. I've been spending 9-11 hours at the office for the last week or two and it leaves me with little to no time or desire to write. Basically I sleep, eat, workout, spend too much time at work, shower and repeat. So the only way to keep myself sane is to workout. Back in the month of March I decided to pick up tennis. When I was a wee one, I was a summer pool rat. Tennis clinic in the morning, then morning swim team practice, a few hours of play and lunch, then afternoon swim team practice, more play time, dinner, showers, and often we were asleep by the time we got home. It was a fabulous childhood.

     My mother, to this day, loves to tell the tale of how funny it was to watch me during tennis. I would cross the court with the most perfect footwork... and my racket was dragging behind me on the court. Back in the early '90s rackets were a little heavier than they are now and I was one heck of a scrawny child.

Me (R) and my sisters in our swim team suits.
I was about age 10 here, you can only imagine
how scrawny I was at a younger age.

     Anyway, with the exception of a tennis date during my years in DC in my early twenties (and I could barely keep the ball on the court) I hadn't touched a racket in roughly 20 years when I had my first lesson with Jean Paul. Jean Paul is a patient man at 28 years old. And to teach me, you have to be very patient. He has been playing tennis for as long as he can remember. But it wasn't until the other week that he let me in and told me a little more about himself (beyond his marital status of course).

     Jean Paul's father was a tennis player for Rwanda and use to play doubles with a Canadian man. I'm not sure why this Canadian was in Rwanda, but he left before Genocide. Years after the horrors he returned. His former partner, Jean Paul's father, had been killed. The man found himself back in Butare and in need of someone else to play with. Someone recommended the young Jean Paul. Neither one of them knew who the other was for a time. Jean Paul plays for the Davis Cup Team Rwanda and makes his living by teaching tennis. I'm not sure if he does anything else, we haven't talked that much about life. That's the thing about Rwandans. They will talk to you, but it is very difficult to get to know them. Jean Paul has a circular scar on his head where his hair grows funny. I assume that this is a result of Genocide, but I never ask, it's not acceptable to do so.

The very nice hard court in Savé

     I started playing 2-3 times a week and over the last few months have greatly improved. I very rarely hit a ball out of the court (as in over the fence not keeping it in bounds) and can keep a very slow serve from the baseline in bounds now too. It's been great fun picking the sport up again having not played it in so many years. I think I might be a bit better once I play at home too. I typically play on one of two courts, the sand court at the university or the "clay" court in my neighborhood. The clay court is really more like gravel. I took a spill one week and my knees were pretty banged up for awhile. The inconsistency of both courts leads to a lot of odd spinning and bouncing balls. Many a time a ball will look as though it's going right, will hit a rock or a line (which are indents into the ground) and bounce the completely opposite direction. I probably won't know what to do with a normal bouncing ball when I return home.

     Several weeks ago, Tim one of the internal medicine physicians and I drove up to the hard court in Savé for our lessons. It was amazing how much faster the ball went, but how normally it bounced. We employed several village children in fetching our missed balls and I enjoyed watching Tim and Jean Paul play games. My lessons are truly lessons, we haven't quite advanced to game level quite yet.

One of my colleague Tim getting ready to serve.

     At times I get frustrated when I'm having an off day. Sometimes I get frustrated at Jean Paul because his simple terms of "no," "distance maker," "get down," and "wrist" are repeated a million times and I get tired of hearing them. Trust me, I realize what I'm doing wrong and repeating the same thing isn't helpful! But then I have to remind myself that he probably gets very tired of always saying the same thing to me and I continue to screw up in the same fashion. On these days I very rarely hear high praise from Jean Paul, which generally consists of "good ball."

     I haven't been able to play in over a week and I miss it. I am hoping to finish in the office tomorrow at a reasonable time so that I can play with him a few last times before I head home. Of all the things I am going to miss about Rwanda, I will miss my easy lifestyle here the most. Of course my job can be frustrating, I really miss consistent (it doesn't even have to be fast) internet, and the food can be lacking. However, my quality of life in Butare has been wonderful. As I'm down to my last 2 weeks in Rwanda I am hoping to enjoy this life as much as possible before I will have to close this chapter of my life and move on.

Lessons Learned:

1) Even after all this time, I am not sure I can say I really know my Rwandan colleagues and friends.

2) I love how sports always bring people together all over the world. Sports are a universal language and so long as you know the rules, everyone can talk.

A Conversation

     A few weeks ago we had someone over for dinner. We had continued our recent tradition of taco Tuesday and were quite excited to share an American tradition with someone in Rwanda. Our guest wasn't quite as excited as we were for tacos, but they enjoyed it none the less. I don't recall how or when, but somewhere along the line the dinner conversation turned to politics and elections. Everyone knows of the troubles in nearby Burundi. Everyday we see more and more cars with Burundi license plates and hear of another family that has rented a home. The boarder to Burundi is  less than 25 km down the main road and in all honesty, I'm surprised I haven't seen more refugees. But the Rwandan government and UNHCR appear to be handling the influx fairly well. 

     Many of the East African nations are facing election years over the next few and Julie and I often wondered out loud in our office if the 2017 Rwanda elections would have any effect on the program. Over the months we have heard little from the people about how they feel about elections, but then at the most unforeseen moments something is mentioned and you take note. For instance, when we traveled as hospital staff to give the cows to the genocide survivors in May, many of the staff translating for us mentioned letters. The local people wanted the officials to take their letters and give them to parliament so that the constitution could be amended. It took some prodding but finally we received better understandings explanations. The people are asking for the constitution to be amended to remove term limits for the president. When we were lucky enough to get our hands on an English newspaper from Kigali, there wasn't a week that went by that there wasn't some article on this topic. 

     It's a very controversial topic and almost taboo to discuss if you are actually Rwandan. Julie and I always have banter going during our working hours and this is a topic that gets tossed around a bit. Western governments, including the U.S. have already stated that they will not support Paul Kagame in another term as president (or for his life as a changed constitution would lead to this). But if it's what the people want and a democratic process to make the change, then what's the big deal? If there wasn't someone as strong a leader as Kagame in power in Rwanda, they certainly wouldn't be where they are today. They have made extraordinary improvements over 21 years and are a model for other developing nations attempting the road to recovery after civil unrest and war. 

     If anyone reads the New York Times, you may have seen the July 19th article on this very topic. It essentially argued that the reason Kagame is making a push for the constitutional change is otherwise he will be charged with war crimes by the ICC. This is most likely true though the New York Times tends to give its one sided account quite forcefully. Kagame didn't use to hide the fact that when he and the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) returned and ended the genocide they slaughtered thousands of Hutus, but he does now. You don't read that here. There is nothing to state this at the main genocide memorial in Kigali. In fact, they explicitly state that it was not a civil or ethnic war at this memorial. And if you do bring this knowledge to light and you're a Rwandan, you may not be heard from again. 

     We all knew that there had to be some kind of system because you joke that Kagame has eyes and ears everywhere, but in fact he does. At our dinner we learned that there is a report system in place and starting at 9 pm and going through the night the chain of command is followed and that eventually, Kagame himself receives a report of the happenings of the country. I without a doubt know that by the time I went to work the morning after our burglary someone very high up was well aware of it and probably sent people to keep and eye on the place without us even realizing it. 

     But back to the elections... Like I said, if it's democratic and the people really do love Kagame here, then why is the western world getting involved in the biggest African success story? This is where dinner conversation got very interesting. We were told that every Rwandan who is eligible to vote registers. Much like in the United States you don't have to pick a party, but it's heavily suggested you do. Our friend for a period of their life was not affiliated with a party, but one day was told they must align with a political party, it didn't matter which. They do not identify with the RPF and that's ok, many voters do not. But then we were told how our friend was invited and attended a caucus for the party where the leaders of the party decided to share with the members a letter they were sending to parliament. The contents of the letter states the political party supported constitutional change and would not oppose it and would not run a candidate in the upcoming 2017 election. Despite much opposition of this letter amongst the party members, the leaders submitted it to parliament. Well, I thought how very clever. To the outside world, Rwanda appears to be an ideal democratic country with multiple parties, but just how true is that?

Lesson Learned:

1) Appearances can be deceiving

Educational Rocks (and lots of them)

     I have been so busy writing reports, lectures, quizzes, and compiling roughly 150 documents that I still haven't managed to write about what I was up to in June. Guess what? For the first part of the month, it had very little to do with nursing. I manage to have yet another adventure with a friend from Bucknell as my last vacation while here in Rwanda. Similar to Scott, Marcus and I barely knew each other in undergraduate, but we reconnected at a wedding several years ago, realized that we both were living in D.C. at the time and would occasionally meet for drinks after work or a movie. He has been my rock during my time here in Rwanda. We text every day with very few exceptions and he always manages to make me smile even on the worst of days. Yesterday he was able to somehow fix an excel spreadsheet of mine so that a years worth of data wasn't lost. Like I said, he's my rock.
     Marcus had saved all of his vacation to take a month to visit Europe. His father's family was having a reunion in England (his dad is British) so he went to visit them, then went onto Rome with his parents, and finally 10 days in Greece. I joined him and his parents for Greece and it was fabulous (and timed rather well as it would appear). I had never thought much about visiting Greece and knew very little of the country, but I certainly learned a lot in my 10 days there. Marcus studied ancient Greek in undergrad and can read it and speak it a little. Apparently, the language has changed so much (mainly in pronunciation as over the years they have simplified the vowel sounds) that the Greeks today didn't really understand what he was saying much of the time. However, he was able to read more than one tablet or inscription, which was quite impressive.
     We all met at the Athens airport and quickly found our rental car and were off to Tolo. Tolo is a sleepy seaside town on the Peloponnese that has several ancient ruins nearby. When we arrived at our AirBNB apartment I was super excited for the view, which was pure water. And GORGEOUS water at that. We walked into the town and did a little grocery shopping, which was fun. I find foreign grocery stores to be interesting. Everything was in Greek with very little English and while I could figure out what most things were, I definitely was left a little curious about others. Plus the stores are small and not overwhelming (my mother left me alone in Wal-Mart at New Years and I almost had a panic attack). After dropping our spoils at the apartment we walked back to town and along the narrow beach to our apartment owner's sister's restaurant. It was a fabulous meal. We ordered way too much food and I ate more cheese than I thought possible, and it was wonderful.

View from Tolo apartment

Marcus' parents at dinner on the beach

     The next morning we headed for our first of many "educational rocks" (this term developed during the trip, because often I found myself staring at a pile of rocks wondering what on earth they used to be, however, they were educational or so said the signs). We visited the historical sites of Mycenae and Epidarvros. Mycenae (if you recall from middle & high school history class) was one of the biggest city-states and center of Greek civilization from roughly (and don't quote me on these dates) 2000-1000 B.C.

The famous Grave Circle A in Mycenae

The citadel is located up on a hill and you can see across and down to the sea on clear days. I assume, much like other ancient cities I've visited in the past (Pompeii & Ephesus) that the sea use to be much closer than it is today. The structures are in ruins, but it was impressive to realize that these great structures, walls, gates, and even impressive tombs, were built before the Egyptians built the pyramids.

View from Mycenae towards to hills

Checking out the museum in Mycenae that explained
all the education rocks we'd viewed

This piece of art was aptly named,
"ploughing by man and ox"

     Meanwhile, several miles away in Epidarvros there is a theater that has such incredible acoustics that if speaking in a normal tone on the stage people in the back row can hear you just fine. It was pretty impressive to me that that the Greeks figured out how to do this.

Me & Marcus at the top of the Epidarvros theater
(his mom is in the center of the stage in blue)

Also at Epidarvros there was a hospice building marked on the map. I was a little excited to go see it and learn a little more about ancient Greek medicine (something that hadn't been covered since I was 19 and sitting in the History of Medicine & Public Health at Bucknell with no idea I was going to transfer for nursing and eventually enter public health). I should have contained my excitement, because when we got there... it was quite literally a ginormous pile of rocks in a field and not much else. There was one particular rock that appeared it may have been an alter of sorts. We thought this would be a great photo opportunity of Marcus pretending to sacrifice me to the gods, however the moment I got myself on top of the rock a guard (that we had not noticed) started blowing his whistle at us and we missed our opportunity. After all the educational rocks we drove to another seaside town, this one a little bigger, called Nafplio. There is a huge fortress atop a hill there that Marcus really wanted to go to, however, there is no way to drive to it, it's who knows how many steps up a really really long staircase, it was easily 90 degrees and we were out of water. Thankfully, Marcus realized that it was closing in about 20 minutes, so we were saved from that climb, though I am sure the view was beyond amazing.

Quick stop in Nafplio

Beach in Nafplio with the fortress atop the hill

It was a tad windy

Once back in the apartment Marcus and I went down to the beach and lounged and swam for an hour or so. The Mediterranean is so salty and I absolutely loved it. Marcus and I noticed however that the economic downturn in Greece has certainly left it's mark. We walked past completely abandoned beach front hotels. In a way, seeing this is more depressing than seeing the poor in Rwanda. I can't really explain why. Perhaps it's because almost everyone in Rwanda is poor and yet they're still happy, it's just the way of life. I don't know. It feels different when you see something that once was successful and has failed. In Rwanda, there is still hope because they continue to improve. Greece felt pretty hopeless.

Best buds

Sunset along the beach

    The next morning Marcus and I passed out in the back seat while his mom drove us along the coast and across the bridge to mainland Greece. We were headed for Delphi, the famous site of the Oracle and you guessed it, many more educational rocks.

Temple at Delphi

So excited for educational rocks at Delphi!

Delphi was large. It creeps up a hillside with a stadium at the very top where games used to be held that were more important than the Olympics. The view as we climbed of the mountains was absolutely astounding. The clouds somehow seemed pouffier casting shadows across the valley and where the sunlight shown through was drenched in a spectacular golden hue.

Delphi

Temple of Apollo at Delphi

     When we finally reached the top, we were tired but man, was I educated. Once we completed our descent we walked down the road about 5 minutes to the Temple of Athena. Appropriately, the original and reconstructed pieces (made to be a different color so you can easily distinguish the really old educational rocks from just rocks) create this camouflage pattern in a sense. I say this was appropriate because if you haven't read up on your greek mythology of late, Athena was the goddess of war and courage (two of her many titles). Just as we started to leave storm clouds rolled in. Before long, we were soaked having left the umbrellas in the car, but we sought refuge in the site museum and enjoyed the recovered artifacts from the site. An hour or so later we were spent, so we headed back down the mountainside and checked into our hotel for the next two nights on the outskirts of the seaside town of Galaxidi.

Temple of Athena at Delphi

We had a brief siesta before our stomachs got the best of us and we drove into town for some incredible seafood. The owner of the restaurant barely spoke English and when Marcus tried to order something, she point blank told him no, because that wasn't going to be fresh as something else. We ordered way too much food and enjoyed every bite of it. The Greek cuisine doesn't differ much from Italian cuisine in many areas. They love their pasta and I was all too happy to enjoy fresh pasta and shellfish together.

     Marcus and I stayed up way into the night drinking wine, chatting about life and playing cards. Our matches of War and Egyptian Rat Screw were getting pretty competitive when we finally called it quits around 1 am. The next morning we were headed to a monastery that was suppose to be quite beautiful. Over Easter Marcus was baptized Catholic and so this combined two of his favorite topics... Greek history and religion. Hosios Loukas (Saint Luke) Monastery is a UNESCO World Heritage site because it happens to be one of the best examples of Middle Byzantine architecture.

Hosios Loukas Monastery  

     The monastery had a strict dress code, so making sure that women were in longer skirts with covered shoulders and men in collard shirts off we went. The switchback drive up the mountain was gorgeous though I'm not going to lie, I was a little nervous as I noticed all the miniature shrines on the side of the road. I definitely told Marcus to slow down a little at one point and I'm sure he wasn't speeding at all. After a minor argument between driver and navigator (i.e.- Marcus and I) we arrived at Hosios Loukas. The surrounding hillsides were stunning and the photos I took did not do it justice. Before heading in to see we enjoyed coffee and juice in the courtyard area (pictured above). The breeze on this hillside was constant and had an incredibly calming effect on all of us. All we could hear were the birds chattering and the breeze rustling the leaves on the huge trees in the courtyard. Once then men finished their incredibly strong coffee we entered the monastery and the church. I was surprised. The church looked just like something out of Turkey.

View across the valley

GASP! I said it. Despite these two nations really not liking each other, they certainly have a lot of shared history. Byzantine architecture and art being one of them. Everything was gold background mosaics inside and the lamps hanging were straight out of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. It was beautiful. Mrs. Ladd and I were both a little surprised to step into a room and discover the relic of Saint Luke there. It absolutely creeped me out, mainly because I wasn't expecting it and his deteriorating hand was a wee bit well, gross looking. We spent a lovely morning and I excitedly bought some honey to bring back with me to the States eventually. I have never been a huge fan of Rwandan honey and I love honey in my tea. The thing that interested me most about this monastery is that it is a working monastery. While they didn't produce the honey, Marcus bought oranges jarred in something and they had all sorts of things in olive oil the monks produced. It was really quite nice. After we were done exploring rocks that were still standing for the most part we had a leisurely lunch in the nearby town and then back to the hotel where I promptly finished my book poolside. We headed back into town for a late dinner where we discovered we could buy wine in plastic bottles. I felt as though I was in Africa for a split second.

Wine in a plastic bottle anyone?

     The only input I really had on the planning of the trip was related to a photo. My Baltimore partner in crime, Steph had left a rather large Lonely Planet book of every country in the world at my home in Butare. Knowing nothing about Greece I happened to look at it and told Marcus, "We should go here." Here, was an aerial photograph of a monastery perched on the top of a cliff. It looked pretty nifty I thought. Originally, Marcus thought that the area was too far north in mainland Greece, but low and behold, the next morning we found ourselves headed north up the mountains, back down into a valley with the sea stretched before us and into the plains. About three hours later we started to see the rocks of Meteora.

     Immediately upon settling into our hotel right next to the rocks we started to hike to the Great Monastery of Meteora. Meteora consists of 4 monasteries and 2 nunneries perched on these crazy rock formations that must have been formed millions of years ago by water and ice. Our hotel owner told us that the hike to the Great Monastery, which also housed a museum, was easy and we were actually amazed at how easy it was when you looked at just how high we climbed. Granted, by the time we reached the top we were drenched in sweat and really not fit to be seen, but we enjoyed the walk after all the riding in the car we'd done. We even saw a turtle (and beat him to the top) along the way.

Critter of the Day

Hooks used to hoist baskets of supplies.
Today they use gondolas.

The view from the top of the monastery was amazing. We could see three or four other ones just perched on these rock formations. I seriously wondered how on earth they built these things hundreds of years ago. They were so cool to see. The museum at the Great Monastery had all sorts of information about Greece, the establishment of the monasteries and nunneries, and a bunch of really old stuff that weren't rocks. There was artwork, robes and garb, old manuscripts, and great architecture to explore.

Taking a breather at the top of the Great Monastery to overlook another.

We are such dorks.

     Once done with the museum we stopped for ice cream and followed the winding road down to the nunnery that is pictured in Lonely Planet. With no museum at the other establishments, our stops were quicker just to view the chapels and churches and the artwork that was very Byzantine in nature covering every inch of wall, ceiling, and column.

By the time we were finished we were tired and hungry. With a quick stop at the hotel to shower and change we headed into the town to find a bite to munch on. Per usual, we ordered way to much food and enjoyed stuffing ourselves. I am fairly certain that had consumed one hundred pounds of cheese by this point on the trip. We enjoyed the sunlight as it faded in the sky and cast the rocks in beautiful light. After dinner we shared some wine and played whist. I love whist, mainly because it's bridge without the bidding, which I find complicated (particularly if I've been drinking wine). After several hands and probably a little too much alcohol, we called it a night.

    The following day, we were headed back to Athens. Along our way we decided to stop at Thermopylae. For those of you who have watched the movie, The 300 (which I have not but hear that it grossly over exaggerates the battle), this is the site of the battle. It was by far my favorite stop of the trip (do note that this last statement is drenched heavily with sarcasm in my head). For starters, we had difficulty finding the battlefield. We saw a sign for Thermopylae so we turned right past an abandoned gas station and shop. This turn put us in the woods next to what appeared to be a police station. As we circled around we found a number of locals in their speedos taking a dip in a spring that smelled horrifically of rotten eggs. We were confused. Marcus' father was convinced that there was a plaque or something that he had seen 30 years or so before. But instead we were staring at men in speedos who were looking at us like we were the crazy tourists, which we were. We decided to give up. As we pulled out on the main road we decided to turn right and see if we could find a spot a lunch. And roughly 300 yards later, we found the battlefield we'd been looking for 20 minutes. We walked up the hill, a rather small one at that, and found the plaque that stated that the 300 Spartans died in this spot. It was super exciting. Then we walked across the road to the large monument and read a little bit more about the battle before the tour busses took over the sight and we bolted. We immediately returned the rental car once we reached Athens having taken a little longer than we anticipated because the Greeks tend to not place petrol stations on their brand new highways and it was quite the detour to find some. Now we were rushing, because we weren't staying in Athens this time either. We were headed for Crete on the overnight ferry. Apparently, there were some really old educational rocks to be seen on Crete.

     I was a little skeptical about the ferry. The last time I'd taken the overnight ferry in Europe there had been practically no food and everyone got 1 key to the cabin, it didn't matter if you knew the people sleeping in there with you or not. I was extremely surprised. The Blue Star Ferry was huge, had fine dining, and even a swimming pool. We were super excited. Unfortunately, the swimming pool wasn't filled. However, we had amazing food and decent sleep and in the morning, we were in Crete. We docked at 6:30 am so the first order of business was to find some breakfast. We easily found a cafe with crepes and fresh juice and one of the most hilarious waitresses I've ever had. She was horrified that Marcus and his dad drank the bottom of Greek coffee and she chastised them like you wouldn't believe. Once done, we hopped a bus to Knossos to become more educated.

Peacock strutting his stuff around Knossos

     While the site of Knossos is amazing, the massive groups of tourists fresh off their cruise ships was not. We kept getting sandwiched between enormous groups of fifty or more people. It was ridiculous and made me a little anxious. I'm not use to so many people in a space for such a long period of time. I'm starting to feel that my transition once I return home is going to be harder than I anticipate. Anyway, Knossos is the largest archeological site of the Bronze Age. Pull out your high school history books because I can't remember exactly when the Bronze Age was, but I can tell you that it was a really, really long time ago. When the site was discovered it was in the midst of the time in archeology where reconstructing sites was important. So here they had more than just piles of rocks, they had actual rock structures. It was fairly impressive. Many of the artifacts taken from this site were in Athens so we were prepared to see said artifacts once we returned to the city.

     After we finished at the site we had a drink in town with Marcus' parents before deciding to split for the afternoon. Marcus and I walked to the beach. Along the way, we decided that we were starved so Marcus popped into a gyros shop and bought two of the biggest gyros I've ever seen. Needless to say, I demolished mine and the tzatziki all over my face was proof of the deliciousness. Marcus and I spent about 3 hours on the beach just relaxing. I read my book, he got sunburned, and we both went swimming. It was a perfect afternoon. We eventually caught a taxi back to the dock where we rejoined our group and experienced another fabulous dinner onboard. While Marcus' parents called it an early night, the wine was calling to us young folks and we stayed up late laughing over ridiculous stories.

Relaxing afternoon in Crete

     The next morning we arrived back in Athens and this time to stay. We got to our AirBNB apartment and marveled at the view of the city. The nice thing about Athens is that it really doesn't matter where you stay; the Acropolis is so high above the rest of the city that you have a spectacular view regardless of your location.

View from our apartment

Sadly, the temperature did not agree with us. The high was 95˚F for both of our days in Athens. Since we were all exhausted from the short nights on the ferry we ate a great breakfast and then napped and relaxed. We decided that we would go to the archeology museum, but it didn't open until 1 pm, so we had plenty of time to catch up on a little sleep. Plus it was already so hot that we were really enjoying the air conditioning. By the time we arrived at the museum we were ready to look at more artifacts and rocks. After about 30 rooms of very similar artifacts and statutes, we all stopped for a drink. After continuing, Marcus and I got a little goofy. Apparently our amusing photo shoots were not appreciated by some of the staff as they shooed us from one room after an attempt at bunny ears on a statute. Marcus finally admitted to being a little over all the history and rocks. But at this point, having been taken to so many sites, I insisted that we read every single plaque in every room because otherwise we weren't going to be educated enough. Marcus did not find this amusing as I spent the last five rooms of the museum reading every little fact and detail.

My favorite educational rock of all time

We eventually finished and made it back to the apartment with a little searching as we decided to take a different route home. But we made it. After showers, Marcus and I decided to have a fancy dinner together. We ended up in the touristy section of town right by the Acropolis and picked a cute little bistro to eat. It was a fabulous meal. Marcus had lamb and I had more seafood.

Street performers during dinner.

We took our time, enjoying the European lifestyle and after close to 3 hours, street performers singing and juggling, and one bottle of wine we started our stroll back to the apartment. We thought that we ought to be incredibly quiet as we reached the apartment so as to not wake up his parents, but being the party animals that they are, his parents still weren't home. The next day was our final full day of vacation. We played the tourists and went to the Acropolis. My dad had told me via FaceTime the day before that when he was backpacking through Europe after undergraduate school he once spent the night at the Acropolis.

"Sleeping" at the Acropolis just like my Dad did 45 years prior.

You can't do that anymore. The entire site is fenced off and it's quite the hike up to the top. But we made it.

Theater in the Acropolis.
The first several rows had chairs not just "bleachers."

Safety is Greece's number one priority
when reconstructing the ruins.

The thing about the Acropolis is that your tickets get you into six or seven different sites. And naturally, we had to see all of them. The day was spent in full sun exploring one educational rock after the other. Post lunch we mustered a little enthusiasm as Marcus' dad charged on. But by the time we reached the last site, we were done.

Refusing to go any farther.

Parthenon

Me and some really old and famous rocks.

     Instead of doing a fancy dinner we decided that the gyros place next to the apartment was the best choice for dinner and we had a picnic out on the balcony overlooking the city. A few hands of whist and some beer later and it was finally time to call it a night. The next morning we all headed to the airport and departed to our next destinations... Marcus back to Ohio, his mother back to Florida, his dad onto to Warsaw for business, and me back to Rwanda. We had a wonderful time and I'm really glad that I got to spend a vacation with a really close friend and his family.

Church on the Acropolis grounds.

Temple of Apollo

Lessons Learned:

1) Sometimes you're lucky enough to have friends invite you on family vacation to expose you to their funny and weird families because you are just as funny and weird.
2) People in Africa (and probably the rest of the developing world) tend to be happier than those in the developed world despite their situation.