Day 35: The End

Last night I dined alone at Swakopmund’s most famous seafood restaurant, at a table overlooking the ocean. As I sat there—eating my vegetarian pizza—I wondered who I’d like to have sitting at the table with me. I thought of Kasiki and Anna. Claudia, of course. And Getrud.

It’s been an interesting, sometimes wonderful, sometimes difficult trip, and tomorrow it will all be over. (thanks god, Claudia would say!)

Meeting these fantastic people reminded me how much friends flavor the life; and, while I’m sad to leave them, I’m more thankful than ever for all the other great people I know. I can’t wait to see you all again, make you a rock shandy, and hear what’s been going on in your lives!

Here are some final pictures from the last five weeks...



Fried eggs at breakfast are only for the guests, but Justine, the cook, made me some on my last day. (you never want fried eggs like you do when they're not allowed!)








A woman in traditional Herero dress, at a roadside stand. I bought a beautiful wind chime from her. I don't know what Matt's going to think about our new African motif!

















We visited a Himba village and (through a translator) spoke to some of the people who live there. This 17-year-old girl is still single and says she'd like a NYC boyfriend. Any takers? BTW, later at the same village I met a girl in Western dress who wants to be my Facebook friend.















Why all the Namibian bills have Chris Rock on them I don't know.

Yesterday I met a white convenience store owner who told me not to "cry over" the Africans, that running a government is over their intelligence level. Then he told me I should be a lip and tooth model.








Anna with her new kindergarten teacher, Miss Claudia.

I hear Claudia's situation has worsened since I left and that the owner is reprimanding her every day. I wish she could escape with me. I don't like seeing my friends abused.

On the plus side, I hear Anna got a new shirt and a new pair of shoes since I left, and there are some souvenirs from Swakopmund coming in the mail! Did I mention I love this girl?




Me, camping. Who would have thought? And I slept pretty well, too... save for a few donkeys, jackals, and baboons.
















Thanks for being there on the other end of the Internet. I couldn't have made it without you!

Day 34: Dysfunctional Tour Group

Our tour guide is no longer hiding his dislike for my fellow traveler, Dominique. The tension makes me rush through our activities in anticipation of returning home. I can’t bear to hear him snap at her anymore.

Dominique is a 59-year-old misanthropic Parisian, with a passion for drinking, smoking, eating raw meat, and taking bad photos of everything we see. Her motto is "no sport" (by which she means "no exercise"). I enjoy her; but Manny, the tour guide, mistakes her broken English for complaints where none are intended. I try to rephrase her twisted sentences, emphasizing the positives, but Manny isn’t interested in my translations. Now he pressures us, rushes us, and avoids us whenever possible.

It did not begin this way. At first, he was getting rather sweet with me... if "sweet" is the word. There was unnecessary talk about my potential for childbearing, he said my physique is just what he likes, and he wanted to know if I missed my boyfriend. When I said that Matt likes to cook with his friends, he questioned Matt’s masculinity. “This boyfriend of yours, is he a big man? A strong man?” he asked with doubt. He even told us that African men have to wear boxers because they “don’t fit into” briefs.

One uncomfortable exchange:

ME: Good night. Enjoy yourself at the pool. (knowing he wanted me to go with him)

MANNY: (shakes head) That is not possible.

ME: It’s not possible for you to enjoy yourself at the pool?

MANNY: No

ME: Why not?

MANNY: I cannot enjoy myself when I am alone.

ME: Oh.

MANNY: I can have fun but I cannot enjoy myself. These are two separate things.

ME: Um, okay. Well have fun then…

(In response to these incidents, I stopped wearing my lipstick.)

Now, Manny counts both Dominique and me as unwanted, troublesome parcels to be delivered to Windhoek as quickly as possible. I can’t wait. Today we are at Swakopmund, on the Atlantic. I look at the ocean and I see home. I am almost there.