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.