I had to wait about 4 hours for my next flight so I hunkered down in the terminal. I had a minor panic attack about some paperwork I thought I botched (it was a non-issue. I was confused.) It was then that I met up with my (soon to be) roommate Kelly. She’s from Wisconsin and taught one year of middle school social studies before this. She is great. We discussed this so it’s ok to post, but we were both worried that the other would be really dirty or unclean or weird, but thank goodness that’s not the case. And we get along surprisingly well. Our seats on the plane weren’t next to each other though.
Me and Kelly
The plane from Washington to Addis Ababa (and I was pronouncing it correctly, Mom) was fairly calm. It was long, 12 hours, but not too bad. I watched a few movies and ate airline food (not as good as South African airways, but decent)
We got to Addis and hopped into one of those little buses that drive you to the terminal. We ended up talking to a girl on the bus who was headed to Dar es Salaam in Tanzania. She was going there to work for the Center for Disease Control either as part of her residency or as her job after her residency (I can’t remember; I was half in a coma from lack of sleep. I only got three hours in the plane.)
The airport in Addis btw is gross. In the ladies bathroom: none of the toilets flushed and from the looks of it had not been flushed in quiiiiiiite a while. The floors were gross and it was blechhh all around. The rest of the airport not much better it was very small.
Our next flight, once again we were not sitting together, stopped in Mombasa (though we didn’t have to get off) before completing the second leg to Kilimanjaro. The first leg of the flight: absolutely miserable. The damn plane was bouncing all over the sky. I was exhausted and trying to sleep and ended up falling asleep for at least a few minutes, because I woke up, sitting straight up and literally hugging this little airline pillow in a death grip. The young Muslin guy sitting next to me obviously found it amusing.
We chatted for a while and I couldn’t understand all of what he was saying, but he apparently had been living away from his family and home in Mombasa for the past 8 years. (He might have been in America, because he identified my accent as Eastern USA, though he couldn’t tell if I was North or South.) We were looking out the window and he got so excited when he could see the palm trees.
On the second leg of the journey we could see Kilimanjaro reaching up through the clouds as we got closer. Once we landed, we had to make it through customs.
IF YOU ARE A TANZANIAN GOVERNMENT OFFICIAL READ NO FURTHER
Our resident visas weren’t ready so we had to tell them that we were visiting Monica and Jose (Office administrator and headmaster) for four weeks and bringing donations for the school (hence all the school supplies). So we write all this down on the visa, jump through a few hoops and give them $100 for the visa. At which point we go to collect our bags and go through the rest of customs. We get to the bag guy (keep in mind that all of the other officials had been really, really helpful and nice to us, so this anecdote was not general to all our interactions) We take all our bags to the customs guy abd he immediately starts asking what’s in them (especially me cause I have four large bags) We tell him clothes and some books to donate to the school. He then decides to go through one of our bags and picks my red one (lucky he didn’t decide to choose the one with the projector in it.) It had random clothes and a camera and some books in it. So then he tries to tell us that there is a tax on books (which there isn’t) we argue a bit back and forth till Kelly takes control of the situation and tells this man that we are NOT going to be paying a tax on these books because they are a donation to help the children of Tanzania! Annnnd then he backed down.
The driver from the school, Veda, picked us up and drove us the hour to get to St Constantine’s. On the way there we saw dust devils in the distance, lots of people transporting water on their donkeys, and lots and lots of people. The school is straight down Dodoma Road (I’m sitting on the front porch of the headmasters house right now and I can clearly see a long stretch of the road.)
The way people drive here is very similar to the way they drive in South Africa: aka dangerously. Dodoma is a two lane road but on occasion it turns into a three or four lane road depending on the drivers and who decides to pass who. And pedestrians are on their own here. If you are stupid enough to step out in front of any moving vehicle, it’s your own problem. (Nick, the secondary music teacher, has already seen three massive accidents and he’s only been here two more days than me and Kelly.)
Our house isn’t finished yet (it’s one of the new ones). Though we snuck inside one and it’s really nice. So we’re staying at the headmasters house. He and his wife had two extra bedrooms and our house should be finished within the next week (fingers crossed). They are very nice and it’s really not awkward at all.
We then went to the computer lab and met a few of the other faculty that had already arrived. Let’s see if I can remember them all. There are a lot of people our age Maria from Florida, Nick from Wisconsin (Him and Kelly did not know each other before getting here) Heather from Oregon, Sean and his wife Juliet (I don’t know where they’re from) Alvaro (and not sure where he’s from)
Later, we had dinner with Jose and Monica, Nick, Maria, and Heather at the Coffee Lodge, an upscale tourist lodge within walking distance from the school. It’s fairly American food, we had penne pasta. (And I was so excited because they have Castle beer up here. It’s what I drank in South Africa) Kelly and I were so exhausted after dinner, that we immediately went back to the house and fell asleep. Under our mosquito netted beds. (I like it. I think the mosquito netting makes them seem more cozy.)
I promise to put more photos and less words in later posts.....I just didn't take many pics of the plane trip.
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