Botswana

Good-bye, Botswana! I’m going to miss this beautiful country!

I’ve been slacking - I’ve been home for almost a week now, and I haven’t even unpacked, let alone updated my blog.  This is always a problem of mine - I’ve written several short stories and travel journals, and I always lose interest right before finishing the ending.  I’m only writing now because I really don’t want to go through all my belongings and repack my suitcases.

Alright, let’s rewind about a week.  Last Thursday, I woke up early to pack my suitcases, because my plane left at 4:30.  It took me about an hour to get everything stuffed in, but I was surprised to feel how light they were, considering how many souvenirs I had acquired over the semester.  I was done packing by about 11 a.m., and then I had to take everything out of one suitcase and repack because I forgot that I had stashed my passport in the bottom lining for safekeeping.  Well, it was still safe.

On a completely unrelated note,

Pro-tip #9:  Don’t expect to get anything done on a public holiday in Botswana, no matter how urgent it is.

I was supposed to bring my sheets to the laundry facility, but it was closed, so I left them in front of the door.  I also went to the international office to wrap up any remaining paperwork, but it was closed.  I couldn’t even go check the mail one last time.  Sorry, grandma, your letter will just have to sit in the office for a few years until someone throws it away, because based on the 5 years of mail buildup that’s already clogging up the mail boxes, it’s not going to be taken care of anytime soon.

I met up with some friends for lunch, because it was the last time I would see many of them.  It felt really weird.  I didn’t get melancholy or sentimental, like I thought I would.  I was just really excited to get home.  In fact, all my good-byes in Botswana were a little awkward, because it simply didn’t feel like good-bye.  It was time for me to go, and while I had a lovely time with everyone and made some incredible friends, I guess I just didn’t allow myself to feel sad about the inevitable.

Besides, it’s hard to feel sad when you have the incorrigible Shannon and Mimi around!  I honestly don’t know what I would have done without them - they helped haul my suitcases down four flights of stairs.  They also set their afternoon aside to take me to the airport, which is one of the kindest things anyone’s ever done for me.  Thanks, guys!  It was a relief to have friends to keep me sane at the airport, especially considering the madness that went down in the two hours before I boarded my flight.

Alright, future study-abroad students, pay attention.  This may be the most practical traveling tip I will ever give:

Pro-tip #10:  When flying out of Botswana, you are allowed to check 23 kg , regardless of the limits of the airline you actually booked the tickets through.

I found this out the hard way, and instead of letting me transfer the heaviest items to my backpack so that I had a smaller fine, the agent sent my bags through and only then told me about the fine.  To make matters worse, she only sent my bags to Johannesburg, even though I produced my flight details, so I had to pay another fine to British Airways once I got to the next airport because they allow one bag per passenger, even though I had booked through American Airlines, which allows two bags.  This all would have been nice to know, you know, a day ago, when I checked the bloody airline baggage requirements online.  At least the poor guy at the check-in counter was apologetic and knew what he was doing.

The flight back to the states was otherwise very uneventful.  I met some lovely people on my flights, including a retired researcher from Finland and a Japanese businesswoman.  The most interesting character, though, was a man from Maryland who sat next to me on the way to London.  It startled me when he started talking, because he had an American accent!  Besides the other international students, I hadn’t heard someone speak in that accent for months.

I made it through customs without incident (even though I may have smuggled illegal insects into the U.S. - does it count if it’s considered food?) and met my parents and grandma at O’Hare.  I think that technically concludes my travels - except for the fact that I got Mexican food for dinner.

To be perfectly candid, there are somethings about Botswana that I’m not going to miss - the inefficiency, the sweltering January sun, the lack of variety when it comes to food - but these are all overshadowed by the good times and eye-opening experiences that I had there.  I could reflect for days about my experience (and I will be ruminating on my semester abroad for years and years to come), but I won’t bother you all with my thoughts.  I think that in the long run, when people ask me what I thought about studying abroad, I will unreservedly say it was TOTALLY worth it.

Perhaps the best way to measure my feelings for Botswana can be summed up in my answer to the oft-asked question, “Will you ever go back?”  I would not go back to study at UB, nor would I ever want to settle there permanently.  I think that if I had the opportunity to work in/with the government, or in an international NGO, however, I might consider living there for a couple of years.  On the similar note, I probably would not go back just to visit, but I could see myself taking my family or good friends there someday and showing them the beautiful country.

To anticipate the other frequent question, the thing that I’m going to miss most is the people.  I met some incredible individuals there that are going to make their country proud someday.  I don’t think it’s hit me yet that I’ll never see many of them again.  Luckily, many of the international students are located around Chicago, and we were planning our reunions even before we left.  I’m glad that Shannon’s only 2 hours away from Coe, and that Mimi is only another half hour from her.

Where do I go from here?  Well, I’m headed back to Coe for the summer to do research in the econ department.  It’ll be difficult to get used to more rigorous academic standards again, but I’m looking forward to the challenge.  If you’re looking for the not-so-literal answer to the question, then I guess I’m just going to take it easy for the next few weeks as I get re-acclimated to the states.  I don’t think it will take much, because it’s much easier for me to slip back into a faster-paced lifestyle than it was for me to slow down in January.  This seems opposite of what I should be feeling, so let me give you an example.  I was at Best Buy to get my computer fixed (it was being held together with duct tape in Bots) and the customer service representative apologized profusely when I had to wait ten minutes.  I chuckled, and he was baffled that I wasn’t mad at all. I’ve also gotten used to people not answering my emails and/or phone calls, so when people reply promptly here, I get irrationally happy.  I guess that four months in Africa wasn’t sufficient to get rid of all my American habits.

I don’t really know what else to say, so I’m going to end it here (until I have some profound thought sometime in the future that necessitates my returning to this blog).  All I can say is, if you wanted to hear about my travels in Southern Africa, I hope I did it justice, and if you wanted to learn more about studying abroad, I hope I helped you in some small way.  Just don’t forget your sunscreen in the states, and prepare to have your mind blown.

Peace.

Mimi and I went to Game City today because we both needed to blow off some steam.  Some idiot had put a padlock on the laundry enclosure, conveniently forgetting that her clothes were not the only ones drying on the clothesline.  The security guards refused to help me get my property back, too:  I literally don’t know what their job is here, but it evidently isn’t to protect students or their property.   They’ve looked on disinterestedly as fights have broken out twenty feet from where they stood, and they’ve watched the cooks at Curry Pot divvy up the money from a stolen student’s wallet without taking action.  Seriously, what are they being paid for???

Anyway, I resigned myself to the fact that I may never see those clothes again and headed over to the main gate, where we caught a cab.  Game City is definitely the classiest mall in the country, and even I was a little intimidated by the shiny newness of it all.  We wandered around the shops for an hour before heading to the coffee shop.

After a latte and a chocolate chip muffin the size of my face, I felt a lot better.  My favorite part of the day happened next.  As we were counting out our spare change for the tip, the German gentleman who had been sitting next to us dropped a P50 bill on the table and said, “Here’s a little contribution.”  We stammered out our thanks, but he was already walking away.  I don’t know it he just really appreciated our conversation about Shakespeare and country music, or if he thought that we were dirt poor, but it was quite the pleasant surprise.

Things got even better when we caught a cab back to school.  Our driver was crazy, in a good way.   He was quite chatty, and he was fascinated by us.  When I told him that my course was a semester, he got upset and told me that I was “trying to throw him in the forest.”  I guess that he meant to ask how many years of college I was doing.  He also told Mimi to not be a politician; at this point, we had established that Americans always fly together, even if they are leaving the country on different days (?) and that Mimi had a “white” voice and “black” hair, so instead of arguing, she just said, “Okay.  I won’t.  What should I do?”  He told her to become his lawyer for the next time he gets in trouble.  He then proceeded to go into a ten minute tirade about how women are no good.  Finally, even though we had agreed on P30 as a fare, he tried to charge us more when he dropped us off.  We just laughed it off and said, “You’re funny.”  He looked like a kid who was caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar; he had a sour face as he gave us our change, but he said “have a good night” as we left, so I guess he wasn’t bitter.

Today was also my last day volunteering.  The ladies were really sad to see me go; they got a cake to celebrate, and they all made sure to get my email address and US phone number, even though I told them that it costs a lot of money to call internationally.  I think they see me as an office pet; one woman nicknamed me Bitumelo, which means “happiness.”   It was hard to say goodbye; I promised one that I’d bring her back in my suitcase, another that I’d send her back a pair of sneakers, and another that I’d send her back a white man.

I have to admit – even though I only have one full day left, I haven’t started packing.  It will take an hour, tops, so I’m not too worried.  Tomorrow will be another jam-packed day, so I might just put it off until Thursday.

Pro-tip #8:  Don’t put off packing until the morning of your flight.  It probably won’t end well.

Boroko, and Peace.

It was 5:30 in the morning when I stepped out of my dorm room and sleepily made my way to Sampson’s cab, where Anna and Sara were already waiting.  Paige, Mimi, and Audrey joined us shortly.  The four of us runners took the first shuttle to the Grand Palm Hotel, and my excitement steadily grew as we passed running lanes and met an increasing flow of traffic.  It was still dark when we were dropped off, but we easily followed the flow of human traffic over to where the 10K, marathon, and half marathon were planned to start.

We had all registered and picked up our race packages on Friday – along with the typical energy drinks and t-shirts usually distributed by sponsors, we were given make-up remover, instant stew packages, and … baby food.  I didn’t enter the 10K for the gift packs, though.  The furthest I’d ever previously run was 5 miles in one go, so I was excited to test myself on the streets of Gaborone.

Paige (my 10K buddy) and I separated from Anna and Audrey, because our race started at 6:30 and their marathon started at 6:45.  There were already people everywhere, so we followed the other blue-bibbed runners to the starting line.  We tried to stay near the back so that we wouldn’t be trampled by the serious runners, but by the time 6:30 came around, there were hundreds of people behind us anyway.  The race started ten minutes late because I think they were waiting for the Minister of Sports and Culture, but we had some great conversations with the other people in the starting shoot.  People from all over the world were running – London, Las Vegas, Zimbabwe, Namibia, and of course, Kenya.

A huge rush of adrenaline hit me when the starting gun went off.  Sara and Mimi cheered us on as we rushed out onto the main street.  I have to say, Sara will make the perfect soccer mom someday – she had a cooler of food and drinks for us, and she made a big poster for us.  It was quite a sight – about a thousand people were stretched over a span of about three blocks and running into the pink/yellow sunrise.  Paige and I were gradually passed by the serious runners (and a few Indian kids), but we kept a steady pace the entire time and never resorted to walking.  There were water stands every two kilometers, and the air was cool.  Perfect running conditions.

About fifteen minutes in, we were passed by the front runners of the half/full marathon.  That was the only time that cars really bothered us, even though we stayed on the main streets.  As the sun continued to rise, roosters were crowing and we could smell freshly cut grass mixed with the faint smell of gasoline from the road.  I’m really going to miss how chickens and cows can be seen on the streets, even in the middle of the capital city – it’s very homey and comforting.  Janna and Carolina, two Finnish exchange students, passed us about halfway through and slowed down to chat for a bit.

Before we knew it, we were on the last two kilometers.  As we neared the line where we started, we decided to speed up and make a grand entrance.  Then we realized that the real finish line was still a quarter of a kilometer away – oops.  That was the only time I felt tired.  There were a hundred people cheering for us at the finish line, though, so we sped up once more and finished our run in about 1 hour and 4 minutes (the official results still haven’t been posted).  My goal was 1:15, so I’m pretty happy with myself.

Mimi and Sara had set up camp by the finish line, so we joined them after collecting our participant medals.  We sat on the blanket and snacked on bananas and granola bars as we watched more runners pour in.  The first marathon runners (all of them Kenyans) started coming in, with times of 2 hours and 15 minutes.  That’s incredible!  At 8:45, we packed up our bags and backtracked to where the marathon runners passed on their second lap of Gabs, but by the time we made it to the point, we estimated that the girls had already gone by.  I felt bad, because they were expecting to see us and I wanted to support them.  Not everyone can run 42K.

We headed back to the hotel and arrived just in time to see Courtney off at her 4K race.  She’s in cross country back in the states, and watching her start was one of the funniest moments of the day.  She was frustrated at the slow start because she was timing herself, so she elbowed her way to the front of the pack within 50 meters and flew around the corner.  The man next to us asked, “How long do you think it will take her?”  We said, “Fifteen minutes, maybe.”

Turns out, it took 7.  She came hurtling out of the bushes before they even had the finish line set up, and after she collected her participant medal, she came over and bluntly said, “That was NOT 4 kilometers.”

Three and a half hours after the start of the marathon, we all decided to split up and stagger ourselves along the last 2K of the course.  Sara and I walked all the way to the last water station and waited around with our sign for another 45 minutes.  Finally, we saw Anna’s green tank top in the distance.  As she neared, we jumped up and cheered and danced like crazy as she went by, trying to make up for the missed opportunity earlier.  Audrey came along fifteen minutes later, so we repeated the ritual.  We made sure to cheer for the other runners as they came along, too.  Most were too tired to smile or speak, but many nodded or raised their hands.

We hung around the finish line for the rest of the morning, because it was like a big festival.  There were live djs, traditional dancers, and an awards ceremony.  There were a few students from UB around too.  When it started clearing out, we packed up and headed out.

Audrey, Anna and I went out for burgers afterwards, and when I finally made it back to my dorm at 4 p.m. I took a shower and passed out from exhaustion.  Everything about the day was electrifying:  my run, the atmosphere, and the good times I had with my friends.  There’s something addicting about running events; it’s amazing how perfect strangers can bond over such an individualized hobby and work together to create such an unforgettable experience.  If I had to pick one day from my stay in Africa to relive over and over again, this would be it.

Peace.

I don’t think I’ve touched on the issue of homosexuality in Botswana, other than in my retelling of Eddie the Tswana Prince’s story, but I think it deserves some coverage, considering recent events.

A little bit of background:  homosexual acts are illegal in Botswana, but not the actual state of being a homosexual.  No one has been arrested in the past few years for homosexuality (to my working knowledge, at least).  It is actually becoming somewhat culturally acceptable; I’ve met several gays and lesbians on campus.  UB seems to be a catalyst for change on several social issues.  Once you get out to the villages, it becomes much more strict, but in urban centers there is an atmosphere of tolerance, if not total acceptance, for gay couples.

I think I can safely say that today marked a turning point in the discourse on homosexuality in Botswana.  Actually, it was more like someone lit the flame under a powder keg, and it all started with a comment on national television by a Motswana girl who had no idea what was coming.

On Saturday night, Miss Botswana 2013 was crowned (congrats to Rosemary, by the way), but I’ve been reading about the contest in the local newspapers, and from the sounds of it, she was the only girl to give a coherent answer to her interview question; the rest just fell apart.  One girl, when asked to define a Motswana woman, said that she should be “curvaceous, sophisticated, and independent.”  What???  However, I’m deviating from the point.  A contestant by the name of Seno Mathers was asked to identify the issues facing the Batswana youth today, and gave an answer that shocked her national audience.

According to Seno, the first issue youth are facing is homosexuality.  She stated, “Homosexuality is a disease that can be cured.”  I’ll let you read the rest of the article for yourself.  I just wanted share my opinion on the matter.

What the hell was she thinking?!  Although I feel sorry for her (she was booed so loudly that she couldn’t finish her answer), I’m very proud of the hundreds of Batswana who stood against her view.  I underestimated the people in this country, and I’ll never make that mistake again.  Looking through the comments after the article is not very encouraging, and tempers are flaring up all over the place (Facebook, on campus), but at least people are talking about it.

I’m trying to be somewhat diplomatic here (unlike miss Seno here), so I won’t go on and on about what happened.  I just think that it’s important for people to know about these issues, even if what happens within the tiny population of Botswana will never directly affect the people back in the States.  This is basically the most exciting news story that I’ve heard since being here, and I wanted to share.

I also wanted to share that I sit next to one of the top 16 contestants in my Families and Households class.  She didn’t make it to the top five, but I have a feeling that if she did she would give a much more coherent answer than the rest of her peers.  I just wanna brag about how I have worked on group projects with a minor Motswana celebrity :).

Peace.

“Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave … “

I borrowed this line from a song title on the Titanic soundtrack, because it sums up my present mood perfectly (at least I didn’t choose “My Heart Will Go On” - sorry, Celine).  I’ve been reading my fellow Coe students’ study abroad blogs this afternoon, and it made me realize how incredibly lucky I am to have had the opportunity to come to Botswana for a semester.  I don’t think I say it nearly enough, but this semester has been amazing.  I mean, how many people have had the chance to live in Africa?!

I think it finally hit me today that I am leaving in fifteen days.  That’s about two weeks, for those mathematically-challenged people out there.  Two weeks.  I’m really going to miss this country - the people, the scenery, the weather, the lifestyle … everything.  I would never come back to study at the university because it isn’t the academic culture that I personally thrive in, but I could see myself living here for a few years and working with the government or starting an NGO.  Sometimes I can even picture my place in the bigger picture here.  We’ll just have to wait and see what the future brings after grad school.  Even if I don’t return to Botswana, I think I’m ready to consider living abroad for a few years or visiting other countries that I wouldn’t have dreamed of going to before this semester.  I used to be a very cautious and timid person when it came to new places, but I’m no longer adverse to the idea of going to completely foreign places and just figuring them out.  In fact, I’ve learned that it’s incredibly fun.

I think I’ve finally perfected the perfect cavalier attitude that the Batswana embody here.  It comes and goes, depending on how much work I have, but I can make the switch between the Motswana and American outlook pretty easily when I want.  Before, I’d have to remind myself to be patient, that TIA (this is Africa), etc., but now it comes without thinking.  Half an hour in the dinner line?  Whatevs.  Having to call and stop by a certain office several times to get what you need done?  Normal.  Things just don’t phase me, and I can see the humor in most situations.

Case in point:  last Friday, Shannon and I were going to take the khombi to a Rhythm Project that Sonam, Anna, and Stephanie participated in for their volunteer project this semester.  We allocated an hour for the 20 minute khombi ride.  Well, it actually took 50 minutes to get to Botswanacraft.  We had to ask about 10 people if we were on the right track and had to transfer khombis at one point.  When we finally got to the right neighborhood, we walked around for another hour.  It was dark and storming, and there were no signs, so we asked a couple of people to point us in the right direction and just kept trekking.  I found a discarded license plate on the side of the road, which is going on the wall when I get back to the States :).  I think we actually went out of Gabs at one point, because there was nothing but cars near the road.  Needless to say, we never found the place, but we had quite the adventure nonetheless.  At one point, there was a lightning show in the sky in front of us and as we started belting out our favorite songs.  We also met a very strange change collector in one of the khombis on the way back who totally dropped us off at the wrong stop, so we hopped into a store and got some chocolate before trying to figure out where the hell we were.  Luckily, another khombi came by right as we were about to start hiking again.  When we got back to campus, we called it quits for the night, got ourselves a couple of Hunters, changed out of our soaking wet jeans and sweaters, and sat down for a movie.  We never did see the play, but the memory of that night will last a lifetime!

Another turning point is that I just moved into a new room today.  I was having major roommate issues (Aunah never really took to me and her attitude puts the most passive-aggressive Minnesotans, like me, to shame), and when I heard that Mimi’s roommate moved out, I went straight to the international office and asked for a move.  I’m now in the Las Vegas dorms with all the other international students, and I have internet in the room!  Hallelujah!!!  I can get my work done so fast - how did I survive before?

I just finished unpacking, but I’m too happy to go to bed, so I think I’ll ramble on a bit more.  I can’t tell you how strange it was for me to move all my stuff in about 20 minutes - we just threw it into my two suitcases and wheeled them across campus.  It makes you realize how little you actually need to survive.  It is, strangely enough, a good feeling to know that I can manage things perfectly and not be tied down by extra things (although I do miss my books, I’ll admit).

Alright, I’m gonna figure out how showering works in this dorm (I hear they have shower curtains over here … ) and read for a bit.

Peace.

Never mind, one last thing - I wore a long skirt and a tank top today (with a sweater in the morning, because it gets a little chilly before the sun’s up), and a random girl came up to me after class and asked, “You’re crazy - aren’t you cold?!”  I laughed and told her no.  It’s cooling down here - it feels like a spring day in Pequot Lakes, where you wear jeans and sweatshirts in the morning and then t-shirts in the afternoon.  It’s wonderful for me, but the locals are walking around in down jackets and boots and scarfs and hats.  I overheard a guy telling his friend in my soc class that most people weren’t going to classes because they couldn’t stand the cold.  What?

Oh, Joburg.  I’ll miss you.

Without realizing it, my definition of food appreciation has changed while I’ve been here in Botswana.  Food that I’ve always disliked, like raw carrots and fried chicken, has become very appetizing in the face of scarcity.  But before I get ahead of myself, let me describe the food situation.

On campus, if you want a hot meal, you have a couple of options.  There are two refectories that serve the same basic meal: your choice of pap, rice, spaghetti noodles, or sorghum; one meat (either chopped beef or fried chicken); and a salad, which is usually beets, a pseudo-greek salad, a miniature peice of squash, or potato salad.  You also get a styrofoam cup of orange drink.  The starch option takes up about 3/4ths of the dinner plate, and you only get a mouthful of salad.  All this costs less than $2.

I have to admit, it doesn’t taste bad to me anymore, so this is my meal most evenings.  I am really sick of chicken, but it’s protein, so my body craves it come dinnertime.  I can’t stomach the beef; half of it is pure fat and the other half is extremely stringy and tough.  I love the beef mince, though.

For lunch, I usually get a chicken peri-peri pie from the grocery store or get a phaphatha (a type of bread, kind of like an English muffin) with egg and cheese.  It is delicious, especially since they don’t really like cheese here so it’s hard to find, but it takes them about half an hour to make it.  Despite the fact that every day at about noon several international students order this from the food stand, they never make it in advance.  That would be too practical.  They do have fatcakes (fried doughnuts, basically) that they stuff with mince on hand most of the time, though, so if I’m in a hurry and don’t care about clogging my arteries, I’ll eat it.

Botswana prides itself on its food security, but I find it a little sketchy.  They don’t keep the refrigerators cold enough in most grocery stores, so it’s not properly preserved.  I try to keep an eye on how long the yogurt has been sitting in the Shoppers on campus.

Off campus, the food situation is much better.  Outside the gates, there are various informal food vendors, selling everything from your traditional rice/chicken meals to hot dogs with all the works, including butter and chili sauce, and beans.  Lots of beans.  I can get a bowl full for P6 (less than $1), and with some seasoning, it’s pretty tasty.  Grilled maize (it’s NOT corn) is popular too, and it can be found at Main Mall or the bus rank.

Then, of course, you have your restaurants.  I have to say, in this category, Gabs outshines Cedar Rapids.  I’ve eaten at the Indian place a few times now, and I even had Ethiopian food once.  There’s also Nandos, which is a South African chain, that serves chicken in every form imaginable.  Chicken Lickin’ is my favorite fast food place, and there’s also KFC.  See a pattern here?

I’ve really appreciated the change of cuisine here, because I’ve tried everything from liver to tripe to bean leaves.  I actually like sorghum and pap, and I would definitely eat it back in the states in place of potatoes or bread.  However, I’m missing my fruits and vegetables.  I eat a lot of raisins (which I also hated before I came here), but it’s not the same.

Snack food is interesting too.  A lot of places sell chips (read:  fries) and chips (read:  potato chips).  The potato chips come in flavors like mexican chilli and fruit chutney - once again, cheese flavors are conspicuously absent.  They also snack on biltong, which I’m a little fond of.  It takes like jerky.  I’m a little ashamed to admit that I didn’t conform wholly to the Batswana diet:  I still keep a jar of peanut butter on hand and I’ve learned how to make coffee using just instant coffee, milk, sugar, and water.  Hey, it keeps me awake in the heat of the day.

In honor of my figuring out how to include pictures in a regular post, here are some of my favorite pictures relating to food:

This is a cream soda float.  Yes; the cream soda is green.  Quite a shock for me when they brought it out from behind the counter.

We ate Mexican food for Paige and Mimi’s birthday on Wednesday.  I was super excited to go because I’ve been craving it for months (heads up, mom:  the first thing I’m eating when I get back to the states is Mexican), but I should have known that it wasn’t true “Mexican.”  First of all, there was almost no cheese.  Did I mention that I like cheese?  Second, my “Kasidia” was stuffed with chicken, bell peppers, onions, and … carrots.

A typical refectory meal.  Bon Appetit!

Okay, I’m stuck on topics for my next blog post, so I’m opening the floor for suggestions.  What do you want me to talk about next?  Food?  The latest string of power outages?  My research?  My fellow ACMers?  A completely made-up adventure?  The city of Gabs?

I will write about whatever you desire!  Feel free to answer this question right here on Tumblr, on FB, or by email.

Please help me out, or I’m going to talk about bugs or something equally boring in my next post!

So last Friday, a few of us went out for nachos and drinks at Linga Longa, a restaurant at Riverwalk mall.  Shannon has hilariously depicted this gem of a conversation in her blog, so I’m not going to steal her words.  Follow the link and check it out!

I only have to add that not only did he yank my chair out from under me and twist my thumb, and not only did he bite Shannon when no one else was looking, but he also gave us the “wanna have sex with me?” handshake when he introduced himself.  He asked, “Do you know what this means?”  I, of course, played dumb and asked really loudly, “No, what does that mean?!”  He coughed and backed off, saying, “Uh, it means you’re gorgeous.”  The hell it does.  All night, he was asking us, “Are you picking up on the non-verbal here?”  Um, yes, my good sir, we read you loud and clear.

Definitely one of the crazier people I’ve met here, but it was so hilarious that I can’t stop laughing about it, four days later.  He was telling us about his 16 year-old son and trying to hit on us hardcore at the same time … makes you wonder where these people come from.