On Photography

Pre-trip, whenever I mentioned that I would be traveling with Jennifer Pinkerton, people would become really excited, gushing about how we'd have awesome pictures to share.

I'm thrilled to confirm they were correct.


Jennifer has a talent for photography, especially photography of the lifestyle portrait persuasion.

To be frightfully honest, she is the only person who takes pictures of me that I like. And even when I had Africa hair, she upheld that tradition.

Plus, she captured this moment from our safari, which has quickly become my favorite picture thus far from the trip.

Some Boys We Met in London

London was cold. Our toes, fingers, noses, and ears ceased to have feeling. Our cheeks are still chapped and red...and that’s not from the Ugandan sun.

Still, although, the far reaches of our limbs were numb, we couldn’t help but smile and laugh--we were in London!

(in front of the Tower of London)

There was another reason for laughing, though. We spent several evenings with two rather humorous American guys, who regaled us with tales of international “diplomacy” from their daily attendance at a conference there in London. Their Panamanian prince, Portuguese gal, and Kiwi roommates were the source of many jests.

(Josiah and Jeremiah in front of Tower Bridge)

Our first evening together, we scrounged through Picadilly Circus and Regent St. for warm hats, as all but the Wisconsinite were unaccustomed to such weather.

(success!)

Our last night in London involved portraits by our resident pro photographer by Parliament and Big Ben...because the guys managed to forget a camera for their two weeks in Europe.




At one point during our three days, after a series of miscommunications and failed meeting points (communicating without cell phones is hard!), Josiah quipped that he gave up on American women and was going to chase Bosnian woman because they are easier to catch.


Well, I have proof that those guys were just as elusive. After two dinners, a walk down Regent St., a visit to Baker St., and walking down Park Avenue admiring Aston Martins, we have only ONE picture with all four of us. And it’s blurry.

(on the bus)

I submit that American guys can be as hard to catch as American girls.

Jetlag, Part 2

I know that right now is not the best time to be begging for sympathy. In fact, its probably the worst possible time. You all have been trudging through monotonous work days, bitter cold, and holiday traffic jams while we have been trekking around the globe, getting suntanned on the equator, and seeing sights we normally only read about in books. You're jealous, I know. Very jealous. And right now you're laughing in glee at the misery that has now caught up with these two world travelers.

We're back in the grind.
Back to the jobs.
Back to the traffic jams.

And - oh yeah - battling jet lag.

For example, it is 4:30am and so far I have started looking through 6,702 pictures from the trip, I have caught up on facebook, I have made brownies, I have eaten breakfast, and I have watched two TV shows and half a movie.

Once the brownies are out of the oven, I think I'll go take a run.

May Jet Lag End Quickly.

Thanksgiving in Uganda

The perky Brit started the day off with a rousing "Happy Thanksgiving" as he greeted the Ugandan teens. Silence. "DOn't you guys know what Thanksgiving is?" Mind you, this is the brit talking. He hardly knows himself. So he turns it over to the American to give the Ugandans a history lesson.

I smiled, not realizing what the day would bring.

It was many hours later. Supper time. He stopped in front of the serving table, where us four mzungu ladies were ladling soup, dishing up rice, and scooping out boiled pumpkin.

With a huge smile, and deep emotion, in his thick Ugandan accent: "Thank you so much for all you have done today. Thank you for giving up your very special holiday to spend it with us, and to serve us such delicious food. It means a lot that you would sacrifice so much for us."

We smiled.

Giving up Thanksgiving was completely, totally worth it when we heard that.

Mostly.

Instead of mashed potatoes, turkey, gravy, cranberry sauce, and stuffing, we were dealing with some seriously local food. Chrissy, our resident meat-disher-upper for the week, scooped her ladle into the pot and came up with this.



In case you can't quite figure it out, thats a fish head. The whole. entire. fish. head. For Thanksgiving dinner.


Coupled with some watery boiled pumpkin, some cabbage, and a hefty helping of rice, it created a nice, balanced meal. (What nutrient comes from eyeball, anyway?)

Lets just say.

I didn't eat much supper that night.
Sorry, but I couldn't.

But now that I'm safely on US soil, I have decided: I NEEEEEEED Thanksgiving Dinner. Ergo, tomorrow night I'll be pulling out all the stops and making a masterpiece: emphasis on the mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie.

Who's coming over?

Jet-lag sucks.

The logical half of my brain says it’s noon.

The feeling half of my brain says it’s only 9am, because I can’t see the sun. Never mind that my office has no windows—no sun obviously means it’s still morning.

My body says it’s 8pm, closing on midnight. *yawn*

My appetite says time is irrelevant and I should eat NOW, at 10pm. Seriously, stomach? I wasn’t eating 3am snacks in London. What’s up with you?

I’m sure my roommate appreciated me being wide-awake at 5:30am. And I’m kinda bummed to have missed decorating and tree-picking yesterday because I was asleep. I’ve never had that much trouble pulling out of a REM cycle at 5pm.

(dear co-workers: No, I am not normally in a REM cycle at 5pm anyway…)

So here I sit, trying to convince the time in my head that it wants to match the time on the clock, playing the game show that has plagued travelers since the invention of the jet:

“What Time Is It Anyway?”

immediate actions upon returning home

We made it. Despite a sick flight attendant that delayed our flight, a fainting girl on the flight, the most active flight passengers we have EVER seen (who took the LONGEST bathroom breaks), and a dying phone as we tried to arrange a ride home, we finally are back at my house. yay!

and being first-borns, we need a plan. we thought you would appreciate this. ;)

-step 1: call family. (yes, I'm posting before I call! I'm a terrible daughter)

-step 2: shower.

-step 3: blow dry hair. straighten bangs. (both for the first time in over two weeks...)

-step 4: go to giant. buy fruit that is not covered in flies/soot or on a chilly, snowy street corner in London.

-step 5: catch up on Burn Notice.

Home turf

Standing in line at Customs and Chrissy has eyes only for the 'real football' on TV.

Priorities.