The Journey Begins or Googly-eyed Man

We've been home for 10 months and now I finally have time and a personality to document the crazy adventure of June 2008. Joe Brooks, thank you for keeping the faith and continually checking this dormant blog when all others thought it died. My motivation in writing about our trip that happened nearly a year ago is as follows: a- I never want to forget how incredible it was. b- I stayed up late in many dirty hostels jotting down the events of the day and I don't want that to be time wasted. So here it goes. The long version. The no-details spared, say-it-all version from the very beginning.

My journey began in Maputo, Mozambique. I said my goodbyes and surprised myself when the tear ducts exploded saying farewell to Mada and Henrik. I imagine this made the man I was driving with quite awkward since we didn't know each other very well. A very kind couple offered to give me a lift to White River, South Africa and I later learned that the woman, Marcia, went into labor a few hours after they dropped me off.

My next leg of the trip involved dragging two GIANT (all caps for a reason- these bags were huge) suitcases, my computer backpack, my back-packing back pack, my over-sized purse and a normal sized purse up a hill from my hotel to the bus station. Needless to say, I was sweating and "hot mess" (new slang term my students taught me- click here for the urban dictionary definition) by the time I loaded my bags on the shuttle.

God knew I would need a bit of encouragement as I left Africa, this continent I had grown so fond of, so he arranged a meeting with a Canadian woman named Chris. Small world- she had just been in Maputo and I had met her sister the previous day and now was flying home. She turned what could have been a sad and painful 3 hour wait in the airport into a fun time of reminiscing. My favorite moment of this leg of the trip came, however, when I met googly-eyes. Standing awkwardly close behind us in line stood a massive, South African man with, you guessed it, googly eyes. They really seemed to pop right off his face. He heard my accent and immediately jumped into a conversation about politics. But not your typical conversation. Instead of asking my thoughts on Obama or abortion, he pegged me with questions like, "Who do you think is more attractive: Jenna Bush or Chelsea Clinton?" Seriously. I didn't know what to say and how to not laugh because clearly he was serious and followed up with, "because I think Chelsea has really grown into her own. I think she's had some work done too." Can you say CREEPER?????

He then asked me my thoughts on the presidency of William Harrison. Luckily I had just taught my US History students about all the president and at least knew that he was indeed a president but did pretty much nothing of significance. In fact, a quick google searched revealed that he died on his 32ND day as president. I'm pretty sure googly-eyes was just trying to impress upon me his vast knowledge of American politics and it was quite entertaining. Oh but it gets even stranger.

Later, Chris was using the little girls room when googly-eyes snuck up on me and plopped himself down, again very awkwardly close. Don't ask how the topic was broached and there most likely was no transition into his next statement: "I have really large varicose veins." How on earth does one respond to that????

"Do you?" I politely asked.

"Oh yes, want to see them?"

"Ummmmm, that's OK."

"No, you really should," and he began to roll his pants up....and up...and up until they are past his knees.

And there they were. GIANT varicose veins. Googly-eyes was not messing around.

"Oh wow. Those are quite large," said I, genuinely interested while also sincerely disgusted.

"Would you like to touch one?"

"No, I'm OK."

"No, really. I don't mind. Touch one." And googlies scooted even closer. I could see no way out so I did it. I reached out my hand and touched a giant varicose vein on the pale white thigh of the strangest South African man I'd ever met and it was at this moment that Chris reappeared.

"Hey guys. What's going on?"

"Well Chris, Googlies here (i forget his real name) was just showing me his varicose veins. " I don't know how I responded with a straight face but Chris has no poker face at all and let loose laughing.

I knew that if this moment was indicative at all of the randomness that lay ahead, I was in good shape. I love moments like this.

On the flight to London I did the usual and fell asleep with my head on the shoulder of a stranger. I awoke and did my normal, "I'm so sorry" speech and luckily the man next to me was Marco, a very attractive, young Italian man, who didn't seem to mind that I had just used him as a pillow. He gave me some tips on Italy but honestly, I didn't understand much of what he said since his accent was so thick. If encounters with handsome strangers would be indicative of this trip, that was also a great sign. (this turned out to be thee only encounter with a handsome European man)

The most difficult part of the journey happened next. Maneuvering through the underground of London is challenge enough but doing so while lugging 6 bags left me in another very "hot mess." Luckily, chivalry is not dead. I pride myself on being independent and I hate asking for help but I was so desperate and that I played the damsel in distress card numerous times while trekking to my friend Jenny's flat. Too proud to actually ask for help, I just let my face express my frustrations and people were quick to help me lug my bags on and off tube after tube. A homeless man even carried one bag up a flight of stairs for me.

I arrived on Jenny's doorstep sweating, exhausted and overwhelmed by the fast-pace whirlwind they call London. Jenny had been my tour-guide when I first flew to Mozambique and was incredibly hospitable; she let me leave my bags at her place for the month while we traveled. I had my first experience with major reverse culture shock while in London. Jenny warned me that the church she and her fiance attended was a bit charismatic and different from what we were used to. Indeed, when we sat in the theater, neon lights flashed throughout the crowd and then the worship leaders galloped onto stage beginning a worship session like none I had experienced before. My British friend Tom had told me about these "happy clappy" churches in England but I never comprehended what this meant. The jumping and the clapping was incredibly intense and frankly, too much for me to handle. I had to sit after a bit so as not to fall over and Jenny gave me an apologetic look of understanding. Sorry for the lack of pictures in this entry but I promise to make up for the lack of pictures and will inundate you with pictures in the following entries. The picture below is of Jenny and I when she visited the States at her bachelorette party.
The next morning I took a 3 hour train ride to the airport and saw a bit of the English countryside which was beautiful. I flew to Berlin where Trent and I were supposed to meet. Heidi had freaked me out with logical questions like, 'what if one of you gets delayed? How will you communicate? What is your back-up plan if someone doesn't show?" Her questions rang in my ears as I walked off the plane but luckily, literally 30 seconds of walking and I heard, "Katie!" And there was my newly bearded little brother walking right behind me, having just landed himself.

Next entry: Trent and I take on Berlin, Nazis Suck, Bandwagon Soccer Fans, or Rolling Joints at Dinner