Oh, So Thankful

Looking back to November 2015:

Sometime after Halloweekend, a few of us who had gathered for that started e-mailing about Thanksgiving plans. Several of the PCVs had trips arranged already, but eventually five of us decided to gather at my house, which was the largest one available to us, and has a microwave. It’s also close to Swakopmund, and pretty much all PCVs like to go to Swakop when they can.

Saturday we got into some serious cookery -- well, a few of us did.
Others made mulled wine and played with the camera.

I love all of these people a lot, and set to work sweeping out five months worth of sand from the unused rooms happily. Gosh, the top of a closet can get awfully filthy when the east wind gets obstreperous. I put sheets on beds and bought winter pillowcases (flannel) for the manky pillows. The cases were on super-sale at Mr. Price Home, since summer was coming. And I made soup.

J. arrived early on Friday afternoon, the day after Thanksgiving. A. and Y. were stuck at the filling station in Khorixas; the elections had dramatically reduced travel, and they were having trouble finding a hike. While we waited, J. and I watched Dr. No, which he had never seen (“You guys,” he would later tell A. and Y. in amazement, “she has discs!”), and then strolled out into the Namib to look at the rocks. We also examined a small, mysterious structure I had thought might be a nesting box; I never examined it because what if it was, and what was nesting in it was not nice? So I actually gave it so wide a berth I didn’t even know it was a four-panel sign post. We decided it had been put there by aliens, and got the proof minutes later when we saw a whole lot of rocks carefully arranged in the shape of an airplane. Clearly, alien transport.

No explanation for this one.

I got in the cockpit and began to fly the plane. “Wait,” J. said, “that’s not a tail wing. What is it? You can’t fly a plane without a tail wing.” So we stepped to the back of the plane and examined what we had thought was the tail wing, and discovered that those rocks spelled out the word ‘Jesus.’ “Jesus is my tail wing,” I was able to tell J., and got back to my flying.

A. and Y. eventually arrived, tired but happy, and met the spider, and we had soup and watched ‘The Butterfly Effect,’ which was disconcerting. But everyone was eager to get to bed so we could get up early and go off to Swakop! Which we did, landing a sweet ride in the back of a bakkie, the four of us plus one stranger. I was sitting on the foam mattress that is a fairly common feature of bakkie backs, but Y. was half on and half off. I encouraged her to scooch up a bit, but she said no, she was fine, and now she claims it was a traumatizingly uncomfortable ride. Humph. The poor fifth guy was so cramped up that when he got out at the Fruit and Veg he almost crumpled to the ground.

They only put pretty pictures of themselves
on their blogs.

And oh, that Fruit and Veg! The others hadn’t seen so much produce in one place since arriving at their sites, and the exotic treats like tahini (can’t afford it), parmesan (ditto) and chappati (Y. clung to them, trying to figure out how to get them, plus the whole Thanksgiving feast and all the leftovers, into the menu plan for the next forty hours, eventually surrendering) had them exclaiming loudly. We bought a huge lot of food and then headed for the sushi place for lunch. Immediately after the sushi place, we went to the Indian restaurant for more lunch. We did not hit the beach, and the brew pub hadn’t opened yet, but surely we got fancy coffee for the fancy coffee people. Y. had to bring her coffee maker to Thanksgiving as I don’t have one, and someone else had to bring the beans.

I don't know who's wielding the camera here,
but that much garlic means A. at the cutting board.

We arrived back in my town just as M. was getting set down by his cab from the east, which was very convenient. Back at the house, we started preparing everything, and eventually had: mulled wine, seasoned roast chicken, green beans with or without bacon, jalapeno mashed potato, broccoli mac-n-cheese, green salad, apple pie, sweet-potato pie, India Pale Ale and red wine. While A. and J. cooked, Y., M. and I did a short sunset walk, and M. and I boosted Y. up onto the roof of an old water tower. It was fun, but getting down was a bit scary – which J. and A. mocked the next night, finding the ‘tower’ insufficiently high for fear. But we noticed they didn’t clamber up there themselves.

M. wasn't much for cooking, but he strolled into the kitchen anytime he saw
a gap at the sink and washed every dish he found empty.

Lovely meal, lovely memories of U.S. Thanksgivings, lovely, lovely company. And the next day S. stopped by and made us all pancakes, and J. brandied some peaches to put on top, and we watched ‘Age of Ultron,’ which was disappointing compared to the first Avengers, but not bad at all compared to most things. We did a sunset walk, too, and J. spotted what we think was a horned adder! I drove the Jesus plane some more.

Signpost of the gods or aliens or someone we don't know.

On Monday we stood by the side of the B2, sunburning, for about an hour and a half before we got rides to Windhoek for the Peace Corps Namibia All-Volunteer Conference and 25th Anniversary Celebrations. Two swimming pools and ginormous buffets for every meal. But Thanksgiving was better.