The Russian Consulate

This is the metal cage I had to wait in outside the Russian Consulate on the Upper East Side to get my visa.  A consulate muscle man would emerge from the building and everyone started shouting and waving their arms about to try to get him to let them inside.  Alarmingly I found myself among these people yelling my new mantra, "Tourist visa!  I want a tourist visa!" with my arm in the air.  After an hour I was let inside where I had to present an invitation letter from Moscow among many other documents.  It was a very stressful experience to say the least and I imagine that there are many more to come once Katy and I land in the country.

Hello, Russia!

Katy and I are off to Russia next week and I am very excited.  We had our grandmother's fur coats redone for the trip and I can't wait to start having fur-coat-and-red-lips moments!  This will definitely be my fanciest trip since grandma and grandpa took all of us grandkids to London and Paris when we were teenagers.

I have grass!

I have grass.  This feat of technology over nature, in the form of a borehole pump, would never have been accomplished with out Mopipi.  While I was mostly disinterested, he forged ahead and insisted I needed grass.  Now that I have it I wonder why I ever fought the idea.  Although now Mopipi is insisting I get a lawnmower for these two tiny green patches.  In that he will undoubtedly lose the fight.  One of the nice things about having grass in the desert is that it rarely requires cutting, only many hours of watering.

And now!

When they were kids...

So cute!  They were soft, tiny, and I could carry them everywhere.  I could also contain them with relative ease.  Now they're quite large, impossible to control, but still thoroughly adorable.

Kids

I think I’ve earned myself a certain reputation here in Boro.  A vet neighbor of mine asked me if I would help out another neighbor of ours who’s having trouble with two goat kids.  Their mother doesn’t have enough milk for them.  Of course I agreed. Right away I bought two small baby bottles and some powdered cows milk.  Mr. OK has a small cattle post that he manages on his own.  I explained to him how often to feed the kids and how to mix the milk.  Then of course I fed the two adorable kids the bottles and they took to it surprisingly well.  It brought back memories of when Looloo and Feefee were small and I’d feed them simultaneously on my lap.  After finishing they would fall asleep curled against me and we’d all snooze together on my porch under the cool winter sun.  Ahh, memories…

This little kid has teeny-tiny ears!  

Mr. OK with two kids.  

Looloo In Repose

I spent a lovely Saturday in the yard with my animals.  Sadly my rain trees bloomed while I was away.  The flowers resemble lilacs and give off a gentle, honey aroma in the breeze that the blistering heat only magnifies.  I managed to spray the goats with some water to get the dust off them.  Looloo was so horrified with these droplets of water on her back that she spent five minutes crying and running around the yard only to collapse in the sand with a flourish only a goat with a heaving belly and lots of attitude could accomplish, and rolled in the dusty, dry sand to get the last bit of moisture off her coat.  The cats get lots of disdainful pleasure out of watching to goats' antics.  

Twinkle Toes

I spent the night in Joburg and got up early to have a last little luxury of breakfast in bed in my hotel room before walking to the terminal.  At the Air Botswana check in desk a woman in front of me had on a stylishly loose white shirt, slim bermuda khaki shorts and camo ballet flats with a rhinestone skull over the toes.  While I’m not crazy about the shoes, I love that she wanted to wear these sparkly flats into her safari camp.  Many tourists put old fashioned safari clothes on just to board their 777s towards Joburg not realizing their feet will only touch sand for one length stride between the maze of raised walkways around their lodge and jumping into a Land Cruiser for a game drive.  So I say ‘bravo’ to this lady who was smart enough to bring her favorite camo rhinestone shoes.  

At Home

  In true Botswana style I arrived home on foot.  I didn’t get around to organizing a lift from a friend so I decided to just take a taxi to my house which I have done before successfully.  Unfortunately my taxi driver got his undercarriage stuck in the sand and I dutifully tried to help him but mostly just crouched in the sand watching him sweat digging the sand out with his hands.  Eventually a truck came by and stopped with two men who got out to help.  I felt they were much more capable than myself so I left my driver with a bottle of water and double his fare.  I grabbed my bags and started walking the rest of the way home. 

A neighbor of mine passed me on his way to town and with my relief stopped.  We exchanged greetings and I petted his adorable Jack Russell terrier who sits on his lap in car.  “Well, at least you don’t have far to go now,” he said to me.  Excuse me?  I was horrified.  I'm used to men offering to carry my bags.  I appreciate the gesture endlessly even if I sometimes refuse the help.  But I was half a kilometer away from home on a sandy track under the hot African sun with luggage.  He drove off and left me swearing and sweating holding my bags.  Who are these men?  It’s no wonder there are so many aging bachelors in Maun.