Getting Settled

Apologies for the (month-long!) delay in starting up the blog.  We’ve been busy settling into our new home and trying to take advantage of opportunities to explore the area.  We’re both doing very well, happily settling into a slower pace of life, new work responsibilities/search, and a new culture.

We traveled well, if a bit further on the luggage-heavy side than we are used to.  We had to keep saying quietly to one another: everyone else at the airport is going on a trip, for like a week or two, we’re moving.  Visions of our single shared suitcase on a trip to Italy in May danced through our heads as we each pushed a cart through the terminal in Houston. 

Humility aside, the flights went well.  I generally think criticism of (international) coach travel is a bit overstated, but cannot for the life of me figure out why some flight attendants ask sleeping people about food.  No one deserves to be woken by the near-yelled question of: “Ice-cream or salty snack?!?!”  (I chose ice-cream.  The correct answer is: more sleep.)  Sleep is such a commodity on long flights that if I passed out standing in the bathroom I can only hope everyone would agree to just let me rest.

Landed, we spent the night at a hotel just outside the Johannesburg Airport, taking a puddle-jumper to Swaziland the following morning.  The flight is only 35 minutes, which lulled us into a false sense of security regarding check-in.  Of course we had to re-pay a baggage fee (expected) and of course that’s in a separate line across the terminal (should have been expected).  And of course all of our cards had been turned off (excuse me?), despite multiple warnings to VISA and our banks that, Yes, we’re moving abroad, and, No, we’re not quite sure for how long.  After a race to exchange money (first instance of line cutting) and pay the baggage fee back upstairs (number two), we cut through the security line (number three) and then the passport check point (number four), before running onto the tarmac to flag down the last bus transporting passengers to our plane for boarding.  Closest. Call. Ever.  But, half an hour later, we had caught our breath and our plane pulled right up to this sign, on a bright, sunny, Monday morning:

The staff at Baylor Clinic have been welcoming and have done everything possible to help us get settled, from a home-cooked meal on our first night to invites to gatherings and trips to the grocery.  We can’t thank them enough.  Baylor also posted us in a house in the city, where it has been incredibly helpful to be able to walk to the clinic (10 minutes) and into town (15 minutes). We live across the street from a primary school, which is kind of a blast, and we’ve started gardening, even though it’s the tail end of winter.  Our jasmine and bougainvillea are blooming and the strawberry and lettuce starts thriving.  The house is clean and furnished and from our kitchen window we can see the rolling, rocky hills characteristic of this part of the country.  There is a lot to like about our current spot but something tells me a move to the country may be in our very near future.

Oh, and we bought a car.  A “Dubai,” to be specific.  That’s the term most Swazis attach to the fleet of almost entirely Japanese cars that populate their used car lots.  It’s a purple-ish Honda CRV of mystery vintage with an ambitiously rolled back odometer and bright flair along the sides that can only be for speed.  It seems to run well and a fortuitously-timed currency fluctuation saved us about $450 USD.  Plus, Paulino, our Portuguese mechanic, is a fan.  Sarah's favorite part is the safari-friendly sunroof, something we quickly put to good use during a weekend in Hlane National Park. 

Although I consider myself a reasonably skilled driver, our application for international licenses did not include a question on what to do when four rhinoceros block your path.  I put it in reverse.  Self-guided safaris may be the best thing ever. Over that particular weekend we stayed at a working dairy farm, where we put fresh-creamed butter on our toast, wandered through cow pastures and citrus orchards, and generally felt at peace with the world. 

Nights and weekends around town consist of a lot of expat gatherings: Potlucks and welcome and goodbye dinners. Live music in Ezulwini Valley, where the rapping has clicks in it and a main ingredient in the beer is maize.  A surprisingly wild Medieval Party in the hills of Mbabane.  Ultimate Frisbee at Waterford Kamhlaba, the UWC in town, with equal parts expats, Peace Corps volunteers, and local kids who live in the hills around the school.  A fellow doc's 30th birthday party, where we cooked risotto, Sarah made a lemon tart, and where we learned that pre-paid electricity WILL shut off right when you have a dozen people in your living room.

And, of course, board studying, with this spot at Guava Café a favorite. 

  

Many apologies for the slow start to blogging; we’ll get better about it, we promise.  We couldn’t be more excited about the shape our life here is taking and we want to share it with all of you, if not in person, than at least with a few pictures and words.  Our love to you all.  More soon.