Garbage Trucks

Coming back from “Tuesday Pizza Night” (fun little tradition we had when we were yung’uns), we found ourselves neatly parked behind a garbage truck.

Thoughts and emotions immediately rushed in like a working trash disposal.
“There are garbage trucks in Luanda??”
“Trash gets picked up in Luanda??”
“Why did we choose the street with the only operational garbage truck in Luanda??”
…”There are garbage trucks in Luanda??”

So, with this influx of shocking realizations, we eyed in amusement at the scene that unfolded in front of us.
• Step 1: trash receptacles (another huge “what??”), plastic bags, and potato sacks were dragged to the truck’s butt where massive, rusty, fork-like teeth were awaiting their mission
• Step 2: attempt to load receptacles and bags onto this contraption (failing various times)
• Step 3: begin “lifting and dumping” operation
• Step 4: with a rake (a RAKE), remove the bags that are stuck (every other) from the teeth of this monster vehicle
• Step 5: wipe sweat from brow
• Step 6: move truck 10 meters, and restart procedure

Needless to say, half an hour later, Luis and I found an opening and fled the scene.

I am happy to report that there are in fact garbage trucks in Luanda and they are fully operational.

Paradise Found

Paradise Found

We had heard tales galore about Rio Longa but it was simply impossible to get a reservation. The phone number was out of Namibia and no matter how many times we called, the place was always fully booked. Next availability? March 2009. Right.

So, astute quasi-Angolans that we are, we took another route: our friend knew the owner...and poof we had a reservation for that weekend. Not any reservation, you see, we stayed in the main house. Yes, we felt privileged...and after you see the pics, you will too.

So, here are the who, what, wheres and whens.

Two weekends ago we looked out the window. It was the big day, our expedition to Rio Longa, and it had just started raining. Saying of the day: it’s going to clear. The two hour drive dragged to 3 due to, yes, rain. The weekend was supposed to be sun-kissed with a gorgeous tan to show off on Monday, and the clouds were telling us otherwise. We stayed hopeful. Think it paid off. The moment we arrived at the dock to catch the boat, the rain stopped. But it wasn’t that complete stop. It was more like when a baby cries for a good five minutes and stops but still has that look on its face that it wants to cry some more. You know that look. That’s what the sky was telling us so we were cautious with our yelping.

The boat (ahem, yacht) ride down the river was beautiful…vegetation lined either side, monkeys climbed trees, and somewhere were the crocodiles that everyone promised we would see but no one saw. When we arrived, we were welcome by the owner, Christine, a 60-something year old woman with a strong Namibian accent and a vacation disposition. She was always…cool. So, were escorted to our privileged rooms which to our surprise were pure luxury. By pure luxury I mean, incredible beds with soft sheets, mosquito nets with those little satin strings, leather couches and…hot water. The whole cabin was lined in mosquito net so at night we could hear everything. Frogs, birds, wait staff…it was purely delicious.

First order of business was lunch. Yum. With good wine. Yum. Lunch was when we realized we weren’t alone. There was a rowdy group of French and Argentinean families with tons of children.

Next order of business was fun. Canoeing and beaching. Luis and I took a canoe made for one person, converted it to a two-person and took a little ride around the island, delicately balancing so we that we didn’t flip over into crocodile-infested waters. It was relaxing and immediately made me feel like vacation. We didn’t flip over, found some water lilies and hit the beach.

Rio Longa was so restricted that crabs were not afraid of people. In fact, lying on the sand they curiously and daringly approached and gave us manis and pedis…it was weird and tingly until the mother of all crabs appeared and bit Luis a little harder. That was the end of that.

We tanned, we watched a fisherman catch a stingray, and saw where the ocean met the river. Beautiful and strong…nature is so perfect.

Beaching led to hot showers, white clothing (to shoo away mosquitoes) and dinner. Dinner, around 8pm, led to bed. No generator, only candles and a few solar energy light bulbs. Love it. We slept so well.

Next day we headed back to reality. We found a little inch of paradise right here, around the corner. I love this country.

Pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/naama.laufer/RioLonga?authkey=oOt8es1Nsg8#

Dirt Roads

The promise: two cities both alike in dignity situated down under.

The plan: a romantic escapade (on a 3-day weekend) to Benguela and Lobito, the southern gems of Angola.

The result: after a day & night of finicking about in restaurants dominated by [insert grimace and pause for effect] foreigners, Luis and I found ourselves in not one, but two, police stations. Please don’t panic ladies and gents, our little fieldtrip was all on a mission to find a little yellow school which I had been asked to photograph for one of our clients. Our guide, a cop, who was defaulted into showing us the way, was one of the most picturesque Angolans yet (ex-army, very smart though with a middle school education, and intoxicatingly honest). When we left him at the station after taking the pics, we realized that we had not taken a shot of him. Moments are not always so easy to share.

The school “1 de Junho” (1^st of June – Children’s Day) had recently been built by the Cooperativa Cajueiro, an organization that quite literally dominates the construction landscape in Angola in the area of quality-meets-low-income...and by that, I mean little houses with a fence, two-three bedrooms, running water, electricity, and (wait for it) a yard. Pure luxury, we don’t even have a generator that works.

So, what did it take for us to reach the school? I would love to share with you tales of a mule, a broken bicycle, and a nomad that led us along the promised path, but alas, nothing quite as exciting. We did however take a pleasant little trip down a dirt road. You know, I’ve come to realize that little dirt roads are like Secret Santa, you really never know whether you’re going to like what you get but after waiting for it for EVER, you have to smile when you open the package (or when the car stops, in this case). Little dirt roads are our specialty.

So, the car stopped, we smiled, took some pics and headed on the 7-hour trip back to our paved-road reality. Smooth.

Coming next: Rio Longa…

Saudades

There’s a Portuguese word that has no direct translation in any language I know. “Saudades.” The word is a longing for things, people and places that aren’t quite available in the “now.” You know, that feeling of I’m-never-going-to-live-in-that-house-again, wow-i-remember-when-I-could-fit-in-that-dress, where-in-the-world-is-Naama…you know, those kind of feelings. So, as they say here, to” kill” your saudades (no violence here, really), I have returned.

I feel like those boy bands that are gone for an eternity and then decide to launch their “Best of…” album. Those albums mostly suck, but I hope I will not disappoint with my ramblings this time round.

I have a new home on the web, tada!. As my life has gone from saving-the-world-via-building-a-website-for-an-NGO to running an ad agency in Angola, it was wise of me to stop abusing of the Palms for Life blog and create my own little nest here in the heart (or rather the southern heart) of Africa. I have, however, negotiated a pretty good deal with PFL. When I have something to say about development issues in this beautiful country of mine, I can jot down a line or two. Lucky me.

My brain is full of fun little stories which I’ll just have to space out so you don’t bore, but let me start with this. I have moved homes to a fancier building with a GENERATOR, hot water IN THE KITCHEN, and a MAN (more to come on that front), but alas you will find me every morning still taking baths from a bucket…somehow the hot water (and water pressure) in the kitchen hasn’t quite reached the bathroom yet.

Work will start on the house. Really, this time. And the kitchen WILL be redone.