This extremely long delay between blog posts has been brought to you by: the NSF Earth Life Transitions program, the University of Wyoming, my father (visit to be covered in later blogs), the Addis Ababa Hash House Harriers (also to be covered in another blog), and the Paleontological Society Short Course. All good things, but all took a lot of time, and after sitting at my computer working on grants, PowerPoints, and manuscripts for the better part of the day, I really had no interest in using my free time to blog. This post has been in the works for a while, so, without further ado:
After three and a half months in Addis, I think I can relate to how Duchess Catherine must feel whenever she goes out. The instant recognition, appraising glances, stares, lack of anonymity, greetings from absolute strangers, random people telling her how beautiful she is. Well, actually, I could get used to the random people telling me I’m beautiful. This never, ever happens in America, and I’m ok with that because there are so many things I’d rather do than spend time on hair, clothes, makeup, and shoes. But my white skin and unaccompanied status make me incredibly desirable here, and I have no shortage of admirers. It’s a bad day if at least 3 perfect strangers don’t use beautiful, gorgeous, or synonyms of these in reference to me. I think one guy struck it on the head, when he said to me, “You are beautiful but ugly at the same time.” I interpret this as, “You’re white so you’re pretty, but you need to primp more.” On the other hand, it might just be that his English wasn’t good enough to actually understand what he was saying.
However, I would wager that strangers are not nearly as forward with Duchess Catherine as they are with me here. Here is my favorite experience, although it was frightening at the time:
One day on my walk home, I got joined by a rather annoying man. I thought it would be the usual, guy starts talking, walks with you for a couple hundred feet, and then with a lack of encouragement goes his own way. Well, despite my not making eye contact with him and essentially grunting responses to his bizarre questions (are you a simple girl or a complicated one? are you a cat lover or a dog lover? please, I just want to learn about you.), he stayed with me for the entire walk. Now I didn’t want him to know where I live, so I bluntly said goodbye to go into a small convenience store to lose him. He had spent a good 5 minutes convincing me that everything happens for a reason, and we were meant to meet randomly like that. Well, gosh darn it, he was right, because that convenience store had a whole shelf full of oatmeal! My favorite breakfast food, which I had been missing tremendously! And oatmeal with fresh papaya is ambrosia.
Everyone here wants to know what my name is. That is, of course, a difference between the duchess and me. Except in the case of little kids, I find this an invasion of privacy and hesitate to give out my real name. Most days, I am able to restrain myself, and I am Elizabeth (pronounced here, Elzbet) from Great Britain or Lina from Sweden (yes, I borrow from people I know in real life) or Hilda from Germany (sadly, no, I do not actually know a Hilda from Germany).
One day, though, I may crack and try out the following, bonus points to anyone who can identify all the references:
– My name is for my friends.
– I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend to Captain Solo.
– Bond, James Bond.
– Sons of Ethiopia, I am William Wallace.
– I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Illendil.
– They call me the Fridge, and I’m the rookie. I may be large but I’m no dumb cookie.
– I am Arthur, king of the Britains.
– CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow.
– Brewster – Take off the B and what do you get? Rooster. And what does a rooster do? It crows. And where do you like to go hunting? On the Velt. Crowsvelt, Crowsvelt.[Well, this one may not work so well, but having happy memories of watching this movie as a kid with my mama.]
– You can call me Al.
– And, last, but certainly not least: Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
PS – I occasionally have fantasies of what my life would be like if it were a musical or, even better, a Bollywood movie. My trip to and from work every day: I’m walking along down the street, minding my own business. Random men approach me and break into: “Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe.” And then we could have a dance number. One that involves me dancing in a circle by myself without anyone getting close enough to touch me.
PSS – As long as we’re talking about walking around Addis and the random thoughts that go through my head, Addis is a city of smells. And many of them are atrocious. So, at least once a day, I channel my best Harrison Ford sarcasm and think, “What an incredible smell you’ve discovered.”