Don't Try This at Home

Oh how it thrills me to see the middle of June.  It means another month at site and another month closer to Cairo and Christmas (if Egypt is not off limits by then) and another month closer to Brett’s coming over (hopefully that will happen) and then – you guessed it – another month closer to HOME.

But it’s good to be back in Gulu - somehow.  The hustle-and-bustle of Kampala gets old and it is SO expensive to be there.  There is good food to eat and things to buy and – well – our  PC stipend seems to flow out of our pockets like water through a sieve. And while Gulu is an expensive place to live compared to other areas of Uganda, it can’t hold a flame to Kampala, which is rife with escapist expenses.

The bus ride back was less traumatic than usual.  I’m learning the ropes a bit: leave the Annex early enough to get a ham-and-cheese croissant (one of the few REAL croissants in Kampala) and still get a window seat, don't drink anything the night before or the first half of the trip, bring a back pillow and a book; wear Sea Bands to avoid motion-sickness and brace self for 5.5 hours of horrid 80’s religious music played at head-pounding volume. Next time ear plugs.

On the way home, I missed the best part of the trip - crossing of the Nile (actually was able to fall asleep) but awoke in time for some local color in the form of a cow being hauled on the back of a Boda. The only thing that could have been more surprising about this is if the cow had been sitting upright.  Yes – a cow – legs roped and draped sideways behind the driver, head hanging down.  Don’t know the status of said cow; he looked awfully docile, but perhaps that’s the way a cow behaves when there is no other choice, cows being relatively docile creatures to start with.

Returned to no electricity - almost a week now with a mere burp of power at night.  It was nice to have the privacy of "home" – and not a hotel.  It was almost quiet!  And I was extremely relieved to find it had been safe the night before since I’d harbored concerns about it being vacant  – housemate being in Kampala for another round of medical.  The last time it was left vacant, it was burglarized, so PTSD being what it is, I was fearing (as the locals say) a repeat event.  But – safe-and-sound it was. 

I was settled into a dark night with only a couple of candles – listening to the soft rain outside and making friends with the house again, when the electricity burped on for about 30-seconds.  Have learned to wait to get excited, so didn’t’ instantly jump up to do things requiring power.  The second time it happened, I did jump up and wash hair because my only real concession to vanity here is the use of a hair-dryer when I can.    OK – so I got a pedicure in Kampala - but that's about the only way to get your feet really clean every few months ;-(

Sunday morning dawned with the usual church music (actually rather missed it in Kampala – remember it’s the Stockholm syndrome all over again).  Got up and had my own fabulous dark roast coffee and made French toast with the eggs I didn’t want to float.  Met friends about two hours later and as I sat at a little street-side cafe called Cafe Larem (friend’s cafe) the town was really just getting in gear for business. There was a group of women setting up their market of greens (called Dodo or Bo depending on the variety) and hauling huge 18-inch-diameter bundles on their heads.  Across the street some hammering (or was it drumming???) started up and the usual morning greetings peppered the background.  Nice.

Today’s full on excitement was the receipt of a package!  Thank you Kay and David!!!  I got it before lunch, came home and tore into it – immediately consuming a luscious tub of chocolate-caramel pudding.  And – since I was working at home, decided it was a great time to make the Alfredo sauce from the mix she sent and have Pasta Alfredo.  In my zeal to do this, I used the fresh box of milk in the fridge, thinking how lucky it was that I had real milk.  Whipping it up between tasks on the computer, I failed to notice that this was VANILLA MILK.  Who buys VANILLA MILK!  Did I do that?  (Jenna – if that was yours I own you one Vanilla milk.) Anyway, it became painfully clear when I tasted the Alfredo Sauce expecting the wonderful, rich and savory taste of various cheeses blended into a creamy sauce…    BLEGH!  Not Alfredo Sauce! How to save this?  I am loathe to discard any treat and this was my own stupid doing.  So Cathy  (gourmet cook who would know how to fix this culinary catastrophe) – if you’re reading this – I thought, “What would Cathy do?” - remembering her Twinkie fix.  So I dug through my box of spices for something that could turn sweet into savory and came across Curry Powder. Mixing in about a half cup - I pronounced it curry sauce and tried to pretend the sweet taste was Coconut Milk and not Vanilla.    Necessity may be the mother of invention, but catastrophe is the mother of creativity.  Don’t try this at home…  Where's the Iron Chef when you need one? It could have been worse, I suppose.  Had it happened to the Pesto Sauce, there would have been no choice but to fall on my sword.