Namibia

This is the view when you exit the plane at the capital, Windhoek. As you see, it is very clean.

We had arranged to spend a weekend in the desert, in order to see Sossusvlei (and stay here). The most popular dune to climb is called Big Daddy (370 meters), but we are wimpy rogues and climbed Big Mama. I was wearing walking shoes (good) but they were slip-on (oh boy). The upside here is that P. has a great picture of me pouring what looks like four feet of sand out of my shoe. Great because he had so many opportunities to try.

Here you are approaching Deadvlei. Sand dunes cut off the river, and these trees are said to be around 700 years old. It was stark and beautiful and quiet.

Pretty much everyone in the world has the same pictures of Deadvlei.

Though most are sensible enough to spare the Internet the ones with them peeking out from behind trees.

We spent a good amount of time relaxing at our little chalet-kalula thing. I'm a big fan of oceans, and I was happy to discover that the hypnotic effect of so much sand rippling off into the distance felt similar to me. On the right-hand side of the picture, you can just make out the corner of the freezing, freezing plunge pool that only P. used.

I was disappointed that I didn't see any gemsbok (oryx. in Afrikaans, HHHHHHHEMSbok), but pleased enough to eat them. To make up for the lack of wildlife on our "sundowner tour," our guide, Willem, would stop the truck, get out, and point out different types of African grass. I will remember that for a long, long time. Coming soon: South Africa pictures.

ahem

It's hard to clear your throat insignificantly.

In other news, yesterday I interviewed for a job I think I'd love. I think I'd love half of it, and probably be fine (but possibly irritated) with the other half. It's with the (very small) reference division of a publishing house; I'd be an editor concocting my own content for a couple of web sites. Apparently I'd be given more or less free reign* to research and write about whatever I was interested in. The position would be a significant drop in salary for me (over 10K), and that makes me nervous, what with school loans, my (sole!) credit card debt, and the cost of rent+utilities out here. I'm pretty sure it's possible, but yikes.

The job is temporary for six months, and then becomes permanent. The interviewer and I discussed the possibility of doing it as a 6-month contract, which would give me a bit more money per hour, but given that I'm paying COBRA now, it might amount to the same.

I'm also lucky enough to have a bunch of part-time irons in the fire. Oh, the cobbled-together life. I suppose all lives are cobbled together. Lives and shoes.

introduction

I thought I'd start a blog in the hope of forming my own (benevolent, indulgent, chuckling) Stasi. My days are largely unstructured, drive & initiative wax and wane, and I'm developing a fierce crush on Alton Brown. Huge swathes of time, little to no money, deepest winter and a 15 minute walk to the T. I think it will help spur me to productivity to know that people I care about may be checking up on me. Plus, as has been noted by my friend L, writing is writing is writing, and maybe writing begets writing, although I don't see why that would necessarily be the case, like the way in which my Secret Theory of Snow, which is that each winter there is a predetermined amount of snow that will fall and so each time it snows I can comfort myself that we're almost there, is untrue but helpful, so maybe the idea that writing begets writing will work in a similar way.

That was a lengthy explanation. Maybe it's working already.

right where they want me.

I really do get a little thrill any time I have to provide my social security number.