TIA
Our driver Joel taught us some great phrases for our time here.
Ayzo means whatever. As in, when someone cuts you off in traffic, no fist shaking is necessary. Ayzo.
TIA- This is Africa... As in get over it, you're in Africa.
So, so today we had a TIA day all the way.
The perfect plan, plan A, was that Joe's 7:30 am flight would arrive on time, I'd pick him up with the driver, we'd likely have some emotional hello in the middle of the Ethiopian airlines parking lot (you know Joe is a crier.... Tears everywhere), and then we'd go over to meet Marta at the care center. We'd probably even have been driving on well-marked roads with controlled traffic conditions in the bright sunshine.
TIA!
So. My amazingly helpful guest house manager was calling all morning to find out if the flight was on time, and finally at 6:30 we found out Joe wasn't landing until 8:30, and then it typically takes an hour or so to get through visa, customs, money exchange, and baggage pick up. I had to be at the care center by 10 with money for the passport, so I had to go on without Joe.
No teary romantic reunion.
And then...
We packed Marta and two other toddlers up for the trip to the immigration offices to go apply for their passports. Sounds like maybe 2 hours or so for that kind of trip, right?
TIA!
We started off and at first all the babies were loving the car ride. So much to see, all these horns honking and donkeys crossing the roads, it's like toddler heaven! But we hit one particularly bumpy stretch and one of the other babies started projectile vomiting all over the nanny. Like, all over. Projectile.
Then we hit standstill traffic near the mosque, because apparently everybody and their mother were on their way to pray at that exact time.
By the time we made it to immigration for passports they had closed for lunch, 11:15-1:30. Nice lunch time, huh? So, TIA, we sit on the steps with everyone else waiting for an hour and half, chatting and playing with the babies. Finally they open the gates back up and the previously calm, well-mannered people all mosh-pit elbow shove their way through and find seats inside musical-chairs style, sitting on each other and shoving each other over. With smiles on their faces. Because this is how we do it in Africa. Thankfully our social worker knows how to lead us wimpy Americans swiftly but gently through the crowds.
After a few hours of shuffling around in the immigration a building (Marta struck her freeze pose and took an excellent photo) we came out and the bright shiny sun had gone away and been replaced by steady rain. Remember how they say it's rainy season? No joke. At home this rain would be no big deal, your hair gets messed up and you change to dry shoes later. But when the sidewalks are all dirt and the second most common mode of transport is donkey, you can imagine what happens when it rains. If you can't, I'll go ahead and explain. Rivers of poo-mud. Pud.
So we tiptoed through the Pud to our waiting taxi and sank gratefully into squishy seats (maybe those windows were still down when the rain started, but anything at that point was better than Pud). And now it's closing in on 3pm and we still haven't even seen Joe! Remember Plan A?!?
We made it back to the care center without incident. And we got the passport applications done, which means our paperwork is still making amazing time. So, I'm super grateful. And the day made for a good story, right?
Joe finally made it to the care center through the awful Friday traffic. He only had about 40 minutes to spend but that was probably ok. Marta went back into freeze mode when he walked in, so he just played on the floor near her and tried to get some of the other kiddos to play so she could see how cool he is in action. He did sneak in a few little touches here and there. Slow and patient wins Marta's heart.
Speaking of, she reached a new level of comfort with me today during the long car rides. She is now obsessed with my purse, can unzip and unload it in record time, and very quietly. I'm thinking she may have a future career in the CIA. And she can rock some sunglasses. She was very happy to wear mine for as long as I'd let her.
So, sunglasses and a purse. I think she's a girl 💗
Ayzo means whatever. As in, when someone cuts you off in traffic, no fist shaking is necessary. Ayzo.
TIA- This is Africa... As in get over it, you're in Africa.
So, so today we had a TIA day all the way.
The perfect plan, plan A, was that Joe's 7:30 am flight would arrive on time, I'd pick him up with the driver, we'd likely have some emotional hello in the middle of the Ethiopian airlines parking lot (you know Joe is a crier.... Tears everywhere), and then we'd go over to meet Marta at the care center. We'd probably even have been driving on well-marked roads with controlled traffic conditions in the bright sunshine.
TIA!
So. My amazingly helpful guest house manager was calling all morning to find out if the flight was on time, and finally at 6:30 we found out Joe wasn't landing until 8:30, and then it typically takes an hour or so to get through visa, customs, money exchange, and baggage pick up. I had to be at the care center by 10 with money for the passport, so I had to go on without Joe.
No teary romantic reunion.
And then...
We packed Marta and two other toddlers up for the trip to the immigration offices to go apply for their passports. Sounds like maybe 2 hours or so for that kind of trip, right?
TIA!
We started off and at first all the babies were loving the car ride. So much to see, all these horns honking and donkeys crossing the roads, it's like toddler heaven! But we hit one particularly bumpy stretch and one of the other babies started projectile vomiting all over the nanny. Like, all over. Projectile.
Then we hit standstill traffic near the mosque, because apparently everybody and their mother were on their way to pray at that exact time.
By the time we made it to immigration for passports they had closed for lunch, 11:15-1:30. Nice lunch time, huh? So, TIA, we sit on the steps with everyone else waiting for an hour and half, chatting and playing with the babies. Finally they open the gates back up and the previously calm, well-mannered people all mosh-pit elbow shove their way through and find seats inside musical-chairs style, sitting on each other and shoving each other over. With smiles on their faces. Because this is how we do it in Africa. Thankfully our social worker knows how to lead us wimpy Americans swiftly but gently through the crowds.
After a few hours of shuffling around in the immigration a building (Marta struck her freeze pose and took an excellent photo) we came out and the bright shiny sun had gone away and been replaced by steady rain. Remember how they say it's rainy season? No joke. At home this rain would be no big deal, your hair gets messed up and you change to dry shoes later. But when the sidewalks are all dirt and the second most common mode of transport is donkey, you can imagine what happens when it rains. If you can't, I'll go ahead and explain. Rivers of poo-mud. Pud.
So we tiptoed through the Pud to our waiting taxi and sank gratefully into squishy seats (maybe those windows were still down when the rain started, but anything at that point was better than Pud). And now it's closing in on 3pm and we still haven't even seen Joe! Remember Plan A?!?
We made it back to the care center without incident. And we got the passport applications done, which means our paperwork is still making amazing time. So, I'm super grateful. And the day made for a good story, right?
Joe finally made it to the care center through the awful Friday traffic. He only had about 40 minutes to spend but that was probably ok. Marta went back into freeze mode when he walked in, so he just played on the floor near her and tried to get some of the other kiddos to play so she could see how cool he is in action. He did sneak in a few little touches here and there. Slow and patient wins Marta's heart.
Speaking of, she reached a new level of comfort with me today during the long car rides. She is now obsessed with my purse, can unzip and unload it in record time, and very quietly. I'm thinking she may have a future career in the CIA. And she can rock some sunglasses. She was very happy to wear mine for as long as I'd let her.
So, sunglasses and a purse. I think she's a girl 💗
Saturday coffee date
Caught in the rain and the PUD!
Last date night at Yod Abbsynia before we bring home a toddler...
Comments