So, I must begin this by talking about how frustrating it is to have a blog sometimes. If you haven't heard from the grapevine, I am very lonely in Angola. I am LOVIN' the professional experiences I am having. I get to do cool things with teachers and students of English, get to travel a bit, and I think these experiences will only help me in the future. Perhaps one day I can use the skills to work with the State department managing their english programs around the globe, who knows? Being lonely, coupled with the fact that my internet connection is not fast enough to Skype call people for longer than a minute before it cuts off, make the need to connect to something when good and bad things happen, so imperative. However, this means of communication, my blog, can't be a substitute for a dinner chat with my family, a coffee or drink with an old friend, or a barstool bitching session with a group of old traveling buddies. Lots of different parties have this blog address--my bosses, my current and former students, so I constantly censor or edit what I am writing about. I have to be very careful about how I say things as well as to not piss somebody off. This is not so great for my spirit so I do pray a lot to have some form of release, but I am frustrated nonetheless. I was talking to my little sister during my last visit and she made a comment about how me and my mom and her were pretty strong women. I think lots of people see me as strong because I am able to live so far away and have been living by myself for so long. I reminded her that those who appear strong, in my experience, are the ones who are the most hurt inside. In all my travels I have always had some option for communication--other American Peace Corps Volunteers, a kind friend from a foreign land (not the country I was living in) for nice talks, or just a DSL internet connection and a Skype-In number. This is my first experience with none of these things and God is the only thing left. Think he's trying to tell me something?? :)These photos were taken by me from the Dean of ISCED Benguela's vehicle on our trip back down country to take me back to Lubango. Long story short, my school's transport (that they were required to provide) fell through, but since I had done a short workshop for ISCED Benguela that morning, and had had lunch with their Vice Dean and Head of Modern Language Dept, they kindly offered the Dean's car and personal driver to take me back home. We didn't leave on our 5.5 hour journey until 2pm so we had to drive on some pretty bad roads right before dark and after dark--not something I plan on doing the the future. The beauty that did result was that I got some great stories from my driver, Félix, that connected the scenery we were passing with the past war, and I also got some nice photos from the car. The last two are doctored up with a "fisheye" transformation I can do on the camera after a take a picture.
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