I am thankful for Africa pants
To think, someone was going to throw these out until I rescued them from the grab box at the Zinder hostel. They are better than all the other pants I own. Heck, they are the best pants in all of Chicago.
I am thankful for real bathrooms
I don’t think this need an explanation. If you do, call me up and we can discuss personally. That’s an offer for all blog readers- personal chat with me about bathrooms.
I am thankful for plaza near my office
In Lesotho I usually ate my lunch in the staff room where all the teachers talked in Sesotho. Occasionally they would ask me a question or I would ask what they were talking about. My favorite was beans and papa days. Everyone knew that I liked the beans. In DC we had a lunch club and our conversation topics included TV shows, my dating stories, Zac Effron, Mean Girls and Shaley’s reaction to men on the street. We had a Moe’s, it was great. In Chicago everyone has different lunch schedules and many people, by the nature of their jobs, are not in the office this time of the year. Sometimes my lunch will time up with others and we will sit in the kitchen and chat, but most often I eat outside at the plaza. I watch all the office people go to and from, talking and laughing, and try to figure out their life stories. There is also a really neat fountain and clock. It’s a good lunch spot.
I am thankful for dancing
My Basotho and volunteer friends wouldn’t believe it, but I rarely danced before I went to Peace Corps. Sure, I would awkwardly move at wedding dances and slosh around at 1:15 a.m. on a dance floor, but I restricted my movement because of what others may think of me. I never felt comfortable in my own body to just move. In Lesotho, though, I was always the weird one – whether walking, eating or talking. Everything I did was a bit strange and that removed this barrier of trying to get others to like me. I could do whatever I wanted in the moment and not care because I was going to be odd no matter what. So, I just danced. I danced when kids stared at me. I danced when I couldn’t get my students to listen. I danced when I felt really awkward around other volunteers. I just danced and danced and did not care one bit how silly I looked and it was amazing. That inhibition has stayed with me. I dance on the train, while running, while alone in my room. It’s one of the only few things I can do when I don’t mind what others may think and it’s really freeing.
What me to prove it, you say? Post-run, you say? To my new favorite dancing, you say?
Here you go: