Running into the Sunset

I debated, hard. Opening my bottle of Meerlust and watching the sunset versus a run. I needed something. I needed to appreciate the dusk. It was a perfect cloudless Jozi evening, and the sunset was going to be superb, and I was not sure which would be the better way to appreciate it, a glass of fine wine, or sweating and pounding the pavement.

I gave my Swiss housemate a ride into town today. He is going to be leaving the house and will be living on part of the Wits campus--the old Johannesburg College of Education Campus. At JCE, I showed the guard my Wits Staff ID card, and we drove into the campus. And I dropped him off outside Gyrton Hall. And unexpectedly, a flood of memories were unleashed. Almost exactly 5 years ago to the date, I was dropped off, outside Gyrton Hall, by a taxi, and a few days later I would be getting ready to start my rotation at Bara, as a medical student.

 

From there, I left and headed over to 44 Stanley, home of my favorite coffee roasters. When I was there a few days ago, the head Barista and I were chatting and he told me I must stop by again before I leave Jozi. So I popped in this morning to enjoy my new favorite coffee drink (a PICCOLO- a strong, sweet latte served in a 90ml glass), do a bit of work, and then chat with the Barista. It was slightly embarrassing a few days ago when we did finally chat. For some reason, when he found out I was leaving, we just ended up having this great spontaneous conversation about being foreigners, and life etc. Turns out, he is a Zim refugee, who was a high school teacher before he was forced to flee Zim. (Does this sound familiar)? Anyway, when I headed to the till to pay, he handed me an SA music CD, as a gift. Needless to say, I was shocked at the kindness of this very humble ex-teacher-now-barista.

 

From there I may my way to Parkhurst, where I had a late breakfast with one of my ID attendings. We chatted and ate for 2 hours, catching up on clinic business, as well as possible future plans for pursuing a Trop Med course (she's pushing for me to consider the program where she went). Suddenly it was approaching 1pm, and I was overdue at the HIV clinic for lunch. We parted and headed to Bara.

 

I joined the HIV team for lunch, AK and I chatted for a bit, and then we walked to the xray department to consult the radiologists on a patient he was seeing, I ended up in clinic and made a round to say farewell to the other consultants, as well as the counselors, and then I headed to Ward 18, my old ward. My favorite pediatric nurse and I chatted for a bit, took some pics, and while I was there, the Registrars I worked with were there for a pedi infectious diseases round, so it was marvelous running into them and having a bit of closure. And then I departed for home.

 

And driving home, thinking about packing up my room, it just suddenly hit me that this was, or is, my last night in Mondeor. I made a cup of coffee, mulled over things, and then it was obvious-I could time it perfectly so that as I ran away from the house, I'd see the blue-purple haze hit the hills, and when I reached my turn back point, I'd capture the best part of the sunset. And that's what happened. Finally, after many attempts, I capture it perfectly. I went to the nature reserve, stopped to watch the stars, and the brushfire off in the distance..

 

Now it is late. Very late. I'm half packed. The bottle of Meerlust has enough wine for one glass (I took it to my landlord's house as we watched SA lost to Brazil and discussed life and their departure for Kili in the morning).

 

That is it. Off into the sunset. A year at Bara is over.

 

Thanks for reading these posts.

 

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One Last Time.

I want to do it one last time... "It" is a long list.

I want to do for one last sundowner at the Westcliffe.

I want to spend a summer evening at Lulu's after work, sitting outside reading and drinking coffee.

I want to be having breakfast at Espresso, hung over (mildly), laughing about the previous night.

I want to go back to Simply Blue on Pride night.

I want to sit outside at Mandela Square, during the week, in the middle of the day, eating sushi.

I want to take the minibus to work.

I want to see the Apartheid museum one more time.

I want to drive on the M1, amazed at the people walking along the highway, on their way home from work.

I want to be back in Nepal, back in Lesotho, back at Vic Falls, back in Cape Town, back in Clarens.

I want to be back in Ward 18 (especially now that I know so much more than a year ago).

I want to run through the nature reserve, stop, look at the zebras wildebeests and blesbock, and still be shocked that they are down the road from my house.

I want to the miracle of people coming to the HIV clinic weeks later, healthier, not dead.

I want to be in the pediatric cath lab with the peds cardiology team, learning and laughing.

I want to be at the airport, seeing the look on S&S face. Not sure if they are more confused because I've returned with only the clothes I'm wearing, or if they are more amused that I can't figure out how the hell to get to where I parked my car.

I want to spend a Saturday at Bean There studying and reading, and then meet up with friends in the afternoon, and end up back at home Sunday night.

 

What do I still want to do.

-nil-

-nada-

-zip-

-zero-

-zilch-

I've done it all. I'm cleaning and starting preliminary packing, and I just saw the list that I made a year ago. I did every single thing on that list. Life is too damn short to make lists of things to do, places to see and to not scratch items off that list regularly.

 

Back to cleaning..

 

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New Pics

Pics from the Sani Pass and from my farewell braai are now up:

 

http://picasaweb.google.com/BackToBara

 

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Bakers Chocolate

This is what I remember. It was winter, and we were on winter break. I was in third, maybe fourth grade. Our grandmother was visiting, and she was legendary for her cooking. And her baking. Our parents were at work, and she was baking away in the kitchen. I'd been hanging out, hoping for left over brownie batter. It doesn't get much better than having warm freshly grandmotherly-baked brownies on a wintery Colorado day during school break. Well, maybe it would have been better had the brothers not been around and I'd gotten both of the beaters and the brownie batter.

 

But I remember watching her put away the chocolate as she cleaned up the kitchen while perfection was cooking in the oven. And I made a mental note to remember where the chocolate had been stashed. And enjoyed knowing that the brothers didn't know about this secret stash. And at the opportune time, when the house was quiet, I made a break for the goods.

 

It's the anticipation of chocolate that I like. Knowing that I'm going to be enjoying one of the most pleasurable tastes of sweetness. Taking a bite of chocolate and letting the chocolate melt as the butteriness of the flavor comes to life is as blissful as that first sip of a great cup of coffee.

 

That's the level of sweetness that I felt on Friday. I was in my surrogate home, the place which has been my refuge while here in Jozi. S&S and I were setting up for my farewell braai (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Braai), and Scott and I were talking about what I was looking forward to, when I get back to the US. And how sweet it will be to see my family and friends again.

 

As I grabbed the bakers chocolate, I took off a piece, for eating the whole thing would raise suspicion. And with that first bite, the shock of the bitterness of Bakers Chocolate was an unwelcome surprise to the expected sensation of sweetness.

Why the hell would there be such a thing as "bitter sweet." And why wouldn't they make that more clear on the damn package.

 

I came here to Jo'burg this year, and had one simple goal. I wanted to learn about TB, HIV, and pediatric malnutrition. Those were the absolute goals. There were other minor goals, but those only involved travel plans. As we sat around and ate Friday, I realized that this year has been far more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. I remember those first few weeks when I arrived here, having a few contacts from mutual friends, but having not really met people, and thinking that it would be a monk-ish year, filled with days at the hospital, then evenings of going to the gym, then reading about patients in the evening.

 

I would have never imagined that Jo'burg would become home. And that the emotions of preparing to depart are emotions I last felt almost 9 years ago when I left Colorado. The work has been rewarding in ways that are much different from practicing medicine back in the US. But on Friday, I realized that I've been fortunate to amass a beautiful collection of friends. And as I've thought about my impending departure, I though about how much I'm going to miss them. On Friday, my friends were South Africa, Dutch, Swiss, Spanish, Argentinean, American, British, Belgium, (and maybe one or two that aren't coming to me right now). And there I was surrounded by my closest friends as we had a farewell Braai The mixture of friendship, feast, and wine was perfect.

 

Like the bakers chocolate, there was bitterness. Bitter that I'm leaving this behind. The friendships will continue, the work will be here shall I be able to return in the future, but all of a sudden I find that I am not ready to head back to the US, and slightly bitter that my departure is now less than a week away...

 

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Whoa!

Back from the Sani Pass yesterday. Was beautiful. The 4-wheeling was great fun.

 

But now, it's full throttle right now. Like a maniac, I'm trying to sell my car (and wow, what a fun experience this is turning out to be), trying to finish my research project (and wow, I'm even further behind than I thought, after talking to my advisor today), trying to decide what to pack (and wow, I have a lot of crap, a lot of which is outdoor equipment I already have in the US), trying to get the post office to find my stuff (and wow, they may give some reimbursement-too bad I can't really recall what was in there, as well as the fact that the most precious thing has no value).

 

I'm in a bit of a whirlwind right now, and am so aware that these minor hassles are a small "price" to pay for such a great year...

 

I slept under the stars Monday night and tried to reflect. I couldn't really reflect because I had a migraine headache, was sleeping outside because the B&B was too noisy, and it was freezing. I thought watching for shooting stars and reflecting about the past year would bring me to some profound thought that I could summarize, and would help my migraine go away. My migraine didn't go away. And I didn't have profound thoughts. But I did see, perhaps, the most brilliant shooting star of my life. And for some reason, enjoying the moment solo, cold, and in discomfort was perfect.

 

The next few days are occupied with the above tasks. Selling my car. Packing. De-cluttering (just will let you guess what that means). Haggling with the post office. Finishing my research. Enjoying time with my friends. Implied in this, is drinking boat loads of coffee (and likely wine).

 

Departure from Jozi: Saturday June 27

Back to work (in the ICU for a few days, if you can believe that one) July 1.

 

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Briefly

Last official Bara shift starts in 8 hours.

I need to finish packing for my last adventure in SA.

Back in a few days.

 

 

 

BPB

Deflated.

Mail theft.

 

That was the straw that broke the camel's back today. Long night in the ICU, with a few hairy hours due nursing oversight, 4 calls in one week, getting scammed by the auto-dealership (they tried to replace a part which they replaced last time, which seems to still be working fine). And then finding out that packages that I mailed to CO and MA are gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. That little tracking number means nothing.

 

I have purposely not given out my address so that I wouldn't be disappointed when things got stolen before coming to me, but had falsely assumed that stuff I mailed out should be safe.

 

Sadly, boxes of books, a box of gifts, and most of my Nepal mementos are likely on eBay or some similar website. In a lapse of judgment I packed up some of the relics I had purchased from the Tibetan Refugee women, including the prayer wheel that I'd finally found, after days of searching for one that I liked. And it had more meaning than that...

 

I topped off the lackluster, post-call day, with a great run in the freezing drizzle. (BK-my motivation to run). I craved some comfort food. Mom's meatloaf would have been great. Grilled cheese was a decent second place. 

 

4 more official shifts at Bara. And then that is it. A year at Bara is over.

 

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