I let the couch gasp for air as I finally got off of it to
meet Chiara for dinner. She picked me up
in her car and we drove down the mountain and back up another one. Chiara has been in Swaziland for 2 years now
and we have grown close during my many visits.
Tonight we would join her friends at their cottage for dinner before
heading out to a party. The cottage was
warm with beef stew and the bottles of delicious South African wine just made
it warmer. I immediately liked the women
but when they brought out chocolate cake for dessert I knew I would marry them.
It was ok that we were roly from food and drink, because we only
had to roll a few feet from the cottage to the party. It was Swaziland Art night, Swarty, and bands
from South Africa came to perform in the sunken living room of an empty
mansion. Every expat within a 100 mile
radius heard the siren call of booze and music and packed in. The mansion was meant for Airbnb guests and so
it felt like we were children playing in an empty adult house,
unchaperoned. Anyone could pop behind
the fully stocked bar and pretend to be bartender, making concoctions just like
I used to do as a kid in the schoolyard.
But this time my drink was made of Jameson instead of mud and fancy berries
instead of the leftover ketchup in the fridge.
I felt comfortable.
Besides knowing many people from my previous visits, it was so easy to
lean back into that swaying feeling that comes from being more than 8,000 miles
from home. A feeling of freedom and
recklessness and familiarity with the unfamiliar. I love the small talk that happens seamlessly
at an expat party but would make me feel like a douche anywhere else.
“Oh I just got in from Johannesburg. You’re headed to Uganda? Nice!
Say hi to my cat for me.”
We danced under a disco light (??) to songs that were
popular 2 years ago. We played in a
sunken bathtub and slid around the kitchen.
I ran outside, to a hill on a mountain and called the boy.
“I’m calling you from SWAZILAND. OMG TECHNOLOGY. I MISS YOU. OK GONNA GO BACK
AND DANCE NOW.”
I’m happy that I’m here for 2 weeks but excited to go home
to my sweet apartment in Harlem. I never
once regret not taking the job overseas.
I like my happy hour on Thursdays and my bagels on Saturday. But when I get antsy in my cubicle and miss
the freedom of distance, I know I’ll be going to Namibia next month, and
Ethiopia after that, and then…who knows?
