Going home

I realize my posts are becoming fewer and further between. No excuses - just been busy with work, and when not busy, too lazy to write. I'm going home in 10 days and my mind's been preoccupied with that. I'm trying to think of the stuff I want to bring back, because I know that once I get there, between seeing friends and family and trying to watch or listen to as many Dodger games as possible, shopping time will be precious. Plus I'm sure my mom is going to want to fill my suitcase with things like frying pans and recipe books - things I'll never use.

 

So I've got a short list of books - my friend Kaduk's first book, Wrigleyworld; the new Philip Roth novel; a couple of Africa books. Any recommendations? Thanks to iTunes I don't have to worry about music, and thanks to those stupid region codes there's no point in buying DVDs. I'm trying to think of stuff that I really miss about the States when I'm here, and sorry if this sounds really cheesy, but the stuff you really miss you can't pack in a suitcase. Except for Pace medium-hot salsa - that you can. Writing that one down...

 

I got to spend several days in Cape Town last month with Bhargavi, bookending my Brangelina trip to Namibia. I've written this here before, but Cape Town is a beautiful city, and now that Bhargavi's been there a bit longer it was much easier to get around. We had several amazing meals, went wine-tasting (including at Ernie Els's ridiculous vineyard - which produces surprisingly good wine), played a round of golf (in keeping with the Els theme) and went to the movies three times - "Inside Man" (good), "Brokeback" (lived up to the hype, but definitely not coming to Nairobi) and "Shopgirl" (despite being a big Steve Martin fan, this one is flat). It doesn't sound like the most exotic time, but it was hugely fun - and just nice to be in a consumerist society again. It got me even more anxious to come home.

 

Back in Nairobi, the rain's not letting up and it's playing real havoc with my schedule. The afternoon rains seem to start every day at 4 p.m. and go until about 5 or 6. That means the roads are impassable until 6:30 at the earliest - to say nothing of the muddy lot where I park my car, where all the car guards walk around in gumboots. If I want to work out (usually I don't) I don't get to the gym until 7 or 7:30. My gym is in a big shopping mall, and arriving after 7:30, when all the shops are closed, can be pretty depressing. Lately, the only thing getting me to go even semi-regularly is the new podcast of Pardon the Interruption, which makes 21 or 22 minutes on the treadmill fly by.

 

I had to mention one thing from the news here last week - Robert Mugabe, the dictator of the collapsing country of Zimbabwe, had a highway named after him in neighboring Malawi. Mugabe is a pariah everywhere in the world except in southern Africa, where even a statesman like South African President Thabo Mbeki won't dare criticize him. In Namibia last month, I went running in downtown Windhoek, the capital, one day, and found myself at the intersection of Robert Mugabe Avenue and Fidel Castro Street. Castro wouldn't have been pleased - there were big hotels and shopping centers all around.