It's a Bit Much, Right?

I am REALLY stepping out of my comfort zone for this one.  Contrary to popular belief or what my personality may suggest to some, I am not one for costumes.  Dressing up to become something I’m not is just not me.  Am I making sense?

But I’m a good sport and will take one for the team.  Tomorrow (1st October) is Nigeria’s Independence Day, and we celebrated today at school.  The recommended dress code was traditional.  A little over a week ago, I got a phone call from one of the teachers who asked me if I had any Nigerian clothes.  Of I course I did not.  Well I do now because she hooked me up... with two new sets of duds.  And here is what I chose to wear to today’s celebration.

I love purple, but this is a bit much, right?  And I added more with the purple Swatch!!!  Personally, I love the trousers.  I foresee them being worn on my next long flight, very comfortable.  Plus the designs in the fabric make them super cool.

Winopologise

I am releasing an official statement to apologise to anyone who attended today’s Blankets and Wine in Kampala.  I have no idea who performed or if the weather held out, but I do know that the event was not as spectacular as it could have been if Rowena and I had our blankets laid out, in a prominent position on the lawn with our cooler of assort wines, cold cuts, cheeses, breads, cakes and other small bites as per our custom.  I am sorry that we were not there 

together to add our enthusiasm to the event which would have had an add-on effect to the performances as the artists who would have fed off of our energy.  I must admit that Blankets and Wine was really Rowena’s and Timothy’s Shindig.  It was never marketed as such (which I personally think was a mistake), but truth be told, we always brought the best set up and spread of consumable delights to the event; it was award winning (in our minds at least).  Our synergy when organising food and bevvies has led to many successful all-day and late-night extravaganzas.  The delight of which can only be imagined if you were blessed by the divine to attend.  And if you were not, then once again, I’m sorry.  Our powers are unparralled.  Because of changes in the situations of both of our lives, we could not unite our forces to make today’s event an amazing success.  While today’s Blankets and Wine might have been successful, it was not amazing since by definition, to be amazing, Rowena and I needed to be in attendance.   Both of us.  Together.  Anyway, like I said before, I am sorry, sincerely sorry.  I know people paid their hard-earned 35k/50k to attend today’s event, and it just was not as great as it could have been simply because of our absence.  I was taught at a young age that it’s not bragging if it’s true.  And it’s true.  The dynamic duo of Rowena and Timothy rule supreme!!!  You oughta know.

So that is my Blankets and Winopology.

Now on this weekend in Port Harcourt, I actually found myself in one of my locals, Cheers Bar.  Picture this:  me sitting at the bar, football on the big screen.  Yeah, I also would have rather stuck needles in my eyes.  BUT.  BUT!!!  The bar was stocked with Stella. 

 Lynne, if you ever did come to visit, at least we could drink at Cheers.

Saturday... It’s the Day We Get Ready...

Before we begin with Saturday, let’s talk about Friday night.  I caught wind of this funky art gallery/bar/restaurant called Elleanora’s King out near Artillery Junction.  Rumour had it that they serve an amazing pork dish.  If you know me, then you know that art gallery/bar/pork joint translates to “heaven” in my mind, so my upstairs neighbour and I set out in search of this divine locality last night.  Well, even though the place was only about three mile away from my home,  it took us almost an hour to get there.  Blame it on the traffic.  Traffic gets a bad reputation.  But it’s truly a bitch.

While they are not Zanzibari, the ornately carved doors of Elleanora’s King gave me the feeling that I was entering a place that I would enjoy.  The place was not as lively as I had expected and worst of all no pork was available.   ("It is finished."  Some things never change.)  The Lagos beef dish was tasty, and best of all the chips were not just potato, but a mixture of potato and what I think were cassava chips.  I am unsure about the art gallery component.  There was some art of interest on display upstairs, but when I enquired, I was informed by one of the waitresses that they do not sell the art.  (???)

So Saturday.

The special day.

I’ve been in Port Harcourt a little over a month now, and my first pay day was within the week, so this morning was spent shopping for this month’s supplies.  I also spent an hour at the school working on some tasks.  When I got home, the tailor was in the car park waiting.

The parking-lot tailoring shop:  having alterations done has never been easier.  

A little sneak preview of what Monday has in store.  Watch this space.

Not Just for the Birds

It is another Friday night in Port Harcourt.  What am I up to?

That is me with Uganda on my mind... and on the phone.  See the bottle at my side (my right-hand man).  That one is dedicated to Sheila and my other beautiful Iteso friends.  Sorghum baby!  

Mom, it's more than just cow feed.  

I was introduced to Gulder during my second week in Port Harcourt and was convinced that it was the beer for me when I read the list of ingredients and discovered it was a sorghum beer.  When I need a long-distance hug from “home”, I pop the cap off of a cold bottle of Gulder.  If only I were able to actually share one with members of my Kampala fraternity.  It definitely would have taken the edge off of a helluva week today.

Unfortunately for the sorghum farmers in Uganda, nature was not on their side this year.  

Not quite Alfred Hitchcock, but devastating all the same.

Supper Time

Take notice of the BIG word on the sign.  Guess what I had for dinner tonight.

Yes, that's right:  Egusi with pounded yam.

Not one pizza on the menu.  I don’t have a big problem with that because I am an egusi fan, and since I learned the difference asking that no extra fish be added to a dish can make, I am enjoying the sauces here much more.  A big fish fan, I am not.

But the sign did say, “PIZZA.”

Just saying.

On the plus side, they had another sign inside what said, “Draught beer.”  Guess what.  It was pretty fantastic, a bit floral even.  

Recognising and Admitting That I Have a Problem

The above photo may come as a shock to people who have known me for the past several years.  For as long as my friends in Kampala have known me, they have never known me to have a television.  Some people assumed it was because I enjoyed reading so much.  Others thought that I was just bored out of my mind a lot.  The truth is, I am addicted to tv.  I truly believe that there is such an addiction.  I will watch complete and utter rubbish, not get any true pleasure from it, and then hate myself for having wasted my time watching it when I know that there were so many other better or more important things I should have been doing.  

In order to escape the bonds of my addiction, I have opted to not own a television.  

Well guess what.  My flat in Port Harcourt came furnished with one, and not just a tv, but a tv connected to DSTV!!!  Crap.

Once an addict, always an addict.  So I’ve heard said.  I mean, I have slid back into eating pounds of unhealthy junk while sitting in my underwear.  On the weekends, I may go without bathing.  I might have even begun withdrawing from my friends except I’ve not mad friends to withdraw from yet.  This relapse is quite disgusting considering the progress I thought I’d made over the years. 

I mean, now I cannot imagine what my life was like before I became acquainted with The Big Bang Theory.  My other shows of choice are Come Dine with Me and Chopped.  Chopped.  Chopped.  Chopped.  I am obsessed with Chopped.  Damn you BBC and Food Networks.  Yes, I am now keeping up with the Kardashians, and I recently enlisted as a Joan Ranger.  Can you believe what she gets away with saying on Fashion Police?  Is it because she’s 80?

Fortunately I can still pull myself together enough to get to work on a daily basis.  

Is that only to earn what I need to feed the addiction and pay my DSTV bill?  

This Old Dog

I remember a day when I would hop at any opportunity to pack up and travel anywhere.  My mom described it as a 'bug'.

Well, I think I might have shaken it.  It kind of freaked me out when I decided to pull my roots out of the nourishing Ugandan soil and go west.  I will now confess that I got depressed.  It was rough time (silver lining:  I lost some kilos!).  I don't think this confession is necessary for some of my friends.  They knew what was up.  In fact, I heard that one friend was plotting an intervention to convince me to stay because he could sense the distress my decision was causing me at the time.

Despite the stress, I knew the change was needed.  I needed to learn and grow so I had to go.

As a way of getting out of the fog, I made the decision that I needed to make this move as fun and colourful as possible.  My purple Sole Rebel shoes are on the way in the mail.  If I was going to be required to dress more 'professional', I was going to do it as brightly (read 'tacky') as possible.  Hell, I was moving to Nigeria, so I had to come with my brights--my greens, purples, oranges, reds, blues and pinks (and that's only my underwear; you should see my shirts!).  Bow ties.  I decided that I needed to be that guy, the one wearing the bow tie.  I bought two: a cheater (one with a clasp) and a real one.  Not that I had one clue of how to tie one.

But you can learn how to do anything by watching youtube.

First I watched this:

and got it wrong.

Then I watched this:

and came closer but still did not quite get it.

I ended up combining advice from both videos and got to here:

and was pretty happy.

This old dog has learned a new trick.

A New Port

This one is for Doreen.

I’ve been blogging for years, since 2005.  However, for whatever reason it has been more than one year since I last made a post.  A friend once pointed out that my blog posts are rarely very personal, that I do not reveal much about myself in my entries.  Perhaps that is true.  So perhaps the reason I stop writing from time to time is that what I have to write about is more personal than what I want to reveal.  Perhaps.

Anyway... I am not only writing a new blog entry today, but I am I am also creating a new blog,  araalinng:  it’s all good.  After living in Uganda for as long as I have lived in any place in my life, I made the decision to broaden my horizon and head west.  Yes, my friends, I am now in Port Harcourt, Nigeria.  Google Port Harcourt.  Besides news regarding the weather and kidnappings, you will not find much detail about the city and the areas around it.  Yeah.  I have found the lack of information online about the area a hurdle in my quest to settle in to the new city which I will call home for the next couple of years... at least.  

I suppose one of my aims with this blog is that through sharing my personal experiences in this Rivers State city, I will also be sharing some useful information to others who might one day be visiting or relocating to the area.  Like many places in the world, it is easy to focus on the challenges.  While I do not intend to sugarcoat anything, I do intend to share positive little tidbits from life here.  Because of my opinionated nature, I am sure that some negative components of reality will also creep in as well.  This is my reality or perceptions of my reality.  What ever you want to call it, don’t take it seriously at all.

Just for the record:  I do not work with or in association with the petroleum industry.  

So far so good.

It's all good!