Hey,
Sorry for the lengthy interlude between my last post. It has been a most wonderful time of the year here with my birthday and then my parents arriving for a two week tour of Malawi and a safari in Zambia, all without the confining comforts of the inter web and cellular contact. I'll try to break this down into three parts and relate them with all haste.
So since I last checked in, I passed the remarkably lame year of 23 into the spectacular decadence of 24. That was nice.
Next on the list, I was alone in my big house for a week or so with my various roommates out and about Africa and so I have begun running a bit of a row-house for various friends of mine who are volunteers in Malawi. During this time, I had a business dinner with a prospective business associate (a pretty impressive man in this poor country). The meeting began in typical fashion with us stalemating on forking over too much information to the other person, bragging and blustering over our accomplishments and generally feeling each other out.
After settling in 20 minutes that we could do work together, the dinner got a little strange. It started with him relaying his complex life story, continued with him basically asking to be my friend and what I do for fun on the weekends (a common sad circumstance amongst expats who run out of things to do) and ended with him relaying his passions for weightlifting and salsa dancing.
"Dancing for twelve years, wow. You must be nearly professional by now?"
"No. It's just something I do... It's all about the dancing. I love to dance"
Then he got the check.
As a result of this dinner, I was obligated to show up at the Thursday night Salsa event at a local bar (the only one that hosts Salsa) to see this man dance. I brought the protection of two lady friends (so that I didn't feel entirely weird). But when the business partner arrived, I realized it could not be avoided. He glided into the relatively empty bar like a king surveying his court and although they were playing pop music at the time, they immediately switched on the salsa for him and his dancing partner. They took the floor and danced very well. Then he snapped his fingers and they turned the music back to local pop music. He sat down sent my party drinks and waited five minutes before showing off his moves again. It was a performance. Just him and his lady friend dancing in front of a crowd of people.
The next couple of nights before my parents showed up included a stop at the only DUI checkpoint in Lilongwe where the police complimented my car passengers on their mixed drinks for the road, a business meeting that ended in us going to an underground restaurant and the man I was meeting with ordering an entire chocolate cake for the two of us and standoffs with the Malawi immigration departments ending in me now having to testify on corruption.
More hopefully tomorrow. I'm catching up.
Kowabunga,
Fox
Sorry for the lengthy interlude between my last post. It has been a most wonderful time of the year here with my birthday and then my parents arriving for a two week tour of Malawi and a safari in Zambia, all without the confining comforts of the inter web and cellular contact. I'll try to break this down into three parts and relate them with all haste.
So since I last checked in, I passed the remarkably lame year of 23 into the spectacular decadence of 24. That was nice.
Next on the list, I was alone in my big house for a week or so with my various roommates out and about Africa and so I have begun running a bit of a row-house for various friends of mine who are volunteers in Malawi. During this time, I had a business dinner with a prospective business associate (a pretty impressive man in this poor country). The meeting began in typical fashion with us stalemating on forking over too much information to the other person, bragging and blustering over our accomplishments and generally feeling each other out.
After settling in 20 minutes that we could do work together, the dinner got a little strange. It started with him relaying his complex life story, continued with him basically asking to be my friend and what I do for fun on the weekends (a common sad circumstance amongst expats who run out of things to do) and ended with him relaying his passions for weightlifting and salsa dancing.
"Dancing for twelve years, wow. You must be nearly professional by now?"
"No. It's just something I do... It's all about the dancing. I love to dance"
Then he got the check.
As a result of this dinner, I was obligated to show up at the Thursday night Salsa event at a local bar (the only one that hosts Salsa) to see this man dance. I brought the protection of two lady friends (so that I didn't feel entirely weird). But when the business partner arrived, I realized it could not be avoided. He glided into the relatively empty bar like a king surveying his court and although they were playing pop music at the time, they immediately switched on the salsa for him and his dancing partner. They took the floor and danced very well. Then he snapped his fingers and they turned the music back to local pop music. He sat down sent my party drinks and waited five minutes before showing off his moves again. It was a performance. Just him and his lady friend dancing in front of a crowd of people.
The next couple of nights before my parents showed up included a stop at the only DUI checkpoint in Lilongwe where the police complimented my car passengers on their mixed drinks for the road, a business meeting that ended in us going to an underground restaurant and the man I was meeting with ordering an entire chocolate cake for the two of us and standoffs with the Malawi immigration departments ending in me now having to testify on corruption.
More hopefully tomorrow. I'm catching up.
Kowabunga,
Fox
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