I have this friend, you see, who is one of the boldest people I know. When I was younger and depressed and unsure of how on earth I was supposed to live life, I used to go to her house and sit on her sofa and sit with my mouth open, taking in all of the boldness. Because it's bold to put an antique birdcage in your living room; you have to be able to say, "I really like that birdcage. I think I'll buy it and put it in my living room." Or, "I'll buy this carved screen here in Thailand, because I know that I'll be able to convince the flight attendants to carry it on the airplane, even though it's six feet tall."
Making decisions about what to eat was very hard for me at that point. So of course, I was the type of person that would see a carved wood screen in Thailand and say, "That's nice. Too bad it's too big to carry on the plane and I couldn't get it home."
And I would be the type of person who would look at a house and say, "That's nice, so beautiful, and the kids will have so much space to play and so many rocks to climb on. TOO BAD IT'S A TWENTY MINUTE HIKE UP THE SIDE OF A MOUNTAIN."
That's what I would have said. And then I changed, somewhere along the line. Now I can do things like get up in the morning and soak garbanzo beans for hummous, because I know that I like it, and I can learn to cook in an Indian way, and I can decide to move onto a mountain with no road close to the house.
Of course, it was Chinua who figured out the whole "hiring the pack donkeys" part.
Bringing the stroller was a bad idea.
It's warming up now.
We found the cutest little house way up high, after I had almost given up. Giving up is never a good idea. Now we have a two bedroom apartment on the rooftop of some other apartments, and the view is stunning.
If you take away the fact that we have no water today (get ready for some more NO WATER posts) it is pretty near perfect.
The children have turned into mountain goats.
Even mountain goats need a rest sometimes.