Answers to 10 Questions You've Never Asked

I thought I'd try a little more creative approach to this blog.  While I'm sure this will include my characteristic ramblings, I noticed some funny things that I thought would make this post a little more exciting.  So look forward to 10 questions you've never asked, and their answers, throughout the blog!
Ok so there's only 2 questions in this blog, but there will be more "Questions You've Never Asked" in posts to come.

Friday

Like I said, the day started out quite nicely - waking up in a comfortable bed.  Morning in Antananarivo is probably my favorite time of the day there.  Especially in winter, it’s usually mist in the mornings which makes for great sunrises and excellent picture taking.  Also, the architecture and way of life seem very European to me and morning is always full of interesting little cameos of Malagasy life: people cooking breakfast, feeding chickens, pumping water, kids walking to school in their uniforms, women sweeping dirt out of the house, men going off to work.

 View from my balcony

This was my shower

 Sr. Fanja's house!

 The kitchen where Sr. Fanja made Olive Tea (from what I understood it’s actually a type of eucalyptus tree “kinina” in Malagasy)

The rest of the day was spent getting to the taxibe station in Ankorondrano (near downtown).  Getting in to town from Ivato (the airport / Sr. Fanja’s house) takes a good hour, up to 2+ in rush hour traffic. 

Questions #1: How many people does it take to buy taxibe ticket to Mahajanga?

Answer: Seven.
We got off the bus in Ankorondrano and started walking down the rows of taxibe stalls (I don’t have a picture, so basically there’s a street with a bajillion Mazda vans all lined up with little stalls that sell tickets for buses going to Mahajanga, Tamatave, Antsirabe, you name it).
As soon as we were on the street, teenage boys started running up to us “Vous allez au Tamatave?” No.  “Vous partirez a quelle heure?” NO. “Antsirabe? Antsirabe?!” NO!

Finally I relented by telling one/all of them that I wanted to go to Mahajanga, AND that I spoke Malagasy.  Boom. 
We got whisked to a stall where a Mazda van was sitting.  I told them I wanted to leave in the morning and I wanted the front passenger seat. Deal.  Wait wait wait, I want to look around first.  Why? So I can make sure I get a good price, or see if there are Speeders that go (a Speeder is a much nicer bigger van than the Mazdas).  Nope, speeders only go in the evening.  So we (and our entourage of teenage boys) hustled from stall to stall looking for Speeders leaving the next morning. No such thing.  So finally they took us to another stall where they started signing me up for Place Deux (front passenger next to the window).  Wait – what about the original stall? They seemed nice…
Nope, the teenagers no insisted that we buy my ticket from this new stall, for no apparent reason.  So I double checked the time and the price and my place and all that and gave in. It took one person to fill out the ticket, and one to handle the money.  Plus myself and Sr. Fanja (that’s four) and three teenagers (seven).
As soon as I had my ticket, the three teenagers, who had done nothing other than follow/hustle us around and obnoxiously repeat information I already knew or could have figure out for myself much easier, decided that they had done me/us a great service and should be thusly compensated…
Nope.

And I walked away. : - )
Sr. Fanja and I caught a bus back to Ivato where I bought groceries at Shoprite to make Pasta Carbonarra for the missionaries who were coming over.

Question #2: Can you make Pot Roast in a RiceCooker?

No.

This (cooking for the missionaries) all started when I told Sr. Fanja a story about how when I was a brand new missionary, Papa Secrist (my trainer) told me that our “slow cooker” in our apartment (in Mahamasina) was broken.  Undeterred, and fancying myself an American slow cooked pot roast for Sunday dinner, I decided to check it out.  So I put some water in the “slow cooker” and decided that if it boiled, then the “slower cooker” worked and I could make my pot roast.  It boiled!
So one Sunday I got my chunk of cow and some onions, potatoes, and carrots and got my pot roast all ready.  We left it to cook while Secrist and I went out to work.
I was very excited as we walked home to eat a delicious American Sunday Dinner.
But when we walked in the house, none of the lights would turn on, it smelled like burning, and smoke was wafting from the kitchen.
So we broke out a flashlight…
Zombies!
No jk.  But the “slow cooker” was dead. Anything that was plastic, was melted, the wires were exposed, and the metal was singed with blackness.  The entire thing had burned into our wooden kitchen table and apparently shorted a fuse so the lights wouldn’t turn on.
Moral of the story: That wasn’t a slow cooker, it was a rice cooker.  As I learned, in the dark smoky kitchen by way of flashlight.

So yeah, I told Sr. Fanja that story and she goes:
“Oh! Lets invite the missionaries over and you can teach me how to make Pot Roast! It will be a surprise and I’m sure they’ll love American food.”

So I said yes.  She called the missionaries and told them there would be a surprise that evening. 

…We stopped at Shoprite on the way home, and she then decided that Pot Roast might be too tricky/dangerous/long to make in a Malagasy pot on a Malagasy charcoal stove.  So I decided to make Pasta Carbonarra instead (figuring it would be a relatively nice American treat for the missionaries). 

On the way home, we stopped by the Quincaillerie VA-HA (quincaillerie = Home Depot in French… basically).  Which is run by Fr. Fidy & Family who is an awesome awesome member who just got called to be the 2^nd Counsellor in the new Stake Presidency.  I chatted with his wife Sr. Hasina and the kids Vaniala (VA) and Hajaina (HA) who goes by Bainina which sounds like Ben. 

pic

He is one of the most adorable kids in Madagascar and apparently thinks I’m cool too haha.

We used to spend Friday evenings at their house doing missionary planning when Fr. Fidy was the DMP (Ward Mission Leader) and I would always play with Bainina.  He was 5 or 6 then, and now he’s 7 – turning 8 in a year (if that seems like stating the obvious, in Madagascar its not).

While we’re talking, who should walk by but the missionaries! So I yelled “vazaha” at them like 5 times and then “missionaire!” 5 times before they finally noticed and trotted over. No more surprise.  Now they knew why there were coming over to Sr. Fanja’s haha.  It was Elders Peatross and Southwith – Southwick just got out a month ago and I met him when I volunteered at the MTC the past couple months.  They’re both great missionaries and it was awesome getting to talk to them.

We came home and I typed up my last blog post while Sr. Fanja … did something.

Eventually when the missionaries were on their way we cooked up the pasta and I made the sauce (which I thought came out quite nicely) and had a fun time eating dinner together and chatting about missionary work and Madagascar and such.  They also thoroughly enjoyed the “lemonade” Sr. Fanja had made. In Madagascar “juice” is made my squeezing/smashing fruits up to get some juice of them, putting the pulp/juice in a blender with water and sugar, and then blending it.
I think Southwick’s quote was:
“WOAH. I didn’t know they made straight lemon juice this sour…” lol.

After they went home Elder Sender found out I was in the country so he called me up and we had a good chat.  Sender was my second to last companion and my only “kid” – I often say that I have 3 daughters and a son: I “mommed” 3 missionaries (I was their second trainer, so I’m their mom, they’re my daughter) and then I “gave birth” to Sender.  He sounds like he’s grown a lot in the interim year. Oh and somehow he only has 5 MONTHS LEFT!!! While I went home a year ago Sunday, I always forget that by that time he was already 6 months into his mission – 2 months in the MTC, 3 with me, and then 1 with a mini (Malagasy missionary).  So yeah, time flies.

Alright well I’ll update about the trip from Antananarivo to Mahajanga in the next post.  Don’t worry – much more exciting adventures lie ahead.
Also, leave comments! Either on Facebook or here.  I want you guys to enjoy the blog so give me feedback (and yes I’ll try and keep the posts shorter).  Let me know what you like and don’t like!

-Ciao.

And They're Off: The Grand Journey

I’m typing this entry on my laptop in my room at Sr. Fanja’s house.  Its… I think its almost 8am here in Madagascar.

Monday the…26, 25, 24, 23^rd! Monday the 23^rd, I went to the airport in Austin for the 10:50 flight.  The airport was literally 3 times busier than my past two attempts (30 minutes in security verses 10), but I made it through, waved to my mom, hustled the 150 feet to the gate and found out…
I HAVE A SEAT! And not only that but it was first class! (ooooh!) First time I’ve flown first class on a domestic flight and it was quite comfortable.  I’m still not sure why anyone would pay twice as much money for 2 hours of a little more comfort, but whatever floats their boats.  The lady I sat next to overheard me talking to my mom and so she asked where I was going which inevitably lead to the “Oh, so you’re Mormon?” question haha.  Turns out her son lives in Salt Lake managing Best Westerns in Utah and Idaho.

Then I read my book (thanks Aunt Bonnie!) The Post-American World by FareedZhakaria (sp?). I borrowed this from my Aunt… probably 8 months ago at the beginning of Fall semester, and never really found the time to read it.  Anywho, 17 hours of flying was plenty of time to read it.  I highly recommend it to everyone, especially KayAnna and Anne and everyone else involved with MUN or Intercultural Outreach who might be reading this.  It’s basically about America’s place in the world in this age of globalization.  It’s also a sort of Intro to History of the Modern World 101 so you learn about what America, India, British Empire, and China have been doing for the past 300 years or so and how the “modern world” came into being – which if you’re interested was around 150 to 200 years ago with the creation of modern republics, international finance, colonization (aka forced cultural diffusion), and industrialization.  Read it!

We got to Atlanta around 2pm, and I sat in the terminal for around 5 hours.  Got my last American meal at Qdoba with Chicken Queso Burrito.  I was very skillfully salesman-ed into eating there over the pizza place by a girl named… Shaniquia (I don’t remember exactly, but it was something awesome like that).  But her salesmaneering was so professional (although not terribly subtle) that I gave in out of admiration and b/c the quesochicked burrito sounded good.  I then ordered my burrito which was assembled by Taffaniyanda and Delanisha (again, the actual names may have been different – but I did actually read their name tags : - ).  If any of you are wondering why I’m spending any time mentioning these girls names, then you need to YouTube “Top 60 Ghetto Names” and you will be instantly amused and educated.  Moral of the story: its true, lol.
I enjoyed my burrito, and made my way back to the gate.  Chatted with a lady from Steamboat Springs (seemed kindahippyish) who was going on a backpacker’s budget safari with her daughter in South Africa and Botswana (shout out to Anne, right?).  And then some dude from South Africa (with athick South African accent) who borrowed some quarters to make a phone call, which I didn’t fully understand until after I realized I had somewhat screwed him out of a quarter but by then he had tried to make the phone call and it hadn’t worked so he was down a $1, and I was still confused (as you are probably right now).

Anyways I finally got a seat… in coach (sad face) but it was a window and at the bulkhead – meaning no seats in front of me so I could stretch out my legs!I sat next to a very… large couple from South Africa.  The wife was quite nice and friendly – they had been visiting their son who lives in Oviedo, Florida just outside Orlando which is where my dad went to high school I believe – small world!

At some point I ate a dinner of beef curry, rice, and spinach with a raw carrot-celery-cilantro salad, some cold couscous, a roll, fruit salad and a very delicious packaged brownie.  And then I watched Blind Side(d?) which I also highly recommend.  Sandra Bullock plays this very southern-rich-“Praise Jesus!” lady from Memphis who takes a homeless black kid into her family and raises him for a year or so.  Based on a true story, and Bullock won the Best Actress Oscar for it, so yeah go see it.  Plus Bullock’s character is absolutely hilarious (in a subtle way, especially for people form the South : - )

Tossed and turned for 8 hours (I cannot sleep in an airplane seat) had some dinner-snack thing and watched part of Inside Job – a documentary about the 2008 financial crisis that I believe won an Oscar last year.  Landed in South Africa around 5:30pm.  Went and bought a phone and called the parents and then Ronel (the lady that runs the hostel where I stayed) came and picked me up. 

She (Ronel) asked if I was hungry (which I was) and what kind of food I was in the mood for.  I said “South African” food, which she either didn’t think really existed or didn’t like (she explained that there were a few South African dishes, but not really any restaurants) – the most notable thing about South African cuisine apparently is that they eat meat meatmeat.  So she took me to a steak place, which ironically was called Spur and was Cowboy and Indian themed – straight out of Texas haha.  But the steak was good. Oh and the Sprite! Sprite in South Africa has like other fruit flavors in it – it tasted quite tropical and I liked it a lot.  Sadly, no such thing in America : - (

On Wednesday, Ronel took me the grocery store which was also part of a little shopping complex (for you missionaries, it was a lot like the JumboScore in Tanjombato – a grocery store surrounded by a small mall) so I got breakfast at a place called Wimpy.  Funny story time:

Wimpy is basically like a McDonalds from what I could tell, but it was built into the shopping center.  And there were like 4 worker people standing at the entrance not really doing much, then there was a counter with the sign of food above it where there were two workers.  At the counter was a lady with her daughter who appeared to be ordering food.  So I kind of stood awkwardly in the crowd of workers while gazing at the sign to figure out what I wanted for breakfast.  Then one of them noticed me and gave me a menu yay!  So I saw that there were breakfast platters and such and decided on that, so I approached the counter and made my order (a French toast platter, minus the bacon and then an eggs-bacon-toast platter).  I had to repeat myself a couple times, and so did they but we got it eventually.  So I asked if I should just sit down somewhere while I waited for my food, and they said yes.  So I did and watched some soccer game.  About 10 minutes later, they brought out my food… in round Styrofoam boxes in a paper bag.  Apparently (which I realized as soon as they brought me the food) if I had wanted to eat in, I should have just sat down and one of those gaggle of workers would have brought me a menu and taken my order, but if I wanted to “take-away” then I should’ve ordered at the counter.  So I kind of awkwardly took my food out of the take-out boxes and ate at my little table lol.  The food was quite good though.  Only the syrup was unusual – it was like molasses tasting (but not nearly as bad as molasses, just not maple flavored).  I finished my delicious but somewhat awkward breakfast, and was on my way.

At the grocery store I got VrystaterBoerwourst (pronounced: Fry schtatah Burr-vurst) meaning Freestate Sausages (Freestate or Vrystater is a province/state in South Africa) so those were somewhat authentic.  And I got some South African spices: Bredie and Spicy Rice. 
For all you missionaries: shopping in South Africa feels a lot like shopping at Shoprite – I felt so at home!  They had the Clover milk (which does taste almost like real milk) and Simba snacks, Ceres juice, and the counter of delicious looking pastries (that in Madagascar at least, are made of pure butter and not actually that tasty lol). 

Ronel picked me up and took me back to the hostel where we figured out how I could get 25 miles away to the temple in Parktown.  So she took me to the train station, where I caught a light-rail type train to Sandton which appears to be a slightly nicer suburb of Joberg, and then I looked around and caught a slightly sketchy (aka non-metered) taxi to where the temple was (and the taxi driver had to call his buddies and babble away in Zulu or Xhosa to figure out how to get there. 

Got to the temple just in time for the 3pm session.  One of the workers there was from Madagascar – FrRakotovao – and he was wayyy excited when he realized I spoke Malagasy haha.  I sat next to a guy named Pauly (sp?) who’s from the 67Ha Ward who got back from his mission back in July I think and had just gotten married.  I didn’t realize how tiny the temple was, but it was nice. 

When I was leaving I asked the front desk if there was a bus that went to Sandton, and he looked at me like I was crazy “Uhm, I don’t think there are any buses around here, and if there are any you wouldn’t want to take them” (uh, sketch lol).  So I told him my predicament (aka needing to get to Sandton to catch the train to Rhodesfield over by the airport.  And a lady who was leaving said Rose…park? (another train station) was on their way home so she kind of offered me a ride.  Ends up that Rosepark Station isn’t done yet, so they took me to Sandton anyways.  They were really nice and we talked about Madagascar and missions and missionaries and such.  Only about a minute before I got out of the car did they explain they were in the temple presidency and then I felt kind of dumb for thinking they  were just people who were at the temple.  Anyways, their name was Wren or Wrench or something and they (well the husband at least) knows President Donnelly so that was cool. 

Got home to the hostel and made my sausage stew which actually turned out pretty tasty I thought.  K, random little story for missionaries from my group (be there any that would read this) do you  all remember when we were going to Mada and our final flight got delayed by like 6 hours and we spent all day in the Joberg airport?  When we ate lunch/dinner in the airport we all got these sodas called Appletizer? Or Grapetizer or Peartizer?  I think  the slogan on their can was something like “100% pleasure” lol.  Anywho, they sell big bottles of Appletizer and Peartizer at the grocery store so I bought one – yum.  The End.

Went to the airport in the morning on Thursday and was directed to no less than 3 different check-in kiosks before I finally found the right one (in America there is like 1 or 2 counter per airlines with 2 people at each counter to check you in.  In South Africa there is a bank of literally 50 little mini counters for South African Airways but then some are only for domestic flights and some for international, etc not to mention most of the people I talked to had no idea what they were talking about:
“Where are you flying to?”
“Madagascar.”
“Oh we don’t fly there, only AirMadagascar does.” … wrong.
“Oh where are you flying to?”
“Uh its SA flight 8252 to Madagascar”
“Oh go to kiosk 78”(I found 78 was for domestic flights…wrong.)
and then I realized SA Airlink (a subsidiary of SA Airways) has their own counters, so yeah it took a while.

Got through security and down to my flight checked in and on the bus (you take a bus from the terminal out to the tarmac to board the plane) and as I’m standing on the bus, guess who gets on? If you guessed The Queen of England, you’re wrong.
O’Day! I thought he was going to Mada on the 15^th, but it was actually the 25^th.  So that was about the craziest coincidence ever. 

Flight was non-eventful except that we flew over a thunderstorm, and they served us a snack lunch which was a surprise and moderately delicious.

Side note: I’ve kind of realized while typing this up that I kind of measure time by food.  I can almost always remember what I ate and when I did something by when it was in relation to the last meal I had.  I never really thought of myself as super food obsessed (either in a eating lots of it, or thinking about it a lot) but I’ve realized recently that I do really cook a lot and pay attention to food and I’m always interested in trying new food (unless its made with peppers or raw onions, and then I’m not really keen on it). 

Got to Madagascar – yay! Sr. Fanja picked me up at the airport and we took a taxibe to her house which is like maybe a ½ kilometer from the airport. 

We chatted for a while (a long while) and then I got credit for my phone, and we went to the market to get ingredients for dinner (henakisoasy petit-pois – pork with peas).

I slept pretty well.

I woke up around 7am which was nice.  The bed was nice, I got a good amount of sleep, and it was quiet when I woke up.

There is something about waking up in another country that is very… unique.  When I woke up I could instantly tell I was in Madagascar.  It’s hard to explain – but it’s a combination of the sounds and the smells, the way the light looks and something about the air.  I’ve only spent 4 nights in South Africa (2 during this trip and two with the family back in August) but I recognized the same kind of thing when I woke up at the hostel – something about the sounds and the smells and I could tell I was in South Africa. 

Anyways took a shower using water Sr. Fanja had boiled (which was actually hotter and more comfortable than the somewhat cold / drippy shower I had in South Africa) 

Today we bought my ticket to Mahajanga (leave tomorrow at 8am, arrive sometime at night – probably 8pm) and got ingredients for dinner tonight – the missionaries are coming over!

I would write more, but its already getting kind of late.  There’s a few things I’ve left out of today and yesterday, so maybe I’ll add those in during my next post.

My apologies that this is such a long and rambling post, but I only have internet and/or time to type something up every so often so my posts my be kind of sporadic.  Ive have some pictures to go with this post, but I’m afraid they’ll take too long to upload so I’ll do that later. 

Dissapointments

Well, I'm on the eve of my third attempt at leaving Austin.  So I thought I would update you about the failures of my first two attempts.


The first attempt was Thursday May 19th.  And here is what I posted to my Facebook about it:


Ok, so long story short:
After much troubles with a scholarship and reimbursements and budgeting failures (my fault) and annoying visa applications (China's fault... yes, all 1.3 billion of them), and working for my parents for 2 weeks (I have splotches of fence stain permanently on my skin lol), and packing, and getting shots and malaria pills and travelers' checks (my dad's idea - do people even still USE those?) and a replacement debit card (just in case) and a million other things....
I made it to the airport today, 50 minutes before my flight was scheduled to depart (I'm on a standby ticket), check my bag, squeeze through security, walk over to the gate (our airport is not terribly big), and talk to the agent. People are boarding already.
"I'm on a standby buddy pass ticket, do you know if I'll be able to get on?"
"Uhm, don't go anywhere, but it doesn't look promising"
[Side note: For all of you who are like "silly Addison, always late" - From my understanding, it doesn't matter how early you show up when you're on these standby tickets, you have a seniority ranking and they just go down the list. You just need to be there when they're boarding]
At this point I was already prepared to come back tomorrow or something. After everyone boarded the flight, they went through some people who were ahead of me on the priority list, but they were all couples and didn't want to split up. So, finally for the LAST SEAT they call "Jenkins?" Thats ME! So I go up and she gives me a ticket (I'm like not even believing that I really got the last seat / totally excited).
I get on the gangway or whatever thats called, and my Dad calls and is like "you forgot your (malaria) medicine, in the car" and I think to myself eh, just mail it or something. But my dad says hes at security and he can just hand it through, so against my better judgement, I walk back to the counter and ask if I can run get my meds
"Well, we can't guarantee your seat will be here, but RUN!"
So I did... and waited while they passed through the X-rays and all that. Grab it and RUN (maybe 150 feet) back to the gate...
A confirmed passenger (the last one) who hadn't shown up, finally did while I was gone, and they gave her my (originally hers) seat back. SO, I lost my seat.
So yeah, I would've been dissapointed, but totally fine, if they didnt have any seats or something, but I'm just mad at myself for leaving the gangway when I had a ticket and a seat assigned and be gone for (literally like 3 minutes max, round trip) and come back and they gave my spot away. Oh well, live and learn I guess.
- For a little background, this was the last connection today to get me to Atlanta on time for my next flight. And if I missed todays international flight from Atlanta, then I have to wait until Saturday to get to Johannesburg Sunday night, for a Monday morning flight, b/c the ones on Sunday are $200+ more than the Sat, Mon, Tues, etc flights.
Also, my status was somewhat in response to everyone who's been texting me wondering when I've left. When I'm gone (like actually gone, not just get-on-the-plane-to-get-back-off-and-lose-my-spot-gone) then I will update my status and everyone will know I'm gone. Until then I'm not gone. And you all can just wait with baited breath for pictures.
In final note on growth of maturity... my initial reaction (which lasted quite a while) was hoping somehow that one of the flights I was supposed to be on crashed into the ocean and that I was saved at the last second by some divine providence from certain watery doom. After a nap and some lunch (and some growing up) I decided that was rather childish, and that instead maybe the lady (who got her seat back) is going to see her dying father and she'll make it just in time because she made the flight. And yes, I always think things through to the most dire possible outcomes (usually violent death) - even though there's a statistically insignificant chance of them ever happening -and make hindsight judgments and general life decisions based on these thought processes. Call me crazy.

The End.


Dissapointment #2:

I showed up to the airport on Saturday around 9am, for a 10:51 flight (notice the much earlier arrival!).  I check in (which was fast b/c my luggage is still in Atlanta.  But once I get through security, I realize that their early morning flight had been cancelled due to weather.  Bad omen.  So I get up to the counter and she says "doesn't look good"  basically any empty seat that might have been on the later flights was full of people from the cancelled flight.  So I waited through the first flight - no luck.  Then the second flight approached and it didn't look good.  But the desk lady said if 2 people didn't show up, I might get on.  Well some lady mozied on up (literally) about 1 minute before they shut the gate.  Then they gave the next seat to someone ahead of me and shut the gate.  8 minutes later this Asian guy comes HURTLING toward the gate "stop! wait! prease! wait!" lol and the gate guy is like "I'm sorry sir, we've already close the gate and the plane is full, we'll accommodate you on another flight."  So the asian man moped over to a chair rather defeatedly.
I stayed around for a few minutes to see what the next couple days of flights looked like and then waited for my mom to pick me up.

The End.  

Let the Adventure Begin!

So starting tomorrow (today, actually, in 11 hours) I will begin the most ridiculous trip...ever. *knock on wood*

The last time I "blogged" it was on Xanga back in the yester-years of high school and I doubt it was terribly insightful or worth reading.  Hopefully this time will be different.

Keep in mind I'm new to blogging so my initial attempts may be rather cumbersome, but hopefully by the time I'm back in the states in mid-August, I'll be a travel-blogging pro.

In the meantime, let the 9 airport, 6 country, dozen city, 3 continent, 85 day adventure begin!

In order to maintain the maximum level of suspense (and thus induce high volumes of curious readership) I won't spill all the beans right now.  But to pique your interest, my itinerary tomorrow is:
Austin to Atlanta, followed by an international flight to... where???

I think Shakira said it best... ; - )