This morning we woke up to a tray of tea cups and a thermos of mint tea waiting us at our doorstep. With the exception of both our usual 4:00 am and 4:20 am alarms going off (our usual wake up time in Angola), we slept through until about 8:00, as the shutters in the room as quite effective at keeping the daylight out.
We lounged a bit then got ready for the day. We had a great breakfast on the terrace with three kinds of yummy Moroccan pancakes, fresh yogurt, fruit salad, and orange juice. We then met Rashid who took us to les Jardins Majorelles; Yves Saint Laurent's beautifully serene and seclusive hideaway, and walked throughout the Berber museum, which is very tastefully put together.
We walked the shops around Les Jardins, and then headed back to test out the Souks on a quiet day for an hour or so. We then had a lovely lunch of keftahs (meatballs in a mint tomato sauce), potato wedges with delicious hummus, and some pan seared shrimp on a bed of cucumbers). All this was washed down with a nice glass of crisp white wine and a Casablanca beer for Paul.
Then we got ready for the ultimate spa experience. If you haven't been to a hammam, then get your booty to one... At least once. We started in our room with BIG terrycloth bathrobes with big hoods, terry slippers, and two baskets with instructions to bring them, with their contents to the spa to start our "East - West Adventure." I had the massage first, Paul had the hammam, we met in the middle for a snack, and then swapped. My grades for massages are mostly based on how many times is am awakened by my own snoring throughout the experience. This was a whopping three times in 45 minutes. A+. Paul was the daring one and tried the hammam first. Neither of us had done this before, so it was something fun and new in the diary of spa experiences for us. So was wearing paper undies for Pablo. You can ask him he details on that.
The hammam is a spectacular event of washing and scrubbing. I'm not going to give away the details, but try it. It involves buckets and buckets of water, scrubs, mud, more scrubs, loads more water, and a lot of relaxation.
We finished up, and I went upstairs to "no poo" my hair. (A side story, but I'm now one month or more without shampoo...who knows if it's working, but the argan oil that the hammam lady put in my hair can't hurt as a bit of extra natural conditioning!). Paul went up to the terrace to chill out, while I did that, and he successfully locked me in the room in doing so; two big brass deadbolts lock the room from either inside or out, and P was on autopilot when he left the room a bit earlier than I. After my escape, I joined Paul on the terrace, and I was consoled by our hostess that the only other couple that did the same was the leader of the BBC and his wife, but he locked her out... At two in the morning.
And so, here we are. Relaxing, publishing these little stories, and enjoying a nice glass of white with a few ice cubes in it, and thinking about dinner.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Moroccan Honeymoon - Day One - Part Deux
Part Deux
Paul woke up and we went for a walk to the square. We were warned not to take the little side streets at night, but it was dusk, and so we thought now or never, and so we followed two teenage girls in the direction they were going with the logic that they knew a safe way to navigate the lanes.
We ended up passing all sorts of things: small shops with curios, women sitting in large groups and chattering, some entertainers, and then finally we came out into a small square with about ten shops... We took a look around, and likely because I speak enough French, and because Paul was with me, we really weren't harassed much. Also, relative to the other tourists we saw, we were reasonably dressed (I was covered in a light linen jacket, scarf covering my décolletage, capris, and simple flats, and Paul looked like someone from National Geographic/Bear Grimes. Whereas we saw short shorts, loose tank tops, and just sort of "look at me! I'm not from here!" garb and behavior in general.
Anyway, enough self-righteousness for now... We realized that the actual square was still not where we were, so we took another trail through some more shops and within a few hundred meters landed ourselves in the middle of a huge open space with a ton of stands all opening for business for the evening. We bought some figs and apricots at one of the stands, and we refused 20 different dinner offers from 20 different tented restaurants - only because we already had dinner plans - the food looked very inviting. The most original proposal inviting us into dinner was "you look like Starving 'Marving.'" Paul thought that was hilarious. Those who don't know who Starvin' Marvin is...hit the link; irony. There were also several cups filled to the brim with mint, just waiting for Moroccan Whiskey to fill them up. AKA sweet tea.
We took a pic or two of the snake charmer, which cost us a then dirham coin (about $1.20), walked around the square, and then busted a move back to Maison MK for a quick evening cocktail on the terrace... heaven. I'm really enjoying how much Paul is liking this place. It's not that I'm some super schooled world traveler, but I've been around a bit, and I'm glad that he is enjoying the exploration of somewhere new, and a little exotic. As an example, we were up on the terrace, and we had just ordered our G&Ts, and we were looking out on the city (max three stories high, with rooftop terraces all over the place. The exception in height is the mosque), and Paul just blurts out "I LOVE how alive this place is! I can hear the music and see the smoke from the square from here, and I can see this and that, etc." since Paul hasn't really traveled by just exploring a busy, non-western city like this before, it was a great encouragement to hear that he was enjoying it all!
Paul woke up and we went for a walk to the square. We were warned not to take the little side streets at night, but it was dusk, and so we thought now or never, and so we followed two teenage girls in the direction they were going with the logic that they knew a safe way to navigate the lanes.
We ended up passing all sorts of things: small shops with curios, women sitting in large groups and chattering, some entertainers, and then finally we came out into a small square with about ten shops... We took a look around, and likely because I speak enough French, and because Paul was with me, we really weren't harassed much. Also, relative to the other tourists we saw, we were reasonably dressed (I was covered in a light linen jacket, scarf covering my décolletage, capris, and simple flats, and Paul looked like someone from National Geographic/Bear Grimes. Whereas we saw short shorts, loose tank tops, and just sort of "look at me! I'm not from here!" garb and behavior in general.
Anyway, enough self-righteousness for now... We realized that the actual square was still not where we were, so we took another trail through some more shops and within a few hundred meters landed ourselves in the middle of a huge open space with a ton of stands all opening for business for the evening. We bought some figs and apricots at one of the stands, and we refused 20 different dinner offers from 20 different tented restaurants - only because we already had dinner plans - the food looked very inviting. The most original proposal inviting us into dinner was "you look like Starving 'Marving.'" Paul thought that was hilarious. Those who don't know who Starvin' Marvin is...hit the link; irony. There were also several cups filled to the brim with mint, just waiting for Moroccan Whiskey to fill them up. AKA sweet tea.
We took a pic or two of the snake charmer, which cost us a then dirham coin (about $1.20), walked around the square, and then busted a move back to Maison MK for a quick evening cocktail on the terrace... heaven. I'm really enjoying how much Paul is liking this place. It's not that I'm some super schooled world traveler, but I've been around a bit, and I'm glad that he is enjoying the exploration of somewhere new, and a little exotic. As an example, we were up on the terrace, and we had just ordered our G&Ts, and we were looking out on the city (max three stories high, with rooftop terraces all over the place. The exception in height is the mosque), and Paul just blurts out "I LOVE how alive this place is! I can hear the music and see the smoke from the square from here, and I can see this and that, etc." since Paul hasn't really traveled by just exploring a busy, non-western city like this before, it was a great encouragement to hear that he was enjoying it all!
That continued as we departed to meet our taxi driver Rashid. He wove us through the city on streets that you wouldn't think fit a car, and along the way, he said hi to probably ten people in the road with a familiarity that had you convinced you were in a small town. Quite the opposite was true with us, as Rashid was a bit quiet, so I asked him where to find the best kebab, and he was surprised and thrilled that I spoke French, so that he could communicate. And the talking began! He told me about this place - not far from the city, but a bit of a drive, of course (good taxi sell), where they have the best earth-baked sheep. You just ask them for a bit; a quarter kilo, a half kilo, whatever you are hungry for. And they will sit you down and set you up with a plate, he said. Meanwhile the fact that he called the sheep (not lamb) mouton made me think mutton, then goat... So we're not going there tomorrow to eat.
Rashid continued giving us the low-down on this meal saying"c'est merveilleux!" etc...kissing his fingers to his lips in French "delicieux!" fashion. I kept trying to get back on track to the kebabs, (quite a step down from a whole goat baked in the ground) to no avail. Anyway, as were doing all this talking we were weaving around the streets with people walking everywhere, Rashid saying hello out the window, and then once we were sufficiently discombobulated with regard to our whereabouts, Rashid stopped, and a man with a dashiki and deep red fez-like cap opened the car door, greeted Rashid and us, and sat in the front seat. On we went for about 100m more until we could go no farther in the car.
Rashid explains at this point that this is our restaurant greeter, and he is here to guide us to the restaurant, Le Fondouk. We get out with him, are told to call Rashid 20 minutes before we are ready, and off we go down a little alleyway that is dimly, but warmly lit. Along the way, we stop at a sign that shows "Fondouk El Ouarzazi" and our new friend says this is how the restaurant got its name. I ask what a Fondouk is, and our guide is surprised, and quite happy that we asked.."come in here... I'll show you."
So we detour into another alleyway and in each little grotto or room, there are shops with leather makers and craftsmen doing their thing. We enter into a courtyard and there are a couple dozen rooms on the first and second floors with people working away on their trades. The Fondouk is the craft works area. From there, the leather works go to market in the souks.
We arrive at the restaurant, another 100 or so meters away, if that, and are greeted into a lovely and well-decorated space, that is completely empty. They check our reservation, and sure enough we are up on the 2nd floor (third floor for North Americans). So we climb the stairs to the top, which opens out into a beautifully decorated garden terrace. We are sat at a table on the side with white bougainvillea cascading over us, and a lovely red and white glassed lamp lighting our table from the side. The restaurant is full on the terrace, but each table is just far away enough that you don't feel involved in others' conversations. The staff are friendly and the meal was delicious.
Paul and I shared a Moroccan salad taster - seven different salads - tomato, carrot, lentil, eggplant, zuchinni, potato, and some yummy mix, like a simple salsa. In the middle was a scoop of prickly pear cactus jelly - a popular desert fruit I remember from my Arizona days. We also ordered a goat cheese sampler... It came with one perfectly fried golf ball of goat cheese, another baked piece in phyllo on a small bed of pesto, and a last one of very lightly fermented cheese covered with arugula and a light olive oil dressing. We had kebabs in different forms for our entrees. I ended up with a tagine full of couscous and lamb, beef, and checked kebabs with roasted veggies, while Paul had four types of kebab (his included turkey) with some sample salads. The best part of the meal was the pistachio creme brûlée with a chocolate ganache-type ice cream on top. Heaven.
We called Rashid when we were done, hopped in his cab, which was just arriving with another restaurant guest (what timing!), and off we went. We arrived back at the walking streets, and Rashid locked his car and walked us back to the Maison MK to retire.
We have Rashid's card, so we will be trying to use him for other trips on our Marrakesh adventures... Until then, I think both Paul and I are very satisfied with our first day in Morocco.
Moroccan Honeymoon - Day One - Part Un
Part Un...
Our arrival in Casablanca was uneventful, which is a good thing. Customs was easy peasy, and the plane ride was an hour long. If I lived in Europe, I'd have been here a half dozen times by now. So, as I was saying, the arrival was uneventful, but once P and I step into the bathrooms, it was another story. While I'm finishing up, I hear men's voices and the cleaning lady yelling at them. I think it must be outside, but when I open my stall, there they are: a half-dozen men starting to help themselves to the ladies bathroom sink to wash for prayer. The heroic cleaning lady kicks them out while I, in my best French say "Que est ce que cest ca'?" Sort s'il vous plait!" After they leave, a parade of women travelers who were on the other side come in as surprised as I was!
Paul and I reconnect, and I say " you missed all the fun!" And recount. Well he had his own adventure; he and a Portuguese guy (hands lathered up) were about to rinse, and suddenly a foot from another gentleman starting to wash got kicked up into the sink where they were cleaning there hands. So... Welcome to Morocco!
Aziz our driver and Asfar greeted us outside of the baggage area, and Aziz drove us to Marrakech. This is a pretty uneventful drive. Aziz was courteous to ask if we wanted to stop any time there was a rest area, which was great, and he pointed out where Mission Impossible 4 is being filmed (probably a scene depicting a lair in the middle of nowhere).
We arrived in the city, and we were dropped outside the walking streets where we were greeted and walked into the riad. Our riad - Maison MK, is amazing. We have it all to ourselves as the first guests after their re-opening from a kitchen remodel. So far we've had fresher squeezed OJ as our welcome refreshment, and some delicious chocolate walnut cake for a snack. They just brought up an honor bar bottle of Bombay Sapphire (how did THEY know ), and the most delicious olives and almonds I've enjoyed in some time.
Our room has rustic bones with modern decor... We have three beautiful lamps that light the room with perfect filtered light, lots of other under mounted lighting for ambience, and there is a built in speaker system playing a mix of fantastic "chill" music. Hanane, our hostess has already given us some tips for what to do this evening, including a walk to the square in an hour or so, then cocktails at sunset around ten to 8:00, and then we have dinner at Le Fondouk to start off our first night in Morocco with local fare.
So far we are in love with the inside... We will have to explore the outside at some point... Once Pablo wakes up from his little nap...
Our arrival in Casablanca was uneventful, which is a good thing. Customs was easy peasy, and the plane ride was an hour long. If I lived in Europe, I'd have been here a half dozen times by now. So, as I was saying, the arrival was uneventful, but once P and I step into the bathrooms, it was another story. While I'm finishing up, I hear men's voices and the cleaning lady yelling at them. I think it must be outside, but when I open my stall, there they are: a half-dozen men starting to help themselves to the ladies bathroom sink to wash for prayer. The heroic cleaning lady kicks them out while I, in my best French say "Que est ce que cest ca'?" Sort s'il vous plait!" After they leave, a parade of women travelers who were on the other side come in as surprised as I was!
Paul and I reconnect, and I say " you missed all the fun!" And recount. Well he had his own adventure; he and a Portuguese guy (hands lathered up) were about to rinse, and suddenly a foot from another gentleman starting to wash got kicked up into the sink where they were cleaning there hands. So... Welcome to Morocco!
Aziz our driver and Asfar greeted us outside of the baggage area, and Aziz drove us to Marrakech. This is a pretty uneventful drive. Aziz was courteous to ask if we wanted to stop any time there was a rest area, which was great, and he pointed out where Mission Impossible 4 is being filmed (probably a scene depicting a lair in the middle of nowhere).
We arrived in the city, and we were dropped outside the walking streets where we were greeted and walked into the riad. Our riad - Maison MK, is amazing. We have it all to ourselves as the first guests after their re-opening from a kitchen remodel. So far we've had fresher squeezed OJ as our welcome refreshment, and some delicious chocolate walnut cake for a snack. They just brought up an honor bar bottle of Bombay Sapphire (how did THEY know ), and the most delicious olives and almonds I've enjoyed in some time.
Our room has rustic bones with modern decor... We have three beautiful lamps that light the room with perfect filtered light, lots of other under mounted lighting for ambience, and there is a built in speaker system playing a mix of fantastic "chill" music. Hanane, our hostess has already given us some tips for what to do this evening, including a walk to the square in an hour or so, then cocktails at sunset around ten to 8:00, and then we have dinner at Le Fondouk to start off our first night in Morocco with local fare.
So far we are in love with the inside... We will have to explore the outside at some point... Once Pablo wakes up from his little nap...
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Sunday... A little different...
I experimented in the kitchen the rest of the day... I made potato onion soup, chow mein with rice noodles, and a cilantro pesto...
At some point I realized I had way too much maracuja (passionfruit), and I decided to find something to do with it... I found a recipe and my lovely friend Lina to enjoy the passionfruit cordial... W raspberries... And vodka... I made juice from passion fruit. I never in my life thought that would be one of my feats. Delish!
Saturday, August 16, 2014
We terminated our maid... and we had to go to a Tribunal dos Trabalhadores!
You may have little sympathy because I have a maid...
That's okay. I would too if I didn't live here and didn't fully understand what it's like. Take the story with a grain of salt if this is an opinion of yours. I appreciate your view, and I had the same opinion before coming here. But just to give you some things to think about....
Having a maid in Angola is almost an expectation as an expat. So is having a gardener. It helps the local economy to employ two people, and we pay handsome salaries relative to the typical wages that are received. Generally, if the maid is working well, they are hired by the next family when the first one leaves on a different assignment. The staff get 6 paid weeks off a year while we are on vacation, they get sick days, and they work limited hours (mine was supposed to work from 7:30 - 14:30 with a full 1.5 hour lunch - but that didn't even happen!)
The work itself: There is a ton of dust in Angola, as few roads are paved. I don't have the energy after working 55-60 hours a week to clean the house, mop the floors and do laundry. I also don't think Paul wants to spend his weekend mowing the lawn. There are no dry cleaners here that we could trust, so ironing is a critical factor for work as well... Finally, we aren't home all day, but there are maintenance folks that need to come in reasonably frequently to repair and maintain the house, so having someone here to open the door and watch them work is important.
Enough of that... on with the story....
Why did you fire your maid?
Well...after working with Veronica for 14 months, her sticky fingers (as noted earlier in the blog) became a bit too much. Simple things kept going missing, and after some coaching and requesting that she not take things from the house, we still saw "stuff" disappear. Additionally, she was arriving late and leaving early, and she was letting her daughter in the home, when we had specifically asked that nobody but the repair and maintenance team were allowed to enter. As such, we finally decided that it was time to end our relationship with her.
Some background on things going missing...
Along with some silly, yet tempting items for a maid to enjoy, the following list of goodies evaporated from our home... Now, I note the items below seem trivial, but we live in Angola, and we generally can't find these items by brand at all. And if we can, it's not without going to some length and paying quite a bit, so it is frustrating to find them empty or gone when you're really wanting them and wanting a little taste of home.
Long story short, when we went on vacation, we asked Veronica to leave the keys with a neighbor. When we got back, I called her, and I said that we would not need to be working with her anymore, as we could not trust her any longer. We gave her a month's severance (one month for every year worked is typical).
Then What?
A month later, I came home on a Wednesday to a summons. I had to go to the Tribunal dos Trabalhadores on Monday morning of the next week.
Imagine coming home to a document written in a language that you know JUST enough to conclude you're in some bit of trouble with the maid you terminated, and that she is seeking justice for her termination... Let's just say there was a moment of full panic, and "What the H?"
Within a few days, the concerns subsided to comedy. Namely on the fact that we were probably going to have to pay out some money to close the case before it went to trial, which we had embraced, and because we started to think about how we could turn this case into some crazy requirement for all expats ensuring hired help to sign off on a release called the Veronica Doctrine...
See the doc below... the second page, which is her testimony, says that I terminated her because she stole ice cream and drugs. I love that part... mostly because it's such a great accusation and such ridiculous singular grounds for termination.
That's okay. I would too if I didn't live here and didn't fully understand what it's like. Take the story with a grain of salt if this is an opinion of yours. I appreciate your view, and I had the same opinion before coming here. But just to give you some things to think about....
Having a maid in Angola is almost an expectation as an expat. So is having a gardener. It helps the local economy to employ two people, and we pay handsome salaries relative to the typical wages that are received. Generally, if the maid is working well, they are hired by the next family when the first one leaves on a different assignment. The staff get 6 paid weeks off a year while we are on vacation, they get sick days, and they work limited hours (mine was supposed to work from 7:30 - 14:30 with a full 1.5 hour lunch - but that didn't even happen!)
The work itself: There is a ton of dust in Angola, as few roads are paved. I don't have the energy after working 55-60 hours a week to clean the house, mop the floors and do laundry. I also don't think Paul wants to spend his weekend mowing the lawn. There are no dry cleaners here that we could trust, so ironing is a critical factor for work as well... Finally, we aren't home all day, but there are maintenance folks that need to come in reasonably frequently to repair and maintain the house, so having someone here to open the door and watch them work is important.
Enough of that... on with the story....
Why did you fire your maid?
Well...after working with Veronica for 14 months, her sticky fingers (as noted earlier in the blog) became a bit too much. Simple things kept going missing, and after some coaching and requesting that she not take things from the house, we still saw "stuff" disappear. Additionally, she was arriving late and leaving early, and she was letting her daughter in the home, when we had specifically asked that nobody but the repair and maintenance team were allowed to enter. As such, we finally decided that it was time to end our relationship with her.
Some background on things going missing...
Along with some silly, yet tempting items for a maid to enjoy, the following list of goodies evaporated from our home... Now, I note the items below seem trivial, but we live in Angola, and we generally can't find these items by brand at all. And if we can, it's not without going to some length and paying quite a bit, so it is frustrating to find them empty or gone when you're really wanting them and wanting a little taste of home.
- A full bag of chocolate covered fruit snacks from COSTCO... you know the ones
- A bag of halloween sized Snickers
- A full bottle of Heinz ketchup was found empty after we had used it once on Kraft Dinner
- A full jar of peanut butter, JIF brand - impossible to find here...other peanut butter is available, for $14-$15 per 12 ounce jar... but it's not JIF - which may explain Veronica's behavior of eating the WHOLE THING!
- A full jar of honey from our trip to the Christmas Markets in Germany
- My face creams, serums, eye creams, and other skin care items that make me believe that I'm not aging as quickly as I could be dare I not be using them... (I realize that the entire anti-aging effort is fruitless, and that much of it is smoke and mirrors and results are somewhat psychosomatic, but still... oh, did I mention I turn 35 this year...?)
- Multiple perfumes - apparently the Chanel was not enough
The Kicker:
Right before vacation in May, we noticed that Paul's vitamins, and about half of the gallon+ of ice cream that he tends to nibble on periodically went missing. So Paul calls Veronica and asks her about the vitamins (Paul had taken a "leave of absence" from taking his vitamins, so the fact that there were only 30 or so left from a 200+ jar's worth made us wonder, but I think it was the ice cream that sent him over the top). Veronica said she didn't know anything about it...
Long story short, when we went on vacation, we asked Veronica to leave the keys with a neighbor. When we got back, I called her, and I said that we would not need to be working with her anymore, as we could not trust her any longer. We gave her a month's severance (one month for every year worked is typical).
Then What?
A month later, I came home on a Wednesday to a summons. I had to go to the Tribunal dos Trabalhadores on Monday morning of the next week.
Imagine coming home to a document written in a language that you know JUST enough to conclude you're in some bit of trouble with the maid you terminated, and that she is seeking justice for her termination... Let's just say there was a moment of full panic, and "What the H?"
Within a few days, the concerns subsided to comedy. Namely on the fact that we were probably going to have to pay out some money to close the case before it went to trial, which we had embraced, and because we started to think about how we could turn this case into some crazy requirement for all expats ensuring hired help to sign off on a release called the Veronica Doctrine...
See the doc below... the second page, which is her testimony, says that I terminated her because she stole ice cream and drugs. I love that part... mostly because it's such a great accusation and such ridiculous singular grounds for termination.
So, anyway, we gathered up a lawyer (a family friend - we are lucky we have such wonderful people over here to help - but that's an exception... this would be an adventure for your regular old expat with limited Portuguese!) and we show up with some funding in hand at the Tribunal Dos Trabalhadors (Workers' Tribunal). I don't mind paying Veronica more salary - had she said that the severance we gave her wasn't enough, I probably would have paid her more to just end the relationship.... I just wasn't informed (which is entirely my fault) - I based our termination process on how others had terminated their maids/gardeners, so everything was a surprise.
I'll keep the tribunal part short, but with a few observations:
1. The tribunal was held in an office building from the 1960's that had not been updated since then. We sat in the moderator's office, and we each told our sides of the story. She typed away on her brand new Mac Book Air.. documenting the whole thing...ahhh the paradox of the 1960 defunct building vs. the fresh and clean technology.
2. After a quick listening to Veronica (who started her story 20 years ago when she first started as a maid for an expat company), the moderator cut her short and stated "none of that is relevant - when did you start working for this woman?" At that point, I knew this was at least going to be a FAIR trial (we had some concern with regard to whether an ex-pat would be damned from the start, but it wasn't the case).
3. It didn't help much, but I am proud to say that I carried all the way through in Portuguese when it was my turn to tell my side of the story, and everyone understood me. I basically said everything you have read about why we terminated Veronica, emphatically noting that it wasn't just ice cream and vitamins (not drugs) that led to her termination, but all sorts of random crap that just got annoying.
What Was the Outcome?
The moderator said that I had every right to terminate Veronica, as the grounds we had were valid...BUT.... it's illegal to do it over the phone. Our entire relationship had been over the phone.. I've seen the woman face to face less than ten times in the time we've been here...but that's the law... so we paid for the month of salary that we had technically employed her (because I didn't properly terminate), and three months of punitive salary payment. Veronica made out like a bandit. Pun somewhat intended.
We paid cash right there, got a release signed from the moderator, Veronica, and me - basically stating that this case was closed....
Unintended Consequences of Doing People Favors....
Unfortunately, I thought we would have to pay Veronica for 3 months at most.... and it was 4... so I was short a bit of money. Again, family friends come to the rescue! Luckily for us, and not so luckily for our lawyer, he had enough to cover the additional amount that I needed to pay. The moderator was pretty shocked by this, but then we explained that we are all friends, so... no problem. Paul paid him back the next day. Cash is a funny thing here. We withdraw from our Treasury at work - open only specific hours to go down, write a check to, and receive USD in return.... so sometimes you're just short of cash and you end up borrowing significant sums of money from colleagues or friends if the Treasury is closed... strange world.
Looking on the Bright Side...
Given the fine we had to pay, that was a really expensive phone call to terminate Veronica, but I feel vindicated that I got some fabulous bathroom art out of the deal - I will be framing the summons, accusation/statement, and final outcome in some sort of simple piece of decor... it's a good conversation piece.
Serious Stuff for those with Staff in Angola
(DISCLAIMER: The items below are my suggestions, by no way is this legal advice (especially since I'm not a lawyer or anything fancy like that). It's just guidance from one family's perspective. Please don't take me to court again because you read this, implemented it, and it didn't work out. Obrigada.):
- Hire your maid or gardener with a 1-year contract - to be renewed each year - I think your company can help you with this if you're with one of the multi-nationals over here...
- Review any disciplinary issues in person, even simple things like arriving and leaving on time, quality of work, etc. and have the individual sign off that they have received coaching.
- Have your staff sign off that they received their payments each month... we've heard of other cases where this gets disputed.
- If it comes to you needing a different person to help because of performance issues, then terminate them in person with a third party witness (suggest using the Security team if you're with my company), and have them sign off that they have been terminated for cause.
Tropical Fruit Awesomeness in our Garden!
Okay Friends - we officially have a tropical garden... I had to wait until we produced at least THREE types of tropical fruit before I felt like I could say that..
So here we have it...
First, we are proud to announce that our banana tree is having babies. Notice the blossoms; they emit a sweet liquid in little drops, which is quite delicious. I'll be sharing more about these upon their full maturation!
Second, I'm terribly proud of the papaya trees... I really didn't think I liked papaya - it's been known to have a distinct taste to it that never quite suited me, but I felt compelled to try them since they DID come from our garden...
Well it turns out that the variant that grows here in Angola is not like those that I have tasted before (less vomity smelling and tasting than the papaya from the Americas, I think). Yes, I said vomity and yes that's what I'm calling "distinct."
Anyway, our garden has three fruit-bearing papaya trees, so we're pretty much set for that. They seem to ripen at about one every two weeks, so I'll be enjoying this as a fortnight-snack on Saturdays, I think.
The tree itself is kind of weeny looking, but it can hold these fruit up, which are about 5 lbs each...
The best part and surprise with regard to these papayas was that they had NO seeds. Slice and eat. Fantastic. I could have let this fruit ripen another week, and it would be pretty rotten looking on the outside, but it seems that this sweetens up the insides all the way. That said, it was just fine with a medium level of sweetness this week.
Notice our water distiller in the background in the picture below... We save a lot of plastic bottles by using this baby. We keep about two pitchers of water in the fridge, and we try to run this whenever the first one goes empty.
Our new maid, Idalina helps by making water each day while we are at work, but I feel like we are making a dent in the plastic pollution issues that we have here in a country with little to no recycling and terrible water. You may note that I said NEW MAID... Veronica, bless her heart, was let go, as the sticky fingers she has had from the start continued to haunt us.... then she took us to a workers' tribunal... Yes. I have now been to a "tribunal" in Africa.
That WILL be an upcoming blog, by the way.
Third and unfortunately last on the tropical list is our passionfruit vines or maracuja, as it is known here. I think I will try to grow these back in Houston if I can as well. For one, they are really lush, and they also bear a boat load of passionfruit! They also have a really pretty purple and white flower on the vine, which is nice to look at.
The fruit are about the size of a tennis ball, sometimes a bit bigger. You need to let them get yellow, then start to look a little rotted... then they are ripe on the inside.... I've taken a few shots below to show you what the weathered, yet ripe/ready fruit looks like.
Once sliced open, I scoop the fruit and seeds into a bowl and slurp them up. Some add sugar, since it's pretty tangy stuff, but I like the tang, au natural.
You can just barely see the flower in the photo below and not quite blossoming in the photo above... they weren't out today.
This one has been sitting around the house ripening for about 2 weeks... the one beside it in the second pic below - looking a little worse for wear on the outside, but check the contents on the inside - bright orange-yellow, and delicious!
Yes... I eat the seeds... I'm sure they have some magical power. A common dish here is mousse de maracuja... it's effectively whipped cream, sugar, a bit of eggwhite, and a bunch of passion fruit all blended together into a mousse desert. It's pretty fantastic.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Other People's Children...
Part of living in our community and hanging out with our set of close friends means being around a large volume of people with rug rats running around. We don't have kids, as you may know, but we have had a great chance to be around them enough to get some excellent practice.
Something that I loved about growing up in Crescent Beach was the swim club. In the summer no matter where you were in the beach area, there was a gang of kids of one age or another, riding around on bikes, playing on the grass in front of Openheimer's before the foot races, swimming at the beach at the foot of Target Street, or exploring Blackie's Spit and all its mystery and wonder. The adults were close enough to be there, but the kids were far away enough to feel sort of on their own, and free.
Here, we are a little more confined to the walls of the condominium (not that we can't go out, but it's not somewhere you want your kids to on their bikes given the traffic scene), but even so, you see the teenagers hanging on the corner of one block - generally a few on bikes, a few standing around, you see the little ones under five riding their bikes "independently" with daddy about 50 meters behind walking, you see moms with one babe in a stroller and two other little ladies walking to the playground, and you see the kids just being kids on the soccer field, playing, wrestling, chasing each other, finding a dog to pet, deciding who is in charge, crying because they aren't, etc. This kids also have their "explorer" areas, which basically consists of the hillside and bushes around the rec center that separates the houses from the activity areas. You'll see them looking for bugs, playing interesting made-up games, and using their exploration imagination quite well.
Last night, while at one of our common weekend grill-outs/bbqs - I was thoroughly enjoying the company of two of my favorite young ladies. After painting nails at the picnic table with the help of another grown up, we were sitting up on a big outdoor loungy-couch thing and telling stories of Lazybonia. (Based on a storybook that I can't seem to find anywhere). We were making up stories about Marnie McMac and Cheese, Leila Lemonbottoms, and Tom O'Turkeylegs. Generally I'll do something like this for a while then I'll get attacked by a band of 3-4 year olds all running around wanting to cause some mischief. Then one of the little ones aged 2 or so, will come over and sit in my lap for a visit, and maybe we will eat some snacks of grilled fillet chopped up into bitesize pieces for toddler and KC consumption. Paul gets involved in some serious wrestling and chasing sessions, chats with a few of the little ones, and all in all enjoys watching the kids be as cute and hilarious as they are.
Yes there are tears, yes, there are times when I want to be with the grownups only, and yes, sometimes it's a late night for wee ones because mom and dad are just having too much fun with their friends too, but it's such a great way to spend an evening.
I sometimes have flashbacks to when the parents were enjoying summer as much as the kids were in Crescent Beach (because it's a generational summer camp for the whole family, and when you're a parent who played with the same people 30 years ago, it still feels like you're 5 or 7 or 9 or 11 or 12, 15, etc.) And when I do, I get a huge smile remembering how great I thought childhood was, especially during those CBSC times, and I wish my summers were still back in Crescent. That these kids are getting something sort of similar, but on the middle of the coast of Africa instead of Vancouver, is pretty great.
Being expats, we will likely see a lot of them again - either overseas, in Houston, or in California, and I get excited to think about watching them grow up. So for Nico, Aaron, Nadia, Jackson, Joey, Violet, Sophie, Hattie Grace, and all the others, I look forward to watching you all grow and look back fondly on the Monte Belo days, and that crazy Miss KC who was always doing something soooo silly.
Something that I loved about growing up in Crescent Beach was the swim club. In the summer no matter where you were in the beach area, there was a gang of kids of one age or another, riding around on bikes, playing on the grass in front of Openheimer's before the foot races, swimming at the beach at the foot of Target Street, or exploring Blackie's Spit and all its mystery and wonder. The adults were close enough to be there, but the kids were far away enough to feel sort of on their own, and free.
Here, we are a little more confined to the walls of the condominium (not that we can't go out, but it's not somewhere you want your kids to on their bikes given the traffic scene), but even so, you see the teenagers hanging on the corner of one block - generally a few on bikes, a few standing around, you see the little ones under five riding their bikes "independently" with daddy about 50 meters behind walking, you see moms with one babe in a stroller and two other little ladies walking to the playground, and you see the kids just being kids on the soccer field, playing, wrestling, chasing each other, finding a dog to pet, deciding who is in charge, crying because they aren't, etc. This kids also have their "explorer" areas, which basically consists of the hillside and bushes around the rec center that separates the houses from the activity areas. You'll see them looking for bugs, playing interesting made-up games, and using their exploration imagination quite well.
Last night, while at one of our common weekend grill-outs/bbqs - I was thoroughly enjoying the company of two of my favorite young ladies. After painting nails at the picnic table with the help of another grown up, we were sitting up on a big outdoor loungy-couch thing and telling stories of Lazybonia. (Based on a storybook that I can't seem to find anywhere). We were making up stories about Marnie McMac and Cheese, Leila Lemonbottoms, and Tom O'Turkeylegs. Generally I'll do something like this for a while then I'll get attacked by a band of 3-4 year olds all running around wanting to cause some mischief. Then one of the little ones aged 2 or so, will come over and sit in my lap for a visit, and maybe we will eat some snacks of grilled fillet chopped up into bitesize pieces for toddler and KC consumption. Paul gets involved in some serious wrestling and chasing sessions, chats with a few of the little ones, and all in all enjoys watching the kids be as cute and hilarious as they are.
Yes there are tears, yes, there are times when I want to be with the grownups only, and yes, sometimes it's a late night for wee ones because mom and dad are just having too much fun with their friends too, but it's such a great way to spend an evening.
I sometimes have flashbacks to when the parents were enjoying summer as much as the kids were in Crescent Beach (because it's a generational summer camp for the whole family, and when you're a parent who played with the same people 30 years ago, it still feels like you're 5 or 7 or 9 or 11 or 12, 15, etc.) And when I do, I get a huge smile remembering how great I thought childhood was, especially during those CBSC times, and I wish my summers were still back in Crescent. That these kids are getting something sort of similar, but on the middle of the coast of Africa instead of Vancouver, is pretty great.
Being expats, we will likely see a lot of them again - either overseas, in Houston, or in California, and I get excited to think about watching them grow up. So for Nico, Aaron, Nadia, Jackson, Joey, Violet, Sophie, Hattie Grace, and all the others, I look forward to watching you all grow and look back fondly on the Monte Belo days, and that crazy Miss KC who was always doing something soooo silly.
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