PG 13 UPDATE: Paul noted that the dog collars that I thought were for dogs are for humans. Oops.
UPDATE:
Toilet seats
Freshly killed Chickens com feathers
Rigging
Pressure cookers
Curtain poles made of PVC pipe
Kiddy undies of all colors
Equestrian helmets serving as motorbike helmets (English Saddle)
Team Petro lanyards for badges
Questionably authentic Puma and Adidas kicks
...............................................................................
Tortoise Shell with Carving
Toilet Paper
Flip Flops - not always matching
Lanterns
Peanuts
Headbands
Remote Controls and batteries
Cell phone charges
Power strips
Inflatable giraffes and hippopotamus
Beers, water, and soft drinks
Books - history of Angola
Rat poison - named Doom
Curtains
Coat racks
Coat hangers
Coconuts
Plantains
Plates and Bowls
Kids' Clothes
Dresses and shoes
Towels and shower racks
Bath mats
Hair extensions
Picture frames
Brooms
Hello Kitty backpacks
Stuffed animal pillows
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Fried Greek Salad
We just had dinner at Nathan and Kate's house, and since we were making fish and chips anyway, we decided to batter some of our veggie skewers and Greek salad and toss it into the frier (without the Feta)... This tastes like Greek tempura, and if you dare, it's DELICIOUS.
Today, I wokeup around 6:30 and went down to the pool and swam for about 25 minutes - fly was surprisingly easy for not doing it in years, and then I took a nap. Rough morning!
This place (our neighborhood) reminds me a lot of Crescent... Everyone watches each others' kids, there is always a game of tennis going, swim meets abound at the international schools, and all we need are Friday Foot Races for the kids, and it would be summer all the time.
Getting up at 3:50 tomorrow, so it's bed time. ciao.. We are happy to be here.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Friday Night in 4 Acts
Scroll down to Act 1 to get the whole story - I haven't quite accomplished publishing in the right order yet, and from the iPad I'm a little limited in my toolkit.
Friday Night in Luanda - Act 4 - Getting Home
As we drove home, I called Teresa to let her know that we would not be coming.
However, I first got voicemail, and left a message. Here's the challenge: Teresa only speaks French and Portuguese. And since I'm learning Portuguese, I find it hard to focus on French only, so I end up speaking in Frantuguese. Add a few glasses of Vinho de Duas Quintas and some Mateus, and the result is a 30 second message residing somewhere in the digital stratosphere of KC spewing a lovely cacophony of Latin-root jabber.
I was able to catch Teresa on a second line to let her know we had JUST finished dinner, and we were exhausted. Noting, however, that while on the phone with her, one could hear the DJ mix going on in the background, so I think their party was JUST ramping up! All in all, it was the best decision, as all three of us in the car were tuckered out and needed to head home.
Especially Emiquilson. By the time we got to the car, it was evident that he was pooped out. We had thought that dinner would only take an hour and a half, and it took three. Though Paul had given him 2,000 Kwanzas for dinner to eat the same time we were, nothing of a reasonable price was open, so he was hungry AND tired.
Emiquilson is really a kind and quiet soul, and it pained both Paul and I that we had made his night a little miserable. On top of that, I had to ask the question - how are you getting home? I don't know that the other family that he works for is out late all that often, so this was the first time in a while that he wasn't leaving at a reasonable hour while the taxis, busses, and other modes of transport are still available down to Benfica - the barro just south of us.
So, Emiquilson, how are you getting home? He said he didn't know. He said that he would check with the driver dispatch in Talatona (Base 4) to see if there were any cars available to drive him. And that if he couldn't find a ride, he would just stay in the driver's lounge. My stomach sunk, and my heart broke a little at the thought that poor Emiquilson wouldn't get home tonight. The cars stay with the families overnight as a policy, so I couldn't offer to let him take it home (though I would trust him with it).
Because he's driving, for safety reasons, he couldn't call Base 4 - and time was of the essence to make sure we could catch a car for Emiquilson. So I got on the phone with them, and confirmed that there were two carros available to take Emiquilson home to Benfica. We all breathed a sigh of relief, as we zig zagged through the last few ruas of Talatona to get home.
Emiquilson helped get the plants out of the back, we grabbed him some water, juice, and a granola bar for the road (the only quick-access food worth giving him from the house at that hour), and thanked him over and over again, sending him home with "call me if you run into any trouble" and with the thought of setting up the guest bed as the next alternative.
Additionally, we asked that he not come in to work until 2:00 pm so that he could rest up and enjoy some family/football time. Drivers are supposed to report in at 8:30 unless otherwise instructed - we had asked he start at 1:00 pm on Friday.
Lesson learned. We know that nights like this will happen. We just need to plan ahead better: make sure there is plenty of food available, make sure our driver doesn't run a 12-hour day without notice, and give him a bit of a heads up that we're going to be out late.
So that was Friday night - I was up at 6:00 on the dot this morning writing all this, since I can't sleep past that time. I'm in my comfy new bathrobe and slippers (obrigada Isabel), and Paul has cooked up the chopped onions and boiled potatoes that Veronica had prepared for us the other day as home fries along with some eggs.
I'm sipping on some Tazo iced green tea in a large wine glass, since we don't have any other large volume containers for me to sip from, and I'm looking out on the yard, which is beginning its garden transformation, wondering what today holds.
Life is good in Luanda.
However, I first got voicemail, and left a message. Here's the challenge: Teresa only speaks French and Portuguese. And since I'm learning Portuguese, I find it hard to focus on French only, so I end up speaking in Frantuguese. Add a few glasses of Vinho de Duas Quintas and some Mateus, and the result is a 30 second message residing somewhere in the digital stratosphere of KC spewing a lovely cacophony of Latin-root jabber.
I was able to catch Teresa on a second line to let her know we had JUST finished dinner, and we were exhausted. Noting, however, that while on the phone with her, one could hear the DJ mix going on in the background, so I think their party was JUST ramping up! All in all, it was the best decision, as all three of us in the car were tuckered out and needed to head home.
Especially Emiquilson. By the time we got to the car, it was evident that he was pooped out. We had thought that dinner would only take an hour and a half, and it took three. Though Paul had given him 2,000 Kwanzas for dinner to eat the same time we were, nothing of a reasonable price was open, so he was hungry AND tired.
Emiquilson is really a kind and quiet soul, and it pained both Paul and I that we had made his night a little miserable. On top of that, I had to ask the question - how are you getting home? I don't know that the other family that he works for is out late all that often, so this was the first time in a while that he wasn't leaving at a reasonable hour while the taxis, busses, and other modes of transport are still available down to Benfica - the barro just south of us.
So, Emiquilson, how are you getting home? He said he didn't know. He said that he would check with the driver dispatch in Talatona (Base 4) to see if there were any cars available to drive him. And that if he couldn't find a ride, he would just stay in the driver's lounge. My stomach sunk, and my heart broke a little at the thought that poor Emiquilson wouldn't get home tonight. The cars stay with the families overnight as a policy, so I couldn't offer to let him take it home (though I would trust him with it).
Because he's driving, for safety reasons, he couldn't call Base 4 - and time was of the essence to make sure we could catch a car for Emiquilson. So I got on the phone with them, and confirmed that there were two carros available to take Emiquilson home to Benfica. We all breathed a sigh of relief, as we zig zagged through the last few ruas of Talatona to get home.
Emiquilson helped get the plants out of the back, we grabbed him some water, juice, and a granola bar for the road (the only quick-access food worth giving him from the house at that hour), and thanked him over and over again, sending him home with "call me if you run into any trouble" and with the thought of setting up the guest bed as the next alternative.
Additionally, we asked that he not come in to work until 2:00 pm so that he could rest up and enjoy some family/football time. Drivers are supposed to report in at 8:30 unless otherwise instructed - we had asked he start at 1:00 pm on Friday.
Lesson learned. We know that nights like this will happen. We just need to plan ahead better: make sure there is plenty of food available, make sure our driver doesn't run a 12-hour day without notice, and give him a bit of a heads up that we're going to be out late.
So that was Friday night - I was up at 6:00 on the dot this morning writing all this, since I can't sleep past that time. I'm in my comfy new bathrobe and slippers (obrigada Isabel), and Paul has cooked up the chopped onions and boiled potatoes that Veronica had prepared for us the other day as home fries along with some eggs.
I'm sipping on some Tazo iced green tea in a large wine glass, since we don't have any other large volume containers for me to sip from, and I'm looking out on the yard, which is beginning its garden transformation, wondering what today holds.
Life is good in Luanda.
Friday Night in Luanda - Act 3 - BlueJazz
Our next stop on the Tour de Friday Night, was back in the Alvelade part of the city. We were very kindly invited out to dinner with a co-worker, who wanted to make sure we felt at home in Luanda.
This is a special treat. Angolans don't always reach out to ex-pats to invite them to join them during social hours. In fact, when we told Nick (hubby de LBW prez, who is our co-worker) that this was where we were going next, he admittedly had to pick his lower jaw off the floor. I am very lucky that I have a nice team that looks to make Paul and me feel welcome.
Even better - we had two invites with Angolan families that night - the stop after dinner was a last-minute invite to our family friends' party they were throwing for the wife of the family, Theresa's sister. Theresa is a very good friend of Isabel's and she and her husband were very kind to include me in some weekend activities with the family the last time I was here. Both Paul and I look forward to visiting with them and getting to know their daughters better as part of our time here.
Back to BlueJazz:
So Sandra and her husband Diego asked us to join them, along with her primas (cousins) and other pals to dinner upon Paul's arrival. Irena - another co-worker, had given Sandra the idea (those two are certainly besties), and she was there too.
I'll get into the details of the food and entertainment in a bit, but first, a side story on Journey Management and Angolan Culture.
If one takes a moment to look at a street map of Luanda, one may also conclude that part of the traffic problem is simply due to the way the roads are laid. Add to this that most only have the Portuguese street signage, which consists 18-inch square painted tiles with the street name that are fixed to any building on a corner - same as Paris. The thing is that half the buildings that harbored this signage are gone, or they are covered up by trees, poorly lit, or just weren't there in the first place.
Our restaurant, which had a webpage, didn't have a street number, but rather just referenced the Avenida do Commandante Che Guevara as its home. When I realized this about mid day on Friday, I made sure to work with Irena and Sandra to figure out exactly where we needed to go. There is a bank building and TV Cabo's main office is on the same road. Bluejazz is right across the street.
So I print the street map, draw the landmarks, and when we meet up with Emiquilson, I ask him if he knows the restaurant. It's new, and it's not an expat locale, so not only did he not know, but when he called around to other drivers who nobly cart us to and fro, they were not familiar with it either. So we had a map, and we had landmarks, but we didn't know which street was which. We also had Sandra's phone number, but with the way coverage can be, we weren't quite succeeding in making a connection.
Finally, the good citizens of Luanda helped us. We stopped in a well-lit public area, and we asked a security guard to point us in the right direction. After leaving Club Navale around 7:45, we arrived at BlueJazz 20 minutes late at 8:50. No problem.
Some of you might be concerned that we showed up late to dinner and we are being honored by just being invited. However, as we walk into the restaurant, a modern space with waiters in bow ties and vests, white leather benched upholstery seating with rhinestones accents, cool navy and white pictures of old school microphones on the wall, and some low jazz playing in the background, there sat Sandra and Diego, alone at a table for 15.
I wasn't surprised, because after hearing about a few Angolan weddings back in Houston where Larry arrives on time (half an hour late) with Isabel, and they are the only people there for at least another hour, I knew we were not "late." However, I was quite warmed by the kind consideration of Sandra to come to the restaurant "on time" by way of US/Canada standards to make sure we weren't alone.
Long story short - Journey Management - intended to get you from point A to point B, safely and in a timely manner, only worked a little - as best we tried, and there really is no rush anyway.
So back to dinner:
We really enjoyed ourselves at BlueJazz - we had some "covert" on the table, which consisted of bread, proscuitto, olives, fresh queijo (cheese), and some tuna pate. After about 45 minutes, Irena arrived, so we ordered some vinho tinto (LOVE Duas Quintas from the Alentejo of Portugal), and about 9:45 one of Sandra's cousins came too. Around 10:00 we ordered dinner. Sandra and I both ordered the Gambas a Alho (garlic prawns) and Paul ordered a steak with mushrooms. Diego had a filet with chocolate molho on it. Irena had the house specialty - a filet with duas gambas on top.
At the same time as we ordered, the entertainment changed from live acoustic jazz performed by a duet in the corner to a quartet of boys singing a capella. Starting with Boyz to Men - End of the Road - they needed to warm up a little, but they a had a nice repertoire of songs that ranged from popular Portuguese and Angolan classics to a solo of Elvis' I Can't Help Falling in Love with You and Hotel California. They were probably all under the age of 20, and when finished, they were served a bounty of food at one of the tables.
As our meals came, so did more people. It was now around 10:30, and they ordered right away, because the kitchen was about to close. At about this time, Paul and I realized that we probably weren't going to make it to Teresa's sister's birthday party back in Talatona.
We all finished eating and enjoying dessert - I shared a passion fruit mousse with my hubby, and then came the coffees and Hennessy and pink sparkling wine for the table. One couple was celebrating their anniversary, so Sandra got the quartet to sing their wedding song, and out came sparkling Mateusand a few tears were shed in happiness. Very appropos.
The food was excellent, the conversation was lively, everyone was very warm and jovial, and we got along just great with the party. Diego is just finishing up his MBA while working full time, so Paul and I both had loads to chat about with him. Cin Cin - great meal and even better company.
We were being encouraged to go clubbing next, but it was almost pumpkin time, so we took a rain-check, called Emiquilson, and headed home. Act 4 is coming right up - canceling our 4th engagement of the evening, and getting Emiquilson home.
This is a special treat. Angolans don't always reach out to ex-pats to invite them to join them during social hours. In fact, when we told Nick (hubby de LBW prez, who is our co-worker) that this was where we were going next, he admittedly had to pick his lower jaw off the floor. I am very lucky that I have a nice team that looks to make Paul and me feel welcome.
Even better - we had two invites with Angolan families that night - the stop after dinner was a last-minute invite to our family friends' party they were throwing for the wife of the family, Theresa's sister. Theresa is a very good friend of Isabel's and she and her husband were very kind to include me in some weekend activities with the family the last time I was here. Both Paul and I look forward to visiting with them and getting to know their daughters better as part of our time here.
Back to BlueJazz:
So Sandra and her husband Diego asked us to join them, along with her primas (cousins) and other pals to dinner upon Paul's arrival. Irena - another co-worker, had given Sandra the idea (those two are certainly besties), and she was there too.
I'll get into the details of the food and entertainment in a bit, but first, a side story on Journey Management and Angolan Culture.
If one takes a moment to look at a street map of Luanda, one may also conclude that part of the traffic problem is simply due to the way the roads are laid. Add to this that most only have the Portuguese street signage, which consists 18-inch square painted tiles with the street name that are fixed to any building on a corner - same as Paris. The thing is that half the buildings that harbored this signage are gone, or they are covered up by trees, poorly lit, or just weren't there in the first place.
Our restaurant, which had a webpage, didn't have a street number, but rather just referenced the Avenida do Commandante Che Guevara as its home. When I realized this about mid day on Friday, I made sure to work with Irena and Sandra to figure out exactly where we needed to go. There is a bank building and TV Cabo's main office is on the same road. Bluejazz is right across the street.
So I print the street map, draw the landmarks, and when we meet up with Emiquilson, I ask him if he knows the restaurant. It's new, and it's not an expat locale, so not only did he not know, but when he called around to other drivers who nobly cart us to and fro, they were not familiar with it either. So we had a map, and we had landmarks, but we didn't know which street was which. We also had Sandra's phone number, but with the way coverage can be, we weren't quite succeeding in making a connection.
Finally, the good citizens of Luanda helped us. We stopped in a well-lit public area, and we asked a security guard to point us in the right direction. After leaving Club Navale around 7:45, we arrived at BlueJazz 20 minutes late at 8:50. No problem.
Some of you might be concerned that we showed up late to dinner and we are being honored by just being invited. However, as we walk into the restaurant, a modern space with waiters in bow ties and vests, white leather benched upholstery seating with rhinestones accents, cool navy and white pictures of old school microphones on the wall, and some low jazz playing in the background, there sat Sandra and Diego, alone at a table for 15.
I wasn't surprised, because after hearing about a few Angolan weddings back in Houston where Larry arrives on time (half an hour late) with Isabel, and they are the only people there for at least another hour, I knew we were not "late." However, I was quite warmed by the kind consideration of Sandra to come to the restaurant "on time" by way of US/Canada standards to make sure we weren't alone.
Long story short - Journey Management - intended to get you from point A to point B, safely and in a timely manner, only worked a little - as best we tried, and there really is no rush anyway.
So back to dinner:
We really enjoyed ourselves at BlueJazz - we had some "covert" on the table, which consisted of bread, proscuitto, olives, fresh queijo (cheese), and some tuna pate. After about 45 minutes, Irena arrived, so we ordered some vinho tinto (LOVE Duas Quintas from the Alentejo of Portugal), and about 9:45 one of Sandra's cousins came too. Around 10:00 we ordered dinner. Sandra and I both ordered the Gambas a Alho (garlic prawns) and Paul ordered a steak with mushrooms. Diego had a filet with chocolate molho on it. Irena had the house specialty - a filet with duas gambas on top.
At the same time as we ordered, the entertainment changed from live acoustic jazz performed by a duet in the corner to a quartet of boys singing a capella. Starting with Boyz to Men - End of the Road - they needed to warm up a little, but they a had a nice repertoire of songs that ranged from popular Portuguese and Angolan classics to a solo of Elvis' I Can't Help Falling in Love with You and Hotel California. They were probably all under the age of 20, and when finished, they were served a bounty of food at one of the tables.
As our meals came, so did more people. It was now around 10:30, and they ordered right away, because the kitchen was about to close. At about this time, Paul and I realized that we probably weren't going to make it to Teresa's sister's birthday party back in Talatona.
We all finished eating and enjoying dessert - I shared a passion fruit mousse with my hubby, and then came the coffees and Hennessy and pink sparkling wine for the table. One couple was celebrating their anniversary, so Sandra got the quartet to sing their wedding song, and out came sparkling Mateusand a few tears were shed in happiness. Very appropos.
The food was excellent, the conversation was lively, everyone was very warm and jovial, and we got along just great with the party. Diego is just finishing up his MBA while working full time, so Paul and I both had loads to chat about with him. Cin Cin - great meal and even better company.
We were being encouraged to go clubbing next, but it was almost pumpkin time, so we took a rain-check, called Emiquilson, and headed home. Act 4 is coming right up - canceling our 4th engagement of the evening, and getting Emiquilson home.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Friday Night in Luanda - Act 2 - LBW
The night that I first arrived in Luanda was April 20th. I had chit chatted with the Calders about having a nice quiet dinner that evening with them, but it turned out to be St. George's Day, and we landed ourselves at the British Embassy with several others enjoying a Red and White party sponsored by the Luanda British Women's club to celebrate the occasion - by occasion, I mean historic DRAGON slaying, so well worth a party.
Sitting on a large veranda at the British Embassy surrounded by banana trees, bougainvillea, and other tropical delights, while sipping gin and tonics, eating curry, and playing fun parlour games with strangers was the perfect remedy for jet lag. It also confirmed that as a citizen of the Commonwealth with the right chromosome mix, not only was I qualified, but I was also interested in taking part in these fun activities more often. The president of the LBW club lives just down the street from us, so signing up was not a challenge.
And this First Friday after our plant purchasing extravaganza in Miramar, we landed down at the Ilha for the beer and pizza night at Club Navale, I with membership application in hand. You may have seen a picture of me from earlier this year beside a 10-12 foot long sword fish. THAT was at the marina that is Club Navale.
The Ilha is the finger-like peninsula that juts out on the west side of the city creating the harbor on which the Luanda sits. It is a host to several restaurants, clubs, and beach areas with views of the city or the west coast.
Like many places on the Ilha, Club Navale is a location you find because someone who knows takes you there - Emiquilson wasn't quite familiar with it, and from the outside road, the original building, which was probably in its prime during Larry and Isabel's heyday, looks (and is) completely defunct and abandoned. However, if you can find the right driveway, directly behind the building with broken out windows is a covered beach shack restaurant right by the dock. This place serves a mean pepper steak, Cucas (the local cerveja) in a cold glass, and some pretty yummy batatas fritas - ironically, no pizza.
We met several people - some familiar faces from St. George's and others new. Our neighbor and president, Jo was there with her husband Nick, and she greeted us with a warm WELCOME! We had a nice conversation with a couple about our age that works at BP, and we have some casual plans to spend an evening at dinner with them.
Additionally, we met some wiry gents who immediately asked - "do you HASH?" Some of you may be familiar with this activity (not too fast, my British Columbian friends), which consists of running/walking in large groups through different neighborhoods (barros) to see what is happening locally. The logic is that there is safety in numbers, so the amount of people generally ranges from 20-40. This safety may be slightly offset by some unorthodox running refreshments that come along with it - the HASH club is a drinking club with a running problem.
Around 7:30 or so, we thought "time to pay up," which is remarkably convenient for a group of over 20 people. The system consists of ordering freely from the waiters who are serving our tables, writing down what you selected on a pink piece of paper, and then going up to the bar to pay for your share when you choose to take off - very civil system.
As an aside, I stopped by the casa do bano for a quick break on the way out, and while in there, the power was cut and the bathroom was pitch black - a moment of slight vulnerability, shall I say.
Onward to dinner back in the middle of the city... a little Journey Management story for my work compadres is coming right up. Next Act - Restaurante BlueJazz.
Sitting on a large veranda at the British Embassy surrounded by banana trees, bougainvillea, and other tropical delights, while sipping gin and tonics, eating curry, and playing fun parlour games with strangers was the perfect remedy for jet lag. It also confirmed that as a citizen of the Commonwealth with the right chromosome mix, not only was I qualified, but I was also interested in taking part in these fun activities more often. The president of the LBW club lives just down the street from us, so signing up was not a challenge.
And this First Friday after our plant purchasing extravaganza in Miramar, we landed down at the Ilha for the beer and pizza night at Club Navale, I with membership application in hand. You may have seen a picture of me from earlier this year beside a 10-12 foot long sword fish. THAT was at the marina that is Club Navale.
The Ilha is the finger-like peninsula that juts out on the west side of the city creating the harbor on which the Luanda sits. It is a host to several restaurants, clubs, and beach areas with views of the city or the west coast.
Like many places on the Ilha, Club Navale is a location you find because someone who knows takes you there - Emiquilson wasn't quite familiar with it, and from the outside road, the original building, which was probably in its prime during Larry and Isabel's heyday, looks (and is) completely defunct and abandoned. However, if you can find the right driveway, directly behind the building with broken out windows is a covered beach shack restaurant right by the dock. This place serves a mean pepper steak, Cucas (the local cerveja) in a cold glass, and some pretty yummy batatas fritas - ironically, no pizza.
We met several people - some familiar faces from St. George's and others new. Our neighbor and president, Jo was there with her husband Nick, and she greeted us with a warm WELCOME! We had a nice conversation with a couple about our age that works at BP, and we have some casual plans to spend an evening at dinner with them.
Additionally, we met some wiry gents who immediately asked - "do you HASH?" Some of you may be familiar with this activity (not too fast, my British Columbian friends), which consists of running/walking in large groups through different neighborhoods (barros) to see what is happening locally. The logic is that there is safety in numbers, so the amount of people generally ranges from 20-40. This safety may be slightly offset by some unorthodox running refreshments that come along with it - the HASH club is a drinking club with a running problem.
Around 7:30 or so, we thought "time to pay up," which is remarkably convenient for a group of over 20 people. The system consists of ordering freely from the waiters who are serving our tables, writing down what you selected on a pink piece of paper, and then going up to the bar to pay for your share when you choose to take off - very civil system.
As an aside, I stopped by the casa do bano for a quick break on the way out, and while in there, the power was cut and the bathroom was pitch black - a moment of slight vulnerability, shall I say.
Onward to dinner back in the middle of the city... a little Journey Management story for my work compadres is coming right up. Next Act - Restaurante BlueJazz.
Friday Night in Luanda - Act 1 - Plant Purchasing
We are going to need to learn how to more conservatively book our calendar. Last night we ended up with four different engagements around the city, and by midnight we had only accomplished three of them. Since we both turn into pumpkins at that time, and since Emiquilson was also quite exhausted (he had been on shift since 1:00 pm) it was time to migrate towards home.
The evening started with a visit to a house in Miramar - a part of the city up on the hill by the embassies - we call one part of it Embassy Row - the French, US, Nigerian, Belgian, and South African embassies are all within maybe a few houses of each other. One of our co-workers who lives in the city is moving on to a new job in another country, so his lovely wife (she really is awesome) is coordinating with her gardener to sell her plants in the yard that they have been working on for several years - Martins, the gardener will be able to sell the plants for charity, Catherine shares her gorgeous garden with the rest of us, Paul and I get some beautiful, mature plants in very nice (and virtually impossible to find) pots, and we all come out winners.
We left after some light negotiating (volume discount) with a new front entry way's worth of plants. The pictures below don't really do the plants justice, but it's a start - once we have full internet running, I'll be using a better camera than my iPad. The pots are lovely, and they have traveled from Australia, to Nigeria, to Angola, and now they are making their way to Casa de Littlefield. The pictures don't show the Piece de Resistance, since we didn't quite have room for it in the car with the other parts of the team - it is a 4.5 foot high jungle plant with leaves the size of small children (I could see an Ann Geddes or Lindsay Faber picture with a newborn cradled in the foliage of this puppy - with plenty of room to spare).
We will be going back for Big Blue on Monday after our appointments at the US Embassy to get color copies of our passports notarized so that we don't have to lug around the real things! At that point, I will have to update my plant vocabulary so that I give each species the courtesy of calling them by their names instead of "the spikey one" or "the little spidery one." That doesn't quite cut it.
Our next stop was the First Friday with the Luanda British Women's Club at Club Navale. Act 2... coming up next.
The evening started with a visit to a house in Miramar - a part of the city up on the hill by the embassies - we call one part of it Embassy Row - the French, US, Nigerian, Belgian, and South African embassies are all within maybe a few houses of each other. One of our co-workers who lives in the city is moving on to a new job in another country, so his lovely wife (she really is awesome) is coordinating with her gardener to sell her plants in the yard that they have been working on for several years - Martins, the gardener will be able to sell the plants for charity, Catherine shares her gorgeous garden with the rest of us, Paul and I get some beautiful, mature plants in very nice (and virtually impossible to find) pots, and we all come out winners.
We left after some light negotiating (volume discount) with a new front entry way's worth of plants. The pictures below don't really do the plants justice, but it's a start - once we have full internet running, I'll be using a better camera than my iPad. The pots are lovely, and they have traveled from Australia, to Nigeria, to Angola, and now they are making their way to Casa de Littlefield. The pictures don't show the Piece de Resistance, since we didn't quite have room for it in the car with the other parts of the team - it is a 4.5 foot high jungle plant with leaves the size of small children (I could see an Ann Geddes or Lindsay Faber picture with a newborn cradled in the foliage of this puppy - with plenty of room to spare).
We will be going back for Big Blue on Monday after our appointments at the US Embassy to get color copies of our passports notarized so that we don't have to lug around the real things! At that point, I will have to update my plant vocabulary so that I give each species the courtesy of calling them by their names instead of "the spikey one" or "the little spidery one." That doesn't quite cut it.
Our next stop was the First Friday with the Luanda British Women's Club at Club Navale. Act 2... coming up next.
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