End of Term One and Vacation Plans

         My vacation in Swakopmund provided me with a much-needed break from the routine of village life and, when I arrived back at Olukolo after my four adventure-filled days, I felt ready to conquer three chaotic weeks of exams. 

         Term one has been a rollercoaster of emotions for sure. There are some days that have dragged on forever and others that seem to have erased themselves from my calendar. At times, I feel so content in my decision to move to Africa that I have to keep reminding myself that the whole experience is real life and not a dream. Yet, there are other times when I curl up in bed with the fan blasting in my face,  wanting nothing more than the familiarity of home. Living here has tested my ability to live and work in a new culture in a foreign environment. It has stretched my patience, flexibility and endurance. It has showed me the beauty and tranquility of the countryside and revealed the intense loneliness that arises as a result of having little more to do than stare at the goats and palm trees. 

         Living in Onantsi has toyed with my emotions, played tricks on my mind and reduced me to someone whose happiness is fully dependent on the minor setbacks and achievements that occur every day. 

          Despite the challenges that accompany living in rural Namibia, I have come to love the tranquility of my site and the pace of life that surrounds me. I know that, when this year is over, I will miss the soundtrack of bleating goats and mooing cows. I will miss the villagers who walk by my house and greet me everyday with walalapo meme, or the kids at the neighboring primary school who write me letters and linger around my house after school hoping that "miss Erika" will show up and give them a piece of candy.

         Most of all, however, I will miss my learners. Over the course of the term, I have gotten to know my students and form relationships with them. I have witnessed their emerging personalities and watched curiosity overcome their shyness in the classroom.

           I have relished their successes and felt downhearted by their failures. I realized that much of my happiness during the first term was fully dependent on the performance of my students. If I gave them a test and they did poorly, feelings of frustration and helplessness would invade my thoughts. If they did well, I would be overcome by an overwhelming sense of pride in their achievements. 

       One of my favorite days in the classroom during my first term of teaching, occurred shortly after I returned to the village from Swakopmund.  It was the last day of normal classes before the ordinary teaching schedule would succumb to three dreaded and chaotic weeks of exams and, in honor of April Fool's Day, my school staff allowed all students to dress up for "Funny Day." It was the first time I saw many of my learners without their uniforms and I decided to commemorate the day by setting aside five minutes for pictures at the end of class. 

           Some students wore their normal clothing. 

8B boys (Petrus, Sakaria, Moses, Shapumba and David) 

Toini and Annastasia (8C) 

             Others took the occasion to dress up in funny outfits. In all of my classes, cross-dressing was a popular choice.

Group of 8B students (Ester, Jacobina, Timoteus and Anna) 

          Despite my the overwhelmingly positive lens through which I view my Namibian experience thus far, I am certainly ready for a break. I need time to unwind, to escape the monotony of Onantsi and to fulfill my overwhelming wonderlust. 

           Fortunately, the end of term one signifies the beginning of a month-long break from school. It will give me time to relax, to catch up with friends and to explore bits of this diverse and beautiful continent. 

           Though our travel plans are not yet set in stone, my friends and I have sketched the basic itinerary of our vacation. We are going to spend the first few days in Windhoek at mid-service training with all the other volunteers. At training, we will regroup and recap our experiences so far--sharing stories of our successes and failures and discussing how we can make the most of our remaining two terms. 

          After mid-service in Windhoek, we are planning on making our way to Maun, Botswana, where we will spend a few days relaxing in the Okavango Delta before traveling to the ancient Shona ruins of Great Zimbabwe. If all goes well, we will continue eastward, to the beautiful Lake Malawi before venturing back to Namibia via the legendary Victoria Falls and Chobe National Park. 

           The tentative itinerary has the potential to be a wonderful vacation, but we have decided to remain flexible and open-minded about the route. 

            After all,  this is Africa and, if I have learned anything at all in my time here so far, it is that  flexibility is paramount and that nothing quite goes according to plan. 

Sandboarding in Swakopmund

          Everyone who knows me is well aware of my undying love for the Pacific Northwest. They know how proud I am of Oregon's wild coastline, its perfect snow-capped mountains and its sparkling lakes and rivers. They know of my love for the towering coniferous trees and deep green forests that surround my home in the Willamette Valley. It is the beautiful shades of green that I miss most whenever I leave my home state. 

         Yet, those who know me best, also know that I am equally awestruck by a different kind of beauty--a beauty that is wholly different from that which surrounds me back home. It is a beauty that stands in sharp contrast to the verdant hills and lush vegetation of western Oregon. It is the bleak and uncompromising beauty of the desert. 

         For some reason, every time I go abroad, I am drawn to areas of the world that are primarily covered in sand. It began when I studied in Tunisia for the summer and spent a few months on the fringes of the Sahara, and continued during my academic semester in Jordan. I was drawn to the vibrant reds, yellows and oranges of the earth and mesmerized by their beauty. 

          There is little I find more awe-inspiring than the view of a great expanse of sand from the top of a dune. In 2010, when I first glimpsed the undulating sand sea of the Sahara on a trip to the Tunisian desert, I was enraptured by the scenery. I felt that there could be no place in the world of equal beauty. Then again, in 2011, I found myself standing on the fiery-red desert sands of the United Arab Emirates, enthralled by my surroundings. Later in 2011, I visited Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado and White Sands National Monument in New Mexico. Each of these destinations has left me speechless and awe-struck. 

          Given my enthusiasm for such natural environments, I was excited beyond belief for my venture into the vast expanse of the Namib Desert dunes.

          A day after our excursion into the lagoon of Walvis Bay, my friends and I scheduled a day of sandboarding on the outskirts of Swakopmund. When we woke up, the sky was mostly overcast and misty and I couldn't help but worry a bit that the weather conditions would once again put a damper on our plans. I could not imagine trying to sandboard in a rainstorm. 

         Yet, luckily, the worst of the weather conditions were behind us and we were able to enjoy the sand sea with little more than an accompanying sprinkle. Though the skies were mostly grey and the sand was still wet from the rainfall the day before, we found the cool temperature to be refreshing and wonderful. The conditions were perfect for a day of boarding, too, for the lack of sun and arresting heat facilitated our long and tiring walks to the top of the dunes.

Overlooking the Sand Sea

          Our tour company allowed us to choose between stand-up and lie-down boarding. I chose stand-up boarding, which is essentially snowboarding on sand rather than on snow. However, I soon realized that my experience snowboarding translated very loosely to sandboarding and, as a result, I found myself face-planting on numerous occasions. Nonetheless, by the end of the afternoon I was able to go down a few runs without falling and it was thrilling to wind down the steep dune faces, while marveling at my surroundings.
         I sandboarded down the dunes a handful of times before our guides suggested we try lie-down boarding down the steepest and longest run.
         The ride down was exhilarating and I sped down the hill--over bumps and around ridges, with my hair streaming behind me--at nearly seventy kilometers an hour until I reached the bottom. Every time I reached the bottom of the dune, I would unstrap my bindings, sling my sandboard over my shoulders and begin the walk back up the crest of the dune to the top. It was a tiring trek, but the damp sand facilitated our laborious climb.
          When I reached the top, I would hold my breath and gaze at the dazzling display around me. The dunes of the Namib Desert are the oldest in the world and they are amongst the tallest. The landscape is so immense and foreboding that it was difficult to imagine I was on the same planet as Swakopmund, let alone only a few kilometers away.
          From the top of the dune, I could see nothing but the oceans of sand that extend outward for miles upon miles in every direction. The sand sea stretches inland from the Atlantic Ocean for nearly 13,000 square miles. It is a seared and bleak landscape, with dramatic vistas and mirage-inducing panoramas.

Wind-Carved Namib Desert Dunes

        The great sand mountains of the Namib Desert have been chiseled by the Kalahari and Atlantic winds. They are ever-changing and transforming by the minute--their curves, ridges and crests carved by the elements over millions of years.

Spectacular Namib Desert

           I enjoyed sitting at the top of the dunes and staring out into the vast expanse of nothingness and dreaded the moment that our tour guide would shuffle us back into the vans.
           As I was leaving the desert, all I could think about was how much I looked forward to returning in August and how excited I was to show this awe-inspiring natural wonder to my family. 

Flamingos, Seals and Lots of Rain

           As our taxi raced along the ocean road from Swakopmund to Walvis Bay, my friends and I gazed out the window in amazement. The road between the two cities cuts through spectacular scenery, with crashing ocean waves on one side and towering dunes of undulating sand on the other. This unusual landscape stretches the length of much of the country. It is a wild topography, where the scorched earth and the deep blue ocean collide in miles of spectacular coastline. It is precisely the type of landscape that makes Namibia such a unique and otherworldly destination.

           My friends and I decided to take a day trip from Swakopmund to Walvis Bay on Saturday in order to experience some of Namibia's marine life. It was a bit overcast and misty when we set off, but the weather did not seem entirely unconducive to touring the seas. Thus, we did not think twice about scheduling a boat tour around the harbor at Walvis Bay that day.

         Early in the morning, we walked to the taxi rank to find a ride to Walvis Bay. Within seconds, we found a driver that was willing to drop us off at a port near the Walvis Bay lagoon for about two dollars. From there, we were planning on taking a speedboat out into the waters.
      At the lagoon, we marveled at the flock of flamingos that stood at the water's edge. Each year, southern Africa's largest flock of flamingos descends on Walvis Bay, and seeing the beautiful, pink birds in their natural habitat was a wonderful surprise.

Flamingos! 

More Flamingos! 

               It turns out that our taxi had actually taken us to the wrong port, but I was secretly happy with the detour, because it gave me the chance to see and photograph the flock of graceful birds. After a bit of confusion and miscommunication between ourselves, our taxi driver and the tour company, we arrived at the port where we were able to begin our journey.

             Within minutes of being out on the water, the light, misty drizzle began to take the form of light rain. However, we found it to be only a minor inconvenience at this point, for we were still engrossed in  our surroundings.
            Not long after leaving the dock, a pelican flew toward us and landed near our boat. Our guide threw fish at the bird and we were able to watch it devour the fish with its impressive beak and acrobatic maneuvers. 

        Merely moments after the pelican flew away, we spotted an amicable Cape fur seal that decided to make its way onto our boat. He hopped on board and scuffled toward the bucket of fish that sat near our tour guide. Once again, our guide fed the seal fresh fish, while we enjoyed petting the animal and taking its pictures. 

The seal in our boat

Our new friend, the Cape Fur Seal

             Interacting with the friendly Cape fur seal was certainly the highlight of our afternoon, for soon after the seal jumped back into the water, our pleasant excursion in the lagoon began to take a downhill turn. The light rain picked up and turned into a downpour. It drenched us from head to toe. Out on the boat, in the middle of the lagoon, we had nowhere to run for shelter. The rain soaked through our clothes and the seven of us sat huddled together for warmth, shivering from the cold winds and slicing rain. The wakes started to crash into our boat and occasionally showered us in buckets of spray. Unfortunately, the poor weather conditions hindered us from being able to enjoy the rest of our day out at sea, and we had to turn back.
            On the way, however, we sailed past a stretch of sand that juts out into the sea. It is a large sand bar covered in wildlife. It contains a lighthouse and a shipwreck. Even in my miserable state, I found the sand bar to be fascinating.

            Namibia's coast has been deemed the Skeleton Coast due to the washed up shipwrecks and whale caracasses that are scattered on its shores. It is one of the most treacherous coastlines anywhere in the world and it is littered with remnants of sailing vessels that have wedged themselves into sandy banks throughout the last few centuries.
            The particularly high concentration of shipwrecks along the Skeleton Coast is due to the strong crosscurrents in the Atlantic Ocean. In addition, the area is prone to dense fog that can easily obscure visibility. The fog and heavy swells are a result of the icy Benguela current that is driven by the South Easterly Trade Winds. The blinding fog, fierce winds and strong crosscurrents have been detrimental to seafarers who have sought to traverse these icy and turbulent waters along Namibia's coast.

Shipwreck in the Walvis Bay Lagoon 

             Seeing the shipwreck was a wonderful surprise. I am sure that if the weather had been better and if we had been able to continue our boat tour, we would have seen many other interesting sites, but there is no doubt that we had to end our adventure early.

           When we got back to the shore--soaked to the bone and shivering profusely--the tour operators welcomed us with a lunch of appetizers, fresh oysters and sparkling champagne. Despite the inclement weather and our unfortunate miserable states, there was a lot to celebrate--the fact that we nearly made it through our first term of teaching in a new country, the fact that we were able to nonetheless enjoy viewing diverse wildlife and architecture in our few short days on the coast and the fact that our fun-filled Easter weekend adventure was still not over!