You know you've been in Uganda too long when ...

1. You turn on the radio and get a bit of Dolly Parton or Abba and think you've got the good station.
2. You think nothing of going to up to four supermarkets to get your weekly groceries.
3. You think it's perfectly acceptable to drive into the middle of the road flapping your arm out of the window the stop traffic.
4. You come to the conclusion that getting on the back of a motorbike with a complete stranger and no helmet really isn't a great idea.
5. You have watched every episode of House, Glee, Californication and many more back to back on dodgy DVDs from Papa's Corner and consider 5000 Shillings for hours of entertainment extortionate.
6. You stroll past the bouncers in your local Irish pub on a Friday night and declare that you don't EVER pay an entrance fee.
7. Your living room could pass for a branch of Banana Boat.
8. You develop a cynical attitude towards large charitable organisations and their distribution of funds.
9. You think that the Nile is first and foremost a type of beer and secondly a river.
10. You learn to smile and shrug your shoulders when something takes four times as long as expected!

Can anybody add to this list?

A spot of indulgence in Jinja

There's a theory that the longer you stay in Uganda, the better the food tastes. A slice of mature cheddar wouldn't raise much excitement at home but it becomes a real treat here. A trip to Jinja is always about the food. It's hardly surprising really when the town sounds as though it was named after one of my favourite types of biscuits. There's cafes with chilled out gardens and a deli packed with treats like veggie lasagne and home-made ice-cream. After a night in cheap backpacker land our little group decided we had earned the right to upgrade ourselves to a bit of lazy camping overlooking the Nile. It's a tranquil spot and as we filled our bellies with delicious pumpkin soup and freshly baked bread our eyes also got a feast of spectacular views. It's funny, but when I first arrived in Uganda I thought it was pretty but I wasn't bowled over. I missed the breathtakingly dramatic landscapes I had grown accustomed to in Colombia. Now I wonder what I was thinking. Simply the drive out of Kampala makes my shoulders drop by a couple of inches. This weekend, cycling through the villages raised a smile to my face. The amazing contrasts of colours, from the myriad shades of green in the fields to the dusty orange roads and the ever changing skies. as always, the children ran along with us in their broken flip-flops and their smiles beamed brightly. I am sure that my weekend of indulgence will help push me through the week ahead!

Nesting

It’s taken a long time, but my apartment is starting to feel a little more like home. When I moved in, half of the lights didn’t work, my oven had only one working element and the water pressure in the bathroom was a pathetic trickle. There has been a series of workmen passing through my house, turning up anywhere between half an hour and four hours late. First it was the plumber. His job was to fix the water pressure in my main bathroom. He excelled at this task – to the point that I had to dam up the bathroom door with towels to prevent the enormous leak he had caused. Then came the electrician, or should I say the man with the tools for repairing electrical faults? You will see what I mean in a minute. He managed to break one of my extortionately priced energy saver light bulbs that I had very responsibly bought. He also smashed the lampshade on the outdoor light. Then, to top it all off, he switched the wiring around in all of the lights in the living room, so now I have to try out each one of about ten switches just to flick on the right light. All of these tasks were performed with greatest attention being paid to the stringent health and safety regulations in operation in this country. And if you believe that then you truly have just come up the Nile in a banana boat. I witnessed him standing on a 3000 Shilling wooden stool, on top of a flimsy wicker table tinkering with the bare wires and fusing any gaps together with a paperclip whilst I half-watched an episode of House on my DVD because of course, he didn’t deem it necessary to turn off the mains.
Anyway, progress is being made. I have a new oven, or should I say furnace , that I would imagine powerful enough to melt lead. It incarcerated my ginger biscuits in just 7 minutes flat. I need a little more practise with that I think. The leak has stopped and I can now shower in hot running water. I still haven’t got a key for the back door but I have got curtains and my sofa has been restored with a snazzy new covering. Did I mention that I returned home from work one day to find that they had taken my sofa and not bothered to tell me about it? This week I finally had time to put my pictures up and I have grand plans to make my spare room into a relaxing reading room rather than a dumping ground for cardboard boxes. Watch this space for updates!

Why I won't be going digital yet

No-one could accuse me of being a gadget-girl. My ‘classic’ i-pod is a bit of a brick compared to newer models and it’s a near miracle that my laptop works considering the amount of cereal lodged between the keys. Until recently, when I was forced to upgrade my phone as I left it behind in Uganda, my low-tech mobile phone was the source of much amusement and derision from friends. While my mates tapped away on Blackberries and popped cyber bubble-wrap on I-phones I insisted that my phone with a built in torch was THE phone to have in Uganda. Sadly, it was nigh on impossible to actually hear people talking on the phone and I probably doubled my air-time costs by having to ask people to repeat themselves, but you can’t have everything in life!
Of late, I have noticed that more and more people are buying these fancy I-readers or Kindles. I’m not convinced. One of my favourite haunts in Kampala is the book exchange (honestly, dear reader, although I know that a few of you would rather suspect my favourite place to be a licensed premises – perhaps it should be amended to favourite daytime haunt). There’s never a shortage of titles to choose from and I like the fact that the selection is quite random. All too often in the UK we are faced with shelves of the top bestsellers and the latest critically acclaimed prize winning novels that we buy books without a thought. In fact you don’t even need to go in a bookshop to witness this, if you take a trip on the tube you are bound to spot several commuters all with their heads buried in copies of exactly the same book.
Gadget lovers tell me that they love that they can carry around hundreds of books for the size of one. I don’t feel I have such a need – I’m not an Oxford professor of literature and I am unlikely to have enough spare time on any given day to read more than one book. They also argue that you will never be stuck for a book. Well call me cynical, but I have travelled a fair amount across South America and Africa and generally find that it is much easier to track down a book exchange than a decent wi-fi connection. Apparently you can download the latest magazines, but isn’t the sheer pleasure of a magazine in the flicking through the glossy pages and cooing over the unattainably expensive items with a friend? I have a terrible habit of accidentally leaving books on trains and plane so if I had a Kindle I’d be bankrupt by now. I like to read a book whilst floating on a lilo in the pool without fear of damaging such a precious and expensive item. I love pass my favourite books on to a friend or to nosy through their shelves. I’m not a technophobe, but until anyone offers me a convincing argument I will continue to read my books in book form!

Inner Poise, Zen and you gotta be kidding - I can't do that!

If we have such a thing as muscle memory, then I think I must be suffering from muscle amnesia. Last night marked my return to yoga after a gap of several months. At the start of the class, our lovely serene teacher encouraged us to empty our minds and focus on the present moment. It's easier said than done though. My mind was instantly filled with the following thoughts:
1) What shall I have for tea? Tuna pasta?
2) Whatever did happen to that important teacher booklet that has gone AWOL? Who was the last person to use it?
3) How is it possible to balance 90% of your body weight on your elbows?
4) Would it be easier if I was like the skinny size 8 girl next to me?
5)Shall I go for a bike ride or a swim tomorrow?
6) When will I have time to get my oven installed?
7) I like the top the girl is wearing in front of me
8) Oh I can't have tuna pasta - I don't have any sweetcorn in

So not really the profound, earth shattering realisations that are supposed to come to light after meditation and self-reflection. More like a constant barrage of nonsense.
I have to accept that it will take some time to get back to the point I was at a few months back. All the same, it can seem pretty tough when the person infront is demonstrating a perfect 'Table Top' whilst I am wobbling and toppling over just trying to stand on one leg! Inspite of all this, I am determined to keep going. More than anything, I love the language of the yoga. It is enticing to be told that humans are the rainbow between heaven and earth and to touch our hands to our heart space. Our teacher is an inspiration and has the ability to fill us with confidence and a warm feeling inside. She doesn't care whether I can contort my legs into the perfect postures. Instead, she sees our progress and understands that we are all built differently and some are more flexible and supple than others. What could be better, on a Wednesday evening, than to spend an uninterrupted hour, dedicated to yourself, aided by a comforting neck massage?
I endeavour to brave the bumpy roads and make the epic journey across town at least once a week.
Namaste!

The Tower

'The Tower' is perhaps the revered and sought after staff accommodation. Battles have been fought over securing in a spot in this Kampala des-res. My new flat is on the third floor and boasts great views of ... well Kampala really! It's a lively place, with regular braiis (barbeques) courtesy of our South African friends and of course the odd party here and there. In the week, though, it's fairly peaceful and I have a huge space all to myself. I'm enjoying my quiet times there, but also love the fact that I can drop into a neighbour's house for a cup of tea still in my slippers. Right now, there seems to be a little competition over who has the cutest puppy!
The odd drama has also unfolded within the compound walls. I'm hoping for an altogether more tranquil experience. I wonder what the year has install?

Fetch the dunce cap!

It's a long time since I have put pen to paper and I think I may be suffering from that 'Summer holiday fall back' syndrome. For those of you who are not teachers, I am talking about the way that kids drop back a bit over the summer holiday, forgetting how to pick up a pencil or how to use a protractor.
For five and a half blissful weeks, all I have had to think about is whether I'm getting tan lines on a beach. The biggest stress in my life was deciding whether I should spend my money on a new camera or a laptop. Major decisions consisted of which pudding I should have off a menu or whether I should have a glass of wine or a beer.
Then, with little warning, we are catapulted back into our working lives. We always give the kids a few days to get used to the routines and to tune their brains in again, while we are expected to go from naught to sixty in less than a nanosecond. Moving classrooms, backing walls, planning, collecting resources and a neverending 'To do' list. On top of that, I have just moved house, have boxes everywhere and still haven't found my hairdryer ... normal service will be resumed soon.