Lazy Days

It has been about two weeks since I finished with school. I have been involved in a smattering of end of the year things, meetings and practicing for a spelling bee two of my students are doing this weekend, but overall I have been mastering the art of vacationing.

In the States I was infamous for my inability to truly relax and vacation. I would take vacations only to try and plan every moment and or sneak in work at the same time. For my mom’s 50th birthday we all went to the beach for a weak. It was during the third day I finally checked email for work, which of course meant I put in an hour or so of work answering emails and writing up some things for people in the office. Last year during my best friends wedding we had a whole beach house for our bridal party and I managed to sneak in a lesson planning while driving to another part of the beach for the day. If I wasn’t working, I would planning what I wanted to do next or worrying about the hundreds of things I would have to do when I got finished with vacation, as if I actually were ever really on vacation.

Now, in Africa I feel I am learning the art of relaxing and of vacationing. Of course vacationing is used loosely here as living without air conditioning and other basic amenities might not be the normal persons idea of vacationing; in fact I dream of never taking a vacation again in which there are not lush giant white pillows and soft bedspreads so glorious one might think angels had made them. Yet relaxing is something that can be done because well really what else can you do without internet, television, a car, a million places and errands to run. Even if I have an errand, say buying phone credit, I can send one of the little kids in my concession to go do it for me.

I give myself, at the most one task a day to do, and normally if I don’t feel like doing it I don’t unless it is mandatory, say like tomorrows professors meeting. Otherwise I wake-up around 7 a.m. take a run down to the lake down the road, stop and talk to my Togolese friend and her son, who she wants me to take to the States with me. He is one year old. I come back shower, have breakfast waiting for me next door, or make some oatmeal myself. I have developed a fascination for taking the colored sprinkles used for decorating and putting them in the oatmeal turning it a red-ish pink. I might pick up a book to read. I have started tackling the Bible. Then I take a nap on a mat under a tree, or if it isn’t yet 11 a.m. in my house. Yesterday I poked around with Canterbury Tales, which by the way is far better and understandable than I remember it being in college. Admittedly though I feel like I skimmed it far more and college and I think that piece of literature fell into my hands during the period when I had mono and was half-asleep through most assignments.

Last week I started learning how to make Beninese food, which earned me great praise for simply stirring a giant wooden spoon. Go me! I also had a very close biological connection with a just killed chicken which I held while my sister cut it up for cooking; everything but the intestines. I can’t say I am as ashamed as I should be for picking up its head and making jokes with my sister about the chicken sleeping. For such a laborious day it is only natural that I go to bed around 9:30 or 10 p.m. I swear the more I do nothing the more tired I feel. Makes me wonder if we can ever really relax and vacation; I suppose all I can do is to keep trying.