Time for a break

It happened yesterday.  I was at the boutique down the street from our house, buying a few last minute things for dinner.  The owner was adding up my purchases on her calculator, I was seconds from being on my way, and her cell phone rang.  A cousin from Guinea.  I was waved over to the steps to sit and wait for her to finish her call, and I almost cried in frustration.  That's how you know as an expat that it is time for vacation.  When the parts of culture you actually appreciate most days, like the appreciation for the moment, can drive you close to tears, and when the mildly annoying can push you right over the edge.  The traffic jams where everyone gets out of their car to discuss whose fault it is instead of just moving out of the way.  The paint falling off the ceiling because, like every other house in this city, the roof wasn't sealed right.  The dairy and vegetable delivery that shows up a day and a half late, and the delivery driver yells at YOU for not being home waiting.  The "express line" at the grocery store that is never enforced, until one day, you are so fed up, you ask for the manager and he explains that the sign just came free with the register, so he hung it up.  When, despite the insane humidity and the fact that rainy season officially started a month ago, it just wont start raining.  I need a break.

Luckily for me (and sorry for my friends who have to suffer through the rest of hot season), it is time for our annual vacation!  And that means it is time to pack.  Sigh.  Balancing what I will need with saving room for what I want to bring back...and, the added expat variable, what I may need should there be an evacuation while we are gone and I can't access anything for who knows how long.  Birth certificates?  Translations and apostilles?  Hard drives? The blanket I am making Bean for Christmas?  And what if I don't get to go shopping here again?  Do I have enough baskets?  Wax print?  I can never have enough baskets or wax print.  Gah, I should have bought more last week!  And what about those cute shoes that don't quite fit Sprout yet.  Think he will grow into and out of them while we are gone?

Clothes. U.S. summer and German fall.  Flip flops and boots, shorts and jeans.  How much wax am I really going to wear in the U.S. and Europe?  Is this too much?  Not enough?  Mother/daughter matching wax?  No, that is definitely too much.  But what if we don't wear it at the same time?  Better bring it.  I need all new shirts.  These are so worn out.  I'm not bringing any of them.  Well, I guess I better bring one to wear to the mall in case someone pukes on me on the plane.

What we don't bring, toys.  On vacation we are trading piles of construction rubble lining the sand streets and dodging honking taxis the second we step out our front door for neighborhood playgrounds we can walk to from each grandparent's house, orchards where Bean and Sprout run with the other village kids, stealing apples and pears, and family walks on paved, safe, tree lined paths.  If it is anything like the previous trips, they won't touch a toy for weeks (this parent's dream come true), so they each get a makeup bag to fill with their favorite treasures to bring.  Chances are they will forget about them the second we step off the plane.

What we do bring, milk.  Ten kilos of powdered milk spread through all our suitcases.  Because my kids spit out the fresh stuff in disgust.

Friend goodbyes.  Do you need me to bring you any cream of tartar?  A can of green chilies?  I'll see you in a couple of weeks!  Unless, ya know, we get evacuated because the ebola outbreak spreads.  If so, I'll meet you in Berlin or Istanbul.  Maybe Tennessee?

Two kids?  Check.  An entire purse dedicated to various passports, divers licenses and resident IDs?  Check.  The rest doesn't really matter.  Despite years of experience in attempting to pack light and still bring everything necessary, there is definitely something I forgot. But, it doesn't matter, because we are going to the land of Target, where I can replace almost anything.  The land of public libraries with story time, traffic lights, and a culture that waits their turn in line.  And what I also know from experience is that after all the fun at amusement parks, picnics in lush green grass, time spent with family and friends we miss terribly the rest of the year, ten weeks from now (inschalla), when we land back in West Africa, we will take our first deep breath of exhaust and burning trash, and it will feel nice to be "home".