Ways in which my apartment makes me feel like I'm abroad again:
1. The hot water is unreliable.
This is not exactly true for Botswana. I was pretty much guaranteed hot water for my morning bath every day; however, since only my feet could be submerged in the warmth of this bath, leaving the rest of my body to shiver in the chilly air of the African morning, I feel justified in including my baths in this category.
At my apartment, I have the luxury of feeling water cover my entire body during my showers, but there is still no guarantee that my bathing experience will be a warm one. The hot water has been a bit flaky, so my rushed showers in California probably provide just as much (or little) cleaning as my bucket baths in Botswana.
2. My commute to school involves an inordinate amount of dust in my face.In Botswana, as you'd expect from a country that is half desert, the land was incredibly dry and barren. Thus, on my trek to and from school every day, I had to hike through piles of dust and endured many gusts of wind that gave me a faceful of the stuff.
Here, the stretch of road leading from my complex to Claremont Blvd. is essentially a wasteland of quarrys and nothingness. In the dry heat of Southern California, this also means dust. To make matters work, numerous construction projects are underway on this empty expanse, causing the dirt to be disturbed and facilitating its journey into my face.
3. I cook things on a gas stove.
I know many houses in the U.S. have gas stoves, but having grown up on an electric stove, the smaller high to low temperature spectrum and constant fear of extinguishing the flame are (almost) new experiences for me. The only other real experience that I've had being in Africa. Granted, in Botswana, I had to turn the dial on the actual gasoline tank and then light the stove with a match by hand in order to get the burner going, but it was a gas stove nonetheless. Similarity.
4. I live behind a gate.I had a fence the yard of every home I lived in in Botswana, but when I lived with my third host family in Gaborone, the capital of Botswana, I had a legitimate gate that often required a key to get through. And on the occasions that it was unlocked, it took some serious pulling to secure an opening wide enough to squeeze through.
At my luxury apartment complex, we too have gates that require either a key to open or an oversized remote control. Though some would see this as an appreciated form of security, I see it only as a hassle - an extra obstacle in my journey to and from school.
5. I open cans with a knife.
That's right. Who would have thought I would come away from Africa not just with a new cultural understanding, but with practical how-to knowledge. It may not surprise you that I had no can openers in Botswana, so my opening tin cans with a knife would be a plausible, resourceful practice. However, you may feel differently upon learning that I use the same technique here in my luxury apartment. But what do you expect from a college kid in a new, unfurnished home?
So maybe I didn't really have to get all those shots and take long plane rides to experience a different way of living. Of course, I won't make that claim just yet...at least not until I have to dodge cows and donkeys on the road and my neighbors start speaking Setswana.
