My day’s agenda: to get totally lost and find my way back home. I drive the car up and down hills just trying to familiarize myself with the city. Roads that twist and turn do not have signage. Most do not even have names. I do come across a church and attend a service. I find the Italian bakery and its gelato selection. I take a wrong turn and end up in the marketing throngs. I ensure that doors are locked and windows closed. A policeman directs me to pull ahead. I inch forward timidly. A taxi sitting just right of me slides backwards while I am moving. Scrape. I dare not get out, fearing my safety. People outside take a glance at the damage and do not seem fazed. I reach home and check passenger side of the car--big scratch, no dent. This car just joined the 99% of Cameroonian vehicles with visible damage.
Lovely afternoon with Vinh, Lan, and Kordula. May, our instructor, is in Vancouver. Eliane is on her way to Shanghai for her next placement. Vinh does a great job teaching. My feet are finally going where they need to go...sometimes. The coordination may come yet. I grudgingly end the pleasant visit to head for my next outing.
The husband of an outgoing ICRC delegate is playing a gig at Awale. My first foray into the Yaoundé restaurant scene. We, all the expats at IFRC, meet up with those in the ICRC. A nice break--no shop talk tonight. I eat couscous--not the heavy Cameroonian version but rather the fluffy Morrocan style.
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