Another quick running update

As I tweeted, I continue to surprise myself with my morning runs.  This time I got lost behind the national stadium.  To be fair, it was only my second time on these streets, but to be honest I had a 50,000-seat stadium as a marker, so I should have kept my bearings.

Once into the fray

Highlights: after dodging several scores, at Mile 6.5 I finally bumped into a pedestrian. How can people be so oblivious to everyone when traffic is so crazy?  They guy was shocked, then insulted, then amused.

I noticed the too-true slogan on the 50th anniversary signs plastered everywhere: Peace and Unity Today, Prosperity Tomorrow.

I left about 2 hours later this morning, and the recreation scene at the stadium (Mile 5) was winding down. Only a few stragglers were left finishing up their games, and the hordes of group exercises left only empty parking lots surround Ahidjo Stadium.

I just plain got lost at Mile 6. I overshot my quick right, and went back and forth on the main road until I saw the Barack Cafe. That had to be right, right? A zig and a few zags later I was back on my route.

Mile 8 tells me what happens if a tree falls in Yaounde: power goes out, roads are blocked and people nearly get crushed. You can make out a tree near the end of my run, but on the next update it'll be gone: someone has cleared the lot to build. The tree had a broad green bough about 40 feet off the ground, stubbornly clinging to the rich red clay beneath it. Until Mr. Caterpillar came to town. The crew cut through the roots, but misaligned the fall. As the tree crashed earthward, it veers not toward the vacant lot, but instead at an apartment building. It fell short (lucky for the three spectators atop the building) but took out power lines along the street before crashing its ancient branches across the road to our house.  The lumber is cleared, and the power? Well, that's the other side of the street, so ...

Layovers in Our Travels

One of the unfortunate things about living off the regular airline grid is that to get anywhere we usually face long airport layovers.  Unfortunately, this gives us much more time than we need to get to know the airports en route.  Fortunately, more and more airports provide comfort services, including playrooms for wee travelers.  

BRU  

On our way to Yaounde, we routed through Brussels, and found a small, clean play area in an international terminal.  This was the Girls' first time in Europe, and they celebrated by doing what little girls do best:  playing.  

Girl 2

Girl 1

NBO

In January, on an interesting, if luggage-challenged trip, to Kigali, Rwanda, we were lucky enough to schedule an 8-hour layover in Nairobi's Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. (Where is my left-leaning font when I need it?) Kenya's trying - there is a great coffee and beer pub in the far end of the airport, and you can easily while away a few hours there talking trash about cricket and CNN's Zain Verjee. 

NBO has a children's changing area which, inexplicably, is up a flight of stairs, rendering it useless to anyone who's traveling with wheels.  They also have a brightly lit playroom, with well-loved (read battered) toys and an instructive view of the tarmac.  

The decorators' idea was to use familiar cartoon figures, but draw them so badly that no one could seriously claim copyright infringement.  I think they pulled it off.  

ZRH

The Girls hit paydirt on our summer trip back from to America, transiting this time through Zurich.  Wouldn't you know it:  the Swiss had a playroom that made the six-hour wait seem like only four.  The Girls had fun - remember, this is midway through a 22-hour one-way trip, and they're still going strong. 

Bonus: Meeting cute EuroKids

Sunday Run

Today I met the Melissa, Satan's Intern, and ran a new route.  Mel is very nice, and a talented worker, but she's evil -- in the best of all possible ways -- because she tries to run me into the ground whenever we hit the road.  I could claim a variety of excuses:  she ran for a Division I school for a couple of years; she's half my age; I'm out of shape.  But, instead, even as I curse her while trying to keep pace without exploding my internal organs, I admit that I'm inspired by running with someone I just can't keep up with.

Yet.  Of course, as on today's run, if she's run 10 miles the day before, and stayed up all night partying, I have an outside shot.  Here's today's run (You can follow along here; I'm still trying to copy these Google Map images to the page, without success. Hints welcome.) :

KM 1 - After meeting Melissa, we coast downhill past several supermarket, and find Yaounde surprisingly bustle-y for 7 on Sunday morning.
KM 2 - We pass one of the major traffic rond points, Nlongkak, and run through a cloverleaf that includes the only automotive underpass for miles around.
KM 3 - Ste. Anastasie park on the right; Old Mahima, our main supermarket, on the left.  We are early enough that the people who sell fake license plates aren't out yet.
KM 4 - The Lake.  It's an unnatural green, tinted by the runoff from the hills around it.  The Prime Minister's residence is somewhere on the other side.
KM 5 - Huffing and puffing up a long, twisty hill for the last kilometer, we're at the top, where the American School of Yaounde sits empty for another month.
KM 6 - What goes up ... a winding slope around the lake, past one of the Defense Ministry headquarters.
KM 7 - Boulevard of the 20th of May, the official promenade for big events.  The Hilton, the nicest hotel in town, is on this stretch.  We run by empty bleachers, and the screens where tonight fans will watch World Cup final.
KM 8 - There are a lot of supermarkets in this city, and that sharp curve was around Casino, the priciest - and nicest.  We pass a cathedral, before we hit a commercial zone (and an unpleasant uphill). I am running, mon ami. Why would I buy a soccer ball right now?
KM 9 - I'm winging it now, but it comes together.  We pass the park yet again, then run by China's gift to Cameroonian sports, the Palais du Sport. It looks like a mini Bird's Next from the Beijing Olympics.
KM 10 - It's all uphill from here on out.  I warn that there's a rise for a third of a mile, but I'm optimistic.  We have to dodge people at an impromptu taxi stand at the Total gas station here.
KM 11 - We stop at Tsinga plaza, where an exercise school of about 40 people is gathering for calisthenics on a hard, brick courtyard.  Melissa and I are going in different directions, so this ends the official part of our run.

It's a good way to start the day, and I was very happy to be back home by 9, in time to shower and take a nap before the rest of the world was fully awake.  I like making up new routes, and will have to do that again.  I'll also have to be sure Satan's finest is good and tired before we head out.

More Than a Mommy

It's Mother's Day, and our girls joined in a musical celebration of their mom's ... maternity.  

Here are the girls after they joined Dad in a tribute to Mom, to the tune of Tavares's disco smash, "More Than a Woman."

Mom I’ve known you very well

You see me growing every day

I never cleaned my room before

But now I put my toys away

You’ve always been here in my life

Telling me what to do

You’re always working day and night

You show me what I need to do. 

Here in my room I found my paradise

I get to laugh and play with you

And if I don’t listen, I get a time out

I’ll stop acting like a baby

I will act all right 

I’ll grow up to be like you and I’ll be just fine

You are more than a mommy

More than a mommy to me

More than a mommy

More than a mommy to me 

You read me stories yes you do

Of moons and dinosaurs 

You do so many things you like

You even like to mountain bike

You cook, you shop, you play your games

You teach me how to paint and write

I know when I do something wrong

You’d teach me how to do it right

You are the best Mom I could ever have

You’re the only Mom I’ll ever know

And if I stub my toe, I know your kiss will heal

Say I’ll always be your baby

Say that you’ll be my mine

We will be together every minute of the time

You are more than a mommy

More than a mommy to me

More than a mommy

More than a mommy to me 

Fallen

It’s so bad that at this point I can’t even apologize for having fallen off the blog wagon. It’s May in Cameroon, and we’re already contemplating a triumphant return home for a few weeks, even as we plot out more sight and smells to see and ... well, smell.  

Watch this space, as I’ll be back-blogging for a bit to share the past few months, before taking off without signaling into the rond point of the future.