At the risk of sounding dramatic I’ll admit time has lost all meaning in my life. It all started when I left Oregon in early August and then spent the next four months on the equator getting sunburned in what should have been fall. They call it “rainy season” here but even at its height any Oregonian would describe Uganda’s rainy season as a highly enthusiastic drizzle. I laid by a pool on Halloween. It was very disorienting. I actually only realized it was November because I accidentally glanced at a calendar which didn’t even belong to me. OK fine it was less of a glance than me knocking it off the table. I’m clumsy like that.
The problem is that there are none of the usual fall time markers here. No changing leaves, no pumpkin spice lattes, no new season of 30Rock or any TV show for that matter… but also no bullshit nursing school essay due Friday at midnight and no clocking-in or clocking-out. Instead my days are measured in sunshine and cows and children and coffee spoons.
When I finally realized it was November I planned a Thanksgiving get-together in a pathetic attempt to make me actually believe it was fall. I guess it was also a nostalgic attempt to remind me of home. It didn’t work. I mean I was sitting there eating Chinese food in Uganda with 7 Irish people. I don’t know about you but that’s not exactly reminiscent of a typical Thanksgiving where I come from. What makes it even better is I had the date wrong; I thought Thanksgiving fell on the third Thursday of November but it turns out it’s the forth Thursday of November. Just pick a day Thanksgiving. No need to confuse us all. Or at least no need to confuse me. So to sum things up I ate Chinese food with Irish people on some random Thursday in November in an effort to remind me of home. At least the kung pao chicken was amazing.
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