Home Leave Catch-Up: The Still Phenomenal Lyle Lovett

I realized I am many months (years?) behind on blog posts about trips.  So here's one from home leave 2012...

So now to talk about my absolute favoritest musician ever, Lyle Lovett.  Some of you may remember this post from three years ago, when I flew Mom to Texas for two back to back concerts.

I hadn't seen him since then, his touring schedule not jelling with my U.S. visit schedule.  Sad panda.  Luckily, though his summer tour had several convenient overlaps this year!  In April my mother asked me if I wanted tickets to see him in Shelburne, VT for my birthday.  Umm, yes.  Definitely.  I hadn't even seen that date released yet!  I took a look at the tour calendar and canvassed other available dates.  Given the hectic schedule that was going to be home leave, I hesitated to book any travel-required trips.  But, Lyle happened to be playing at one of my parents' favorite venues in MA, so I bought us another round of tickets.  Who cared if the two concerts were only three days apart!?

The date for the first concert arrived quickly - my first Tuesday back in the States.  It was an absolutely perfect, gorgeous summer day.  About 75 degrees, sunny, no storm clouds in sight.  We arrived at the Shelburne, VT venue about 20 minutes before the gate opened, got a decent parking place in the field, and grabbed our chairs.  The outdoor venue, in a huge field on a hill, was beautiful.  We had taller camp chairs, so we were obliged to sit a bit farther up the hill, the lower part reserved for those with low beach chairs and blankets.  It was busy without being crowded and a gorgeous setting.  We scoped out the vendors - co-sponsor Ben & Jerry's was giving away free samples!! - and I bought a canvas tote with a scene from "If I Had a Boat".  After a nutritious hey-I'm-just-back-in-America-from-serving-my-country-overseas dinner of nachos, frozen yogurt, and a coke, the sun set beyond Lake Champlain, and it was time for the concert!

Lyle was playing with his smaller Acoustic Group, all of whom are wonderful musicians in their own right and all of whom I enjoy seeing (almost) as much as Lyle himself.  The setting for the concert was amazing, and Lyle et al did a great job, but I think the acoustics were a bit subpar.  We didn't realize it completely at the time, but I was not as blown away by this concert as I usually am.

Three days later we drove down to Lowell, MA for concert number two.  I spent a lot of time in Lowell as a child and young adult, on field trips to the Boott Cotton Mills.  My parents go back every summer for Lowell's International Folk Festival, though I've never managed to be in the United States at the same time.  Anyway, we know Lowell pretty well.  On the drive down, it started raining.  Like blinding, pouring, can't see anything but the yellow line on the road kind of rain.  I was driving and slowed way down, and the next hour was a super-stressful stretch of road as we navigated southern NH and crossed into MA.  We arrived several hours early - as planned - and parked in the nearby garage.  We took our lawn chairs and headed to the venue to claim our spots.  Hundreds of others had had the same idea, but we still got a nice spot.  It was still drizzling and very gray, and we used garbage bags to cover our chairs in an effort to stop some of the downpour.

We walked to my parents' favorite BBQ restaurant and had a hearty dinner, capped off with a delicious slice of pecan pie.  Thus sated, we walked back to the venue.  We had another 90 minutes or so before show time, but there wasn't anywhere else to go since all the shops were closed (it must have been a Sunday afternoon; I honestly can't remember now), so we dumped the gallons of water from our now soggy chairs and settled in.  We had come prepared in good rain gear, but that didn't really help since we were already wet and sitting in wet chairs.  The rain finally tapered off, and the concert started only a little bit late.  Lyle seemed genuinely touched that so many people were willing to sit in the rain for the concert - the venue was packed! - and he was in fine form.  We were much closer to the stage than the previous night, and the acoustics must have been better, because this was truly a concert that blew me away.  Arnold McCuller joined for a few songs, but the set was otherwise almost the same.  It was just so much more powerful.

I would highly recommend checking out Arnold McCuller's, Luke Bulla's, and Keith Sewell's solo work, especially Keith's song Let Me Fall.  They each did a song of their own at the concert, and all were great.  The rain held off the for the rest of the evening, so we just had to contend with the existing dampness.  But it was worth it!

We changed into dry clothes and headed home, thus energized.  Another year, another two great concerts by Lyle.  The photos below were all taken at the Shelburne concert, since it was too wet to get out my camera in Lowell.

Lyle with Keith Sewell and Luka Bulla, my favorite small-group arrangement.

Such a perfect setting!

No Regrets

There's a lively debate going on on an FS social media group I belong to about the merits of owning pets in the Foreign Service.  Some people think it's not worth the hassle, some think it's great if it's easy, and some wouldn't dream of moving without their furry companions.  I fall into the latter category, which should come as no surprise to any of my readers.

Yes, I complain about the difficulty of moving pets from place to place, the paperwork hassles, the expense, the extra stress, and, of course, the moment it all went horribly wrong.  But I wouldn't have it any other way.  It's all worth it the moment you let the pets out at the final destination and breathe a sigh of relief as you realize you're actually home.  Welcome kits may be inadequate, empty white walls may be sterile, but having pets in the house makes it a home. 

I must have internalized this debate more than I realized, because I had a dream last night that, while traveling to see friends, I adopted an orange cat and two ferrets with coats like cheetahs.  And since I am not a huge fan of ferrets, it's even more odd.  The furry cheetah coats were pretty cute though.  Anyway.  I woke up this morning with a slight panic at the thought of moving around five pets instead of two and only calmed down when I realized it was a dream.  It got me thinking, though, do I have any regrets about bringing pets overseas?

And you know?  I don't think I do.  I have guilt - guilt every time I put the cats on a plane, immense guilt over Hattie's death, guilt about leaving the cats when I go on vacation - but they're not regrets.  I don't regret bringing Hattie with me; I do regret that I wasn't more aggressive in getting her out of customs, but that was due to lack of experience and local knowledge.  She wouldn't have wanted to stay in NH without me.  My cats may not like flying, but neither do I.  And it is a small price to pay for several years of staying put and being  happy together. 

There's probably more poignant things I could say, but I would encourage any FS community member (or, really, any expat) to figure out how important pets are to you and proceed accordingly.  There's no right answer, and it could always go horribly wrong, but most of the time it goes wonderfully right.  And that makes it worth it to me.

The Equator!

I was, sadly, sick on my birthday and had to cancel a weekend getaway to Jinja.  (All of the other planned travelers were also sick or just recovering, so it worked out.)  After a restful Friday afternoon, I felt well enough to go for what I thought would be a half-day trip.  My friend and I borrowed another friend's driver and took off in search of the equator! 

The closest equator crossing in Uganda is about 75 km southwest of Kampala.  I figured this would be about an hour and a half or maybe a two hour drive.  We pulled in more than three hours after setting off.  (The drive back took only two and a half hours.)

The equator crossing consists of two circle-like structures on either side of the road with a line connecting them, two small cafes, and several touristy craft shops.  We browsed the shops, decided everything was over-priced and available elsewhere, had a quick lunch (filling though unremarkable), and then headed back.

The Baganda royal drum-makers have their workshops on the same road, but there was construction on the entire stretch and nowhere safe to pull off and take a look.  It won't be my last chance - this is the road to many of the country's attractions!

My parents pointed out that there was some cosmic balance to celebrating my birthday by straddling the northern and southern hemispheres since I was born on the night of the 20th century's largest lunar eclipse.  Kind of a neat way to think about it!

Here are the only two photos I took that day - kind of anticlimactic, I know.

The Caper of the Pink Sapphires

Hattie holds a revered place on this blog, and most of my stories about her are happy tributes.  But she had her unpleasant quirks, like any sentient being, and this story is about one of them.

We were Hattie's third owners, the second being short-lived when Hattie and a resident cat did not get along.  Her first owner worked in an office, and that's where Hattie grew up, spending most days at work.  She apparently spent her days sniffing out and sampling office supplies, because by the time she arrived in our lives at the age of three she had a very refined palate.  If, by refined, you mean sharp metal things.

Paper clips, staples. thumbtacks, pins, needles, nails, and push pins were Hattie's particular favorites, but she wouldn't turn up her nose at a few morsels of broken glass or an errant BB pellet.  She had an uncanny ability to enter a new place and immediately find (and feast upon) the last remnant of a glass broken months if not years before.

It was almost as if she had a canine version of pica.  For all of these assaults to her digestive system, though, she was remarkably healthy.  Still, I spent much of the seven years she was in my life scouring the ground for possible hazards. 

This quirk was merely that, until it wasn't.  Until the day my beloved pink sapphire earrings went missing.  The ones I'd bought on vacation in Jamaica the year before.  The ones that perfectly matched the ring I'd bought with them.  I walked into my room to find the box open, on the floor, apparently knocked off of my dresser.  I assume the fall was accidental, but the jewelry box tissue wet with slobber was a clear giveaway. 

After a few tears and choice words, I resigned myself to sorting through excrement for the next several days.  That was a truly horrible week, for more reasons than one.  I did find one earring but not the other.  But what was even more telling was what else I found.  Have you ever seen a pushpin after it has gone through a small dog's intestinal tract?  Sadly, I have.  More than once.  Paper clips, intact.  A couple of small carpet tacks.  And who knows what else I've repressed.

I put the found earring in a glass of soapy water on the counter while I pondered what to do next.  Then, that night, it was gone.  My mother had not seen the contents of the glass and put it through the dishwasher.  After an hour digging through the intestinal tract of the dishwasher, I had an insanely clean pink sapphire earring.  It remains, to this day, a solitary one.

The sapphire earrings were not the only victim of Hattie's odd appetite.  To this day I am unable to find a black pearl pendant I had made in Tahiti.  I keep holding out hope I'll open a long-forgotten box, and there it'll be, but I think I know what really happened. 

I've gotten a few other pairs of pink sapphire earrings over the years, none of which are quite like the one I lost. 

So imagine my delight when, tonight, I opened a birthday present from my parents and found the most gorgeous pair of pink sapphire earrings.  They're not quite the same, but they may even be better.  Instead of a light pink, they're a dark, rosy, warm color with lovely sparkle.  I love them.  My parents, watching my reaction on Skype, said they've been looking for years for a replacement for Hattie's indiscretion.

I love that we can now laugh over Hattie's peculiar predilection.  I'm still a little angry - especially about the pearl - but all I can do is look forward.  And Hattie would not be Hattie without her obsession with small, sharp, metal things. 

But I can tell you one thing.  I'm hiding these from the cats.  While they've never shown any fondness for metal supplements to their diet (plastic bags unfortunately being Griffin's favorite snack), once burned, twice shy, as the adage goes. 

Almost Complaining

My friend J (http://365baddays.blogspot.com/) occasionally complains that I don't post negative things on my blog (or at least not negative enough to make her not want to bid here), and it's true that for the most part I try to stay upbeat.  And since most of the worst potholes on my major routes have been fixed this week, I don't have a lot to complain about today.

Except that I'm sick.  Not sick enough to be sleeping on the bathroom floor or wishing I was unconscious, but sick enough to feel icky and complain a lot.  Two concurrent bacterial infections and a persistent sore throat plus headaches and GI distress adds up to just enough to keep me down.  I crawled my way through the week only missing a half day (to be fair, things got worse over the course of the week, so I was only mildly uncomfortable until the last couple days) and looked forward to 2.5 straight days of doing nothing. 

And the first 24 hours were wonderful and much needed.  But now I'm a little bored.  And trying to talk myself out of going down to the gym and walking on the treadmill for a while.  Just walking.  But I think even that would be too much.  But it does mean most of the week will be a wash in my 10,000 daily steps attempt.

I cooked this morning, thought about baking (even had a friend pick up butter for me!), but now I'm not hungry after a big brunch of pancakes.  I even made tea.  Those of you who know me well know how unusual that is.  It's the first time I've ever used my teapot to boil water for that purpose (and I've owned said teapot for three years).  I've watched almost an entire season of Gilmore Girls.  I've read a book.  I even read a couple of magazines.  I took two naps.  I'm not complaining - I am actually loving having an enforced weekend of rest.  I'm just amazed how quickly I got bored.

Anyway, this is not really a negative post, and I'm not convinced I wouldn't have gotten sick in another post, but it's what's going on.  Hopefully I'll get motivated enough to post a few other things tomorrow :-).

Home vs Homesick

It's a wonderfully lazy Saturday here in Kampala.  I've been mildly ill since getting back from London (a fun combination of weekly migraines and daily headaches, intestinal distress, and cold symptoms off and on), so I'm purposely trying to take it easy.  That's been hard to do while seconded to a different section this month, but I'm trying.

This morning I went to the farmers' market, which is about all the energy I could bear to expend.  I bought a market basket full of gorgeous broccoli and cauliflower (the dry season has produced some absolutely phenomenal heads of both!), stocked up on veggies for a taco salad later this week, and had a lovely brunch with a friend.  I made the egg/pesto/bread/cheese vendor laugh when I took mock offense at his suggestion of substituting feta for ricotta in a recipe (since they had sold out of the former), the pasta vendor noticed I hadn't been there in a few weeks, and I ran into plenty of people I know, if even only by sight.  Kampala is home, for now, and I am enjoying the comfortable familiarity that comes with settling in.

I came home and made a hearty broccoli cheddar soup, using the local broccoli and some sharp English cheddar I brought back from London.  It's simmering on the stove now.  The cats are cuddled up together on the couch, blissfully happy to have me in the house. 

It wasn't until I spoke to my mother that I got an unexpected pang of homesickness.  My hometown is celebrating its 250th anniversary, and my mom and nephew were heading down the hill for a narrated carriage ride through town visiting some of its historic sites.  The weekend also includes community meals, a concert, and a town photo with everyone who shows up.  I love that kind of thing and am sad to miss out on the fun. 

Feeling both at home and distinctly homesick is a strange phenomenon, but one that is instantly familiar to anyone in the FS, or even expat, community.  I guess anyone who has moved away from their hometown experiences this, really. 

So now I am going to enjoy a steaming bowl of broccoli cheddar goodness and watch a beautiful Kampala sunset over Lake Victoria.  Not a bad place to be, really.

London Day 5

Tuesday morning I woke up to a slightly gray day, but it wasn't raining too much yet.  I made my way to Piccadilly Circus and had brunch at a cafe - a lovely mid-week indulgence.  I then headed to one of my favorite places to spend a few hours - Fortnum and Mason.  I adore browsing its many floors and luxuries and pretending for a few minutes that I am the type of person who could afford (and would use) a fine china tea set.  I guess I could probably afford and use it, but you know what I mean.  Actually, I do have a beautiful fine china tea set from my grandmother, now that I think about it.  Anyway.  I managed not to buy the $30 60th anniversary coronation decorative plate, but I did indulge in some jams, honeys, and scrumptious extravagances.  After a quick stop at Pret A Manger for a sandwich and Boots for some shampoo, I was back at the flat and resting in preparation for the evening's big outing.

I met L at Victoria station, and we boarded a big coach bus for the long (because it was rush hour) ride out past Watford Junction to Leavesden.  I had spent the previous two weeks preparing for this, watching 20 hours of movies to refresh my memories in preparation for our visit to the Harry Potter Studio Tour!

I am not going to divulge too many details because I think that takes away from the magic (pun intended) of the experience for the many of my friends/readers who will visit this at some point.  The timed entry helps keep the crowds slightly managed (and we were there at 6pm on a Tuesday!), and, because it's England, the many queues are well-organized and have entertaining distractions. 

The special part about visiting on the week we did was that the animal actors from the films were on hand to meet their fans.  (I don't think any of the animals we met were ACTUALLY in the films, but the animal trainers from the films were on hand with new generations of actors who will go on to other films.)  We met representations of Scabbers, Trevor, Hedwig, Crookshanks, Mrs. Filch, Fang, and oh so many more.  We got to watch kittens train to marks, as seen in Dolores Umbridge's office plates.  The owls were everywhere - all colors, sizes, and shapes.  My favorite, though, was the beautiful Hedwig lookalike who posed on the Privet Drive sign for photos with adoring fans.  And yes, we did get to meet Buckbeak, but he's there all the time, so you will too!

Butterbeer is cloyingly sweet, the attention to detail on EVERYTHING is truly amazing, and the entire cast and crew of these eight amazing films were phenomenally dedicated to bringing JK Rowling's vision to life.

Here are my tips for the visit: go during the day.  We had the last tour of the day, and we felt a little pressured to go through it more quickly than we might have, had we not known it was closing soon.  Your ticket is good for a timed entry, but once inside you can spend as long as you like.  It's not easy to get to by public transport, but it's not impossible.  This is another plus for going during the day.  We did a coach package with round-trip transport, which limited our time slightly and was much more expensive.  It was the easiest and quickest way to get there and back, but I might do it differently next time.  Buy the audio guide - there are plenty of interactive features, but you learn that much more about everything there from the audio.  There's A LOT of material included on this - it can be overwhelming.  There's a cafeteria on site, but by the time we finished the tour, there were only cold things left.  Not sure how their hot food measures up.

The bus ride back was much quicker thanks to little traffic, and they let us off at Baker Street (an option only made known to us AFTER we trekked to Victoria, which was out of the way), and it was a quick tube trip home.  Well worth a visit!

Photos contain no spoilers - enjoy!

Owl - so tiny!

Trevor!

Scabbers!

Many different animals portrayed each role.

The four Hedwigs

The Crookshanks crew

I love this owl!

Is there anything cuter than a habitat full of 6 kittens playing?

Spooky eyes!

Kitten!

Fang lookalike. Female, clearly.

Oh how I love this :-).

The real Buckbeak! Oh, wait...

Owls in the alley

London/Plymouth Days 1-4

London.  Lovely, wonderful, efficient, clean, and organized London.  How I love thee.

This is a post about my first few days in London.  I'll try to follow it on quickly with additional posts.

My flight was pretty good - not too full and not too long.  My favorite part was the cream tea and chicken mayo sandwich we were served prior to landing - two of my favorite UK indulgences.  We landed a bit early but sat on the tarmac for quite a while.  At first we were told it was because there were no parking places because we landed early.  Then the pilot came back on and said that an earlier incident at Heathrow had closed a runway and caused quite a ruckus.  I found out later this incident was a crash landing that disrupted flight operations in and out of the airport all day.  Combined with a near-hijacking on a flight that diverted to Stansted, not a great day to fly in London.

We finally were given a parking spot an hour+ later and were bused to the immigration area, where I thankfully sailed through the line.  Baggage claim took a bit longer, and I anxiously counted the minutes, knowing my car service was tacking on an extra 4GPB for every 15 minutes I was 'late' (40 minutes past scheduled landing).  I am not a fan of this policy.  Finally I was through customs, found the driver, got money, and was on my way. 

I arrived an hour or so later at my dear friends' L&S's house in lovely Swiss Cottage.  Their flat is perfectly located - I love this neighborhood.  We had a wonderful home-cooked Indian dinner, and L and I stayed up late catching up.  I looked at my watch and was shocked to find it was 10pm, since the sun had just set.  Welcome to UK in summer!

I slept wonderfully, though woke up earlier than anticipated because the sun also rises early in the summer. 

We packed and headed to Paddington to catch our train to Plymouth.  I wandered, open-mouthed, through the aisles of M&S Simply Food, spoiled for choice.  I bought a chicken mayo sandwich and lots of raspberries.  Heaven.

The 3 hour train journey passed fairly quickly, with lovely field/livestock scenery giving way to gorgeous coastal views as we neared Plymouth.  We disembarked and walked into town.  We first passed the high street area, a mostly pedestrian park-like area, gently sloping to the sea and surrounded by familiar shops.  We held out on a lunch destination until reaching the Barbican, the oldest part of town.  It's a warren of old buildings, shops, restaurants, and the largest concentration of cobblestone streets in England.

We stopped at one of the first decent restaurants we passed, realizing only later that we needed to go another block or so to find the best seafood.  We had a Mediterranean lunch, and I pondered the MANY people dressed as pirates who wandered past the windows.  I figured it must be a bunch of historical re-enactors.  It wasn't until we finished lunch, made our way to the waterfront, and encountered hundreds of additional pirates that we saw a sign advertising "Plymouth Pirate Weekend".  Aha.  We wandered the market stalls, watched the Renaissance dancers, and enjoyed Devonshire ice creams while people-watching.  We visited the site from which the Mayflower sailed in 1620 and pondered the significant of this site.  We killed more time waiting for our bus to Sparkwell in a tea house and walking up to the high street area again.  We finally decided the bus was too late and called a taxi to get to our B&B.  We stayed a few miles east of Plymouth, in the sweet little hamlet of Sparkwell, reaching our destination after a few harrowing miles on narrow roads with high hedgerows bordering each side.  We arrived at Welbeck Manor, a lovely B&B set on a picturesque public golf course, and settled in for a quick nap.  We had intended to walk to the pub across the street for dinner but were surprised to find it booked out 3+ months ahead of time.  Its chef apparently won a cooking show last year.  We were directed to a pub in a neighboring village and caught a ride there with the B&B's manager. 

This pub's restaurant was all booked up as well, but they let us eat in the pub itself.  Good, hearty food, and we caught a taxi back.  I waited out the sunset (10pm!) and slept.

The next morning, after a full English breakfast (I always remember too late I hate baked beans), we set off for our main destination, the whole reason for coming on this trip.  After an easy half mile amble, we saw the signs welcoming us to Dartmoor Zoological Park!  This is the zoo on which the movie We Bought A Zoo! was based, the subject of owner Benjamin Mee's lovely book of the same name.  Since seeing the movie and reading the book I knew I had to visit it.

The zoo did not disappoint.  It is lovely, well-designed, and makes great use of the land.  It's a perfect spot for family picnics, as evidenced by the many people there for that very purpose.  The animals are in spacious habitats with enough places to hide from public view.  Today, though, on a lovely summer morning (sunny but chilly), many were out socializing.  We marveled at the capybaras, tapirs, wallabies, and rheas as we walked up the long hill that is the zoo's approach. 

The meerkats were entertaining, the ostriches put on a show, and the pygmy goats were delightful.  We met some of the book/movie's stars - Fudge the bear, Vlad the tiger, Sovereign the Jaguar, and mourned at the graves of some of those lost since the book was written - Spar the tiger, Solomon the lion, Ben the bear.  We spent the entire day meandering around, revisiting every exhibit 2-3 times, watching demonstrations (bears, falconry, otters) when we could and just enjoying the beautiful scenery.  We dined in the Jaguar Restaurant (even nicer than the book/movie make it seem!), pet the pygmy goats, and watched all the children play in the bouncy castles.  It was absolutely lovely.  I was so afraid I'd be disappointed, but just the opposite:  this is an impressive, family-oriented zoo with dedicated staff and some great conservation/education programs.

As the zoo prepared to close, we made our way back to the B&B and had sundowners outside as we watched some Sunday afternoon golf.  We had dinner at the B&B and retired early.  The next morning we had a cab bring us back into Plymouth.  It dropped us at the Hoe, the highest point along the seafront and home to most of the military installations.  We wandered a bit, took pictures, watched a submarine descend, rode the Plymouth Wheel (like the London Eye, but cheaper and a longer ride), and meandered back down to the Barbican.  We had a lovely seafood lunch (calamari and scallops for me - oh how I've missed you!), peeked into shops, and then walked slowly back to the rail station.  It started raining about 5 minutes out, and we arrived for our train feeling a bit damp. 

Arriving back in London, we made our way back to Swiss Cottage, enjoying the quiet of the Bank Holiday.  L and I took a lovely walk to Primrose Hill, getting phenomenal views of London now that the rain and clouds had cleared.  I sadly didn't bring my camera on this walk.  We passed UK comedian Jimmy Carr's house and then passed Jimmy Carr himself, out walking his dogs.  I was preoccupied looking at the dogs and didn't notice the couple walking them until L whispered who they were once we passed.

Dinner was another treat - Subway!, and we watched mindless television before heading to bed.  Now for some photos!  (Argh - they posted out of order.  Excuse this.)

Mayflower Memorial

Boats in Plymouth's harbor.  A military installation can be seen on the island behind them.

Pirate Weekend, unexpectedly

Sparkwell Gold Course

Lovely blooms!

Entering Dartmoor Zoological Park

Meerkat!

Spar the tiger's gravesite.

The peacocks spent most of their day singing. Loudly.

Sovereign the jaguar hunts for his food.

Nom nom nom.

More military installations.

Plymouth's waterfront as seen from the Hoe.

The Plymouth Wheel.

The beginning of the USA as we know it today...

One of four Amur Tigers at DZP

Such a lovely family picnic destination!

Sovereign with the spoils of the hunt.

Fun with Radiation

About two months ago, while out on an awesome safari hike, I injured my toe.  I don't remember injuring it, I just remember it hurting.  It could have been from impact against my shoe, or it might have been from bracing myself as I descended into a creek bed.  Anyway, it hurt.  Not enough to cause me to stop doing anything, but enough to remind me it was there.

It never really got better.  Then, about two weeks ago, I stubbed this same toe HARD against my bed frame.  Enter blinding pain.  But once the initial shock wore off, I was back to a dull ache when I walked and some more throbbing pain when I manipulated said toe.

With my London trip looming, I decided to get it checked out.  Dr. Google told me it was most likely not broken (which I had guessed) but also said that sprains really shouldn't last that long.  Our health unit checked it out, said it probably wasn't broken, but that getting an x-ray wouldn't hurt.

I have been lucky in my FS overseas career so far, knock on wood.  The worst thing I ever had in Saudi was a possible case of strep throat and a boil that needed to be lanced.  I never had to go to a doctor or hospital.  Though now that I think about it, I did have a visitor who sprained her ankle, so I did take her to the hospital, but that's beside the point.

What would an x-ray be like in Kampala?  I was about to find out.  The health unit made an appointment for me, I booked a car (since I hadn't driven to work that day), and I braced my boss for the possibility that I might be out most of the afternoon.  Traffic wasn't bad, and we made it to the clinic in less than 15 minutes.  A nurse met me at the door, showed me where to pay my $24, and took me back right away.  No forms, no waiting!  The technician set up my scans, positioned my foot, reluctantly gave me a lead apron (he seemed very surprised when I asked for it), took the first scan, repositioned my foot, took the second scan, and then I was free to go.  Less than 15 minutes!  The longest part of the whole thing was the traffic back to the embassy - about 25 minutes. 

The radiologist sent an email the next day with the results - nothing broken, normal findings.  Which is good and what I expected, but it still left no answers.  And the pain hasn't gone away, but it's still not debilitating and doesn't interfere in daily activities. 

So, I don't have a broken toe!  That is the good news.  The bad news is, this is either the world's slowest-healing sprain, or I am constantly re-injuring said toe with no idea I'm doing it.  Anyway, a week of intense walking in London and it's not any worse, thankfully.  But it isn't better either.  But I did learn that x-rays in Kampala are easy and a bargain.  And I checked out the MRI prices while I was there - those too are a bargain.  Nice to have that nugget in my back pocket...