The morning is partly cloudy, which means partly sunny as well, and warm, a sort of dress rehearsal for tomorrow when it is supposed to rain. It is 76°, the high for the day. The air is perfectly still. Everything is quiet. I’m having my coffee and toast which I slathered with mission fig jam. It is a pleasant morning.

The Ryan household is getting back to normal. This morning Miss Nala greeted me when she figured I was awake. That was the first time since the vet’s and the cone. She also drank water from her dish, the first time I didn’t have to hold the dish. We go back to the vet’s today to have the drain removed.

I had a couple of years of French in high school and two years of Spanish in college. I also had four years of Latin. The first time I used my French was in Africa, in Togo. I was able to tell taxi drivers left or right and order food. I ate a lot of boeuf and pommes frites. I could haggle in the market. I could buy cigarettes and matches. In some stores, like the boulangerie, I just pointed at pastries which looked good. I used my Spanish traveling from Caracas to Rio. I remembered enough to get us from one place to another, order food and shop. I got better as we traveled. In Ghana I mostly used English, Ghanaian English.

When I was eleven, I made my vow to travel. I never once wavered. I traveled all over. I don’t think my eleven year old self would be surprised at that, but I do think my eleven year old self would be surprised I’d live in Africa. I’m still a little in awe of that.

I have never wanted life to be predictable. I wanted surprises. I wanted Frost’s less traveled by road. I don’t know where that came from. It has been part of me for most of my life. It made me different, not weird different, just different, though some may contest the not weird part.

I had a friend tell me when she heard I was going to Africa she wondered who does that. I always thought the answer was easy.

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