Jennifer A. Chin (cswallow) wrote,
Jennifer A. Chin

Noloholo, Days 65-66 - Nothing Important, just Happiness

Sunday is easy and calm, full of productivity and warmth. We make brunch for Buddy and Laly – open-faced cheese, tomato and bacon sandwiches. They are delicious and decadent, and we are full of the day’s freshness.

Buddy and Laly are kind enough to take Kirsten back to Arusha with them, and it is a happy good-bye because I know that I’ll see Kirsten again in three weeks, and Buddy and Laly will be back next week. I guess these good-byes are practice for the larger ones that I will have to make just 8 days from now.

Today is just as sunny and warm, just as productive and tiring. I start some research on apartments for NYC.. like everyone else who heads there from Durham, I am in shock over how much more I’ll be paying there, and how tiny some of the rooms are. Some of them don’t even have closet space! Fortunately, I love having apartmentmates, and really don’t mind sharing bathrooms or closets even. I figure that just as long as I can find a place to work, and have a relatively short commute to the dance studio and to visit my friends, I’ll be happy. It’s looking like Queens might be my best option, but I’ll be the first to say that nothing is for certain until it has happened.

After a very satisfying dinner, I retreated to my tent to finish “Tender is the Night.” I started this book last summer, on the subways of Beijing. I wouldn’t say it was fitting to finish it here, but I’m glad I did it now and not a month ago, as it is full of the sorrow of unrealized talent, the ugly sensation of one person wrenching all her strength from another person’s demise, the drift of a failing mind. I felt I could read it now without believing it might be me, and even more than that, I could appreciate fully the sheer beauty of the prose. In this book, single sentences made me gasp. I wanted to read them again and again, the way one runs her fingers over and over through the silky fur of some soft animal. Fitzgerald drew analogies that were so creative, so full in their characterizations, that I every time I was reminded of his genius. I wonder now if I should go read The Great Gatsby again.

I’m on a quest to work through my booklist, and so I begin to read Utopia, by Thomas More. What insight it will give me into the Tanzanian bush, I have no clue.
Tags: travel - tanzania
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