In November I travelled to Bujumbura, the capital of Burundi with my good friend Rob for a scouting trip that we did for our families.
The sun rising over Africa, viewed from 10,000m above somewhere in Ethiopia
The purpose of the trip was to investigate Hope Africa University and to see what kind of ways our skill sets could fit in with what they are trying to accomplish. I will be finishing my PhD this year – so we’re thinking about what will come next. I’ve been in some preliminary discussions with a couple of Universities back in North America – but this opportunity to serve in Africa came up, and we are anxiously very excited about it.
The banana is for scale…no the bun is…nope. I guess the coffee cup shows the relative size of both.So….if I have a mechanical problem…”YOU” will come to my rescue. I might explore other options.View from the rooftop patio of a fantastic French boulangerie / patisserie in Bujumbura. Looking over Bujumbura, Lake Tanganyika and the mountains of the Democratic Republic of Congo on the other side.
I’ll put up some more thoughts on the details of what we’d be doing there, and why, and how – but I wanted to just give you some idea of that this is the direction we’re heading – and give some sense as to what Burundi feels like.
You know you’re comfortable carrying stuff on your head when you have a wheeled suitcase – that instead of pulling along the ground – you put on your head.I maybe a bit sceptical but…I’m not sure that’s my definition of happiness. OK -‘Happyness” maybe.
Of course there are similarities to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia (where I was last May doing research) – but it was quite different in many ways. Being 1/5 of the size – it just feels so much smaller. Not anywhere the same kind of traffic, or noise, or commotion. ( if you want a quick overview of the country, click here for one from BBC)
Kind of felt like I was carb-loading at every meal
Sitting in on a marketing class at Hope Africa UniversityRob buying some greeting cards while the woman next to him with the live chicken adjusts the baby on her backNot sure the guy working on this roof could have planned out his wardrobe better
The week before my mom left in December we drove up into the Chartreuse mountains to go for a hike up by the monastery of the Carthusian monks (the ones who make the Chartreuse liquor) – la Grande Chartreuse -up by the town of St Pierre de Chartreuse. (Detecting a pattern?)
Micah and Grandma on the way up
It’s not the first time we’ve been up there – we hiked here with before a few times (not to mention taking my sister and family, plus Susan’s mom, {and quite possibly 50 or so other visitors} to the distillery down in the town of Voiron) – not to mention this is close to where I ran La Grand Duc trail race last spring.
Finishing her sandwich on our way up to the monasteryLa Grande Chartreuse monastery
It was an amazing day for a hike – it was sunny and above zero -but they had just got dumped on with snow the night before. There was so much snow hanging heavy on the trees that it was actually a fairly dangerous place to walk, as there are massive trees lining the path up to the monastery. The warmth of the sun on the snow caught up in the branches was causing it to fall (what we call ‘treevalanches’). And sometimes they were HUGE. For some reason Grandma seemed to get hit more that others of us, and a few times I had to shelter Alma as there would be a clump of snow 3 times my size dropping from about 5 meters up! No wonder the monks were all nestled safely inside their cloister cells praying…it’s too dangerous to be outside.
almost there
When you get up here you can see how these monks though this would be a good place to get away from it all. Even now you get the feeling that you are in a place of utter solitude – I can’t imagine how isolated you would have been up here a few hundred years ago.
The Chartreuse Distillery
down in the caves
We drove down into Voiron, where the Chartreuse distillery is. Honestly, we’ve been there so many times I have completely lost track – but I still find it interesting every time. To me, this story of monks from the Catholic church, who live up in the middle of nowhere in the French Alpes to remain in solitude, who then brew an elixir-of-life based on a centuries-old formula given to them, and from there develop a liquor made of a blend of 150 plants, which then becomes famous all over the world…is a pretty interesting tale. Plus the fact that you get to sample at the end – likely means that I’ve enjoyed €50 worth of Chartreuse VEP, and 1605 etc…one tiny glass at a time.
“Caution: liquor made from a top-secret monk-held formula of 150 plants is dripping out of centuries old oak casks” not at all slippery…actually quite sticky.
So this is the shirt I got from my kids last father’s day.
Impressive, no?
I thought so. It’s me being declared “Papa de l’année” by someone with as much authority as Darth Vader. It is a feared and respected Jedi Knight telling people that I – am the Father of the Year. On top of that, if you don’t agree with that judgement, you have Lord Vader to deal with.
Then something hit me yesterday when I was wearing it. Maybe it’s saying HE is le Papa de l’année. Or maybe it’s saying I”m the Father of the Year….like him. You know (and I’m assuming and hoping here you do….)
The character who abandoned his twin children, then repeatedly tried to murder his own son. He lied to his children, hiding his identity, worked for their arch enemy of them. Who hacked off his only son’s hand, imprisoned his daughter then used torture to get information out of her.
