The Day After "Tomorrow"

First and foremost, before my nearest and dearest start panicking that the title of my first Namibian blog entry is the same as a famous disaster movie, I feel I need to get a few things straight. No, there were no tidal waves at any point during the journey. No, there was no panic-induced sheltering in public libraries. Essentially, no, our journey did not resemble a disaster movie in the slightest.

After many hours in Heathrow's Costa with James and Jake (two other PT volunteers who will be based in the north west), we finally boarded our flight to Johannesburg and left British soil for the last time in months. The plane was only half full, so we were able to get away quite promptly and spread out a little bit to sleep overnight. A short flight to Windhoek followed this morning, which was no problem, but the process of boarding this flight only served to confirm what we suspected we already knew about African air travel.

African airports are a bizarre business. Where most airports are very strict about each specific plane having a very specific gate to pull in to for its passengers to very specifically end up in the right place at the right time, Africa simply doesn't work that way. Instead, the planes land, find room somewhere on the tarmac, and essentially tip everyone out in the middle of the space - how anyone actually gets anywhere within the airport is left up to a fleet of very dedicated but very squashed shuttle buses. Strange though it may be, it must work somehow, because I'm writing this from our hostel in Windhoek - arrival successful!

Albeit  that I am absolutely sure this country will teach me so much over the next few months, it's already made a real impression. The drive from the airport was quite unlike anything else I've ever seen- flat, dusty bushland contrasts with rugged orange hills and a bright azure sky, with only one straight road that stretches into the horizon. In the city, even the  red and green men on the pedestrian crossings have given up trying to fight with the constant streams of traffic that have little patience for anyone else; the beeping of car horns forms a continuous dialogue, almost like a language in itself; and already, it is quite clear that I have the pastiest, peely-wally-est legs ever known to sub-Saharan Africa. Hopefully the 30+ temperatures and constant sun can do something about that by the next time I update the blog!

Bon Voyage!

That's it. Done. After 3 days' effort, lots of squashing and numerous "oh s*@!$- WHERE'S MY PASSPORT?!!??!!" moments, 7 months has been squeezed into a rucksack and is ready to go. The size of it is infuriatingly deceptive - it's so enormous that I've no idea how I'm going to lift the damn thing, but despite its titanic size, there's still not enough room to hold all my stuff without lots of pushing and pulling with the zips (let alone have space for everything I want to take). Shame. It's too big for the bathroom scales, so I'm just hoping it's under 23kg. Very, very desperately hoping.

I fly to London at 10.35am tomorrow, and will be on the 6.05pm flight to Johannesburg. We'll land in Windhoek, Namibia's capital, at lunchtime on Friday. On Monday, our host from the school will be coming to pick us up and take us to what will be our new home until August.

It seems crazy that after months of saying "January", "January", "January" whenever I think/others ask about it, it's tomorrow. As in, less than 24 hours. It all kicks off TOMORROW. I'd just like to say thank you so very much to my friends and family for all of their support, sponsorship and enthusiasm for what I'm doing here: soppy, I know, but I can't leave without saying so. Thank you dearly, farewell, and I'll post again once I'm on the other side of the world.

Swapping Glaswegian puddles for Namibian deserts

Heard back from my desk officer and representative yesterday, and I'm delighted to be able to say that Caitlin and I will be going to Nowak Primary School in Tses, southern Namibia. It is a school of about 500 pupils aged between 6 and 16, just over an hour north of Keetmanshoop. We will be the first PT volunteers at the project, but there are apparently also some German volunteers there at the moment, which will be very helpful and it will be nice to have extra company. As with Rwanda, we will be teaching English to the students, but their application has also requested that we have a look at teaching staff and other members of the community.  There's also a request for us to work with extra-curricular activities for the students, so I'm really looking forward to the opportunities that that will undoubtedly bring. No idea how I'll manage the 37-degree heat (sunburn and I are old friends), but with a project like this in a country that boasts views like these, I haven't a complaint in the world.

On the 5 days of Training, Project Trust gave to me...

I returned from Coll last night, and have more to say from a mere 5 days than is probably sensible for a blog post. Put simply, it was a truly incredible week. We all learnt so much, and had such a great time, sharing our hopes and ideas. Particularly after such a longperiod of uncertainty, it was so exciting to be finding out about potential projects, and to really have my future with Project Trust so close and so current. Huge thanks go to the wonderful, wonderful staff at PT for their constant enthusiasm, patience and support throughout the week.

Below are some photos, inclunding one with my partner Caitlin, who will be coming to Namibia with me. As may be evident, it was also a busy week of socialising with the other Particip8 volunteers, all of whom I very fond. It featured late-night carol singing (hence the title), comedy onesies and a great final evening of celebration. They are truly exceptional people, and I wish every single one of them all the very best on their journies.

Did I mention I had a brilliant time?

Change of Plan

Time has flown since I last updated my blog, but an entire change of country is a fairly important event in my gap year plans. After lots of waiting, I have finally received news that the new projects in Rwanda will not be going ahead this year. Starting a new country programme means going right back to Square 1; before they can even start thinking about which volunteers can go to which placements, Project Trust need to get hold of some fairly basic but crucial bits of paper giving official recognition of PT and their work as charitable. Unfortunately, bureaucracy was not on our side, and despite the best efforts of the Overseas team over the last year, the Rwanda programme has not been successful in enough time for this year's volunteers.
Instead, I will be going to one of two primary schools in Namibia, in south-western Africa. The country representative will be going out to visit both schools that have requested volunteers, and we are fairly confident that at least one of them will be a success. I'm really looking forward to it, and Namibia seems like a fascinating country. I can't wait to find out more about my project and partner on Training next week. I'm sure there will be much more to follow on my return.

How To Look Good...As A PT Volunteer

Despite the time lapse between posts, plans and preparation for my gap year remain a work in progress.I have a part-time job keeping me comfortably busy until January's departure, and am otherwise currently focusing on the rather more painful prerequisites - the travel vaccinations. There are many horror stories to be heard about the price of the things, and there seems to be an awful lot of going backwards and forwards between websites, surgeries and pharmacists, but vaccinations are now underway and only one private prescription means that it has -so far, fingers crossed! - cost £130. The photo belongs to the back of the new PT hoodies for this year; designed by the winner of a competition, the globe in the centre has all of the countries that they work in written around the edge. Plus, it's perfect for walking to those early morning vaccination appointments in...

Honey, I Shrunk The Kids...

Since PT have told me that the projects carry at least elements of teaching, I decided to spend my last full week of term back in primary school. I certainly have memories of my own time primary school, most of which are exceptionally fond; the only trouble is, the now important things like times tables and spelling tests were then, at age 8, deemed too boring to be worth remembering in any kind of detail. Thus, our deputy head was very helpful, and organised a fantastic programme with a variety of teachers and classes. From counting with Prep 1, minibeast topics with Prep 3 and writing stories with Prep 6, I came away with some great ideas and had a fantastic time. Even if I didn't really fit properly on these tiny chairs. At all.