To get into my office, I take a flight of covered stairs that are outdoors. Recently, a pair of birds have built a nest in the corner of the roof over the stairs. Birds are delightful, except when they repeatedly crap in the same place, and that place happens to be the stairs that I take every day to enter and exit my office.

Did I mention that my office is located in a National Park? And that you’re not allowed to disturb birds or their habitat during mating season? Which happens to be now? Which means that for the next several weeks entering and exiting my office will invoke incredible anxiety about whether or not the birds will choose the exact moment when I am entering or exiting to relieve themselves?

It’s like a game of double dutch jump rope every time I enter or exit. I take a step forward, then back, then forward, then back, then run forward (either up or down the stairs at break neck speed), usually accompanied by a scream.

I was describing this process to my dear friend Collin. I sighed heavily and uttered, “My goal is just to make it through mating season without getting shat upon.”

He laughed, turned to me, and said, “Isn’t that everyone’s goal?”

I marvel at those ladies. You know, those ladies, who, no matter what time of day, no matter where they are, are well coiffed. Their makeup is perfect, and not a single hair is out of place. When I see them, I wonder, “How do they do that?”

I’ve never had the time or patience to wear makeup or blow dry my hair, much less style it.

Today, however, I decided to venture to their world. Tonight was Ev and Sara’s wedding. I made an appointment with my hair stylist, Jay, whom I adore. I told him I was going to a fancy schmancy wedding and I wanted to look beautiful.

“More beautiful, darlin‘,” he replied.

I love my hair dresser.

He pulled and tugged and dried and curled and pinned my hair. I sat quietly, dying to know what he was doing at the back of my head, but trying to exercise patience. When done, he handed me a mirror. “I love it! It’s so elegant!”

“Here, darlin‘, let me do your makeup.” I was enthralled. I was going to be one of them — one of the well-coiffed.

He dabbed and patted and used fancy brushes on my face. He smudged colors on my eyes and my cheeks. With tweezers he dipped trios of eyelashes into glue and placed them gently on my top lids. When done, he handed me the mirror again.

I was one of them. One of the well-coiffed.

But not for long.

I didn’t realize the wedding would be outside. In addition to being chilly, summer in San Francisco is windy. Very, very windy. The wind challenged my beautifully coiffed hair. I felt hair pins slipping out. As I reached up to secure them, I noticed something fly insanely close to my eye. And then again. And again. Oh, no. The fake eyelashes were flying off, trio by trio. Giving up, I faced the wind, and let them all fly.

Note to self: being well-coiffed takes time, patience, a great hair dresser, and climate control.

I wheeled the cart full of plastic bagged groceries to the car. As I lifted the first bag into the trunk, the bag split and my cucumbers and tomatoes spilled out. I caught them before they hit the asphalt and gently placed them where they wouldn’t get squished. I lifted the next bag more gingerly, and as I lowered it into the trunk, the pistachios tumbled out. As I loaded bag after bag of groceries, all but three split.

It’s my last day in South Africa. I’ve been here nearly a month. I will leave straight from the office, so I’ve brought my one (somewhat large) duffel bag to the office. The three female employees of the office look around.

“Where is the rest of your luggage?”

I shrug. “That’s all I brought.”

High voices fill the office. “What? You’ve been here a month and that’s all you brought? Girl. Seriously. You travel so light.”

Later in the day, my ride to the airport arrives. Our IT consultant, a man, insists on taking my bag to the car. As he lifts it, he exclaims, “Did you leave anything at home? I can’t believe you brought so much…”

Things I learned today:

• Elephants’ tongues are incredibly smooth and slippery.
• An elephant that is slightly taller than me weighs more than 2 tons.
• Elephants that die a natural death usually die of starvation. Their teeth fall out and they can’t eat. That seems like a horrible way to die.
• Lion cubs will let you pet them when they’re small. I was worried about getting eaten. They’re wild, after all.
• Giraffes have the same number of bones in their necks as humans, seven.
• If they think you’ve got food, ostriches will peck the heck out of you. It can hurt.

Most of the time, I love surprises. Not so much on this trip.

While washing my hair (in the bath tub, the shower not only floods, it has no hot water), I reached over to grab some of the hotel provided conditioner. It smelled vaguely familiar, like a summer’s evening in the south. I waited the requisite two minutes for said conditioner to condition, then tossed my head under the faucet to begin the rinse process. Except it didn’t. Rinse, that is. I tried again. Once again the viscous substance clung to each strand of my hair, refusing to rinse.

I picked up the bottle, thinking maybe there was a special trick to getting it to rinse. Oh. Not conditioner. Insect repellent lotion. With citronella. That familiar smell of summer nights in order to ward off mosquitoes. Well, as least I won’t get bitten…

Knock, knock, knock. “Housekeeping!”

I sleepily peeped at my clock. It was 6:34. AM. I rolled over.

Knock, knock, knock. “Housekeeping!”

I sat up in bed. “Yes?” I yelled.

Knock, knock, knock. “Housekeeping!”

I heaved myself from under the oh-so-heavy, oh-so-warm, oh-so-I-don’t-want-to-leave you duvet. I reluctantly slid my feet into my flip flops and shuffled to the door.

“Yes?”

Silence. Interesting thing about this hotel. If staff knock at the door, they won’t speak to you until you open the door. I opened the door.

“Good morning, madam! You have the iron?”

I stared at her. Was she asking me if I had the iron, or I wanted the iron? What did it matter, the answer to both was no.

“No,” I said sleepily as I shook my head.

“You do not have the iron?”

Now I’m wondering why a hotel with 40 rooms only has one iron. Surely there is a misuse of an article happening here.

“No, I do not have the iron.”

“You really do not have the iron?”

“No, I really do not.”

She appeared completely perplexed, not sure what to do next. She looked at me, then with utter amazement said, “You were sleeping?”

Yes, I was sleeping. Which I don’t find that hard to fathom, considering it’s 6:30 in the morning. Yes, it’s light outside, but still. Yes, I requested a wake up call, from your establishment, at 7:15. Which would indicate that I would be sleeping until that point in time.

I smiled and simply replied, “Yes.”

“Rest well!” and she was off.

I returned to my room and this letter greeted me:

To Our Esteemed Guest,

We would like to apologize for the constant flooding of the shower areas that you may be experiencing. In the meantime, we advise the use of the bath tub.

By Management

One of our in-country staff had made the reservation for me. It was a new hotel whose tag line was “Stay Healthy!” I was somewhat excited about this prospect. A hotel with a gym facility certainly wouldn’t hurt me at this point in my trip.

As I was checking in, the desk attendant offered me a complimentary medical exam. It was part of the “Stay Healthy!” promotion — blood pressure, blood tests, lung capacity, etc. I respectfully declined. For the most part, I avoid needles. Getting blood drawn in a makeshift hotel room cum doctor’s office in Lusaka, Zambia, just didn’t appeal to me. She presented me with a sheet of paper. There was a lot of fine print and a place for my signature at the bottom.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“In our commitment to healthy living, we require all guests to sign a waiver stating they will not consume any alcohol or tobacco products during their stay here.”

I looked at her, expecting her to say, “Just kidding!” She didn’t.

“Please sign, ma’am.”

I knew most of the hotels were booked solid because of Laura Bush’s visit that week. I knew that I really enjoyed a glass of wine with dinner after a hard day’s work. I smiled and signed the waiver. I just traveled 25,000 miles to check myself into detox.

“We wish you a pleasant visit and stay healthy!” she proclaimed.