The Real Housewives Of Luanda

           Thanks to reality television, many people think that housewives are women who are living the dream. Their days consist of shopping at expensive boutiques, drinking champagne in the middle of the afternoon, enjoying leisurely massages, ordering around maids and chefs, and preparing for unnecessary dinner parties. Life as a housewife in Luanda, and for the majority of the world, is anything but what is depicted on reality television.

            I spend a great deal of time cleaning our two-bedroom apartment, washing dishes, and doing the laundry. And yes, I do realize how ridiculous that sentence sounds. How many dishes and how much laundry can two people go through in a week? Not to mention that a good clean once a week or two should be plenty to keep such a small place neat and tidy, but that just isn’t the case in Luanda. The environment plays a large role in why it is so difficult to keep our apartment clean. The considerable amount of dirt that makes up much of Luanda always seems to find its way into our little apartment. Another factor is the lack of appliances and cleaning supplies.

            One of the first things I noticed about our apartment was the flooring. Instead of being carpeted, every room is tiled. I don’t think I have ever lived in a place that didn’t have atleast one or two carpeted rooms. At first I was a little disappointed because there is nothing like waking up in the morning and putting your feet down on nice, plush carpet. But now that I have been here a few months, I am grateful for the tile because it makes keeping clean floors a much easier task. I sweep all of the floors daily and mop atleast twice a week. And when I say mop, I don’t mean that I get out my fancy Shark and clean the floors. I use a good ole mop and bucket. You would be amazed at how dirty the floors can get in such a short amount of time. And as if the environment wasn’t reason enough to mop so frequently, Adam is reason number two. He has a habit of dropping food on the floor, which is usually followed by, “you might want to mop by the couch really well because I dropped some chicken there lastnight.” I keep telling myself that he is just trying to prepare me for what it will be like when we have children. How thoughtful.

            The dirt outside doesn’t just make sweeping and mopping necessary; it also makes dusting a MUST. The air conditioners are wall units that circulate air from the outside. The dirt makes itself right at home in our apartment. I have to dust atleast once or twice a week to keep a thin film of dust from covering all of our beautiful furniture. I also use water and soap to wipe down our cream colored couches to keep them from looking black.

            Dusting and mopping aren’t the only things consuming my time during the day. I spend a lot of time hand washing dishes. I never realized how spoiled I was in the States to have a dishwasher to do all of the work for me. But now, I AM the dishwasher. I can’t spend two hours making a fancy meal and then simply throw all of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Instead, I have to scrape every bit of food off of the dishes to avoid clogging the small drain that doesn’t have a garbage disposal. I then have to hand wash each and every item before piling them into a drying rack. Needless to say, I have a new appreciation for the garbage disposal and dishwasher.

            Laundry is a job in itself. When we first moved here, I didn’t realize that there were laundry machines in the utility room of our complex because many people in Luanda don’t have machines and do everything by hand. I spent hours a day doing laundry because I had to collect and carry the fresh water to the spinning machine, and then afterwards I had to drain the dirty water myself. I had to hang all of the clothes to dry and then iron each piece, including socks. Who needs a gym when you have a pile of dirty laundry in a third world country? You can imagine how sore I was after doing a load or two of laundry. But now that we know about the machines, we utilize them weekly. The only differences between machines here and in the States are that it takes a little longer to wash and dry and there aren’t as many cycle options on either machine. I can’t complain though because a few extra hours in the machine mean less backache for me.

            Life as a Luanda housewife is anything but glamorous. It really makes me appreciate the things that we have in the States that I took for granted before I moved here. But a little hard work never hurt anyone. 

My Mind On My Money And Money On My Mind

            Angola, like most countries, has its own currency: the kwanza. It has been the currency for quite some time but has changed throughout the years, most recently with the introduction of the 5000 kwanza bill. The money comes in different forms, shapes, colors, and designs.

            The currency includes 5000, 2000, 1000, 500, 200, 100, 50, 10, and 5 kwanza bills as well as coins; however, the coins are almost pointless when you consider the currency exchange. Each bill is a different color and has its own design. The size of the bill is similar to its worth, meaning the 5000 kwanza bill is the largest with the 5 kwanza bill being the smallest. What an interesting concept, and one that much of the rest of the world follows.

            The best way for me to explain the kwanza is “monopoly money” because it really has no value outside of Angola. You wouldn’t use monopoly money to buy a log cabin in The Game of Life, just like you wouldn’t use kwanza to buy a dress at Von Maur. The exchange rate to the American dollar is about 100 kwanza per dollar. So, if a can of soda is 139 kwanza, it is $1.39 in American dollars.

            The money and exchange rate were easy to figure out, a little too easy. So of course there had to be a catch and that came with the use of separators. The decimal point and comma are interchangeable here and don’t follow the same rules that they do in the States. For example, the price of a new television in the States may be $2,000.00. Knowing the exchange rate, we know that $2,000 is the same as 200,000.00 kwanza. Easy, right? But that isn’t how it is written here, and instead, the price would be listed as 200.000,00. It has been quite a chore trying to retrain my mind.

            The new form of currency has been a big change in my life. No matter how much or how often I use the kwanza, I still don’t know how much something is until I do the exchange rate in my head and compare it to the only form of currency I have really known my entire life: the American dollar.

That Will Cost You An Arm And A Leg

            The three months that I spent in the States were a bit of a blur. After Adam and I said, “I do” and the chaos surrounding the wedding calmed down, we began preparing for our trip back to Angola. We started by making a list of all of the essential items in the States that we couldn’t get and also those items that were a bit too pricey for our liking in Luanda.

            Angola has just about everything that a person could need. However, there isn’t much of a variety and everything is A LOT more expensive. It seems strange, I know. Most people would expect for things to be dirt cheap considering it is a third world country, but in reality, it is quite the opposite. Luanda is the most expensive city in the world. For example, we bought a few plastic hangers for our clothes. In the States, a pack of eighteen hangers may cost $3. Now prepare yourself. In Luanda, a plastic hanger is the equivalent of $2 PER hanger. Face wash is another perfect example. There are a variety of brands of face wash in the States, and it is easy to find a bottle of cleanser for under $5. Apparently they don’t wash their faces in Luanda because most stores don’t even carry it, and if they do, there is usually just one brand that runs about $28 a bottle. Mind blown. And don't get me started on sunscreen. A bottle of sunscreen in the States may cost $8 but in Luanda it costs around $35. In the States, people pay a ridiculous amount of money to "fake bake" and now I am going to have to pay a ridiculous amount of money to keep my pale skin light. 

            Prices aren’t the only reason we chose to take items from the States. Luanda doesn't have everything that we want and need. Because of my two-month trial period in Luanda, I knew that I needed to pack my own hair products. Five minutes in the African heat and my naturally curly hair is having a party. Anti-frizz/calming serum has managed to tame the out of control party. I also knew that dental floss, bug spray, tampons, sunscreen, hand sanitizer, and Tylenol among other things would need a place in my suitcase.

            After packing our clothes and the necessities that were either non-existent or too expensive in Luanda, we decided to tackle our wedding gift problem. We had spent a lot of time registering for gifts and carefully selecting each one based on its “packability.” We wanted to take as many wedding gifts as possible to help turn our place in Luanda into a home. Adam took one look at our guestroom that was filled with the items I wanted to take and said, “You think you are taking all of that with us?” I was confident that my type A personality, Adam’s Gold Star status, large suitcases, and plenty of vacuum seal bags would help me get everything to Luanda. And they did just that. I was able to pack the pillows, curtains, rugs, frames, vases, a comforter, and towels into four oversized suitcases weighing about 75kg a piece. Thank goodness for the invention of roller suitcases. Adam flies so frequently that his miles have earned him a Gold Star status with the airline. The best part about his status, we were able to travel with all four bags FOR FREE!

            With our bags packed, we were ready to make the long trip back to Luanda. I was originally dreading the flight seeing as the trip home was a complete disaster, but the dread quickly changed to excitement when I learned that we would be changing up our flight pattern. We decided to take a direct flight from Houston to Luanda on a chartered flight through the oil companies. No foreign airports, no long layovers, I was elated!

            Fourteen hours and fourteen minutes later, we landed in Luanda. The dirt and shacks that had been so shocking to me before were now welcoming. I knew that we were home.

Can I Get A Refill On My Glass Half-Full Attitude?

            As my two-month trial period in Luanda came and went, it was time to head back to the States to finalize wedding details. Adam booked my flight home; however, he didn’t join me on the flight and instead stayed behind to finish up some work before the big day. Because Adam wasn’t traveling with me, I refused to allow him to purchase me a business class ticket and instead decided to do the long trip economy. The thought of two days of traveling solo in foreign airports made me a little nervous, but I was up for the challenge. I had no idea what this trip home had in store for me.

            Adam drove me to the airport to say goodbye. I had been teary-eyed all morning at the thought of leaving him. I kissed him goodbye and walked up to the counter to check in for my flight. The agent at the counter immediately realized that there was a problem with my ticket and instructed me to see a manager. The manager explained to me that Ethiopian policy requires that the credit card used to purchase a ticket be present at the time of checking in for the flight. Adam had purchased my ticket on his credit card, which I obviously did not have with me. I explained the situation to the manager while also pointing out that the flight was a return flight that had already been paid for prior to my arrival in Luanda. He told me that even though the purchase had been processed, I needed to get ahold of Adam and have him bring his credit card to the airport before they could check me in for my flight. As panic set in, the tears that I had been suppressing all morning began to well up in my eyes. I had just enough minutes left on my monthly plan to call Adam and let him talk to the airline manager. Adam promised to bring the credit card in as long as they let me board my flight. Missing my flight out of Angola meant that I missed every other flight on my way home. The manager told Adam that he would let me board my flight in Luanda, but if Adam did not present the card to him by the end of the day then the airline would not let me board my connecting flight in Ethiopia. The thought of being stranded in Ethiopia was scary, but I knew Adam wouldn’t let that happen to me.

            The manager gave me my airline ticket just in time to make it through security and head to my gate. Prior to entering the gate, I had to show the agent my ticket. Everyone in line ahead of me went through without any problems, but of course a big red X showed up on the computer screen when the agent scanned my ticket. He asked me to step aside. A woman who worked for the airline motioned for me to follow her. She led me outside to a steel building where all of the luggage was being handled. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing or why I had to follow her. She pointed to a pile of luggage and said, “open.” I was extremely confused at this point considering none of the luggage in the pile belonged to me. Seeing the confusion on my face, another woman walked up to us and looked at my ticket before telling me that they had the wrong person and to go back to the gate. I walked up just in time to make the first shuttle out to the plane on the runway. I jumped off the shuttle, went through security for the second time, and found my seat on the plane. I was relieved that I had made it through the airport and could finally settle in for my four and a half hour flight to Ethiopia.

            My relief was very short lived. As the number of passengers on the plane increased so did the temperature. I began sweating profusely and looked around at the other passengers as they fanned themselves, confirming that I wasn’t the only one on the plane overheating. The smell on the plane was horrific. Just imagine, three hundred sweaty passengers’ body odor filling up the confined space of one plane. And did I mention that most people here don’t wear deodorant? Not that it mattered because all of the deodorant in the world couldn’t tackle this smell. The man in front of me became so sick from the heat that he actually began vomiting. Perfect. Lets add the smell of vomit to the air. Feeling the restlessness of the passengers, the flight attendant explained to us that the air conditioning wasn’t working due to a problem with the electricity on the plane. I now realized that even if I did not melt to death, the electricity wasn’t working properly on the plane and that presented a whole new set of worries for me. Luckily for me, the plane took off, I cooled down, my clothing dried, and I made it to Ethiopia.

            I had a five-hour lay over in Ethiopia before my next flight to Istanbul. I was exhausted but looking forward to the next flight because it was from 1am-6am giving me the perfect opportunity to catch up on some zzz’s. As I boarded the flight, I immediately noticed a man who seemed slightly out of place. He was wearing a Starter jacket. In Africa. Who wears a Starter jacket when it is 90 degrees outside? As I made my way down the aisle, I looked up and noticed that my seat number was right next to this man. Great.

            I realized almost immediately that sleep was not in my near future because my “neighbor” made sleep nearly impossible. I am not sure whether it was the man’s first time flying and he was nervous or if he was on something. He had an annoying habit of zipping and unzipping his Starter jacket. Continuously. He would put his hood up and then take it right back down. And if anyone knows anything about a Starter jacket, it’s not exactly quiet, that is for sure. I put my headphones on, shut my eyes, and tried to relax. Next thing I know, the man is stealing my pillow right off my lap. I looked over just in time to see him snuggling up with his pillow AND mine. Seeing as the man didn't speak English, I knew that asking him for my pillow back was completely out of the question. Besides, I thought if he used my pillow and got comfortable then maybe he would fall asleep and quit messing with his jacket.

            Just as we were starting to settle in, the flight attendant started to hand out the late-night meal trays. My “neighbor” was extremely impatient when it came to dinner. He began making a scene until the flight attendant stopped delivering trays to bring him his meal. The man shoveled the food in his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days. He finished so quickly that the flight attendant hadn’t even passed out all of the meals yet. The man didn’t know what to do with his tray and after several failed attempts to get the flight attendant to take the food, he closed his seat-back table with the tray of food still on it. Food spilled out on the floor, his lap, and even me. I was extremely annoyed at this point and asked the flight attendant if there was another available seat on the plane. Of course the flight was completely full. She apologized knowing that I was sitting next to what any flight attendant would consider “the passenger from Hell.” Five hours and one migraine later, I landed in Istanbul. My “neighbor” stood up and started to climb over me as soon as the plane landed. At this point I was tired of being nice. I pushed him off my lap and back into his seat while yelling “no” at him. Despite the language barrier, I am pretty sure he got the hint.

I had a seven-hour layover in Turkey, so I checked into my flight early and made sure that my bag got transferred onto my flight back to the States. The last thing I needed was to land in the States with no luggage. The agent at the counter assured me that my bag had been transferred and not to worry about it. He informed me that I just needed to pick my bag up in Chicago. I was relieved to know that my bag had made it to Turkey and was already waiting to head back to the States. The twelve-hour flight to Chicago went by fast. I caught up on some sleep that I missed out on the night before due to my unpleasant “neighbor.”

It felt so nice to step off the airplane in Chicago and hear English chit chat around me. I could read everything as well, something I hadn’t been able to do in two months. I made it through customs and waited patiently for my bright pink bag to make its way down the baggage claim. I waited, and waited, and waited. The conveyer belt stopped with no sign of a bright pink bag. As I walked up to the airline counter to file a lost baggage claim, the woman at the counter asked me if I was Sarah Berger. I was startled considering I hadn’t even had a chance to get a word out before she said my name. I told her that was my name and showed her some identification. The agent apologized and said that my bag had been left in Turkey. The airline called her immediately after our flight took off to say that my bag was the only bag left behind. Of course my bag was the only bag left behind. She promised me that it would be on the next flight back to the States and would be delivered to whatever address I specified.

Although my glass of water was starting to get awfully low, I still tried to keep up my glass half-full attitude. My dad suggested that since my luggage did not make the flight, I try to catch an earlier flight home. The airlines were extremely helpful and let me switch my flight at no additional charge. I grabbed my ticket and ran to the gate knowing that the flight would be boarding. I was surprised to find everyone sitting there anxiously. The agent apologized to everyone and stated that the scheduled flight attendant didn’t show up for her flight tonight, and they were trying to find a last minute flight attendant to replace her. An overwhelming sense of guilt came over me. I felt as if I owed everyone an apology because obviously my bad luck had been carried over to this flight when I switched my ticket. The replacement flight attendant arrived and an hour and a half later I was home sweet home.

Life WITHOUT The Kardashians

            I never watched much television in the States, with the exception of the occasional study breaks that I built into my hectic schedule to watch Dr. Phil offer his expert opinion on numerous subjects and to “dance” with Ellen. With a full-time job, graduate school, and a relationship half way around the world, who had time for television? But while Adam was battling the mosquito’s venom, we spent a lot of time lounging on the couch watching television. I quickly found myself longing for the American television that had never really made much of an impression on me before my move to Luanda.

Simple channel surfing taught me a lot about television here. I have learned that although most of the channels here are in Portuguese, there is still a decent selection of English speaking channels as well. But of course the English speaking channels come with a catch, or two in this case. They all have Portuguese subtitles that cover up any captions, names, or descriptions of additional details that some shows offer. AND, they are a few seasons behind the shows in the States. I feel like I am in the Hunger Games because I somehow managed to survive the first round of John and Kate Plus Eight and now am being forced back into the arena with them. Enough already. We often find ourselves flipping through the channels in hopes that there might be a show on that we both enjoy, but have slowly come to terms with the fact that we will have to instead settle on something we both can stand watching.

The channels aren’t the only difference between television in Luanda and television in the States. Commercials are non-existent here, and instead are replaced by occasional footage explaining what is up next. I am sure many Americans would find the lack of commercials a real treat, with the exception of the Super Bowl of course. But the lack of commercials actually makes it more difficult to follow television shows because there aren’t set schedules; shows don’t run on a thirty minute or sixty minute schedule like they do in the States. Instead, if a show is twenty-two minutes long, then it gets twenty-two minutes of airtime. Here Comes Honey Boo Boo may come on at 9:15am one morning and at 10:30am the next morning. I have learned to turn the television onto the right channel about 30 minutes prior to any show that I want to watch just to make sure that I don’t miss it.

Despite the limited number of channels and lack of schedule, I am extremely happy to report that both Dr. Phil and Ellen have made their way to Luanda! Yes, we get both shows here! I will never get sick of either show and always look forward to watching them even if it does mean that I am watching a rerun from Ellen’s 12 Days of Giveaway 2012 in the middle of March 2013.

            Luanda television is probably not up to par for American television lovers because we don’t get to see which housewife is throwing drinks on the other housewife, what toddler won the latest beauty pageant, and how Kim, Kourtney, and Khloe managed to make headlines yet again. It is all perfectly fine by us. It gives us more reason to get outside, soak up some rays, and hit the beach. Life. Is. Good.