Change In Plans

We are midway through the long trip to Johannesburg. South African Airways flights stop in Dakar, Senegal, to refuel and switch out the crew in the middle of the night.

Our last night in New York was bittersweet. At Zola’s suggestion, he and Tallulah and I went to Bleecker Street Pizza for dinner. This was our regular stop on the walk home from school. India and I did not make it to Minetta Tavern for a last celebratory drink, but can go on our next trip together.

We were in the car (actually, and fortunately, a 12-passenger van) by 9:30 this morning. For complicated and uninteresting reasons, we had to fly from Dulles, rather than from JFK. Having the van was fortunate because we had about 800 pounds of luggage (literally), and needed a big vehicle to ferry it.

The drive was easy, security at Dulles was tedious and very slow, but we made it through in plenty of time.

Ignoring all conventional wisdom, I ate airport sushi while we waited for the flight, and it was terrible. Aside from that, no drama.

We should be in Johannesburg in another 10 hours, and finally on the ground in Cape Town a few hours after that. It really is kind of a long way.

This is our last night in the U.S. before we move to South Africa. We flew up to New York from Nashville very early this morning, and spent the day making final preparations. After years of discussion, months of half-hearted preparation, and weeks of denial, (plus a few days of real packing) the move is upon us.

In the weeks of denial, I said things like:
“It’s the third time we’ve moved to South Africa. It really isn’t a big deal.”
“We’ll be back and forth so frequently that it won’t really be like we left.”
“With Skype and e-mail and cell phones and FaceBook and the NY Times on-line, and satellite radio, living overseas is nothing like it was when we left the first time.”

All of this is factually correct, but doesn’t change the fact that Cape Town is a long, long way from here. Best case, it’s a 24-hour trip, door to door. Long way to go for a weekend.

This evening, Zola actually cried a little, asking why we had to move. This wasn’t entirely surprising. What is surprising is that until today, both he and Lu have been so unambiguously supportive of the move. I think the 4:30 am departure from Gramae & Pop’s house, combined with the dislocation of being back in the West Village townhouse that has been home for the last four months, brought out an emotional reaction. We are all feeling some of that.

Last night, I lay awake in Nashville. Fretting. I’m excited about being back in South Africa, and about getting back into real work (details TBD). I’m slightly nervous about something terrible happening, but more realistically apprehensive about floundering professionally, or taking risks that do not pan out. I’m also pre-stalgic for the happiness and stability we have had over the last few months.

Tomorrow will be a long day: driving to Washington in our rented van, flying overnight to Johannesburg, and finally arriving in Cape Town at 11pm local time on Tuesday. We have a colossal amount of luggage, and are dreading long security lines and limits on cabin baggage.

Under any circumstances, we will be in South Africa soon enough. And it will be wonderful.

On December 20, 1999, India and I got up just before 5am. We drove to the base of Lion’s Head Mountain, in Cape Town, and hiked up for about 30 minutes. The weather was surprisingly cool and cloudy for early summer in Cape Town. We didn’t make it quite to the top, but it was an impressive effort for a 41-week pregnant woman. We took a picture of India’s exposed belly, with the Atlantic Ocean as a backdrop, and headed back down to the car.

By 7am, we were at the hospital, inducing labor. Our Ob/Gyn, Sheana, was a strapping, utterly confident, six foot two Scottish woman. She told India’s and my mother, “Don’t worry about a thing, ladies. Before nightfall, there will be a baby.”

India was in labor for about 10 hours. At mid-day we went for a walk in the sunshine. A security guard started walking with us. I asked him, in Afrikaans, whether he was afraid that we were going to steal something. He said, “No. I’m afraid the lady will step on a snake and hurt the baby.”

Despite the labor and the hot tub and lots of encouragement, it became clear that the baby was not coming on his own. At 7pm, Sheana said, “We’re doing a C-section. I’ve gotten my team together.” She told me to change and wash my hands.

If I had spent a few minutes more in the washroom, I would have missed the birth. Zola was pulled out by his armpits at 7:19 pm. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

Ten years has passed. Zola is so much a part of our daily lives and consciousness, it is difficult to remember what life was like before him. He is a sweet, intelligent, funny, and curious little boy. We have shared great adventures and many happy times. We feel anormously blessed to have him in our lives.

Ten years!

Our short, happy, not-entirely-sustainable time in New York is coming to an end.

It is hard to believe that our round-the-world trip ended in late April, and that eight months have passed since the “ragged re-entry.”  The last four months, in particular, have been so pleasant and stable and fun, that the time flew past us.  Now, suddenly, we are in the midst of several “lasts” before we move to South Africa at the end of the month.

Zola had his last soccer game a few weekends ago, not long after I had my last day of work.  The weekend after Thanksgiving was our last trip to the Beaverkill.  Last Saturday night we had a chance to say goodbye to many of our Beaverkill friends at a party in the city.

Last Saturday, we all attended Tallulah’s last dance class at Alvin Ailey.  On Wednesday of this past week, Tallulah had her last “Flip and Twirl” class at Chelsea Piers.  On the same day, Zola had his last “Stunts and Skills” class. 

We have been seeing many friends for “the last time”.  Because w have moved to Cape Town twice before, and this is the fourth time we have lived in New York, these encounters generally feel more like “au revoir” than “goodbye”.  That said, I have been meeting people so frequently for drinks at the Minetta Tavern that the bartenders laugh when I walk in.

On Thursday, Tallulah had her last day at the Blue School.  It has been a truly and deeply wonderful first school experience for Tallulah, filling her with joy, and confidence, and love for learning.  The Blue School is doing many things right.  Her class had a little party for her, and we had a chance to say goodbye to her teachers and classmates and their parents. 

Friday was Zola’s last day at PS 3.  In the morning he had his last performance in front of the school (a concert), after two earlier dance performances.  PS 3 has been great for encouraging Zola to take joy in performing.  India and I arranged for the class to have a skating field trip to Bryant Park after the concert.  It was nice to see how happy and comfortable Zola has become with his PS 3 classmates.  We can only hope that he adapts to school in South Africa as readily.

This weekend, we are hosting our last houseguests.  India’s sister, and our brother-in-law, and our two nieces have come up from Nashville.  Cousin love abounds for Zola and Tallulah.  Tomorrow night I will have my last hockey game.

Finally, this evening I shoveled off of the walk in front of the house for the (first and) last time.  We are getting buried here.  South Africa looks better by the minute.

It has been a fun eight months in New York City.  We are ready to move on to our more permanent life in Cape Town.