Because we are old and tired and exhausted, M and I decide we deserve massages. And we do, don’t try to argue with me. We have booked appointments at the Boston Day Spa, and we get in the buses to Bole, and I crow the entire way about how I know the way to get there. And then, suddenly, it is the end of the line and we haven’t seen the friggin’ spa. We end up walking back down the road double time, and M has to call the spa on her phone to tell them we are going to be late, and I can tell she’s trying not to punch me.

It turns out that we end up sitting in the waiting room anyway, before they can take us. Thank goodness for African time. The massage is very good, except that I tell the masseuse to use hard pressure and when she rubs the thighs, I think they might fall off. Then, she leaves the room and closes the door. Right, I think, it’s over. And so I am standing there, clothed only from the waist down, when she comes back in. Oh, no no no! she cries. She makes me take off my pants and she rubs me down with a warm towel to get the oil off, and no, it is not at all weird or humiliating, thank you. Please know that M did the exact same thing, so she is at least as idiotic as I am.

We go back across town, soaked in oil, to go to little AHOPE, where the people from Kate’s orphanage (including Amanda and Matt) are visiting. No one at AHOPE knows they’re coming, so when they arrive, all the kids are napping. We all stand around awkwardly as M gives them a tour and the nice couple from Iowa gives me the package they brought from my mother, and then we all decide to go to big AHOPE. Amanda and Matt haven’t been before, so we are excited to introduce them to the big kids. The other couples take a quick tour with M, and then head on their way, but Matt and Amanda spend hours there with us, playing the rock-jacks game and crashing around on the soccer/basketball field.

On the way home, a little boy named Ermias runs up to us to hold our hands. His mother laughs and waves goodbye to him, and he walks along with his sticky hands in ours. We decide to buy him a Mirinda, since we are buying some for ourselves, and when M hands it to him, he has a look of pure bliss on his little face. Two other little kids immediately appear, so we buy some for them, too, and as we walk up the road to our house, they clutch a bottle in one hand and wave madly in the other, crying goodbye! goodbye!