Out of the frying pan

If Namibia, metaphorically speaking, was the frying pan, what with its 40 degree temperatures, desert elephants and the extraordinary vistas of Etosha, then returning to still-grey and chilly Toronto has been a leap, or spill, into the metaphorical fire. We just haven’t stopped, since landing at Pearson. It started with two mailboxes: our physical mailbox, which contained, when we wearily prised open our front door after 30 hours in transit, a missive from Citizenship and Immigration, inviting¬†me to attend a citizenship swearing-in ceremony on May 17th. Quite the welcome home, I’d say. Talk about rolling out the red carpet. Waiting for me in the other mailbox, my¬†email inbox, was a string of messages, pertaining to a possible contract in – you guessed it – the place we had just come from, South Africa. The flurry of emails and conference calls since then has all trended in one direction: the possibility of more work back home, and more travel. There will

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