Many of you have asked why we couldn’t bring all of our stuff back. In this installment of a story I am tentatively calling: “How Not to Move out of Central Asia,” I explain the story you’ve been waiting for….

We heard of a moving company that would let us ship our items via slow boat back to the States. This thrilled my soul because I could take back the Mama Chair & a bunch of other stuff. Then, I wouldn’t have to buy those items as new. So, when we packed our 5 bag limit, we made sure there weren’t any heavy items in it. We left all of our books, my ceramics, our pictures from our house, and any other bulky or heavy item were in the boxes designated for the crate.

Then, we left Sea Town. All of those boxes were neatly stacked and waiting for someone to come get them. We were done.

Yeah, right.

4 nights before we were leaving the country, while we were in the Big City and I was filling out the paperwork for the crate company, I realized that I had read the paperwork wrong. Really wrong. Instead of being miraculously cheap, it was going to drain all of our savings to ship home this stuff. For the money, we could buy all new stuff 4 times over. I was panicked. What would we do with the crap? Some really important stuff was in those boxes (like Bean’s baby book and mementos), so we had to get them back. The hub rushed in to be my hero.

The next morning we all made a plan. The hub and our friend who we were staying with took their van and headed back to Sea Town (a 6 hour drive). They were going to get the stuff and immediately drive back. Then, I would go through everything, get rid of the non-essentials, try to sell the major furniture, repack the others, and we’d hope it all turned out right.

All went well until they were 5 kilometers from Onion Town.

You know those movies where you either laugh or cringe because everything goes wrong over and over? You see Chevy Chase or Martin Lawrence on the DVD cover and you know that everything will go wrong over and over. As soon as the first items begin to be packed in a box, we become those people. At one point in our long story, a taxi driver even told us that we were unlucky.

So, 5 kilometers from Onion Town, at about 8:30 at night, the hub and our friend suddenly feel the power steering go out on the van that contains all of our crap. Then, the engine shuts down. They push the car to the side of the road in the pitch-black night and realize that there is no AAA to call. They’re gonna have to walk to the next gas station. The next gas station that is 5 kilometers away. In the dark. With no street lights.

I used to make fun of the hub because he always had a flashlight with him. There’s usually one in this car, in a suitcase if we’re traveling, and even a little one in his pocket. I have now told him that I won’t make fun of him any more. That little pocket light helped them excessively in their nighttime stroll.

Tune in next time for the next exciting chapter in our drama. (Oh, come on! If I wrote it now, this post would get ridiculously long! And, if I make you wait, then I might just drive up my blog stats….Heh, heh, heh!)

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