Tile floors.

So let's fast forward to 2010. I am engaged to a beautifal Liberian girl that I love very much. She is actually the reason that I have started this blog. I want it to be a guide to Liberia and an insight into a Liberian relationship.
I recently rented my fiancee a house that I will move into when we get married in June. I am sure I will address a number of different issues that will arise in regards to this house but today I will address the tile floors. They are not the greatest floors but hey, it's a rental. My fiancee does not have this same attitude. She is constantly complaining that she is always scrubbing the floor and it won't shine. For a guest to come over and see tile that is not shining would be some kind of human rights violation. Her answer is to buy a very cheap linoleum substitute and cover the entire house with it. I completely disagree. This fake flooring is going to wear through in a few months and only makes the place look cheap. I bought a $100 rug to cover the living-room floor and she still wants to put the linoleum under that.
If you continue to read this blog I am sure you will see that I always lose and I am rarely right. So keep your eyes peeled for an update on the instilation of the linoleum floors.

Mercy Ships and arrival in Liberia.

I joined the ship in South Africa in September of 2009. This was not the life of leisure that I was shooting for but I still felt like God wanted me to join Mercy Ships. (At this point I was still participating in all types of debauchery but at least I was listening to what God had to say.) After six weeks in South Africa we set sail for Liberia. Believe me when I tell you I never wanted to come to Africa. This was God's adventure for me.
After nine days of smooth, clear seas we were set to approach Liberia. Before we could see land the water started to change from crystal clear blue to a murky, plastic bag strewn, mud puddle. Then came the smell of 2 million people's waste being washed out to sea. I wondered what I had gotten myself in to. A country that you can smell before you can see it! I was not the least bit prepared. We drifted closer until we could see Mamba point where the US embassy is. I was trying to make some sense of the skyline of bombed out buildings and smoke rising from the streets. Liberian guys in hand dug fishing canoes were paddling close to see this ship full of white people. I can't believe anyone would eat fish from these waters. We were boarded by the pilot that guided us into the port. There was a cargo ship turned on its side and half sunk at main berth in the port. We gently put into our dock, sandwiched by two other half submerged fishing boats. This was going to be a wild ride. Fear and excitement filled me as I wondered what was beyond the port. Little did I know at the time I would call Liberia home for years to come.

The begining.

This story really starts in the spring of 2005. I was just getting my head back together from what I call "The Wilderness Years." From the summer of 1998 until winter 2004, I had done my best to destroy my liver and not get anyone pregnant. The latter was easy because I barely had time in between drinks to talk to women. I did have a few girl friends though, they seemed to be as self involved as I was.
You are only young once and I was almost finished with that. My friends were graduating college, getting married, and getting real jobs. I was a teller at the slowest branch of a small bank. I provided outstanding customer service despite the fact that I hated my job. To escape I started fishing and listening to island music. I dreamt of the Carribean and a carefree lifstyle that involved little work and lots of play. Then I read a book called A Pirate Looks at Fifty by one James Buffet. This book changed my life. I realize that sounds absurd but it did. I was inspired to throw off the yolk of small time corporate life and live freely. (Now compare that statement to this.) I decided to work on an oil rig in the Carribean. The deal is I would work two weeks then take two weeks off on the mainland. Those two weeks would be fueled by bad behavior I am sure. So while at my teller station I went to a website that recruits for these types of jobs. The site said that if you had seafaring experience it would give you and edge in the employment process. So I clicked on a link that advertised free experience.