Chez Moi!

The descriptions I was given of my house seem pretty accurate, and I will try not to be too repetitive here as I have already described bits and pieces of my house.  But I know everyone at home is curious to know what my “hut” is like.  First, it is not a hut.  The inside:

   

I was pleased to find that the top half of my walls were painted a teal color, which really helps to brighten up the place.  These pictures are of my smaller room.  As you can see, or maybe not, it’s still a pretty good size.  As you can also see, I have no furniture except my “bed”, which serves as an interesting challenge since I can’t readily buy furniture in village and I can’t very well bike furniture to my house.  Can you rent a donkey cart for a day?

 

My hanger area is just outside my bedroom door.  It’s a decent size, about the size of my little room, and I can easily keep my bike out here during the day and sit in the afternoons to catch a slight breeze or keep the petites from crowding my front door.  The square looking thing in the corner is a rabbit pen!  Or an attempted rabbit pen. Rob had a rabbit that he was given as a gift to eat and decided to keep, and Roger built him this pen for the rabbit (it originally had a tin roof).  Unfortunately it was not kitty proof, and the rabbit’s first night in the pen he was attacked by a cat and died (which is odd since I have yet to see a cat in village, maybe because people eat cats around here).  I’m not sure what I’ll make of it, since I cannot bear to lose another rabbit after Mr. Big, but for now the children like to sit of it when they come to stare at me. 

There are two downfalls to my hanger.  The first is that there is no door.  This means I cannot shut the petites out.  I’ve been trying to teach them that if I am outside, they may be under the hanger with me; this is not all that bad, sometimes they sing or play games for me.  But if I am inside they may not be under my hanger, and, for the love of God, they cannot crowd around my door and watch me.  This has been hard to convey since I cannot shut them out and since only a few of the older ones speak a little French, most do not even speak Moore, and I cannot ask or explain to them my boundaries.  Shooing them away works sometimes, but often is confused for a twisted game of peek-a-boo.  Not having a hanger door also allows animals to wander about at will.  When it rains I often have goats or dogs seeking refuge under my hanger.  While I’ve never seen a cow or donkey actually under my hanger, they are often in my courtyard and I have to skirt around them to get to the latrine.  Also these little guys often come to visit a lot:         

The other downfall to my hanger is that I have to go out and around it to get to the kitchen, since my rooms are not connected by a doorway.  Unfortunately there is only one entrance to my hanger, and it’s not in the direction of my other room.  My other room, or the big room as I often refer to it as, is quite large for my standards:

I tried to take a panorama of the whole room, but could really only get about half.  Buts lets just say I’m pretty sure you could fit all of Katie’s house in my big room.  As you can see, the big room is nearly completely empty.  Thankfully Roger brought me tables, so I’m not cooking on the floor, but it’s still pretty comical to cook in the big empty room.  The down sides to the big empty room, besides being empty, is that there are no real windows and no screen on the double door or the ceiling vents, meaning bats come at night.  I don’t mind them though, they eat the mosquitoes, that also come in at night.  Hence sleeping in the little room. I am starting to mind, however, Jared, my mouse, who also comes in at night.  He was alright, kind of cute, until this morning I found mouse poop in my Special K, which cost more then 3 or 4 dinners and I can only buy it in Ouaga, which I’m not okay with.  Biting into my tomatoes and cheese is one thing, but NOT the Special K!  Anyways, back to my house, I have high hopes for the big room, once I figure out how to get a big kitchen table and maybe some chairs.  It would be perfect for hosting holiday gatherings, like Thanksgiving (Except for the whole biking-in-all-necessary-supplies-since-I-can’t-buy-anything-here part).          

Just outside my house is my latrine and douche.        There is not much to it- on the right is the latrine and on the left is the shower area.  They are separated by a cement wall.  The latrine, as you can see, is just a hole in the ground.  The douche looks exactly the same, only there is no hole in the ground.  Instead the is a hold in the base of the back wall, so that the bath water can drain out.  The whole set up is actually not that bad.  I mean, yes, a toilet is a treat, but squatting under a full moon and a bright nights sky has it’s upside too.  And I love to bucket bathe just at dusk, when it’s still hot from the day so the cold (a.k.a.room temperature) water is delightful and I get to watch the last of the day’s light turn orange and pink over the palm trees. 

    

       (view from the kitchen)

Right in front of my house, or I should say just down the path, is the marche and dolo bar, which happens ever 3 days.  It’s just past that building with the blue door that claims to be a telephone (there is no electricity here… how can there be a telephone?), where you can kind of see the stick and thatched roof hangers.  On a good marche day I can buy eggplants, corn, okra, tomatoes, and limes.  I’ve also seen hot peppers, what they call “local eggplants,” and I once saw cabbage and these small yellow round things that I’m not sure if it was a type of melon or squash.  Next time I think I will buy one and experiment.  The marche ladies only speak Moore, so buying from them includes a lot of pointing, nodding, and them picking the correct amount of money out of my hand.  The dolo bar (bar as in log benches under thatched hangers) is always popular on marche day, but despite the only butcher being in the dolo bar I try to avoid that area.  I haven’t quite the courage to try the butcher, perhaps because he is drinking dolo while cutting up unidentified meat on a rock slab outside, or to try the dolo (local beer).  I’ve been told there is also two boutiques in that area, that look exactly like the building in the photo with the blue door, with the very, very basic necessities, but I have yet to go to either.    

Other then that I only have two neighboring compounds. To the front left of my house is the Chief de Village compound.  I’m not sure how many people live there; there seems to be a swarm of children and maybe his son, who is at least in his 40s, and every morning at 6 a.m. there are 2 or 3 women out front pounding something in giant mortars and pestles, I can only assume for To.  The Chief himself is an older gentleman, somewhere in his 60s I would guess, and seems to always be sitting in a chair under the big tree on the left in the left-hand picture below, wearing a bright orange hat (the hats that are not hats that Muslims wear, I can’t think of what they are called).  He and most of his family, including a number of the children that often find themselves in my courtyard, only speak Nounie.    

   

My other neighboring compound is off to the back left, and I have yet to meet them or figure out who lives there.  They keep to them selves, or maybe it’s empty?  I couldn’t get a photo, but I snuck the Chief’s house from my window.  While I don’t really have neighbors, I’m still right in the middle of “town” because I’m near the marche and right off of 2 heavily used paths.  I can’t share what the outside of my house looks like because I don’t want anyone to know I have a camera, but I do enjoy the fact that there is actually a sign out front that it is a cereal bank.

The CSPS is a short bike ride away, and there is a primary school that is also a short bike ride away.  My village itself is very small, around 800 people, but the CSPS serves about 10 other neighboring villages as well.  The first week I could find a bar or two of cell phone service, but now all the spots I found seem to be dried up and I’ve resorted to biking 5K to the main road to make any phone calls or send a text message, and even then the reso is not great.  I am, however, very lucky to have close PCV neighbors.  I see Katie once or twice a week; we started visiting each other every Sunday to have lunch together and make upcoming plans, then I try to make it once a week to the marche in her village, since it is bigger then mine.  We also head down to our district capital about every 2 weeks, more or less, to go to a grand marche and the post, as well as seeing 2 or 3 other volunteers.  Overall, Village is not a bad set-up!     

Affectation

August 29th was the big day, the day that each volunteer both looks forward to and dreads, the day the Peace Corps SUV unpacks all our belongings and leaves us, alone, in an unfamiliar village in the middle of an unfamiliar country, which does not speak English.

I was the second volunteer of three to be unloaded from my car.  When Lauren and I left Katie, standing in her courtyard with several men fussing over her house, I felt a slight pang –“oh no! I’m next!”- and had to take a few deep breaths to fight off a slight panic.  It wasn’t long before the Land Cruiser turned off the main road and into the bush.  We seemed to be on that dirt, pothole-filled, road for a good bit of time, and while I was filled with nervous anticipation and excitement, all I could think about was This road is going to be fun to bike on…  good grief!  No wonder all the cars here are off-roaders! 

Finally we pulled up to chez moi! It is a good size, government built building (meaning it’s built out of real construction materials and not mud-bricks), with high ceilings.  It’s right in-between a “road” and a heavily used path.  My burning pit is right next to my house, but as it is the rainy season it is filled with green stagnant water. my Latrine and shower is just off to the right of the front of my house; neither of which are the nicest I’ve seen, but certainly could be way worse.  As soon as the car pulled up we were swarmed by 20 or so “petites” and a couple women.  They didn’t say anything, just stared at the two foreign white chicks and were probably wondering which one of us was moving in.  Finally after a short wait the Major (my counterpart) came with the key to my house.  Since I live in a cereal bank facility, I have 2 rooms, one small and one large, that are not connected.  The Major only had the key to the little room, which was to become my bedroom since it’s the room with windows and screens on the door.  We unpacked my things from the car, the driver changed the lock on my one door, he gave the Major a little spiel about how “I was now his daughter” (or something like that, it was in French), gave me a little pep-talk where he kept repeating “du courage”, I gave Lauren a huge goodbye, and then watched the Peace Corps car drive away as 20 or so strangers stared at me. It was all over in the blink of an eye.                    

The Major told me to sit down under my hanger, but the only piece of furniture Rob had left me was a broken chair, so the Major sent a man to fetch a chair.  Once he returned the Major, this man, and I sat in my courtyard for what seemed like forever.  It was past noon and I was tired, overwhelmed, and starving, but we sat, mainly in silence, with a crowd of children watching us, I’m guessing waiting for the key to my other room to show up (which apparently was with someone in another village).  Another man came with a 20L jug of water, then left and returned with a baguette and 2 cans of sardines for me.  It was only slightly awkward and uncomfortable, especially when the men started talking about my bike (the PC gives us pretty nice, brand new Trek mountain bikes).  Finally then men left me to settle in, after about an hour or so,  …but not the petites. 

I went inside my room and set up my lit pico (woven cot) and started to organize my belongings.  I couldn’t put kitchen or food items in the kitchen, because that door was still locked (it’s PC policy that your stove cannot be in the same room you sleep, so by default the big room was the kitchen), so I just created a “kitchen pile”.  I also didn’t have any other furniture, so I couldn’t unpack my clothes.  So really “unpacking” consisted or moving piles of things into other/more piles of things, all while a group of children watched me with curiosity with their faces pressing against my screen door.  We had been told that we had to set boundaries with the children from the very beginning, but me being timid and quickly learning that the children really don’t speak French, I didn’t know how to politely ask them to leave my hanger.  After one older girl tried to actually open my screen door I had had enough and told them “Bilfu” (Goodbye in Moore) and closed my metal door.  Finally alone, I didn’t know what else to do but curl up on my bed that take it all in (a.k.a. nap). 

A few hours later I head men talking and commotion outside.  I took a little peak and someone had come with the other key.  I didn’t really feel like more awkward interactions in broken French, so I kept my door closed and hoped they didn’t need me.  After a little while, and after the commotion seemed to simmer, I built up the courage to face life.  Also, I really had to pee.  Only one man was left, the one who had brought me water and the food, and he was sweeping out my autra chambre.  I soon learned his name was Roger.  He gave me the key and showed me how to lock the door (the door handle is…  almost finished), and also set up my gas tank and stove (which is on the floor, since I’m sans table).  Then he asked if I needed anything else and bid me goodnight.  The rains soon followed- good omen or bad? 

It was already dark and actually making dinner seemed like a daunting task at that point in time, so I ate a meal bar from a care package I had just received (THANKS MOM!) and curled up on my bed with my head lamp and a book. What a day!               

Swear-In!

After our final Moore class, after the last French technical session, after a talent show, after our last dinner at the training center, after packing for the second to last time, we headed into Ouaga for our swear in ceremony! 

On my 74th day with the Peace Corps, I became an official Peace Corps volunteer!  We arrived at the US Embassy a full hour early.  We did a quick little run through of what we had to do and then were urged to sit in our seats and wait.  and wait.  and it was dreadfully hot and we were all starving and in need of water (or at least I since the timing of the thing hit where there was just enough time for breakfast but not for lunch before we had to get ready and bussed out).  Finally after everyone arrived and were seated the ceremony began.  There were a good number of important people there, including representatives from some of the major aid organizations in Burkina Faso, like US AID, and the US ambassador and the first lady of Burkina Faso.  All the current PCVs that had helped with our training were there and also some other PCVs that just wanted to come.  Our Country director spoke, and then a few volunteers gave speeches in their local language, then some other speeches, and then finally we took the oath.  The oath is the same oath of service to the US government that the president takes when he swears into office.  And the a few other speeches and a dance troop, and then all the new volunteers are presented to the important people by standing in a line, a very long line, and everyone shook our hands one by one, including the first lady!, as they entered into the reception area. 

After the ceremony was over we all made a mad dash into the reception hall to find a bottle of cold water (and maybe a glass of champagne…) and the finger foods that were floating around.  There were a couple cakes with the Peace Corps/Burkina Faso emblem on them that i was lucky enough to get a piece of and were delicious.  The reception only lasted a little over an hour, that that was all it took for the drinks to run out (the food ran out with in the first 15ish minutes), and once all the dignitaries left there was lots of picture taking and we started to get a little loud and silly.  Promptly at 19:00 our Country Director shooed us towards the Peace Corps vehicles that were waiting for us. 

Once back at the hotel the celebration continued.  For whatever reason our dinner plans at a nice restaurant were canceled in favor of ordering pizza, but I didn’t mind because this was the best pizza is all the BF (it had real blue cheese on it!).  Then after much attempt to get people mobilized, a large group finally made our way to downtown and to a restaurant/bar/hookah bar/ really delicious ice cream place to kill a little time before the dance clubs opened up.  From there we went to a club that happened to be only Peace Corps volunteers and we all flooded the dance floor.  It was a blast to meet the current volunteers and see all the new volunteers open up after weeks of training. 

After a little time there most of the club decided to change venues since the DJ kept talking too much.  What was suppose to be a short walk (we were being lead by old volunteers that knew the city) turned into what seemed like forever, but we finally made it.  This club was jammed pack with Burkinabe.  There were a lot of men and a few couples, but also quite a few prostitutes.  This was a down and dirty club in the BF (one girl had her purse yanked out of her hand, but she got it back), but was a ton of fun.  I was sitting at the outside bar with friends drinking a water (no seriously, I was sweating balls dancing in the hot club and only wanted water) and two of my guy friends who were sitting on the other end of the bar alone were approached by 2 prostitutes, it was really interesting to watch.  It’s good to be reminded that even though we are a bunch of American's and we’re all together, we’re still in the middle of Africa. Inside the club all the PCVs grouped together and danced like crazy.  The music was just right, even the melody of the 3 world cup songs that was played over and over again. 

The clubs here don’t start until midnight, and don’t seems to shut down until dawn.  Finally at 4ish I looked at my watch and thought “oh crap, I got to go to bed”, and joined a group that was headed home.  Tomorrow is a big day- I had to buy all the necessary things for my house as I get shipped off to site early Sunday morning!                           

Day 53

Today is August 13th, 2010 and my 53rd day as a Peace Corps stagiaire.

Today on my bike ride into the center I saw a man transporting a pregnant goat on his bicycle.  The goat was laid out with its’ back resting on the front bar of the men’s bike frame, head on the handlebars, and all four feet tied together with the man holding them with one hand as he steered the bike with the other.  This was not a motor bike, but a plain old peddling bike on a dirt road that was not particularly lacking of pot holes.  With a very pregnant, full size goat.  It was reminiscent of the man I saw last week who was tying two large, adult pigs to the basket area over the back tire of his bike- After 2 years here I will have seen everything.           

Today was my third day of learning Moore, my local language (well, local as in my village is a mixture of 3 different ethnic groups that speak 3 different local languages.  Moore is just the one the PC has deemed most useful for me to learn since it is most widely spoken throughout Burkina).  Hurray, I finally scored intermediate-mid on the LPI French test last Saturday and I can start local lang!  Just think- it took 6 weeks in the Peace Corps to get to about the same level in French that it took four semesters in college and 3 years in high school to get to in Spanish- I don’t know if that says more about me, the Peace Corps, or the American language system. Anyways, today I had Moore class.  Our class is a great group of Nick, Lauren, and I, and my favorite LCF.  Favorite because he is an English professor, which is very convenient for me.  All three of us took Spanish before the Peace Corps, so our class, which is taught in French, is a strange mix of French, Moore, Spanish when we don’t know the word in French, and English when we’re just plain desperate.  Oh yes, learning a new language in a language you barely know is fun.

Today I got To and fish surprise in green leaf slime sauce for dinner.  My roommate is gone for 5 days for “tech week”, so is stead of cooking a separate dinner for “La Blanc” they gave me what the rest of the family was eating- to be eaten a lone at the dinning room table while the rest of the family sits and watches TV and waits for me to finish before they can eat.  I understand that it seems silly to cook a separate meal for just one person, and I really don’t want to be more of a burden then I already am on Maryato, but To and fish surprise?  Any other local dish would have been better.  Let me explain- To is an almost tasteless mush that is cheap to make and a staple in most Burkinabe diets.  It is kind of the consistency of cold mashed potatoes or that weird porridge stuff Nany use to make me eat as a child.  It has the taste and nutritional value of cardboard.  To in itself is not horrible, and if served with the right sauce (read delicious sauce) can be a totally acceptable meal.  However, fish surprise is never good.  The fish here (that I’ve seen thus far) is very very fishy and they simmer the entire fish in the sauce for hours, leaving all the nice little bones, and head, and tail, and fins, to surprise you in your mouth or throat when you accidently swallow them.  Add this to an unknown green leave sauce that is slimy, like cut okra had been cooked in it but no okra could been seen or tasted, and tastes much like it looks.  Needless to say I am counting down the days until I get to my own house and can cook for myself. 

Today I received news from home- Bunny was taken to the vet to get her butt shaved and apparently “Little Miss” Big Bunny is actually Mr. Big.  How did the adoption agency, who got her fixed, mess that one up so bad?

   (Big adjusting to (his?) new home in MI, compliments of my mother)

 

Today was just another typical day in Stage.      

Site Announcements!

Monday, August 9th, was the golden day of Stage- Site Announcements for Small Enterprise Development, Girls Education and Empowerment, and Heath trainees! The entire afternoon was devoted to the event and the APCDs for all 3 sectors came to give us the glorious news.  First they gave us candy to butter us up for the people who would be disappointed by their sites.  Then a huge, floor to sealing, cover the entire wall, map of Burkina Faso was produced. One person from each sector, in rotation, was called up to the map, given a little man with their face on it, and told their village name.  After placing your little man on the map, we were given a road map of BF and an envelope with our site descriptions.  The little men were color coded by sector, so we could easily spot everyone.  At the very end yellow Secondary Education men were added, since they are part of our Stage but arrived in country 2 weeks before us and have already received their site placements.  Much to my delight and surprise, I was the second person to be picked out of a hat and placed on the map! 

While most people had a general idea of where they were going to be, because they knew what their local language, I had no hints or clue.  The hole country, minus the no-go zone in the north, was fair game for me.  I couldn’t be more excited about my site placement!  I’m exactly in the region I had secretly hoped to be- relatively close to Ghana and an easy bus ride to Ouaga for when I need to go into the city for a break in village life/ to restock.  Also, I’ve heard that my region is green and beautiful and hopefully will produce a good amount of fruits and vegetables.  I will live in a very small village, under 2,000 people, but don’t live far from a bigger village with a good market and hopefully an internet cafe and electricity (hopefully being the key word here).  My house stands alone, opposed to a family compound, and is 2 rooms with a private douche (shower in French) and latrine.  Not inside, of course, and indoor latrine and douche is unheard of in village.  I also have a small overhang and courtyard area just outside my door.  I’ve been told that the CSPS is very “cohesive” and strong and that my counterpart is pretty easy to work with. The best part is that I’m decently close to my best girl friend from Stage and really close, like bike just for the afternoon close, to 3 other PCVs.  Yay, Friends! Who are American and speak English!

Another huge added bonus is that I’m replacing a volunteer who is actually working Stage as a PCV Facilitator.  He singed on for a 3rd year, so his first 2 must have been pretty good… right?  I grilled him today to tell me about my site- apparently my house was originally built for grain storage, so I have one normal size room and one large room without windows and a high ceiling!  My courtyard is not fenced in, per say, but is pretty off the beaten path and visible from the chief de village compound,where the chief spends the majority of his time sitting outside in his courtyard, so it’s very safe.  He says the view from my door is just beautiful, which I’m very excited for.  Also, there is a burning pit on the side of my courtyard so that I can burn my trash, which is great news since trash disposal is a big issue here (i.e. the ground is a trash can here).  Rumor has it that cell service is not good in my village, so that will be a challenge.

Rob also gave me a run down on some of the projects he did and gave me some ideas for what I may want to do.  Another bonus to being a second generation volunteer is that the village/ your counterpart sort of has an idea of what a PCV is actually there for (not just to give $) and how to use them in the community.  Also I can learn from what the previous volunteer has done and what worked well, and hopefully pick up where he left off on some things.  He has worked a lot with moringa, which is a wonder leaf that is very, very nutritious and grows really easy here, and I’m more then happy to pick up his projects with that, as moringa is something I was hoping to work with anyways.  I plan go get more ideas and information out of him over the next week before he leaves.

Overall, I’m very, very happy with my site placement and cannot wait to get to site and settle in.  Now that we all know where home will be for the next 2 years we are all pretty ready for Stage to be over… but we’ll see if I still feel that way once I’m dropped off is a tiny village and no one speaks English.

New Blog Name

Ok, so this is the second time I’m changing my blog name, but I’ve finally found a quote/ title that I actually really like.  I wasn’t sold on the first two titles, but I think I found a winner.  It came to me via a card that a dear Aunt gave to me before I left for the Peace Corps, and which I didn’t open until a month into training.  When I finally opened it, the card and message was so powerful that I instantly knew that was meant to be my blog title.  After my Peace Corps adventures I plan to keep using this as a travel blog to keep my family updated on my life as I go where ever fate shall take me, and I feel this quotation goes along well with my outlook on life and aspirations for my future. Well, and my love for travel.  So I go confidently in the direction of my dreams, which right now is in Burkina Faso, and I pray to live the life I have imagined.  Thank you, Henry David Thoreau, for your elegant words.    

Day 39

On Sunday, July 18th, we left the luxurious life of free wi-fi and air conditioning to get back into a smaller city and home-stays.  The new training site isn’t as charming Ouahigouya, but maybe I just haven’t warmed up to it yet.  We spent the first couple of nights dorm style, conveniently at the center, before moving back into home-stays.  This time around, we were put 2 to a home-stay, since finding 77 (yes, our numbers have dropped.  We’ve already lost 2) new home-stays in less then 2 weeks would be insane.  I’m impressed with finding 30-some homes for all of us.  The idea was to put an advanced French speaker with a beginner French speaker to help with the learning process, but as it turned out I was placed with Kathy, a delightful women from Texas, who is only a level above me.  It’s working out just find, however, as we can both help each other struggle through interactions with the family.

Our house is infinitely nicer then home-stays in village.  Like we hit the jack-pot.  I traded in my mud-oven for a modern, cement house with electricity and a porcelain toilet (with a seat and toilet paper!). Albeit, they don’t have indoor plumbing so we fill the tank with a bucket of water.  Still… I’ll take it!  Every evening after dinner we sit on a couch and watch the news from the satellite TV.  We even have electricity in our room!  Take it, bucket baths under florescent lights in a tile shower room does not compare to the bucket baths under the moonlight in my own private latrine, but I’m not going to complain about the move. I mean, if this place had running water it could pass for a house in Flint, and not one of the condemned ones!  Well, at least from the inside, not including the barn-yard animals that are crammed into courtyard.  If only our houses at site would be like this!  Which I know would never happen, so I’m soaking up the electricity and flush toilet while I have it.   

Our Pere came to claim us at the adoption ceremony and he is a jolly older gentleman who is constantly smiling and, thankfully since our French leaves much to be desired, he talks with his hands.  I instantly had a good feeling about this living situation after meeting him.  We didn’t meet our Mere until the next day, but she is much his equal.  There are three girls living in the house, I'm guessing between the age of 10 and early 20something, and we’re not quite sure who they belong to.  I know the family has 5 children and 3 of them are off working/at university (a doctor, a pharmacist, and a sociologist), so we’re not quite sure were the extra girl in the household comes in.  The eldest girl has a son, 11 month old Avrium, who is the cutest baby in all of Burkina Faso.  There is also a nephew, who lives is the shed-like building in the courtyard, in between the chicken house and the mutton pen.  All together, it makes for a cozy home, but is still slightly uncomfortable as Kathy and I feel like an imposition to the family, as we are essentially helpless in this lifestyle.  The eldest girl seems to be in charge of caring for the nasaras, since she does all our cooking and entertains all our crazy questions on life in BF.  Last weekend she even taught us how to make beesap, which is this delicious juice made from hibiscus flowers. 

Daily life has remained much the same, only now every morning we get up and eat breakfast at the table alone before the ~3ish K bike ride to the center and then after a full day of sessions (beaucoup de Francais), and perhaps a French tutoring session, we ride back to our home where we bucket bathe inside before eating dinner alone, doing homework, and going to bed.  My new nugget of knowledge is that riding a bike is a skirt is very, very hard.  Any length, from floor to just below the knee, will fly up above your knees while riding.  No matter how you sit or what you do.  After a month of living in West Africa and not seeing my knees or any thigh in that time, even a little knee action seems scandalous.  My first attempt in a full length skirt failed miserably.  Within the first 5 minutes of riding my skirt got caught in the back break, not even the chain, but the break, which resulted in a pretty good size tear in the back of my skirt.  Then my ride was completed by getting caught in the chain which stained my skirt with mud and grease.  To top off the experience, this happened first think in the morning so I had to wear my humiliation the whole rest of the day including when I met all the visitors that came to our house to see us. 

As for other news, last weekend we had our second language test and I placed into intermediate low!  I was please to jump from novice low to inter low in just 4 weeks, but it still wasn’t good enough to find out my local language.  I’m fine with keeping in French and not starting local language yet, God knows I need the French, but with knowing your local language comes knowing the region and culture your going to live in.  So it was a little disheartening to miss out on the excitement of everyone else (the inter-mids and higher) finding out their local lang and their culture and who their neighbors will be and the buzz that came with that.  Next Saturday we have another LPI test so hopefully this time I’ll place in inter-mid and finally join the group of privileged information, however this won’t be as exciting since we are scheduled to get site announcements on that Monday, August 9th, anyways.         

Generally speaking, I am doing well.  I can hardly believe we’re already been here over a month.  Training is going well and I’m learning a lot, but they are long days, 6 days a week, and even free time in host families feels like work battling the French and awkwardness of living in someone else's home.  We’re all tired and training is wearing on us, but only 4 weeks to go until swear-in and slowing down. We’re over the hump.  We’re all pretty excited to get to site and be on our own schedule, which may not include getting up at 6 am or eating fish sauce at every meal.

This weekend is both my family reunion in Michigan and my favorite ultimate tournament in NJ.  So my thoughts and heart is with all my friends playing beach ultimate in at wildwood and all my family lounging on the clear blue shore on Lake Michigan.  Oh, how I dream of joining you on the beach.