Driver's ed

My work partner is very amusing only because he doesn't mean to be.

Nearly each morning I bike over to his office and most days I'll get taken from meeting to ceremony to lectures. I use the term taken because 90% of the time I have no clue what's going on or where we're going. I listen for the "on y va" (let's go) and I follow diligently. On a good day I understand more than half of the things he says to me (after several explanations), and since the meetings we attend are in Wolof and not French, I understand on average one word from every two sentences spoken. That's not a good statistic. At times I feel like I'm Indiana Jones, deciphering hieroglyphics. Sure, my life is less exciting but I do ride around in ancient vehicles, flight off creepy crawlies, and spend the majority of my day trying to decode the language here as if the Pearl of Allah depended on it. But I digress.

My work partner comes off intelligent and mindful.

Until he gets behind the wheel.

Then he turns into a cross between a 16 year old practicing on a learners permit, and a 5 year old who stole they keys to dad's truck. In the last month since I've been shadowing him, he's run his car into the ground driving through several sand piles (which, afterwards, another female volunteer and I pushed the car in our dresses), he's backed it into posts, driven the door into the side of a wall, and has nearly ran us off the road more times than I can count while trying to answer his cell phone driving. It's extra humorous/disturbing that his ring tone is a prayer call. The car has broken down a number of times and once, it broke down in the middle of the national road and we just sat there in the dark. He also insists on driving through huge potholes that could be wells, while flying down the road. He, like most Senegalese, lack any social awkwardness. So it's hilarious to watch his reactions when he makes these driving mistakes. Usually, he brushes it off casually...as if nearly driving off the road was like discovering he wore mismatching socks. I guess in Senegal, both hold the same amount of seriousness.

To his credit, during our first journey out of town, he made sure I used my seat belt (at the time I thought he was joking...so I laughed inappropriately). He then attempted to buckle his for 10 minutes before realizing it was broken. So after that, he just drove with the belt across his lap but not bucked to anything. Oh, Africa...

Finally at site!

I wrote this a while ago but thought I would post it as a tribute to the end of training and life in the village.

Number of vaccination shots received since staging: 8

Number of nights spent in the village: 36

Number of times I say "ca va" (how are you) on any day: 40

Number of people in my village family: 20

Number of family member's names I remember: 8

Number of languages my family speaks: 3

Number of people in my family who speak English: 0

Number of bucket baths taken: 60

Number of nights I've "sweated myself" awake: 15

Number of times I've thought to myself, this is the hottest I've ever been. No...now this is the hottest: Every day

Number of times I've been attacked by nuclear sized cockroaches: 3

Number of rats I've caught in my room: 3

Number of times I've ducked-taped my broken mosquito tent together: 6

Number of mosquito and/or insect bites on any given day: 20

Number of anti-malarial pills taken: 5

Number of times I seriously thought I had malaria: 1

A day in the life of a Peace Corps Trainee.

I usually wake up around 6am to the sounds of either our family pig screeching for dear life, or to my mother sweeping the house or screaming at the kids. By then I’m usually covered in my own sweat and musky from a night perspiring and swatting flies from under my holey mosquito net. Language class starts at 8 so I’m off to Cail’s house by 7:45. On my morning walk I greet hello to the community pig. I’m not sure which family she belongs to, but she lives outside my family’s compound and has made quite a smelly, disease-infested home for herself there. I then swat flies for the entire day in French class (with a break après midi [afternoon] in which I go home to eat lunch with my family). At 6pm I head home and play soccer with the kids for a few hours before dinner. Our family sits in the courtyard on broken plastic chairs and wooden benches and gathers around the tiny family TV for the Senegalese news then for a round of Brazilian soap operas dubbed in African French. Some nights I make attaaya for my family (Senegalese tea boiled to a pulp and made with a mountain of sugar), which can take me an hour since I have to fan the charcoal that sits in a bowl, under the tiny metal tea pot, until the water boils. We have dinner around 9pm (watery bean sauce or fish sauce over couscous). Nearly all of my time outside of class is spent with my family--most nights we just lay on a mat in the middle of the compound and talk. The only time I spend in my room is the 7 hours I "sleep" (lay there sweating).

I take a bucket bath and try to cool off before bed but the sweat quickly replaces the water I dry from my body. I usually go to bed hungry. I’m perpetually hungry.

But let’s rewind this a bit since you’re probably asking yourself quite a few questions.

I live at alone at a wonderful homestay family who only speaks Serrer (regional language) and sometimes French. Like many Senegalese families, our home is more like a compound than a house and I share it with what seems like 10 other adults and 30 children all of whom I assume is my family. Since I don’t have the language skills to ask them whom exactly all these people are, I just smile and call everyone my brother, sister, uncle and aunt.

Everyday I have 8 hours of French class and during that time I fill my mind with a mélange of phrases, verbs, and vocab words once buried deep in areas of my brain I thought I would never use again. The Peace Corps technique to language learning is a unique one, and a crash course—to put it mildly. We are taught in French and we start speaking first…and figure out what we’re actually saying after. We live with families who speak no English so the learning process doesn’t end after class is over. It’s sink or swim. As you can imagine, I’ve gotten quite nifty at gestures.

Although our training group is over 50 people, we are separated into tiny language groups, and then sent to live in our homestay villages where we spend nearly 24 hours a day practicing our languages and 10 hours a day with our group members. As you can imagine, I’ve gotten quite close to Cail and Katherine since they’re my only English speaking outlet. Ever.

Alive and well in W.Africa

Four days in-country and all is well. Orientation "staging" in DC flew by quickly but I did manage to squeeze-in a tour of the monuments at our nations capital. PC gave us a hefty stipend for two days in the city and they've been taking care of us quite well in-country. The first days have been overwhelming but amazing. It feels like weeks and not days since I was at LAX and I feel like I'm a million (or 7,000) miles from home. We have a great group and tomorrow we're being sent to our "homestays" where we will live with a Senegalese family (alone) and train in our languages for the next two months. I won't have internet for at least a week so I wanted to post a note and say that I'm alive and made it to West Africa safely. Thoughts, photos, and amusing stories to come. A bientot.

Goodbye, RIM. I won't be too far away.

Peace Corps informed us about a month ago that Mauritania (RIM) will be cancelled. I then heard through the grapevine that 1st year volunteers were given the option to leave the country will full-term benefits. They've scattered our group throughout Africa and luckily for me, I'm one of the few who was placed in the adjacent country: Senegal. So, my packing list will hardly change but from what I've gathered, Senegal will be a very different experience. For one, the Sahara desert does not cover ANY of the country, so we can conclude that I won't be dealing with 125F degree days and sand storms ruining my electronics and zippers. Senegalese culture is less conservative than that of Mauritania, so there's no need for ankle-length skirts and head scarves. Alcohol is legal. Street food is plentiful and delicious. There's a mango season, and I'll have regular access to fruits and veggies. The country is, for the most part, green and it's inhabited by animals such as giraffes, antelope, rhinos, hippos, monkeys, and warthogs. Senegal is the Africa I had imagined living in when I first applied for PC over a year ago. But since they assigned me to RIM, I had been mentally preparing myself to live in exile, in a sweltering land of sand dunes and camels, surviving on oily sandy couscous, and gatorade flavored water. In a strange way, I began to look forward to it.

This is new assignment is a blessing, as I've heard from many that the programs in Senegal are much better organized and the country is filled with more amenities. I can do without the sand-filled meals.

I've been doing a good job of keeping my days jam packed. I spend much of the time explaining to people why I'm still in the country, and the rest is divided between selling my furniture and car, spending time with friends and family, studying french, and eating everything in sight. I've been indulging on Pinkberry, Krispy Kreme and a mountain of chemical-filled junk food that I haven't had an interest in since grade school. Cheetos, Twinkies, Slurpees, boxes of Nerds and bags of Pixie Sticks, Laffy Taffy's, ice cream bars, and spicy chips. I must be nostalgic of childhood and Americana. Two more weeks of lovely hot showers and soft down blankets. Then, Africa here I come...for real this time. Inch'allah.

so i was wrong...

I'm not leaving in 6 days. I woke up this morning to an email from the peace corps country desk officer who left a cryptic message asking me to contact them as there have been a change in my departure plans. I first thing that came to mind was "oh by some miraculous twist of fate they've decided to station me in Fiji instead." I left a voicemail at the number I was requested to call and between then and the 15 minutes it look her to return the call I went through a full range of emotions from fear to relief to sadness. As much as I kid about RIM (Republique Islamique de Mauritanie) being hell...I've had six months to accept it, learn about it, and practice my french. It's a shock to the system to suddenly hear that I'm not going there for now...or ever.

So our visas have not been approved by the RIM embassy meaning we aren't legally able to get on a flight bound there. Our staging (orientation), flight, and training have been cancelled. Peace Corps is hoping things will settle down after the elections in July and we'll be on our way mid-August. In the meantime, they say they have not heard a definite answer from the Mauritanian government so no one's really clear what the chances of us going are. This is all stemming from a military coup that occurred last August; since then there's been a lot of political tension and instability. They're hopeful that all Peace Corps programs will continue since the agency has a long history in the country and this is the first time they've run into this problem.

I'm still letting news of this unexpected delay soak-in. I've quit my job and arranged my travel plans around my Africa departure. Basically all the decisions and plans I've made since last December have been for this program. I guess for now all I can do is wait. They said if this continues into August Peace Corps will start to look into alternative locations for us. Fiji here I come?

17 days and and i'm off again...

so nepal came and went, as did china. i'm now home in los angeles for a few more weeks then i'll be on a plane to....africa! i never realized how much time it takes to wrap up "affairs" for two years, pack for the sahara desert, take 40 hours of french lessons......not to mention consolidate my endless medical bills. blue cross will have to shut down a division after i leave the country.

what does one pack in anticipation for living in the sahara? lots of gatorade powder mix, high spf sunscreen, and three pairs of sunglasses i suppose.

the annapurna circuit

230 miles. 18 days in the nepalese himalaya. they say it's one of the best treks in the world. i can't wait to find out for myself!
will update in a few weeks.
love from nepal!

no love from Agra

each time i get sick in india, it seems to get worse and worse. it's a good thing i'm off to nepal today. the first time i had indigestion and was woozy the rest of the night. the second time i had a fever, chills, couldn't move for a day, and was afraid to leave the security of my toilet for the next few.

i should have known better; not to consume every buttery lassi and paneer pakoda i see on the street. but i never learn and i rarely stop myself from sampling the tasty treats found on the streets of india. i joke after each bout that it's almost worth the sickness...but when i'm laying on the floor with india's grimey foot stepping on my neck...all i want is a one-way ticket back home.

this last time i woke up in a hot sweat at 3am a few minutes before my body decided to angrily reject the banana lassi i drank a few hours prior...in the toilet, on the floor, and in the bathroom bucket that indians use to bathe out of. for the first time i understood the panicky feeling one gets when they can't decide which end of their body more urgently needs the toilet. the rest of the night was a blur and by morning i had kicked over my water and was laying next to my security bucket. needless to say, i didnt make the 5 o'clock alarm set for myself the night before...just so i could get a glimpes of the taj mahal at sunrise; when i heard you can see it's reflection in the stretch of pond leading to it, and watch it's colors change from pink to orange to white. by 9am i decided through a hazy fever turned headache, turned earache, that i didn't travel 10,000 miles and two months through india not to see the taj--vomiting or no vomiting...i was going to see this monument to love that took 20 something years and a fleet of thousands of elephants to build. i dragged myself through the dusty streets of Agra and after 3 security checks, layed my tired eyes on the pearly white walls of the taj. i then spent the next 4 hours alternating between sleeping on a park bench and the cobble stone floors leading up to the monument. i have to admit, waking up from my sickly state and turning my head to see the glowing sunlight reflecting from the marble-lined taj made for a pretty spectacular sight. thank you, india, for humbling me once again ... then showing me some sweetness. you are never short of surprises.

where have i been?

the last month and a half of travel through india has been an incredible experience. i feel like i took a tumble through the looking-glass the night i arrived--and though it's just as disorienting and perplexing as ever, i think i've finally stopped looking for my way out. i'm better adjusted to the ropes here (and boy, did i need to learn them)...but india has a way of tossing surprises in your face just after you start to feel settled. just when you think you've got a grip on things your ego gets a hard kick in the backside. it's mother india's way of humbling you.

this country is mad. at first, it's bizarre. it seems contradictory....it balances between extremes. it's a sensory assault. it's serenity. it's heartbreaking. it's heartwarming. and what i call "heart-making". it tears you down then teaches you a different way of looking at things. it pushes you to new limits and just when you think you've had enough, it "gives you some sugar" as my travel buddy amy put it. it's rough on your body and your mind; it nourishes your soul. it jostles and shakes you from the outside-in, and then the other way around. it's rich in ancient spiritual and religious tradition that permeates even modern indian culture. india is heart-healing.

*********************
and since the last post i've traveled through much of south india. from hill stations of munnar to kodaivattakanal; i spent much of my time in the southern state of tamil nadu, including a short stay in kanyikumari, the southernmost tip of mainland india. there, you can sit on a rock and watch the confusion of the waves at the only place in the world where three oceans meet. the waters from the bay of bengal, the arabian sea, and the indian ocean come from all directions and swirl into each other, creating a distinct color and pattern in the sea. because of it's location, there's a time of year when you can see simultaneous sunset and moonrise in kanyikumari, but i missed it by a month! i relaxed on the sleepy canals of the backwaters in kerala, then headed 2,000 km north to the capital of delhi. i'm now in north india; a much more aggressive place, or so i hear from the travelers i meet. so that's the geographical update of my journey thus far. stories, incidents, and my random ruminations to come!

green tea and leeches

i went to bed with about 10 bites on my body...and woke up to find my arms, ankles, feet, and midriff covered with over 50 bites. all night i tossed and turned having nightmares of malaria and dengue fever. i'm one of few travelers i've run into who isn't taking laramine or malarone anti-malarial meds. at the time, i figured the side effects isn't worth the hassle but now i'm starting to think some night sweats and psychosis isn't bad compared to laying in an indian hospital with malaria.

i'm in a town called munnar, where they grow the most green tea india. the tea plantations are a spectacular sight--bright green tea plants stretch into the horizon and the air is scented with dusty tea that's a refreshing change from the exhaust of bangalore. the town is high up in the hills of kerala and the temperature at night dips into the 60s. now, i'm no entomologist, but i thought mosquitoes only lived in warm weather at lower elevations. i brought up this point to the guesthouse owner, then showed him my battle scars.

"ah madam, no mosquitoes. maybe small roach. or bites from leeches maybe. you stay away from woods. you keep bathroom door closed when you sleep."

finally...some pictures!

riding the famous indian rails























































so...i've been bathing in the toilet...it explains so much...

Mumbai-->Anjuna Beach (Goa)-->Hampi-->Bangalore-->Munnar (Kerala)

I've been hitting the buses, rickshaws, and railways like a madwoman. I've been in India nearly two weeks and have traveled through 5 cities and covered maybe 1,000 miles. This is typical to my usual traveling speed...we sped through nearly every major city in 6 countries of Central America in less than 2 months...i traveled the entire east coast of Australia and most of New Zealand in 7 weeks. the only difference between then and now is one major one i didn't account for: India is a different beast in every way.

It is nearly impossible to speed through the cities here. The country makes it hard both geographically as well as mentally. The subcontinent is massive, and despite an extensive railway system, the train can only run so quickly through 1.3 million square miles and a parameter of 13,000 miles.

But the distance is secondary to the main reason you can't rush through India; because you'll lose your mind. Imagine this: everytime you get into a big city you are bombarded with men staring at you up and down; children asking to take photos with you and shake your hand, "whats your good name (in india, everyname is good)?" "what's your country?"; crowds of people pushing and shoving through the streets; nearly escaping serious injury due to collision with [bus, rickshaw, car, motorcycle, motorbike, bicycle, the holy cow, and goat] at every intersection; touts hounding you to look at their store "just one look madam"; watching every step you take to ensure you don't step into [spit, a hole in the sidewalk, cow shit, broken cobblestones, glass, bricks]. And once you start to get the hang of things, you have to pack your bags and go...then you start all over again. This is traveling on the fly in India.

first night in mumbai

i enjoy peering from the airplane window at cities i've never been to. the snowcapped mountains outside christchurch, new zealand. the sunburnt desert in victoria, australia. the sprawling skyline in tokyo. today i'm adding one more to the list of images i'll never forget. through the orange haze all i could see were slums. makeshift homes, that from 20,000 feet up, looked like tiny sheets of tin foil stacked on top of each other. 55% of the population of 13 million lives in these slums.

this place is madness...people everywhere. cab drivers opening their doors in traffic to spit. more honking then there is silence. goats, cows roaming the streets. random parades. silver plated, technicolored horse and buggies. people selling things...cleaning ears...telling fortunes. hanging out. spitting. singing. cooking dinner. eating dinner. sleeping ... and this is all on the sidewalks. rats i mistook for rabbits share the gutters with babies going #1 and #2....and as thuy and i would say it...#3 as well. this is the mumbai i experienced in my first hour here. i can see why people take the next flight home after seeing India.

now i understand what people mean when they say it's a shock to all your senses. ive been having stomach issues since i landed. AND i haven't even eaten anything yet. must be from the smells.

detoured...

i caught the flu. for the first week i could barely move from the sweaty spot i claimed on the couch of the apartment i had moved out of. maybe subconsciously it was my way of hanging onto pointview st. nearly three years of late night talks, dinners in front of the tv, crazy weekends, laughs, bad jokes, bad fights, bad food, and way too many house guests from all over the city, state, country, and world. it was hard to leave.

i'm feeling much better now and i booked the long awaited plane tickets. mumbai in two days...then who knows where?

wrapping things up

it's been a crazy month filled with too many changes. i'm slowly getting my things together and packing up my life to leave for the next three years. i should be on the road in a few weeks but i have yet to buy a plane ticket or come up with a plan. it's ok...it's overrated anyway (a plan, not a plane ticket).

i've been on a rollercoaster of mixed emotions. last night i dreamt that i begged (more like groveled to) the country director in mauritania to station me in a large city where i would undoubtably have more amenities. some mornings i lay there thinking about what i'll miss.