Exercise and Birthday Shenanigans... et plus.

After the last post, I left the computer room, an air-conditioned bit of heaven, to head back to my room to unpack a bit and organize my room. The campus is not too spread out, so it was a short walk back to Village G, where I reside. Let me paint a picture: To get from the computer room to my dorm room, I walked down the stairs, turned left, walking on sand mixed with shells, which I find to be a pleasant reminder that we are only miles from the beach. Avoiding the thorny branches which unpleasantly stabbed Andrew in the foot previously, maneuvering around the piles of poop from several different types of animals ranging from enormous piles (which what they come from, I’m not sure of yet. I’m working on verifying that) to little dots of goat poop.

Once I make my way to the concrete path towards my dorm, still trying to steer clear of fecal matter, I think that I am safe. Not the case. While I’m minding my own business, enjoying the view of baby goats munching on plastic bags and everything in sight, a soccer ball flies my way, reminding me what time it is: exercise time (6 o’clock-ish). I look up and there are thousands (which might be an exaggeration) of men playing soccer, basketball, running, walking and Lord only knows what else. It was a bizarre moment. I arrived to my dorm room, successfully avoiding being hit in the face by a flying soccer ball (although I was a bit worried), started unpacking a little when the power went out. Pitch black. I head outside, where the whole world, as it seems, has come out of their rooms to socialize and wait for the power to come back.

I noticed this phenomenon one other time when the power was out in Dakar. Normally, no one in my house would go outside, but that night it was so warm that we were forced outside. It was fantastic! I spent almost three hours sitting outside of my house in a plastic chair talking with Pap, the door man who sleeps outside of the house to keep us safe. (Which I question because I have left and/or gone back in without him noticing) Pap is a good practice for Wolof because his French is so bad that I can barely understand him. I miss him since being in Saint-Louis.

Jump to New Topic:

Birthday

I had been warned by the girls from last year that on your birthday, you will get soaked with water (it’s the tradition here). So I was prepared and wore something that would dry quickly and not be seen through (the essential element). But, much to my dismay, no one knew it was my birthday, besides the other toubabs (white people/ gringos/ Americans). Therefore, all I got during the day was a splash and a warning from one girl that I would be splashed later on (which was never fulfilled). So, after classes, I didn’t do much, but we were going to Saint-Louis for dinner. I got ready, which my roommate appreciated, along with a lot of the Senegalese (Andrew commented that us girls looked better than them, and I like to think that he wasn’t lying to me) and we left for la ville.

To get to Saint-Louis, you have to get a taxi, which is generally old and about to fall apart, and if you’re lucky it will smell like feet (like ours did), then the taxi drops you in front of the Marché of Sor (the market on the island before Saint-Louis), you have to walk through the Marché, over the bridge and finally you’re on Saint-Louis. Sounds simple, right? Well, we ran into some French high school students that we had met previously (Noël gave me my first birthday present: a book by Maupassant). All was well until one of them had their portable nicked by some passerby. After a bit of confusion, the four of us (Andrew Joleen and Hannah) continued to the restaurant. We had decided on a Vietnamese place on the river, which was an amazing choice because we were the only people in the restaurant. (The waiter actually changed into work clothing for us) We were generally ridiculous, and even entertained the waiter with our discussion of techniques for using the Turkish toilets, which included some demonstrations by Hannah. After dinner, we were walking back towards a lovely bar and ran into (not literally) a jewelry that I read about in the guide book, so we (more like I) decided to stop and get a birthday present! The owner was great. And I will spend a lot of money there…. Put your orders in now! : ) Seeing as it was late (not at all though), we decided to buy a bottle of wine to share in Joleen’s room since her roommate is gone for the month (not sure why or how she can skip a month of classes, but you know, I just don’t ask.) I changed out of my fly clothes into something a bit more danceable, grabbed my computer and headed to Joleen’s. After great times of filtering water, drinking a bottle of warm white wine, eating a cream puff which was more a chocolate syrup puff , something else delicious and dancing a bit, I decided to go to the bathroom and have a try (again) at these stupid Turkish toilets. I felt more confident thanks to Hannah’s demonstration at dinner, so I was confident. I walked out of the bathroom, ready to do some more ridiculous dancing, turned the corner towards Joleen’s room and WHAM! Out of nowhere (more like out of a bucket) I was covered in water. I screamed loudly (especially since it was one in the morning) and then we took some pictures.

Then Joleen and I (after stripping off some layers of wet clothing…) went to go buy her some cigarettes and bag water. I felt very exposed because I was wearing just a cardigan and pants, because my other clothes were soaked. We walked to the boutique near our village, and I thought we would buy and return. NOT THE CASE. We stopped to look at the stars, which are breath-taking and you can see the Milky Way! It’s incredible to say the least. Then we were approached by the Vieux Badji who wanted to light his cigarette. We hung out with the Vieux Badji (his name) and his friends Dave, Dave, and Mohammed. After walking over to the group Great Dave (as he calls himself) decided to steal my water bottle (more like I gave it to him) and he poured water on my head and then hugged me. We chatted until three in the morning and then headed home, due to the fact that I was wet and cold, yet completely content with my birthday. I think I am most happy that Joleen needed nicotine, because it was a chance to make some Senegalese friends (who are going to teach us to dance! Haha) and I got water dumped on me by the Great Dave and B-Boy (who supposedly doesn’t have a real name… chipatu [the sound you make when you suck air in through your teeth and cheeks, which means disapproval]) It was a great birthday and I still feel like an old woman. I hope all your presents are already in the mail and that I will get them soon! Enshallah (God willing) Je blague (I kid)

Je les aime… naman naa la (I miss you!) and you would say ma laa raw (I miss you more)

Kate

Universite Gaston-Berger..... ONIONS

hello my faithful followers...

I feel as if I should update you on my life, but, sadly, there is not much for me to update you on. So, here it goes.

We arrived today in Saint-Louis, or rather in Sanar, a suburb of Saint-Louis. Sanar is where the university located. It was strange to drive through town and see all of the flooding that I have heard about on the news. The rain has been pouring down for the past week (which is not good, because it is harvest time and all of the crops should be coming in, not moulding) which is flooding the streets and the houses.

On a complete tangent... onions. Whilst talking with my beloved brother, Justin, I was reminded that I wanted to dedicate a post to onions, to which the Senegalese devote their entire plates of food to. Let me illustrate. Today, at lunch, we were brought our plates. I was astonished that there were no onions on my plate, just a 1/4 of a chicken, a huge plate of rice (spotted with carrots, onion buds (but not chopped, which is what the problem is), olive pieces and pickles, boiled carrots and potatoes. I was thrilled that there was no onion soup/ slosh/ grossness. But alas, the rasta man disappeared and reappeared with three large bowls. FULL OF ONIONS.
Now, I love onions as much as the next person (discounting Senegalese people, because that's not a love, it's an obsession, an un healthy one, at that, if you ask me) , but when you boil onions in oil, water and spices to make onion soup.... I'm just not all about it.

Off tangent. I should probably go back to my dorm room now so I can meet my roommate. she's supposed to be amazing, but I'll update about her / life(mine, not hers) later on this week.

ps. I'm afraid of my mattress.

pps. Please forgive any and all grammatical/orthographic mistakes in this post. Damaa sonn. I'm tired.


Love from the other side of the pond...

kate

The Art of Going Out

This post, two days of memories in the making, has trumped my other post-idea: the smells of walking to school. (which is incredibly fascinating, actually...)

The idea for this post started two nights ago, around 9 pm. It was Friday night, and my body was literally aching to dance some salsa. So, I resort to my trusty Lonely Planet which tells me that there is a great little bar that has an amazing salsa scene. The Lonely Planet also divulges that leaving the house before midnight is simply ludicrous. Therefore, I set my alarm on my portable, take a shower and fall asleep for a couple hours.

Two hours later, around eleven forty five, I am rudely awakened by my alarm. I quickly get out of bed, throw on some clothes and depart. While walking to the club, which turned out to be more of a hole-in-the-wall dingy kind of place, I was extremely self-conscious while wearing one of my favorite dresses that I go dancing in all the time. Even though I was wearing leggings, it still felt like I was inappropriately dressed. I made it to Chez Antiou and was befuddled as to where it actually was. Turns out, it was a box inside someone's house (chez means at the home of), so the name was literal.

I walk in, alone, because while I was on my way to the place, the other girl I was going with texted me to tell me she wasn't going to make it. The door creaks open to reveal a dimly lit bar, disco ball and lights at no cost. I head to the bar where it is empty. I order a Coke. After several minutes, some Congolese man approaches me (probably more to do with the fact that he felt bad that I was alone, sitting near his friends than him wanting to talk to me). He tries to speak to me in a fantastically broken English which results in some strange sentences, then resorts to French.

In my head, I had set 2 o'clock as the time where I would start home. Now, in Senegal (as you will see later in the post) that is when things start to get hot. But, being responsible and all, I decided that I should go to class in the morning with more than a couple hours of sleep. (Since most of you probably know how horrible I am to deal with on little sleep!) I let this gentleman know that I will be leaving, and try to pay my bill. The coke costs about $1.25, approximately. I pull out a ten- dollar bill (please note that there is no ten dollar bill, but a 5000 cfa bill, I just thought American terms would be more relevant (: ) The bartendress who has been flirting shamelessly with every male in the joint, informs me that there isn't weccit (change). Therefore I wait. The Congolese man decides that his friend will pay for me and he will walk me part of the way home (which is completely normal here. It's called teranga which probably would be translated to hospitality. They're extremely proud of it. So much so that they named their soccer team "The lions of teranga" which strikes fear in the hearts of all of their opponents.). I try to refuse, but due to the lack of change, I end up accepting and leave.

Now, half way home, there is a little shack that I have seen several times, but never looked at twice. He tells me that they often play salsa there, and thttp://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8880851411971221974hat everyone dances. Enticed, I agree to go in for a few minutes. No one is dancing, unless you count the males sitting in their chairs watching their crotches/ stomachs (completely ridiculous). After a few songs, some other kind of music comes on and the dance floor is packed by people dancing seemingly merengue (which I believe here is pachanga). It was a great watch, but I never participated, due to the spineless man who brought me to the place that wouldn't dance. We left. "You have class tomorrow and you can't fail your exam" Therefore I went home. I arrived home at 2:45-3 ish (relatively early) and stayed up documenting my night. (Which included an "I spy Dennis Rodman" moment) I went to bed. Overall enjoyment on a scale of 1- 10, I would give it a 4.5. It was interesting, but not too great.

Last night, Youssou N'Dour concert. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PPsExdN2C8) One of his songs from his new CD.

Great idea, he's a legend here. Most popular singer in Senegal. Also not smart enough to schedule a concert before 2 AM! (Which means that it will start later) We meet around midnight to go out. I do the same thing as the night before. I sleep first, go out second. I get dressed and Hannah and Joleen come to the house. We meet up with some others and head to the same bar (second one) I was at last night. After killing an hour and a half, we proceed to head towards the concert hall place. We hail two cabs, costing us a total of 4 USD. At the concert, there are numerous amounts of toubabs (whites/foreigners). We wait for a while after arriving and finally his band starts to play. I think my favorite part was that the bass player led the band. After a few songs, Youssou himself comes out, looking adorable in a purple striped shirt and geek glasses. We spent the next two hours dancing and enjoying ourselves, yet cursing the fact that we don't speak enough Wolof to understand him. Also, Youssou has a dancer who looks like he is on crack. He was amazing, but still, something a little strange and crazy about him. The concert ended around 4 ish, and we started towards the house. We walked a ways so we didn't get ripped off by the taxis outside the concert place. I arrived home around 4:45.

Here's the thing. I went home after the concert. But do the Senegalese? No. They party like freaking rock stars and go out dancing afterward. Drenched in sweat (my fingers were pruning... that's how drenched I was), but still looking fabulous, these people head out for round two, staying out til the sun comes up. Honestly, it's an art form. I am completely impressed by these people who sleep all day stay up all night. It will be a goal I will work towards, little by little. One night, I will stay out until the sun comes up and I will love it... but for me, at least, I will have to continue to sleep first and go out after.

My apologies if this post is incoherent, as I slept little last night and the night before.

Je les aime...

Kate

Ps. I will go eat now, and then pass out in the heat. :) Sundays are my favorite.

Pps. I bought thirty (yes... 3-0) yards of fabric yesterday. And It was super cheap and I'm going to make dresses tomorrow! :)

Loves and Hates: a photographic demonstration.

Loves:

This picture is a two-for-one explanation. Ngoye and Sylvie are one/two things I love. They are the girls who work at Aby's house, where I live. They are hilarious and extremely helpful with my French... and Wolof. The Second thing here is the plate of food. It is Shwarma. A plate which has beef or chicken in the middle, surrounded by a ring of French Fries, followed by another ring of lettuce and tomatoes, covered in vinaigrette. You then select your toppings and put them into a pita like starch material and devour.


2. or 3. Not sure how this numbering system will work. But I digress. Fanta. Delicious and light. A lovely treat in this heat. :)

3. or 4. Boats. The fishing boats here are so colorful, covered in sayings in Wolof, French and Arabic, most likely praising God.

4. or 5. Car rapides. It is an informal (at least it seems so) form of transport here. A ride costs from 75 cfa to 250 cfa (15ish to 50cents). I have not taken a car rapide yet, because we have used other transport which is the same thing, but only white. All of these vehicles also say "Alxamdulilaay" which means "thanks be to God". Again, I believe that I enjoy these simply because of their paint scheme. They're chaotic looking, but amazing. They remind me of the public transport in Haiti! Tap-taps! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transport_in_Haiti Check them out. :)
5. Or something like that. My daily bread, covered in Nutella-like substance which is Senegalese. Instead of hazelnut, it is peanut. I LOVE it. :) Also, in the background is pain chocolat (chocolate bread), which was delicious, but only a once a week/month/ we'll see how often treat. Every morning is the same breakfast. Half a loaf of French bread with Nutella-like substance, juice or water, tea and, of course, my malaria pill!

Hates:

1. Bed bugs. At least that is what I think it looks like. It fell out of my luggage as I was putting things away yesterday. It was dead. Good sign. Also, Colby is donating to my cause a spray to kill and prevent bed bugs. Rather thankful for that. This is, also, a love, because it is my only real proof besides dots on sheets and bites that the bugs actually existed! Therefore... love and hate.

2. Hand-washing all undergarments. It is not so much the act of washing them, as the act of drying. I hate that they have to cover my glorious breeze creating fan in order to properly dry without getting eggs laid on them. Side note: Andrew, one of the other program participants, popped a maggot out of his leg yesterday, the product of an egg on his clothing after washing. Ironing is important as seen by the offspring that came from his thigh. Side note 2: please notice the roll of toilet paper, which I successfully stole from the lavatory in the plane because I had forgotten toilet paper in my packing. Also, please note that I feel no remorse for stealing from the airline company and would gladly do it again.


3. Seeing as this is a picture-version of loves and hates, I decided to post a picture of this massive statue, a testament to the backwards thought-process of President Wade. Rumored to have spent 200 million dollars on the statue, the President thought that this statue would be a better idea than repaving roads, trying to solve hunger issues, addressing the ever increasing problem of power outages, which happen daily now and seem to be worsening. The thing is enormous, and at night it is lit up like a Las Vegas sign, and all through Dakar the glow of the statue is seen. Here's a more in-depth article on the statue. http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/senegal/100113/renaissance-monument-wade

4. Now, I know there are no pictures, but in these situations, whipping out a camera would be unadvisable, thus there is no photographic record of this complete and utter hatred that I harbor. One word : sellers. I hate the people who come up on the street, shoving their product in my face, whispering in my ear "I'll give you the Senegalese price : 10,000 cfa (20 dollars)" As I laugh in their face, the price quickly drops, and although I have no need for fake Nina Ricci perfume (which, after smelling some that Hannah bought, I might actually buy it. You get really sick of smelling like sunscreen, deodorant and sweat), he still is convinced that I need this treasure. It takes Fayda (not sure how to translate) to say no...

I'm cutting this short. We have a session on Aids in Africa, so off to class I run.

I love you all, and miss you!

Ba ci kanaam (see you soon)

Kate

Some pictures... Not too many!

We spent the day Saturday at Goree Island, a slave trade post in the Atlantic, this was one of the museums we went to. It over looked the ocean. I'm assuming it was a fort before it became a museum...? With those canons and all, seems to be a good guess!

At the beach towards four o' clock, all the fishermen were pulling their boats up to shore. It was strange because almost all of them were bailing out while paddling... not a great boat system... but they all had almost a box full of fish when they went in towards town, so they must be good bailer/fishermen.

Walking in Goree.

Joleen, Miriama, Hannah et moi at the beach. Andrew decided to go work out on the beach and we decided to hang out a bit. It was rather awkward because there were about six women there, including ourselves. All these guys were working out to become lutteurs (kind of like WWE wrestlers, but more hardcore) and they were looking at us like we were there to decide which one we were going to take home... so then they were looking at us, picking out which one they wanted... Probably not a true tale, but awkward none-the-less.
Khalifa (hhhalifa) my brother (He's sweet--he always teaches me wolof and french), trying to put up my mosquito net... which prevents mosquito bites, but not bed bugs bites. He almost killed himself for that net, which proved useless... :/ Oh well. On the bed bug front, I'm hoping my family is killing them chemically. I'm staying at Aby's house while they fix that petit problem, which has been fantastic.
I have eaten! Last night we had this fantastic tortilla thing with chicken, lettuce, french fries and tomatoes. Absolutely delicious. I also went to church with Jean Luc, an older gentleman from Boston who is here working for some child sponsorship program. It was really cool (well, not temperature-wise) because they know how to use drums and use them well. I just felt like I wanted to dance the whole time!

Well, I'm going home to eat... I guess we'll see if I stay at Aby's one more night or what's going to happen. I'm still covered in chicken- pox like dots and have successfully used an entire tube of anti-itch ointment, so I want to stay there one more night and hope that they disappear quickly!

Ba beneen/ hasta la proxima vez/ a bientot/ see you later!

Kate!