Excursions

Donc, Wednesday past, the T.E.F.L. volunteers left Porto Novo to go and visit the sites where they'll spend the next two years teaching.
Toucountouna is absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, beautiful. It's a small village of about 4000 people, nestled among an Appalachian-esque chain of mountains. What's more, the village itself sits on the peak of a mountain in said mountain chain. If I look in any direction, I can see clear across other mountain chains for at least 100 miles--even on rainy days.
At night, the stars can be seen right down to the horizon. The sky in general is so clear, appears so close that one gets the urge to reach up and grab a star. Even better, I can see not just one but several planets on any given night.
The homes of the villages are exactly like you're thinking. They're colored a deep tan brown with straw or tin roofs. The major highway of Benin runs right through my village, and the offshoot roads are made from a kind of stone gravel including brown and red stones. The village and the homes look exactly like the places on the pamphlets trying to entice people to visit strange and exotic lands. In fact, there's a national park about 17 miles away from my town, complete with elephants, lions, gazelle, antelope, and of course crocs, a waterfall 13 miles from my town and a huge lake about 3 miles away.
My home is on a dusty road. 3 rooms, and an external area for doucheeing and bathrooming. It's a cement structure--I will not be huddled in some small dank dark pit pooping :)
Admittedly, I had a very low point during my site visit because it finally dawned on me that I am in Africa and will be here for 2 years and the people I love are back in the States--talk about breakdown. Thank you Rob :)

Lavering mes vetements

After 6 days of school per week, I like to do nothing on Sunday. Hanging out with Erin, Jennifer or Jamie is honestly the most I feel like doing.
It doesn't feel better to talk in English--there's no great relief. I'm honestly just too lazy to want to speak in French on my day of rest.
The point is: God rested on Sunday (or whatever God's 7th day was) and so do I.
Except yesterday.
My host family is nice. Papa and mama--and yes, I must call them that--are very patient avec moi. In such a fashion, my Mama matter-of-factly told me earlier in the week that I was washing my clothes Sunday. And, wash my clothes on Sunday is what I did.
Washing my clothes, by hand, has englightened me in two very important ways.
To begin with; I know why I was born in the 21st century. If I had been born in a time where I had to wash my clothes by hand for my entire life--I would honestly walk around naked.
It took me 4 hours to wash 3 pair of pants, 1 pair of shorts, 3 t shirts, and 10 pair of socks. I have already decided I am only washing my clothes every 2 weeks because I am too lazy to wash them more often.
Secondly, I have a whole new appreciation for the saying "walk a mile in their shoes." . I walked a mile in a washing machine's shoes. I walked that mile for 4 hours. I can say without reservation that I have a new-found love and respect for words like "Spin cycle," "Rinse cycle," "Soak" and the word "repeat" will always have a traumatizingly special meaning to me. When I return to the states, the first thing I'm going to do, save hugging Robert, is hug the washing machine. Hug it and thank it and call the company that produced it and thank them. After that, I'm going to call the local paper and ask them to write a story about the genius of washing machines because I will always tear up with joy as I put my clothes into that wonderful machine and let it do it's magic.
But for now, I'll use my knuckles.

Question: How is it possible for one to be surrounded by 10 very animated people and feel completely alone and isolated?

Answer: They're all speaking french, or a local language and you KNOW they're talking about you.

We arrived at our host families' houses Wednesday night. All of us, who had spent the last 6 days and nights together, scattered about the bustling city of Porto Novo. No cell phones to call and say "this sucks" or AIM/ICHAT to IM and say "save me." For that matter; we didn't even know where any other volunteer was living. I got to my host family's house and realized that my experience would be akin to something like a duckling learning how to swim: not quite drowning, not exactly swimming but doing something in between the two; mouth filled with water, can't exactly catch my breath, all the while wishing to be back on land. C'etait trés, trés emotionale!

"Assiette-toi," my host-mama commanded (equates to plate yourself) and for 2 hours I was asked all sorts of questions in frightening speed by 5 adults. Really, the only word I uttered was "quoi?"

Of course, there is progression.

á la prochaine!

NOTICE THE CARE PACKAGE SECTION TO THE RIGHT!