New Things

Over the past two days I have been listening to the newish Tori album. When I acquired it, in America, I did not think anything of it, but now I am finding it quite good. I highly recommend!!!

Patrick is currently taking his GRE test. Peace Corps is nice enough to set-up a testing center for the volunteers who want to take the test. If they had not done so it would have cost something like $300 to establish one. Patrick has been studying for the test for two and a half months. Of course he does not feel very confident about the whole thing, but I think he might just do well. He is, after all, our ticket out of this joint three months early. Grad school, Grad school, Grad school!!!!

I am going to go to the pool where I will try to even-out my amazing farmer's tan. Oh wait, who am I kidding? The sun is not unlike the intense heat of hell and to rest in its rays for a long duration is tantamount to suicide. I will be sitting in the shade reading my book. But before I venture to the pool I have to get to the bank. There are no ATM machines in this country so everything is old school. You must write a check to yourself and then cash it at the bank. Sometimes I like it because it makes me think of F. Scott Fitzgerald novels; the characters are always cashing checks to keep the party going, but most times it is just a mad house. Nigeriens have no sense of lining-up. They just cluster around the counter.

Fun With The Font

Patrick and I are still in Niamey. Adam asked us, yesterday, if we would like to go to dinner tonight. Patrick and I elected to stay one more night. I think we are both ready to head out, but really now what lies ahead? Just the road to Dosso and endless days of the same. I wish there was something to love here. In the foothills of California I feel like I come alive, but here all I feel is dried-out. The sun beats you down, the dirt beats you down, the bugs wake you up at night as they crawl up your leg, ... The darkness spooks the shit out of you. There is truly no solace here. I want to feel alive here, but wanting is for nothing because this place will continue to kill me until I am finally free.

A Little Slice Of America

There is an annual softball tournament in Niamey. The missionaries have a team, Peace Coprs has a team, and even the Japanese volunteers have a team. The tournament last two days. Yesterday Patrick and I spent the day watching soft ball and eating hot dogs. The whole experience was fantastic because I almost convinced myself that I was back in America watching Jenn and Bill, my sister and her husband, playing softball. Being here has made me miss the smallest little nuances of America. Summer softball games, family dinners, cool evenings, cold winters, Mexican food, and good beer. Being away for an extended period of time makes you realize that these little details are integral. When I was home I had a tendency to over-look all the little pieces which contributed to make my life full, but being removed has brought it all back to me. I miss driving and that sensation which it grants; the sensation that the world is yours and that things could stretch on forever because there is always possibility beyond the next curve in the road. The world of Niger is a stale world; things are always the same and possibility seems so limited. This limitation seeps into the very core of me and in-turn creates an internal haze. The bright lights go out and days become something to endure rather than something to look forward to. Maybe it is the state of this country and the lifestyles of its people which has narrowed my perspective. At the moment I could not say because I am here living this and it is impossible to analyze something when you stand knee-deep within it.

Last night Patrick and I went to dinner at the country director's house. His wife puts on a dinner for volunteers once a month. The dinner was very nice and the food was excellent. I spent the evening at the smoking table talking to some embassy employee. He was a little weird, but the problem with the smoking table is that you must endure the weird conversation in order to have a smoke. He had the look of an ex-alcoholic; when he was offered a drink and he declined saying Sprite for me, I knew I was right.

I guess I will close this off by saying that tomorrow Patrick and I will be traveling back to Dosso. We will be back in town the 21st of October because Patrick is taking the GRE the 22nd. I will get back with more interesting stories.

A Terrible Day For Taxis

Patrick was getting a little cabin fever so we are again in Niamey. You will never know how boring just sitting around and reading can be until you have been doing it for one year straight with no other option for distraction. Also, we are moving into mini hot season and this means nasty days with too many flies and sweat running down my head. I have adopted a policy of hiding from the heat by staying inside until six o'clock pm, but do not get ahead of yourself because I do not have an air conditioner; my house just remains ten degrees or so cooler than the outside world. This is a huge help. Okay, so I am rambling just a little!!! Back to the story of the day....

The taxis are on strike today. AHHHHHHH!!!! Something about gas prices being raised. I really do not know because I do not own a radio and the news paper does not come to my home town. This is supposed to last for two days. Two days of walking around a city of 1 million people with no system of public transportation except taxis. And this is a city with one hell of an urban sprawl problem. So getting from one spot to another can be a bit of a bitch without the help of your local Taxi Man. Maybe we will just stay in one spot for two days, but that can be a bit of a bad idea too. I mean really... I wanted to go swimming tomorrow. Cool, crisp, blue, chlorinated swimming pool of my wildest dreams. Can you sense my sadness?

Post Script; Yesterday was my one year anniversary!!!