I’ve been criminally negligent in the blogging department lately, but when there’s a lack of posts it usually means a lot has been going on.
Spring break was amazing. Europe was amazing. Paris is one of the best places in the world. In the interest of time (both mine and yours), I’ll summarize those luxurious 14 days in acrostic form, OK?
Left Dakar almost three hours late
I missed my connection and had a 12-hour layover
Surprised by Lisbon’s beauty and laid-back charm
Braved the cold in flip-flops and socks
Ogled at some monasteries and medieval fortresses
New entry on my Top 5 Places To (Re-)Visit list
Really exhausted after traveling for 26 hours
Orgasmic hot shower (first since January 6) almost made me cry with joy
Managed to see the (outside of) the Colosseum and the Palatino
En route to Florence a few hours later
Fêted my birthday with pizza and
Lots and lots of alcohol consumed, including wine, beer, and
Oh, six or so Kamikaze shots, obviously all leading up to a fantastic
Roaring drunk and subsequent multi-hour blackout.
Eh, and I saw some of the city too.
Nice views from the hills on our bike ride/wine-tasting.
Chowed down on paninis, GELATO, and some delicious chef-made meals at the Villa.
Explored Parma and Bologna and enjoyed efficient public transportation infrastructure.
Probably my favorite place in the entire world.
Avenues and boulevards and beauty and greenery.
Really cheap wine drunk on the Seine
I want to move there ASAP.
Saw the episodes of LOST that I missed, too.
Well that’s it for me being a poet. Now some Senegal news. Ben came, saw the dirt and went to the beach and left on Tuesday. On Wednesday, Molly, Stacey, and I set out on our rural visits. We basically did it for the money (OUR money), but we were also promised sea turtles and beach. Come to find out — this after a hellish five-hour journey on cramped, smelly busses averaging 5 kph on shitty rutted roads — that not only is our contact not in the village, but there are no sea turtles in sight. Instead, it’s dead fish, fishhooks, and other fish-related paraphernalia. The woman we’re supposed to stay with: also not there. So we spend the first night with a friendly gentleman named Jacques, whose angelic if busty sister Léonie cooks us omelettes and takes care of us with a Florence Nightengale-esque gentleness. The next day we take a walk on the beach past the most beautiful hotel in the world (search Google for “Le Royal Lodge”), and then return to the dirty, running-water- and electricity-less village. We’re promptly torn from our haven at Jacques’ house and dropped at the woman (now returned), a cross-eyed creature named Seynabou. We take a nap in the unbelievable heat, which of course necessitates weird fever dreams and cold sweats… Five hours later, we’re still in the room, still on the mattress, with absolutely no energy to do anything, if there was anything to do. (There wasn’t.) Lunch is fish and rice — not half bad — but dinner is rock-hard fried fish that could probably have been used as a murder weapon. (Either forcing someone to eat it and thereby killing them, or just hitting them on the head with it and breaking their skull.)
So, basically we decided to leave a day early and endured the five-hour bus ride back, complete with inexplicable 45-minute pit stops, smelly old men, obese Senegalese women, and flocks of street urchins selling frozen bottles of water. All in all, it wasn’t that bad in the village, especially at night, when it sort of became like camping. But in the end they didn’t have anything for us to do or see, so leaving early was a good choice. Plus the Jew in me was delighted at the the nearly $70 profit!
Classes are coming to an end. They should be completely done next week, and this coming weekend we’re going up to St-Louis (“crumbling colonial beauty”) with the all-mighty Professor Babacar Guèye, the playa-est playa the Senegalese political community has seen in years. Then I just have to get through paper-writing — eased by the grand opening of an American-style café down the street, complete with lattes and delicious crêpes and smoothies — and then it’s home. And if STA Travel doesn’t screw me over, I might even be coming home six days early.
Time to go home for dinner (disgusting fried fish in fried onion sauce with French fries!) so this is where I leave you. Hope everyone is coping with papers, finals, and the realization that we’re going to be seniors soon. I’ll try to keep up the blog in the last couple of weeks, but then again I’m lazy, forgetful, and don’t do much besides drink and sleep.
