These people dont kid around when it comes to weather...

So the rainy season started officially today.

I know, I know, you're thinking "Wait, isn't the rainy season supposed to last from July to October? How can it just now be starting?"

Actually, you probably weren't thinking anything close to that, maybe something closer to "I'm hungry" or "I wonder what Mr (fill in the blank) is going to give us for homework tomorrow" or "Oh crap, did I feed Ms. (fill in the blank again)'s cats yesterday?"

But the rainy season officially started today.

This morning, I awoke to the sound of hurricane force winds blowing outside my window. It was like the screaling lamb baby from last Sunday morning, only calmer, and gentler. Then the rain started. It probably rained for a good two or three hours. And man, I don't mean none of that gentle summer rain. I don't even mean one of those torrential cloudbursts that pass lasts ten, maybe fifteen minutes and then passes to leave the world thoroughly quenched and a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. This was hurricane-type stuff (or at least what I'd imagined the hurricane type stuff to be like...)

It wasn't only raining cats and dogs, but rats and mice, cockroaches, goats, cows, horses, donkeys, baby lambs (we killed it!), and every other type of livestock imaginable. And the thing about Africa is - they've got plenty of animals.

Luckily it stopped right as I was about to leave for school so the walk to school didn't make the shower I took that morning redundant.

One thing I will never, ever again take for granted: sewage and water drainage systems.

I felt like Christopher Columbus, or Ferdinand Magellan traversing the seven seas of the world, and that was just on my way out of my neighborhood. It seemed that every potential exit was blocked by puddles with names like "the dirty sea," "ocean of soggy shoes," and "the sea of lets-hope-that-car-doesnt-drive-too-close-to-the-curb-or-else-ill-get-more-than-a-little-bit-wet." I had to ford not only the river, but the whole damn panama canal (luckily no oxen died along the way, just my shoes got a little bit wet).

Anyways, I made it out safely (and for the most part pretty dry). I could have taken a cab (in fact one guy came up to me and actually offered me a ride - people are so nice here...or just think that toubabs are a) lazy and c)throw their money around), but what fun would that have been seriously? In order to ensure that it doesn't rain for the rest of the day, I brought my raincoat (because you know things just work like that here).

Pictures should be coming soon...check back in a bit...

Anyways, It's class time. Talk to you soon in'challa
Love,
Jake

Oh the irony never ceases to amaze me

Ahoy,

So yesterday was certainly interesting. I'm writing an update to my blog in which I make note of the situation in Africa: namely that technology here is unreliable at best. I mean it's kind of hard to write 15 emails AND post on a blog when the power goes out randomly.

So I'm writing my post about you know, my homestay family and life in a real-live Senagalese house, and I signed off saying something like "well I'm going to go before the power shuts off and I lose this entire post." So I hit "publish post" and guess what happens.

no, the power stays on.

The freaking internet dies. I dont know what happend, how it happened. but the entire post was gone. I swear to it. You know i think these Senagalese are on to something here..

Theres a belief in spirits here that pass through the air and cause mischeif. theyre called jinne, and come in both the good and evil flavors. if an evil jinne happens to be coming by at the exact moment when you compliment someone, then the jinne will come down and bring some horibble misfortune upon the kid or whatever. you know, its like murphy's law. this is why a senagalese mother will stare at you in horror if you say "oh what a cute kid you have" but will think the world of you if you tell that same child she's ugly as a villain. you know...not like i would know.

now i was told that these jinne couldnt read, that they would only act if you said something. well. apparently theyre evolving. or learning. or something far far worse...invading our computers. i mean can you imagine what would start happening if a whole army of spirits invaded our computers and started screwing up everything we did? chaos would reign! the dead would crawl out of their graves and start walking down the streeet! the cab drivers in dakar would actually use their meters!! cats and dogs would live together in harmony!!

its a scary proposition, and i dont want it to happen.

***

oh my god it almost happened again. i go to save it and somehow the damn jinne deleted it. luckily i had copy/pasted it. so i could retreive it. but i swear these jinne are out to get me.

***

Ok so my family. well my african family. theyre cool. ive got 2 younger brothers...4 and 5 which as anyone who knows me is like what ive always wanted. theyre cute (or ugly?) and all...but they follow me around a lot. which as anyone who knows me is precisely what annoys me. so now that classes have started im kind of hiding at school..not that i dont go home. its just you know..you gotta give a guy some space to keeps his sanity..

my mother and father are nice. the food here is fantastic. rice and/or french fries with meat (and though i dont know what it is, it aint the mystery meat you get for school lunches) and a fantastic sauce. i mean its got some serious taste.

speaking of meat. funny story:
so this past saturday we go out to a club. you konw nothing special...i mean ti was fun but thats not the story. so i got back at 2.30 and it wasnt 3 before i got to bed.

fast forward to...oh say 7am. i am awakened by the most god awful screal (for thats the only word that can truly describe what it was) from behind my house. it sounds like a swiss yodeler blowing his nose into a fog horn over the PA system at madison square garden. now take that sound, and put it through one of those machines that plays tapes backwards and fast forwards it. now turn the volume up to 11 (this is what those amps were made for) and youve about got it. so that sound every three minutes for no less than 3 hours. thats right. at 10.00, i heard someone walk up. a guy said a few words, and after one last screal, it was silent. i checked my clock. thank god.

well after that i layed in bed for a while...though i couldnt go back to sleep.
so later that day, my little brother says to me "did you hear the lamb this morning?"
"how could i not have" i answered.
"well you know what we did with it?"
no
you sure?
yeah im sure
we KILLED it! (at this point he gets really excited and laughs...i mean its really kinda cute)
really?
yeah.
and you know that meat we had at lunch today?
yeah.
we KILLED it!

so now i know what clarice starling was trying to silence in going after buffalo bill...and i feel exactly what she was feeling. id rather face a serial killer in a girl suit in his own basement in the dark than have to endure another hour of the screaling of the lambs (or maybe they were goats)

welcome to africa jake.

Karr (thats for the jinne)
love
jake

A day of firsteses

Is that even a word?

You know what: poetic license rules here. If I say it's a word, then golly gee surely it's a word (it is, but don't call me shirly).

Well, actually it's been more like a few days of firsteses. I shall chronicle them here for your further perusal and enjoyment:

First day wearing pants in a tropical climate:
Now this may seem like suicide, what with it being so hot that fish are laying eggs already fried (did I get that right??) and all. I certainly thought so when Dan told me that he never wore shorts. But it turns out that people here don't take you seriously here unless you're wearing pants. Evidently only kids wear shorts and once you reach adulthood and are considered an adult you don't wear shorts anymore.

Now since we all know that I a) want to be treated like an adult and c) want to be taken seriously by all my friends (wait, when did I ever say to take me seriously?), it only seemed logical to put a pair of pants on.

It actually wasn't that bad. I've got some microfiber pants and they're pretty breathable - so for the most part I get to stay comfortable AND be taken seriously by the cabbies (hey anything to get that fare from 3000 to 2500). It's really a win-win situation. Well, maybe only a win situation since I'm the only one winning, but that just doesn't have the same pzazz (how do you spell that anyways???).

First Senegalese meal:
Mom, you may want to skip this one. It ain't pretty...

Food in Senegal (I mean like, real Senegalese food...not like we haven't been eating real food...but sush I'm telling the story) is delicious. Yes, it's rice, fish, and vegetables. You know...everything they told us it would be. Pretty fragrant and savory. Overall tastes good.

Now the experience of eating food is...well let's just say it ain't like at home. Picture this:
You walk into a room. A colorful straw mat is sitting on the floor, with four cushions arranged in a circle. A kettle of water sits on top of a bowl off to the side. The head of the house brings in a large bowl, about 2 feet across, covered with large plate. He sets it down on the floor in the middle of the mat. Everyone pours water from the kettle over their hands, washing off any dust that might have accumulated throughout the day. The plate is removed revealing the deliciousosity beneath.

So what, you may be thinking. So they eat on the floor? Well, there's a little difference. It's kind of hard to eat without plates. And it's even harder to eat without silverware. Yeah, Mom, that's right. I'm eating with my hands. It's not even with little bread like Etheopian food with that bread stuff that you pick up the deliciousosity with. There's no bread. Just rice. And deliciousosity. So you pick up a ball of rice with your right hand (cause you know...you um...well...touch certain parts...well you wipe your butt with your left hand), then grab a chunk of whatever you want from the middle of the bowl, roll your rice and deliciousosity together into a ball (much much much harder than it sounds), open your mouth, insert ball, chew, swallow, repeat as needed. In reality, it's much harder, much messier, and much more fun. I've never been allowed to play with my food, but here I am, being told to roll my food into a ball and out of necessity, have to shovel it into my mouth all the while trying to get as little of the messy rice onto the floor and my lap.

So mom, when I come home and sit on the floor, refuse to use a fork and knife, and shovel the food into my mouth while avoiding my left hand like the plague, don't worry. It's just a habit I've picked up here and I'm sure I'll grow out of it (riiiiight)...

Oh by the way, if this post is under par, you know, less than the excellence in writing that you have come to expect from me (wait...excellence? in writing? you must be reading the wrong blog...) you can blame Karly, she's in here trying to make plans for dinner, effectively distracting my focus from more pressing matters.

First Senegalese proverb:
"Guests are like farts: they may kill you, but they will pass with the wind."

There are some things that are just best left unexplained.

First ride on public transportation:
Yes, I braved the streets of Dakar on a Car Rapide (get ready for the most cliche joke ever) which, despite their name, aren't all that rapide. They're actually quite slow. And quite crowded. And quite chaotic. and loud. But I made it out of the experience alive, and will surely be taking it more often (its about 90865% cheaper than taking a cab - wait does that math even add up?).

First fly killed with my bare hands:
So I don't know if you've heard but this place is crawling with flies like um...bees to honey (??????). And apparently in Senegal, you're not considered a real man until you've killed a fly with your bare hands while taking a cold shower. It's some sort of right of passage thing or something. I don't know, I don't make the rules (except for maybe this one). But yeah, turns out killing flies is really not that hard to do. Just be patient, like anything else in life.

Actually, what real Senegalese do is just..well just ignore them. They're used to it. So that'll be my goal for soon.

But seriously, it's so satisfying killing them. And flies are annoying.

That's about all the firsts up to now. I'm sure you'll hear all about my first bout of chronic traveller's diaherrea (well, maybe I'll spare you that one). Next time be prepared for an in-depth look at the emotional curve and follow my journey from my honeymoon phase to my hostile phase to my humor phase to my home phase...I'll explain it all a little bit later. Should be delightful. Stay tuned next week, same bat time, same bat channel.

Love
Jake

PS - apparently pluto's not a planet? Whats going on? What is my aunt sally going to steal from uncle ned? My faith in the status of the universe is destroyed if They can just add and subtract planets from our solarsystem at will. I for one don't like it. It's too much power in these guys' hands. I mean, pretty soon there goes neptune and uranus (and all the delightfully immature jokes that come with a name like that), then saturn and jupiter...then mars. Before you know it we won't be living on a planet anymore...

I for one won't stand for it.

Because what else could I do?

This was just too good to be true...from an article at slate hypothesizing about the Frenchification of American politics:

"It's only a matter of time before the House cafeteria starts serving Perrier and pommes frites, and Republicans stop pronouncing the final "t" when they refer to Speaker Hastert.

In retrospect, we should have seen the tell-tale signs of Frenchness all along: Bush's Parisian refusal to work in August, Cheney's snooty contempt for American culture, Condi's flair for haute couture, Bolten's Marie-Antoinettish tax cuts, and Rumsfeld's penchant for les head-butts. All this time, we've mistaken W for the Peter Sellers in Being There, when in every aspect of his job, Bush is actually Inspector Clouseau."

The article can be found here:

http://www.slate.com/id/2148008/?nav=tap3

How's the weather down there?

It’s hot in Dakar.
How hot is it?

It’s so hot in Dakar, I saw a fish walk into a bar and ask for a tall, cold beer.
It’s so hot in Dakar, chickens are laying eggs that are already fried.

It’s also humid in Dakar.
How humid is it?
It’s so humid in Dakar that fish I was talking about earlier…well he wasn’t really walking into the bar…he was swimming into the bar (…you know…cause there was so much humidity in the air…he could swim through the air…cause of all the humidity…come on…try to stay with me?)
It’s so humid in Dakar, the mirror in my bathroom fogs up after a shower…but here’s the thing…we don’t have hot water. The mirror fogs up after cold showers people! (And I swear nothings going on in there)

Actually, I made that up. Well not all of it. Most of it. The part about the chickens and the fish is made up. The part about the showers is true. I swear.

There’s also geckos in my shower. And in my bedroom. And in the hall. And all over outside. They climb up the wall with their legs all sprawled around them like this (it's supposed to look like a gecko.. like that dude from geico only with X's and O's and |'s and slashes):

X O X
\ | /
\| /
/| / | X | X
|
<--- Insert spanish upside-down question mark here.

I learned something else today. I hate going to see people speak at a lecture. It doesn’t matter what language they’re in. French, English, Wolof, Chinese, Japanese, martian, whatever. I. Hate. Lectures. I'd rather do something more productive. Like eat dirt. Or broken glass. Or martians. Or go to a lecture about the impact that the introduction of the guinea warbler had on the environment of the guinea hen..oh wait that's what I'm complaining about isn't it. Well nevermind that last one. But the dirt and broken glass and martians...those are all true. And wood. I'd rather eat wood too.

I guess I’m not an academic.

So that makes two areas of study I’m not cut out for – medicine (or more generally, anything that has to do with looking at people with they’re body parts twisted into configurations that they’re definitely not supposed to be – thanks Hoosh) and academia (or really anything where I have to listen to people harp on and on for hours about anything). I guess that rules out politics too (but those pictures on facebook already ruled that one out a long time ago – thanks Max).

Even if I learn nothing else while here, I’d say this has been a productive study abroad experience (well so long as I stay 1) alive and c) out of an African prison).

I’ve been really bad about taking pictures so far, which really is a shame cause its really picturesque and some of the other kids have taken some really nice pictures and I've seen some sweet opportunities (gad that looks spelled wrong)...cause you know....I've got an eye for these things now (riiiight). Anyways...I’ll get on that tomorrow…

Love
Jake

Words of wisdom from Dakar

I went into Dakar centreville today. It was a very productive day.
I learned many things in Dakar from the cabbies:

1) Always negotiate the fare before you get into the cab - its awfully hard to argue a man down from 5.000 CFA ($10) when you and your four companions are hurtling down a three-lane road while dodging goats, donkeys, carts, taxis, mopeds, people, buses, the people dangling off of the backs of the buses, oh and did I mention people?
2) Car doors don't always open when you pull the handle. In fact, the presence of a handle isn't even a requisite for it to be considered a car door. Many cabs prefer to forgo this cumbersome equipment in favor of the more efficient "jimmy the door open and give it a little shove" technique.
3) Knowledge of the streets and major landmarks (British Embassy) of Dakar is not a requirement for one to become a cabbie. In fact, asking for directions is not considered in anyway a disgrace to one's manhood. The person being asked for directions need not be a friend, acquaintence, or even someone you know. He/she will, however, by the time you are done asking for directions, be an intimate friend.
4) The center lane of a three lane road is for traffic travelling in both directions cabs, buses, cars: it seems the only limitation on this lane is that a) you not have livestock attached to your mode of transport and c) there not be dudes hanging off the back of your van.
and finally
5) Hanging on to the back of a car while wearing rollerskates is an acceptable mode of transport. You don't even need to know the driver of the car. Just so long as it is rolling at a resonably rapid pace.

That's all for now. its 2.45 am and it's raining! I don't want my comptuer to get shocked. Seriously...if its not one thing with the electricity its another. rolling blackouts followed by lightning storms.... More later...
love,
Jake

My life as a MasterCard commercial...

Camera reveals a kid running through a clothes store trying on different shirts with a tropical theme.
Narrator (with text on screen):
Shirts, socks, underwear: $74.53

Our intrepid hero is now sitting on a doctor's table in his skivvies (wait is that even spelled right?). The doctor turns around to reveal a 6-inch syringe filled with a glowing yellow liquid. The kid's eyes widen in fear.
Narrator (with text on screen):
Doctor's appointment, vaccines, medications: $378.12

That same kid is now standing in front of a white sheet. A bright light flashes, surprising the kid. The shot freezes on the dazed and confused look on the kids face. Camera pans out and we see the picture in a passport.
Narrator (with text on screen):
Student visa, plane ticket, passport: $1,846.06

The kid now steps off of a plane into bright sunlight wearing his ugly new shirt. Cut to getting the passport stamped by a dark, angry official. Cut to our heroic traveller stepping out of the airport onto the street in a bustling African city, two large suitcases in tow.
Narrator (do I really have to say it again?):
Realizing you're not in Kansas anymore: Priceless.
There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's Master Card.

* * *

With that little 30 second spot I introduce you to my life these past three months. And for everything I've bought there's probablly 28 things that I should have bought but didn't for one reason or another (or so I think so). Well, mostly just one reason and I call it the "Eh, I'll wait and see" attitude I tend to take around with me anywhere I go.

Usually, it works pretty well, I end up taking only what I know I need, and very little else. It's quite efficient. But I've never really embarked upon an adventure quite like this one (usually the wait and see just deals with weeklong trips to Maine or Philly or something like that - Not third world countries). That coupled with the fact that my second suitcase is half empty - and I've already packed everything I "need" - make me think that time my waiting and seeing will come back and...well let's just say it isn't likely to be pretty.

I'm hoping one of two things happens: 1) That I will have packed exactly everything I will need, and nothing more (proving once again the "wait and see" thesis correct - to my delight which I will rub into the faces of all the overprepared girls until they hit me with the high-heels that they brought "just in case we go out to someplace fancy and I want to wear that dress that I brought that I would only wear if we went to someplace fancy" because they're so damn sick of hearing me brag about how sweet of a packer I am) or C) That I will be woefully unprepared for this little jaunt to Dakar (after all how can 10 pairs of underpants last me 4 months? I only do laundry once a month!) and will have my face rubbed in the fact that that one girl had the foresight to bring her fancy-pants winter coat because the sequins on it happen to be the only thing that can break through African prison bars so we can make our escape.

Now obviously I'm pulling for option number two. Why you ask? Do you want to be proved wrong?

No, but breaking out of an African jail cell with fancy-pants seqins off of a fancy-pants winter coat in the middle of the Tropics would make for a kick-ass story. So Karly, bring your coat.

Love
Jake

PS - Yall can check out Karly's blog over there ------->
Click on the link that says "Karly's Adventures in Africa." I'm sure she'll have more entertaining stories to share anyways...