The best story I have from over these last few months is when I got a flat tire between the middle of nowhere and some village not even on the map. I was riding my bike from my village to the next biggest one to meet a friend to go on and even more extreme ride. (I rode 87k in a day yes I am a Rock Star!!!) Anyway I got a flat tire and there is like nothing around: dirt road, and harvested dead cotton fields as far as the eye can see. I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw a village big or small. Having done this bike ride many times before I was pretty sure there was a village coming up just a few k away. So I just start walking my bike thinking when someone does finally go by they will be able to maybe help me.

These Fulani kids come out of the brush and point behind me. Fulani are partly nomadic and walk around with the cows all over Africa. In my humble opinion are the coolest people on earth (at least that I have come in contact with). I refer to them as the puck rockers of Africa and am pretty sure that the original puck rockers stole their style from the Fulani. Back to the point, the Fulani live in tiny little villages. I kept telling the kids that there is nothing behind me and a village of some sorts ahead. I am speaking in French regardless of the fact that these kids don’t even speak the local language I kind of know much less French. The Fulani don’t really mix with the other local groups. The kids are persistent and keep pointing, not saying anything; fully realizing that no words can be passed between us and this is communication enough. As far as the silent pointing goes think naked Indian from Wayne’s World.

So I finally turn around and start walking my bike where they are pointing, they accompany me. and after a few minutes this guy comes out of the brush grabs my bike for me. We start walking into the forest on this tiny little dirt path. Before I know it this little village pops up; mud huts with straw roofs and all. The guy calls some people over and someone goes and gets a patch kit. A guy comes out of one of the super small structures they have for houses. He kind of spoke French. More people started to show up I did my best with the greetings in local language, the French speaker did the best he could with French. Another one of the guys kind of spoke English which was really surprising and only adds the mystery and magic of these people. He really only knew nouns it seemed like: bike, American, and tire. They fixed my bike. The guy who kind of spoke french asked me to give him the bike when I leave. I told him I couldn't because it’s not mine to give, but gave them a deck of cards instead which they happily accepted. I only wish I would have grabbed my American flag playing cards before I left the house rather then my plain deck.

So you might be asking yourself what on earth is Amy doing over there in Benin she certainly hasn’t been posting any blogs? Well here goes.

In January I went on a four day bike tour with 12 other volunteers. It was like a parade of Americans. This is why the bike tours are successful; you get a bunch of foreigners riding through a village in the same brightly colored tee shirts with their bike helmets and fancy American bikes and people are going to notice. And promptly come and see what all the ruckus is about. Next, we impart wisdom on them in our broken French and even worse local language skills to the point of total confusion. Finally, we hop back on our bikes and ride off with a cloud of dust trailing behind and hopefully having enlightened a few minds.

We went to 14 different villages and talked about the benefits of Moringa a tree that gives lots of vitamins when eaten but tastes really bad. We broke the villages into groups: Men, women, and children. I worked in the children’s group. We planted seeds of Moringa with the kids and told them how to take care of their developing trees. The women’s group was information on how to prepare leaves in cooking and the nutritional benefits of the tree. We did do one cooking demonstration. The men’s group focused on reforestation.

The tour was really fun but I don’t know how successful. I question mass sensibleizing and its effectiveness, a debate that continued the duration of the tour. I think a really poignant moment was after the kids group was finished this little girl was standing in front of me just staring holding her seedling bag. I asked her what she was going to do with her baby tree. Her response was turning the bag upside down and dumping the dirt and seed on the ground all the while never breaking eye contact. We planted over 300 trees with the kids, I wonder how many will actually grow. I am aware that we are hoping to influence a percent of the people we talked to. Even a small percent is still a lot of individual people. What I haven’t been convince of yet is how much we are actually educating the people we are talking to.

I woke up one morning and heard and felt something by my ear. Thinking a bug was crawling around my ear, I naturally freaked out a little bit and tried to bat away the bug. Only when I sat up and smacked, there was nothing there. Yet I could still feel and hear the bug. I jumped out of bed and ran out my bedroom door. I ran into another volunteer and told him I felt like there was something in my ear. “Yeah that happens.” He said very nonchalantly. “THAT HAPPENS!?” I asked as calmly as I could. He advised me to go across the hall and have one of the doctors take a look after telling me a few horror stories of other volunteers who this has happened to. Stories of doctors pouring a liquid in volunteer’s ears because they thought they had something in their ear and a hundred small bugs flowing out. Throughout the day many other volunteers contributed their own horror stories of bugs invading ones body.

Of course the doctors weren’t in; they were off on a conference or something. So I was given another doctors number to call for advice. He told me that this happens all the time, and has been happening for millions of years. “It is not as if the bug will eat through your brain and come out the other side.” He explained clammy and slightly annoyed because I had woken him the day after the big election. I knew the bug wouldn’t eat my brain but the visual was a nice addition to my all ready anxious imagination.

I wanted to get away from the feel of the bug moving around in my ear. Just the thought of the bug in my ear made me crawl with disgust. The doctor told me to have someone shine a light in my ear and see if it would crawl out. I was almost as grossed out at the thought of it crawling out of my ear as it actually being in there. I asked a willing participant to give it a try, but no such luck. Every time I heard the thing moving around would freak out a little. Finally it kind of started to hurt. That was the last straw. I went into the bathroom and filled my ear with water and drown the bug. When the doctor called back later to see how I was holding up I told him I killed the bug. The doctor told me that it will just fall out eventually.

So I fell and broke a tooth. Something that is really not all that unbelievable given my track record. The whole experience was kind of embarrassing because I did it in front of my supervisor. But now I know how amazing Peace Corps medical care is. I was promptly sent down to the medical office for Peace Corps Benin then sent to the dentist and found I needed a root canal. I was sent to Dakar, Senegal where there is a Peace Corps approved dentist.

As luck would have it there was another volunteer from Benin sent to Dakar just days before for I arrived. So we decided to take full advantage of our misfortune and have a little vacation when we were not being tortured in the dentist chair. In the mornings a nice new Peace Corps SUV would drive us downtown to the dentist and after our appointments it was vacation time.

Dakar is the most developed city in West Africa, having been the Capital of West Africa in the past. The most developed means there is money and tourist here. So anything from the western world I have been missing can be satisfied here. Like Ice Cream, I don’t even really like ice cream but being deprived and living in a hot climate I have found a new appreciation for it. There are also buses. This blew my mind. Not only do I love public transportation, but in Benin there are barely even any roads much less buses. There are buildings going up everywhere. A lot of people speak English, especially if you are in the touristy areas. There are restaurants, parks and grocery stores. There is stuff to do, movies, music, whatever you would expect from a city. There is even a zoo, but I wouldn’t suggest going. It was one of the most depressing zoos I have ever been too.

My absolute favorite part of Dakar hands down, is the amount of art work. I assume it has to do with all the tourists. Of course the artwork is exactly what you would think African art would look like, but would probably never find in an Africans’ home. There are the masks and paintings, and jewelry. Carpentry is huge here. In Benin you basically have to have furniture made by a carpenter, but here there is an artistic flare to the trade in Dakar. They have weaved baskets which I never thought I would be into, but some are so cool. There are colors everywhere, everything is so bright. I love it. There are also huge sculptures found all around the city, and tiles everywhere. I have a new found love for tiling. Under bridges there are tiled murals, and sometimes even tiled sidewalks. There are musical instruments that I have never seen before but the sounds are so beautiful. The one thing really lacking in Benin is art and creativity.

I have been to all three of the islands around Dakar. One of the islands is totally a tourist trap, unfortunately we went there on my birthday. They have a few museums on the island and lots of stuff to buy. We went to a cute little restaurant right off the ocean and every five minutes someone else would walk by and try to sell us something. Another one of the islands is close to the medical center where I am staying. This island has more beaches and is more of a small town then a tourist trap. A woman showed us around, and of course had some jewelry to sell us and her sister conveniently had a restaurant where we ended our tour. But either way our tour guide was very pleasant. She showed us the house to Endless Summer, and Akons’ house. He is Senegalese. When we got to his house she stopped and knocked on the door. Someone actually opened the door and then invited us in. His house was absolutely gorgeous, there was art work everywhere, MTV should definitely do a “Cribs” episode there. Akon wasn’t there which is probably why we were invited in for a tour but it was still exciting. My favorite island here is uninhabited and a bird sanctuary. There were only like ten other people there. Rima (the other volunteer I was with) and I spend the day watching the ocean and hiking around the island. We somehow got lost on our hike, but the frustrating part was that we could see where we were trying to go the whole time; we couldn’t find the path to get us back. I felt like I was trapped in one of those huge bush mazes.

Muslim is the most common religions here, so there are big beautiful mosques everywhere you go. The first day I was in town was a Friday which is the Muslim holy day. Rima and I went to a little out door café and when we left there tons of men walking around us all walking in the same direction. It was reminded me of Children of the Corn. Then they suddenly all kind of stopped and started putting their small rugs down and started praying. They completely covered the streets and sidewalks. They all stood up, sat down, prayed ect at the same time. It was really beautiful to watch all of these people stop their day and stop traffic to pray.

My favorite day was going out to Lak Rose. There is a pink lake father into the country. We took a public transportation to get there which was an adventure in itself. People are really crammed on to theses bus van things that they have. Rima and I were sitting in the back by the door. When the bus was too full to fit anymore people in it they would just jump on to the bumper and hang on. I have seen about fifteen men doing this at the same time. Its only guys that hang off the van. Two times I saw boys jump out of the moving van, moving as in at normal speed, not slowing down. One boy back down the hall and started running and jumped out and kept running when he hit the road. The next kid jumped out backward and just started running forward when he hit the ground. I have never seen anything like it. Rima and I were wide eyed and speechless, but no one else even reacted. Outside of Dakar, we felt more like we were in Africa then just some random city. It looks a lot more dessert like in Senegal than Benin. There was white sand everywhere and almost no greenery. Suddenly there were half built abandoned buildings and the roads were speckled with potholes. The farther out of the city we got the harder it was to find people who spoke French as opposed to local languages.

When we finally arrived at the town with Lak Rose we were told by a local that we could ride a camel. So naturally that was the first thing we went to go check out. The camels were sleeping when we showed up so when the guys who ran the operation woke them up they were not all that happy. They kept making these strange guttural burping sounds and showing their boxy teeth. It was kind of intimidating. The one Rima rode was particularly unhappy about being bothered and continued verbalizing his annoyance throughout the trip. The saddles for camels are weird highchair like leather boxes. The camel has to kneel down for you to get in. You back up into the seat and step on the camels hump to get in. Well again I am graceless (hence being in Senegal for a root canal after falling) and could not understand how to get into this thing. It didn’t help that the guy who was helping me and I didn’t speak a common language. He ended up picking me up and throwing me in the set after about five minutes of confusion. I started laughing when he put me in the saddle because it was so awkward. When the camel got up and starting walking around my laugher only increased. Camels are also not very graceful; the ride was very bumpy and awkward. Sometimes the guide would get the camels to run a little which only made Rima and I laugh more, it was so bumpy. The guide’s camel started to fart with every step it took. At that point I was laughing so hard I could hardly breathe. Luckily the guide thought it was funny too. After the camel ride Rima and I went to check out the Lak Rose which is ten times more salty then the ocean. In the sun light the lake looks pink. All the salt makes you really buoyant so it was fun to just float around in the water.

I have been having such a good time while in Dakar I almost feel guilty because I am for medical reasons. My brother thinks that I am on a secret vacation masquerading as being a Peace Corps volunteer. There might be some truth behind his assumptions.

This is an edited version of an email I sent to my sister. She continuously comes up with great questions. They are really helping me describe what life is like here.

When you harvest depends on what you want to harvest; there is always something in season. The big harvest is just ending. Harvest also happens at different times depending on what part of the country you are in. Even though the country is small the north is vastly different than the south. I like the north but the produce isn't as good as it is in the south. The south has pineapple, which tastes almost like candy. When I was in Porto Novo the season had just begun. They also have avocados. In the north we have mangos in April. So I have yet to overindulge myself with mangos, but am looking forward to it. There is a harvest for wood coming up in November. I am told that I will then be able to start my garden. I have to wait to start the garden because the goats, sheep, and cows will eat all the good stuff if I don’t have fence. Diet is highly depended on the season here. We are about to head into the cold season, in December and apparently there is almost no produce.

I guess I should explain the seasons; these seasons are for the north. I haven’t bothered to learn the southern seasons. There is the cold windy season which starts in December and goes to February. This is when winds come down from the Sahara dessert. Apparently it is actually cold, like hoody weather. The winds blow a lot of dirt and dust around. After that there is the big hot season which is February to May. That is when it is supposed to be crazy hot, like African hot. There is not a cloud in the sky so the sun is just brutal. I have heard that it is impossible to stay hydrated. No matter how much you drink you only pee like once or twice as day. The good thing about the big hot season is mangos. After that there is the rainy season…Yeah! That means lots of vegetables! And the temperatures are totally bearable, like in the 80’s. After the rainy season everything starts dieing off and there is no green for the eye to see. Finally, we have the small hot season. Which gets hot but sometimes it rains and there are clouds in the sky occasionally keeping things kind of cool. That is the season we are in now, from October to December. When I say kind of cool, I mean it is totally hot and I am told that it gets hotter in the big hot season.

I don't have a toilet; the bathroom is actually an issue in my town; as well as most villages here. I have a latrine which is just a hole in the ground. They are expensive so a lot of people don’t have them. I don’t think anyone in my town has running water, so if they don’t have latrine they defiantly don’t have a toilet. So what do people do when they have to go the bathroom you might be wondering? Well they poo in fields, or more specifically there is a hill and people go to the back side of it and do their business. The same hill is where you can get phone reception. Yeah gross. You see guys riding their bikes with their little plastic tea pots up to the hill. The plastic tea pots are what they use instead of toilet paper. I don’t exactly know how it works, I still use toilet paper. To pee if you are a guy, the world is your toilette. Guys just whip it out on the side of the road or a wall and go. What I find really rude is when they try to talk to you as you walk by. I don’t want to talk to anyone when they are tinkling on the side of the road. Women are generally more discreet when they go in public and do it behind something. In village you don’t get people peeing wherever they want (as much) but in the cities you do. When you go to a bar the bathroom is usually just a closed off area where you can squat and pee. Some are paved and have drains...to the other side of the wall where a pool of urine collects. Some you stand on a ledge and you just pee on the ground. They smell bad and back splash is a problem…Yeah Gross.

I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had been living at my house for less then a week, but the thought of living the next two years in fear was too much. I had a serious cockroach infestation in my latrine. Every morning I dreaded those familiar pangs in my gut. I would make the long walk to the latrine, open the door and count how many roaches I saw. It was day light weren’t they supposed to run away from the light like little vampires? Depending on how many I saw I either go a fast as I could or I hold it. On this particular day I saw five roaches when I opened the door. It was just too many; I shut it and just walked back to the house. I told my post mate Stephie that when we went to the market that day we would pick up some spray. Stephie was living with me at the time because her house wasn’t ready when we got to post. At least there was someone else experiencing my pain.

When we went to the market we found this stuff called “Super Powerful Bug Spray”, or something equally as promising. The front had pictures of dead bugs, and right front and center was a picture of a cockroach dead on its back. On the back, along with the directions, there was a claim that stated; “will kill all bugs in a room with just one spray”. It appeared that this was what we were looking for. I am sure we got ripped off on the price, but I was willing to pay whatever was asked if it got rid of my roach problem.

When we got home I had to try out the bug spray right away. I went to the stall and sprayed the first little bugger I saw. It was dead almost instantly. It worked. One flew at me a few seconds later. I screamed! Stephie stood a safe distance away speculating. Just then a neighbor boy was walking by, he asked us what we were doing and why we were screaming. He took the spray and got to work. It is kind of a Beninese thing to do stuff for your elders. It has been something that I haven’t quite gotten used to but in this case I had no problem. He knocked down the wasps nests for me too. Every once in a while a roach would fly at him. Maybe we should have taken it as a forewarning of what was about to happen. He had already become Stephie and mine’s hero, but I had one final favor to ask him. I asked him to spray down the latrine hole. He did, and he did it well. This proved to be a very bad idea, especially considering the fact that I did not have a lid.

Like something out of a horror movie, the latrine hole was pouring out cockroaches. Within five minutes the walls of my latrine were lined with roaches. Stephie and I just watched in disgust. Our hero keep reassuring us that the roaches would leave. The only thing we could do at that point was walk away, and hope the roaches did the same. About fifteen minutes later we herd this whipping sound on the side of the house. I went to go and check it out. It was a group of cow herding boys killing the roaches which were climbing on the walls of my house.

There were cockroaches everywhere. They were crawling in the lawn. Some dead turned on their backs. Others were flying in the air. My latrine had more roaches on it then it did just minutes before, and they were still coming out of the hole. They were climbing on my house. Of course the cockroaches would leave after being sprayed with poison, they haven’t survived for millions of years with out picking up a few survival skills. They needed some place to go after their rude eviction and my house was the next best place.

I grabbed the can of spray and started spraying the walls along with any roaches that were crawling on it. I ran around screaming and swatting them away from me. I was high on adrenalin and freaking out at every second. Stephie came over to see what was going on and might have been more horrified then I was. The cow herders continued to kill the roaches or would just pick them up off the house and throw them. Our new found hero joined the battle and was killing the roaches with rocks. He kept telling us that they wont do anything.

Perhaps Stephie and I were being a little overly dramatic running around screaming and batting at each other with disheveled hair. At least we were entertaining; they boys just watched us in amazement when we had a particularly close run in with a cockroach. Sometimes I would scream and tell Stephie this was just making us stronger.

Stronger or not, we both tucked out mosquito nets in extra good that night. Over the next week it was only proven to us that I had created an infestation. There were cockroaches in the house before but I had multiplied them. We would wake up every morning and kill five or six. Slowly the number started to taper off. Some days I won’t see one roach, other days I will see two or three. I may never get to the point where I could just pick up a cockroach and throw it, but I don’t freak out anymore. I calmly run for the spray and kill the little sucker. I have become stronger.

All 62 of us were crammed into 2 busses. They really cram people into their transportation. I have seen a family of 6 on a motorcycle, I kid you not. Anyway as we were making the hour long journey to what would be our home for the next 2 months. I was getting increasingly more nervous. We were given a photo of our families the day before. Our families were given a photo of us. The idea was that we, the trainees, would be herded into the room where our families were waiting and we were supposed to find each other. As the ride got longer and we got closer I kept thinking that I would not be able to find them and if I did what on earth was I going to say to these people. I didn’t even speak their language.

We get there far too quickly. Sometimes when I am all nervous and anxious I just wish the ride would go on forever, we would never arrive to the destination. We all started piling out of the vans and the next thing I know we are entering the room. I slowly watched the people in front of me being picked out of the crowd. I felt everyone eyes scan me but only for a second “Is she mine?...No” and on to the person behind me.

I saw my papa standing tall and confident. He smiled at me and nodded his head a little when I looked at him questioningly. I went up to him and he shook my hand. They love to do that here, shake hands. I love that about Benin. I was expecting the families to be going crazy, falling all over us. That is what the volunteers told us to expect. “They are going to hug and kiss you and you will instantly be one of the family.” But all the families seemed pretty reserved and almost as nervous as us. My papa speaks English. And that is how he greeted me. “Hello, how are you?” “You speak English?” I said and thought “oh no” I knew it would be too easy to use English but that was a problem I would have to deal with later. Now I had the problem of dealing with what on earth I was going to say to him. It would have almost been easier if he didn’t speak English, then we could mask the silence by the language barrier.

Luckily a lot of long boring speeches started pretty quickly when everyone had found their families. The speeches were in French but it didn’t matter what language they were in I knew they were dull. All I could think about was how bad I had to pee. I had to pee on the way over in the bus. I thought I could sneak off before we met our families but no such luck. After there were cocktails and snacks and I told my family I was going to the bathroom. I found the bathroom and locked the door. When I went to unlock the door however it wasn’t as easy. The door would not open.

The only thing I could do was laugh nervously while I tried to get the door opened. The party was going on at a perfect distance to be loud enough not to hear me yelling. I started pounding on the door wondering how long it would take my family to figure out there was something the matter. Finally somebody heard me. I luckily could say that I didn’t speak French in French. They tried to pound down the door and do this and that. More people started collecting outside of the door. They kept talking to me…all in French. I kept telling them I don’t speak French. I was thinking the whole party would notice. The bathrooms were just off to the side. Finally a word broke through that I knew…key. Okay! I slid it under the door, where their fingers were poking around. The door opened and a wave of air hit me. Just as I was walking out the door I saw my family walking towards the bathrooms. I shyly told my new Papa that I got locked in the bathroom. “You did?... Okay. Are you ready to leave?” And we left, just like that. He didn’t think it was funny or sad or anything.

We went to find my bags and got in the car. A Car is not a typical thing for a family to own here. We hit the road and my papa popped in Tracy Chapmen and I knew I was going to like him. “This is for you” he told me. We took a short tour of the town, including where my Mama worked so they could show me off.

When we pulled up to the house my papa honked the horn and my little brother opened the gate to get into the property. Almost all houses here are gated. I saw that the house was pink. There was a small yard and some colorful tropical plants growing around the yard. A dog jumped on me the second I got out the door. I said dog in French and everyone congratulated me. Everything was making me smile, it was all so perfect.

This is me in a nut shell right now. There are good days and not so good days but little by little I am learning the language. Now that I am getting better at it my Beninines family is more willing to wait and listen to me struggle rather than simply reverting to English.

I have been in Benin for about 10 days and staying with my host family for a week. It seems like a lot more time than that has passed because so much stuff happens in one day.

My Family: Papa is an X-ray tech. My Mama is a nurse who is always working. When she is not physically at work sick people come over to the house and she helps them. I have a sister who is my age (24). She is going to school to be a nurse but is home for the two months that I am staying here. I have a younger brother, who is 13 and he has to hang out with me. It is rude to leave your guest alone here; so he gets to entertain me when no one else is around to do the job. I am fully using his misfortune to my advantage and making him teach me the language. I keep telling him that he is my friend, my brother, and my professor, to which he responds with a huge grin. He thinks I am a total nerd boomer (which does not translate). When I put my helmet on in the morning he has the funniest look of mortification on his face. I am totally doing my job as an older sister to embarrass him at every chance I get. Even though I embarrass him, I am pretty sure he enjoys my company and I think he even defends me a little when his friends laugh at me. My family is totally westernized. My sister dresses more hip than I do when I am in the states. They are hip to the music and everything that people of their respective generations typically are into. My sisters’ friend is always here, and is like a family member. I mostly sit with them and try to throw in a sentence here and there. There is also two other girls who live with us. They are 16 and 6 and help with the house work.

My family is middle class which means that they live pretty well here. All the children (there are four, one boy I haven’t met and the other I just met tonight) will be educated when all is said and done. They have a pretty nice house with all the amenities one needs. I even have a refrigerator which is huge here. I have my own room and bathroom. There is no running water but there is a well on the property. The water from the well is used for cleaning and cooking. We have to pump water from a different location to drink; but the pump is less than a block away. I pumped water for the first time yesterday. I even carried it back to the house on my head. Luckily there was a top because I totally would have gotten soaked with no lid. I managed to get pretty wet even with the lid. I will learn to wash my clothes by hand on Saturday. And will have to learn how to cook Beninese style soon enough.

I enjoy the company of my family. I am trying my hardest to follow cultural norms but don’t know all the rules yet. My papa speaks English and will let me know in English when I should be doing something. I should walk my friends out to the street when they leave. I should greet everyone in an appropriate manner. I should give friends water when they come over, ect… I have been speaking way to much English with my papa but now that I am getting better with the lang. he is more encouraging of me speaking it. He tells me in one month’s time I will be a pro. I can only hope! (and try). A lot of people speak English here…or at least broken English and they are all too willing to try it out on me. I am told this will change when I get to post. In smaller villages it can be a challenge to find people that speak French much less English. Tonight I had to talk the older brother out of not speaking English to me. I told him if I don’t learn French I go home. and I would love for him to come and see me when I return to America. I will gladly teach him English then. He was satisfied with that answer.

A typical day starts at 6.30a when I am expected to be awake. I get dressed, eat, boil water and other wise get ready for school. Depending on how I am feeling that day I spend more or less time in the bathroom before I ride over to my friend’s house. I ride my bike to school with another Peace Corps trainee. We go to class and learn to be good Volunteers until 12.30 when we have our lunch break which lasts until 3. Yes that’s right a nap right in the middle of the day is mandatory. I love this place! I actually haven’t really taken a nap because I am doing other stuff but am looking forward to conforming to this cultural norm. The latter half of my day is usually technical training where I get to get down and dirty. We started a garden today and we made mud stoves on Monday. The technical training is what I live for. I go to tutoring or just go home and hang after school. I have dinner at 8. I eat at the table with Papa and my bro. The ladies don’t eat at the table or even at the same time as we do. By 9 I am beat but like to hang out. I have learned a Beninese card game, but mostly we just sit around and try to talk. My family laughs all the time, which totally makes the experience better.

There is one good road in the city that I am in. The rest is this red dirt sand stuff. Luckily it has been raining at night which kind of paves the dirt and makes it easier to ride your bike on. When it has been dry for a while the sand/dirt has soft pockets and it is not easy to ride on. I fell one time. Luckily when you fall on these patches it doesn’t hurt anything except your pride. Everyone seems to notice us trainees, not only because the majority of us are light skinned, but because have to wear helmets which people don’t really do here. As I rode by a bunch of kids one day, I heard one of them say something about my hat. I am at the stage in my language when I know when people are making fun of me; I just don’t know what exactly they are saying. When my family says stuff about me I can tell and I tell that I understand what they are saying. They know I don’t get all of what they are saying, but it is only a matter of time at this point

This is my blog right before I get on the plane and actually do it. It still seems surreal even though I am in Philly, at the staging, meeting all the people I will become close to over the next two years. I do have to admit it is starting to sink in. "Okay," I keep thinking "this is it; the adventure has begun." Having actually talked to people who are in the same boat as I am has made it feel more real but I still haven't cried; so I know that it hasn't hit me. Or perhaps it has just been the build up.

I feel like I have been saying goodbye for the last month; thinking about it now I realized that I have actually been saying goodbye for the last month. First to my friends, my paramour, then to my girls, my extended family, to my sister, and finally to my immediate family. The thing is it has never felt real. Partly because I actually wasn't leaving yet, and that I could very easily have seen any of these people again, or talked to them on the phone. The goodbyes have never really been goodbyes as much as see you laters...maybe.

Now I have seen everyone for the last time before my service. And every conversation could be the last for a while. The contact will get thin from this point on. I question how many people will actually write to me. Having tried to keep pen pals before I know what a commitment it is and how life has a habit of getting in the way. The loneliness is already starting to become a reality. Suddenly I am getting what the books and brochures have been telling me. Everything is new, I will crave familiarity. I think it is finally hitting me.

Love you all. Please write often, even if you think it is mundane. I want to hear what you are doing with your time. Will post when I can.

I quit my jobs, I sold my stuff, I moved out of my apartment, and I have started to say Goodbye. I can't believe it but the time has actually come and I am about to move to Africa and for the next two years to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. I am so excited; its all I have been thinking about. I spend my days preparing which lately has been working on French and shopping for the things I will need. I feel like I tell everyone I come into contact that I am going to Africa and have joined the Peace Corps. I suppose it is amazing to me, I never thought that when I finally made my escape from the Midwest it would be in such a big way.

I have so much going on that I still don't feel like it is real. There will be little snippets during a given day that I will fully realized that yes I will be halfway across the world in only a matter of weeks. Most of the time however it doesn't seem real and everything seems the same in spite of the fact that everything is different: No longer in my own home (staying with Mom and Bro. for a little Q.T. before I go), have no job (was working all the time and have not missed it for one second) have no stuff (was all sold off except for a few boxes). I also find my self on the internet more than I was as an undergrad.

I am not a techno friendly individual. The irony of finally learning to use the internet as more than just a digital mailbox before I go to a third world country does not escape me. Leaving the country and wanting to share my experience's with those of you who are interested was all the inspiration I needed. I suppose it is really what being a Peace Corps Volunteer is all about: teaching people what is going on in a part of the world we as Americans don't typically think about. Most people have never even heard of Benin, the country I am going to (including me until I got my assignment). Now I have the luxury of exposing people to a whole new world.

That has been the exciting part of saying Goodbye to people: teaching people about a different part of the world. Even though I am leaving I have gotten a lot of people who interested in what I am doing. It has been touching and inspirational to learn the impact I can have on others. Its funny how leaving can bring people closer together.