Is this heaven? ...no, it's Saint Louis.

First, I must apologize for the dearth of blog entries. I aim to ameliorate that situation pronto.

One might assume that, therefore, I will talk about projects at site, offer pretentious cultural insights, or reflect on my year since starting service with Peace Corps.

One might be dead wrong. I don't feel like talking about Mauritania. It's hot here. My teeth are rotting thanks to the copious amounts of sugar I consume, and my family thinks vegetables are "bad health". I suppose that my next couple entries will likely reference Mauritania because, you know, that's where I live and spend 99% of my time. But for now, I'm going to share stories from my wonderful week south of the border in Saint Louis, Senegal (henceforth referred to as "heaven").

Heaven is a beautiful little town that occupies both sides of a small bay, as well as a large island in between. The middle island is the touristy part. Walking around the island, one's senses are bombarded by hundreds of stands selling spicy sandwiches and fruits of all varieties, booths blasting vibrant music, and, most importantly, no sand dunes or sandy couscous.

Each spring heaven hosts Jazz Fest, a four-day funfest offering excellent music, food, beaches and company. Peace Corps Mauritania generally invades heaven twice each year: New Year's and Jazz Fest. This year I decided to skip New Year's, so my first trip to heaven was aided by friends who already knew the best restaurants, the boutiques with the cheapest, coldest beers, and the best places for evening festivities.

Weather-wise, heaven was perfect. Mornings were cool, comfy. Afternoons were warm but not uncomfortably so. Evening breezes made me want to sit outside at every restaurant.

Food was cheap, filling, and everywhere.

Waves on the beach were so large that they knocked you on your butt.

My legs are still peeling after long afternoons spent next to pools and the ocean (curse you, fair skin of mine!) but let me assure you that I relish each fleck of dead skin I peel away - souvenirs from a better place. I'll miss you heaven. Until I return, it's back to couscous.

Flexibility Training

A few changes from the past couple months, just to keep everyone on their toes:

- The Mauritanian election, originally set for June 6, was postponed a month. All opposition parties (I believe) have agreed to this new timetable. This should make for a smoother transition.

- Our new Peace Corps Volunteers were set to arrive next week. However, due to some visa issues, they will (hopefully) come in August. Keep your fingers crossed here. We (Peace Corps Mauritania Volunteers) are anxiously awaiting this new class.

- We were supposed to travel to Mali for a soccer game vs. Peace Corps Mali. Yesterday I arrived in Aioun - a city near the border of Mali where, coincidentally, I was supposed to work until my site was switched at the last second to Chinguetti - to discover that the soccer game was canceled and that the border with Mali is now closed to US citizens (there's a rumor that the latter statement is just a rumor).

SOOOOO, I will likely be returning to site a little earlier than expected. I'm still very excited to catch up on stories (and food!) while I'm in the States during August. And as always, in the meantime shoot me an e-mail update whenever. It's a blast to hear from people back home.

Me = homeless

Top 10 reasons being in Peace Corps Mauritania is like being homeless in America:

10. The world is our toilet.
9. We sleep outside on the ground.
8. We bum meals most days.
7. We pick our noses, hawk loogies, and discuss diarrhea in public, unabashedly.
6. We don't eat fruits or vegetables for days at a time.
5. Our clothes are all tattered (I have no hole-less pants left, and I wear pants everyday).
4. We go for weeks without showering, and we don't wear deodorant.
3. We have few definite life goals or plans.
2. We survive on a generous $200/month from Uncle Sam; and:
1. Nevertheless, we still find money for alcohol (only while in Senegal, of course.)