ma vie, aisha si tu m'aime

Typing in the Cybers (internet cafes) here drives me crazy.

We have not continued with our nightly poetry sessions. This is not surprising.

I am addicted to daily fresh glasses of orange juice. It took one glass initiate this.

The smells are less overwhelming than the dust and noise.

Amadeus and I have been reacquainted with the squatty potties from previous Middle Eastern experiences. Not bad unless the lights are out, the floor is questionable, and the toilet paper is out. Then I want to be a man. There are other times I wish I was a man here, but for different reasons.

This trip has allowed Willikins to develop his big brother side, and we get constant texts like "Don't talk to anyone wearing over the top Turbans or Rastas" and "Don't walk too far down the beach where there aren't people. I got robbed at knifepoint on that beach" and "Make sure you drink lots of liquids if you start puking."

We have met extraordinarily colorful and friendly people, both locals and foreigners. The locals are amused by our Egyptian Arabic words. Amadeus has told me that the reason people don't leave us alone is that I laugh when I say no. She often does the same thing, and has broken a few hearts. They'll get over it.

We visited Anna, Will's girlfriend who is also in the Peace Corps. Coming back from having tea with her zany boss, wife, and child, she told us that she wonders if the entire experience will feel like a strange dream when she returns home.

When we first arrived at the city near Anna's site, it was dark and we were confused about walking to our next stage of transportation. Our driver to the city kept telling us that there wasn't transportation to her small town because it was night. He offered to drive us the remainder of the way for a fee, adding that it was dangerous. We declined after talking to Anna, and I informed him in French that she would be picking us up. Actually I probably said something like "my friend had be coming here." Stupid tenses.

On the 30 min. drive to her site, Amadeus and I opted for sitting in the truckbed, shrugging off warnings of cold. This was a silly move, and we hunched down to avoid the brunt of the wind, wrapped in jackets and scarves and singing pop songs at the top of our lungs. As we each ended a different song, we immediately started another at the same time - the exact same song, completely unplanned. We got a bit shrill in our excitement over this accidental jinx (think a couple of exitable friends meeting up after a summer apart), and suddenly the truck was swerving to the side of the road, convinced by the noise that one of us had fallen off.

**

It's a beautiful country.