Hello to EVERYONE!
I’m so glad that this blog has reached a larger audience than just my parents! Thank you for all that even take the time to post a little note on my “wall.“ I truly enjoy reading what everyone has to say. I hope that everyone is doing well, and believe me, for all the Peace Corps parents who are reading this (i.e., Sandy’s mom) your children send their love to you. We are all doing well and keep each other laughing and happy during this experience which can be as difficult as it is rewarding.

I just looked at where I last left off, and saw that it was the dreaded guacamole incident! Actually, nothing really happened. I think that I might have been the only one who got sick at all, and I didn’t even have it that bad. I just had to politely excuse myself from dinner so that I didn’t “shit myself at the table” for lack of better words or tastefulness (sorry). But after I nice visit with the toilet, I was ready to go. The most embarrassing part was that my papa and my little brother, Tommy, actually waited to continue eating until I got back from using the bathroom. So that was a little awkward.

Anyway, today has been a day colored with ups and downs. Some might say that it has been a rollercoaster of a day. It started off well because I passed my English grammar test with flying colors (which is not as easy as it sounds because you have to know weird English rules about identifying tenses and passive voice and indirect speech, etc.). Then, we all received our new Language grades as we had our language interviews on Friday. I thought that I had done much better this time and was excited to see my new grade. Turns out that I did improve to intermediate mid, BUT I need to move up at least four levels from where I started which was novice mid, SO I still need to move up one level before I swear-in. Basically, in the four days before swear-in, I am going to have massive amounts of tutoring and another interview to make sure that I swear-in on time with everyone else. I still will get to go to post no matter what, but it really stinks that I have to “cram” before swearing-in (there are two other people in the same boat as me). Hurray for bringing up the rear. Everything about this was “okay” until people started asking me what I got and then finding out and saying, “oh…are you okay?” The more “are you okays” I got the more emotional I could feel myself getting, and then without warning, the tears starting coming. Not like a rain shower of tears, but enough tears to scare the male facilitators (Crying is “Western” thing, so the Beninese get really uncomfortable around us emotional Americans). Anyway, they sent in a female facilitator and she talked to me in English which was nice, but the more I talked about it, the more I kept tearing up because the more overwhelmed I was becoming. I never was full blown sobbing, but I could feel that I had developed the unattractive red eyes that occur after a good cry. Finally, I just gave up and said that I was fine and that everything was ca va. Really, I knew that I wasn’t going to get anywhere talking about it, and that I needed to just buck-up and move on-yeehaw. So, with that behind me, I ate an amazing avocado sandwich and boarded a bush taxi with everyone and went down to Grand Popo, which is on the ocean and is absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. Not to mention, all the other sectors were there, so we were able to say our hellos and catch up with each other. After lunch and such, a few of us wandered down the beach and found a little tourist trap where we played beach volleyball for a little while. It was interesting as I would best describe the volleyball as an “inflated rock.” It was pretty much the hardest thing that has ever been slapped by my forearms(not that I slap a lot of things with my forearms), not to mention, the ocean breeze created a fantastic wind with which to increase the already difficult task of maneuvering into the correct position with which to play the volleyball. Regardless, it was good American fun. Then, I noticed that my head was starting to hurt quite a bit. So after we walked back down the beach, I decided just to lay down while some other people played a game of catch phrase, but when I decided to get back up, my head had been blessed with a migraine-hurray! The plan of action included taking drugs, taking sprite, and taking a nap. I felt very anti-social, and I felt like I couldn’t really enjoy the beach to it’s full potential, but oh well. I was still able to watch Sandy and Anna chase the tide in and then run away like 5 year olds screaming and giggling as the tide chased them back up the beach, I was able to laugh as a SED stagaire had to try three times to throw his message in a bottle into the ocean, and I was also still able to just listen and enjoy the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. By the time that we had to leave, I was well on my way to getting rid of my migraine. Things were looking up again. Then, more good news! I found out that we were going to try to have a sleepover at the volunteer’s house! What needs to be understood is that there is a history of our little sleepovers not working because we have always tried to act like adults and ask for permission, and we have always been turned down (BUT, we keep trying because the other sectors never ask, but always have sleepovers). So, this time, we decide that if we don’t ask and just sneak behind the administration, then what they don’t know can’t hurt them. Turns out, the Peace Corps administration must be one step ahead of us because here’s what happened. That night, I asked my mama if I could go to the volunteers house to watch a movie and then spend the night. Mama was totally cool with that, and she just asked what time I would be returning in the morning. Sweet, I thought. Then (dun dun dun) just as I was about to head out, Mama comes running after me saying the Papa is on the phone and that he wants to talk to me. So, I get on the phone, and he asks me if I have a question for him. I tell him the plan and then ask if I can stay over at the volunteer’s house. He yells into the phone, “No, absolutely no.” I wanted to ask why, but judging by his tone, I didn’t think that he wanted to discuss, so I left it as it was. No sleepover for me.

So that was last night--This morning continued my up and down day as I woke up with a fever and feeling sick and achy all over. I took my temperature and I was sporting a solid 101.4--not bad, but not stellar either. Anyway, took some drugs and slept a lot and then headed out to pick up some tissue (fabric) that I had gotten made into some clothes. It looks amazing, and I am so excited to rock it tomorrow. Then, in the last of the ups and downs, my parents were finally able to get through to call me, so I was able to talk to them for about a half hour before my head honcho woman and living coordinator stopped by to talk logistics for the swear-in ceremony, so I had to hang up and tell my parents to call my back in five minutes. Unfortunately, the lines must have been tied up and then never did get through again. Boo.

In other news, everyone is getting really excited about leaving for post. We know that we will all miss each other, but everyone is looking forward to gaining back some of their independence. We (us being the stagaires) talk about this all the time--how we thought that coming to Peace Corps would be this huge test of independence, but that, in reality, all that stage has really taught us to do is to become extremely reliant upon each other. Case and point being that we aren’t even allowed to spend the night--that we need permission to do so even though we are all 22+ year old adults. Just a little silly.

Also, with stage nearing it’s end, we have made TEFL mock awards/superlatives. I believe I was voted most orange (orange referring to my “true color” which further refers to an icebreaker game), best artist (tied with Sandy), and most likely to be bitten by a monkey. Some of the other more honorable categories included first person to have parasites, first person to vomit, first person to shit herself (yeah), first boob grab, and oh how the list goes on. Perhaps one of the funniest stories is behind the first person to “strip” in public. One the girl stagaires, Mae, was riding on the back of a zemi when her skirt got caught in the back tire and-ZIP!-got completely ripped off. The zemi driver stopped immediately, but there was Mae standing in her underwear bearing her white, white legs with everyone staring at her. Luckily, one of the facilitators was going by at the same time, and he was able to pay another mama to let Mae borrow an extra pagne (length of fabric) while she walked by home to change into another skirt. Mae was a trooper about it and able to laugh it off instead of being really embarrassed. But in a country were you get called at and ogled at for just being white, I can only imagine what everyone’s reaction must have been when they saw this white girl just standing there in her underwear with only a few scraps left hanging of what used to be a long beautiful skirt.

Off to dinner with the family. I think I’ll have an early bedtime tonight to try to knock this fever out of the ballpark. Tomorrow begins the first day of the last week! LOVE AND HUGS--ME!