No Ordinary Romance

I should be clear. Life here isn't actually just one big pity party. The redemption of a new day, coupled with a 3 hour period with no power outages in which I have been able to do 2 loads of laundry in the missionaries' most magical appliance, The Laundry Machine, has markedly improved my mood. Before I got sidetracked by the world falling down around (on top?) of me, I actually had some rather pleasant things to share with you.

The last couple of weeks have been filled with enjoyable travel, which is not actually an oxymoron in Senegal when you forego public transport in favor of bicycles. My bike tours around Linguere and Kedougou have been filled with the kind of going somewhere, discovering something type adventure I once naively thought every day in the Peace Corps might bring; not that I'm disparaging the comfort of routine I've finally found. Living somewhere and traveling somewhere are inherently different. It's just nice to have a bit of that slightly misguided, almost-risky, story-worthy adventure to spice up my life once in awhile.

I'll let the pictures do most of the talking.


Ann Marie makes a friend or two on the road between Barkedji and Linguere.


Two generations of proud Barkedji volunteers.


Three years later, Joey still gets excited by the sight of camels.


Joey, Emily and I can still muster some enthusiasm after a grueling 60k ride out to Justin's site, Yang Yang, on--I swear--the worst road in the country.


But excitement soon gave way to this--a much more apt visual description of our emotional state.


I am unimpressed by Tempo cookies' false advertising of "more cream." See exhibit A.


Exhibit A.


Did the bumpy road jostle Joey's brain so much that even dry, decidedly uncreamy Tempo cookies cannot save her?

Linguere's landscape in a word: sad.


Linguere: where things go to die, even bikes. We live here.


Not here: Kedougou.


We're off! Caution: wild animals.


Superstars.


The charming staff at the Wassadou Campement were incredibly hospitable and welcoming, and extremely concerned about our poor hygeine. They dropped not so subtle hints on four separate occasions that we might like to shower--free of charge, of course--and had us sit outside instead of inside the restaurant. Really, are we that dirty?


Reluctantly leaving lovely Wassadou after a restful lunch break.


Posing in front of the map of Niokolokoba national park at the entrance.


We got room service during a wild rain storm at the Dar Salam campement. Unfortunately, the staff's services did not extend to helping us get rid of the freakishly huge camel spider in our room. Never have I ever seen a Senegalese man so unresponsive to an opportunity to prove his masculinity.


Our campsite at the guard station halfway through the park. The guards, all male, welcomed us by cooking us lunch and dinner. I cannot fully express how amazing it was. Men in Senegal don't cook for women. Ever. Gender and development work, anyone?


Stephanie a.k.a. Sofi Diop charms the Senegalese.


We were out walking for too long, so park ranger Boubacar came to save us from the lions. He brought his gun.


These monkeys kept us company (read: repeatedly tried to steal our food) at our campsite in the park


Maya looks radiant. The river? Not so much.


Steph and I took a bike ride/hike to a village in the hills 13 k from Kedougou and marveled that we were still in the same country.


Happy to be above sea level.


Kedougou. Happy Fourth of July!


Me and my bicycle, no ordinary romance.