The streets are dark (Happy Birthday, Nathan!)

Sick with a cold. Swollen ankle. But am content.

Content because as I'm writing this, I'm sitting on a cushy couch with a fan blowing in my face and a bowl of chocolate ice cream in my lap.

The Dogon Country in Mali was very beautiful, parts of it very much like New Mexico. Plateaus, villages located in the cliffs, and sand dunes like rolling hills. We slept on the roofs in remote villages under the moon (which was full on New Year's Eve) and stars. It was like we had a nightlight. And it was freezing! We hiked from 8-12 everyday, and then from 3-5 in the afternoon carrying our packs with us. We handed out kola nuts to the natives when we wanted to take pictures of their villages (and when one of us almost hit an elderly man with a soccer ball—he was not happy!). I tasted a kola nut—it was like eating a bitter piece of hard cardboard, quite tasty.

Children followed us around, asking us for pens and water bottles and for my earrings and watch. They seemed to think that if they kept asking I'll eventually hand over the goods. The people in this area are used to tourists, and are accustomed to receiving gifts from them. We as volunteers immediately noticed the differences between our villages in Burkina and the villages frequented by the European and the rare American traveler; in Dogon you can find trash cans and strategicially-placed souvenir shops. Though I do suppose Dogon is one of the most authentic African village experience for the tourist because you do get to see people going about their daily activities—women pounding millet and carrying things on their heads on their way to the marche, and men relaxing in the shade or praying at the mosque. But for me there was a touristy feel to the whole thing, which was in itself interesting to experience. Having been in Africa for 7 months, I guess the novelty of being in a small village has worn off; and after observing these European tourists, I was reminded of what it first felt like to arrive in country.

Early in the trip I jumped off a rock and twisted my ankle. It swelled but didn't hurt too badly after the first day, so I kept on truckin'. Unfortunately the swellling hasn't gone down yet, but now I actually have the opportunity to take care of it for I am in Ouaga, land of cheese and ice cream.

I'm in Ouaga for inter-service training until Saturday and then I'll return to Bouroum-Bouroum to start the new trimester on Monday. The training includes information on how to start a secondary project in our villages—English Club, sensibilizations, planting trees, Girls' Clubs, etc. For this second trimester I'll focus mainly on my classes, tutoring and starting an English Club since there is a very strong interest among the students at my school.

I miss Herman dearly and I'm anxious to get back to him. Hopefully he still remembers me after my two-week absence. Two weeks is a short amount of time, but it feels like ages since I've been in village.

Hope everyone had a great Christmas and New Year!