let there be lettuce

forget me not

Blogging is clearly not my forte. I tried, I failed, I'm coming back round again. I have two interesting projects that are both finally coming to fruition in the next few months (the last few months of my service!) and I shall do my darnedest to share them all with you. 

it's the little things

While you have all been skipping amongst the foliage and the apple orchards, sipping on pumpkin spice lattes and baking apple pies, I have been slowly melting in the unforgiving heat and humidity. Well, it hasn't been all that bad. We are in the midst of our own harvest season, reaping bales of millet, corn, bushels of squash, okra, cucumbers, tomatoes, the list goes on. And while I am more than enjoying the bounty, I still miss the seasonal offerings of autumn. To rectify this unsavory situation, I channeled my inner fall fairy and found my crafty side.

The solution – my newly inherited percolator, left to me by my site-mate who recently left the country. While it doesn't replace her witty texts and tidbits of knowledge, it certainly helps with my caffeine fix. I dash a little cinnamon, a little nutmeg, and a clove or two, and presto-changeo, I have my own autumnal spiced latte. It may not be accompanied by a rustic fall view, but it certainly tastes like it. 

postcards

Send me a postcard! I'll send you one back! By far, my favorite method of communication.

sojourn.

I've been a lackluster blogger of late, please pardon my absence. I've been very busy with work/life/Africa. And most important of all, I was gearing up for my long awaited vacay back home in Amerik. It was rather difficult to focus on anything when there were images of burgers & milkshakes & cookies floating though my head.

But before I could escape to the good ole U. S. of A. I had a rather patriotic affair to attend here in Senegal - the 4th of July. Every year we have a celebration down in the region of Kedougou, all waterfalls and mountains, to celebrate the motherland. Volunteers come from every corner of the country to celebrate their patriotism. The 'fete' is replete with a pig roast, bissap juice & beer, fireworks, and all the Americana we can get our hands on. It was the perfect precursor to the real thing. As soon as the party was through, I was off.

America.

I have to say, it was everything I imagined and more. I indulged in every culinary whim, luxuriated in A/C until I was shivering, slept in past a decent hour, did everything I could possibly think of with high speed internet, used every social network I could past my understanding.I was overwhelmed by choice at grocery stores, I drank an unnecessary amount of iced coffee, I laid on the beach util I was tanner than the Senegalese sun made me in 16 months. It was amazing. I bopped around from RI, to Cape Cod, to New York, to Boston and back again. I saw all the friends and family I could ask for.

What did I learn from my little sojourn? How much I really missed my friends and family, and being a part of their lives; but also how much I love my family here in Senegal and my life here, since it was all I seemed to be able to talk about. I realized how truly lost I am in terms of US pop culture in the 16 months I've been gone (memes??). I've realized that while it was an east enough transition for the three weeks I was home, moving home and readjusting will be an effort (this is an advance warning that you are all going to have to put up with my "when in Senegal..." stories). I'd forgotten how much I loved my clothes, my shoes, my jewelry. Shallow, perhaps, but true. Most importantly I remembered how much I love my life, no matter where in the world I am.

But it wasn't sad, depressing, or worse coming back to Senegal. Yes, it smells pretty bad here. There are about 18 billion mosquitoes here at the moment. It's hot. Really, really hot. On an average day I am sweaty, dirty, itchy and I probably smell a bit. But hey, it's not all bad.

Highlights:
*Seeing my family waiting for me at the bottom of the escalator in the airport.
With balloons. And iced coffee.
*Cape Cod.
*A picturesque picnic on the beach with two of my favorites.
*Two home runs and a win at the Red Sox game.
*Visiting with my grandmothers.
*Fireflies in the firelight. And smores.
*NEW YORK CITY. Enough said.
*Milkshake Mondays.
*Pookie time. Pookie phone time. Pookie car time.

cellphones

Check out an article from the Times about increased cellphones access for women.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/16/opinion/a-cellphone-for-every-woman.html?_r=2

market mango madness

A trip to the weekly market, called a 'louma,' to visit one of my moms turns into an excuse for a mango binge.

Mango season is in full swing here in Senegal. I generally find that I am swimming in seas of mangoes - mango for breakfast, for a snack, as a present for my family, just because. Big mangoes, small mangoes, stringy mangoes, ripe mangoes, sour mangoes. Mango juice, dried mango, with salt or spice, it's everything nice!

One might think that you could get sick of the mango invasion, and believe me, I've come close, but you just can't beat that mango magic.

backyard

girls, girls, girls

For those of you who keep up with my haphazard blogging (mostly just my mom...) you will remember that about this time last year I blogged about a scholarship project that I was doing with SeneGAD, our gender and development project. First of all, lets take a moment to reflect on the fact that WHOA! I have been here for a long time. Second of all, let's talk about how awesome girls are.

SeneGAD's Michele Sylvester Scholarship works with female students at the college level, which is about the equivalent of middle school in America. Volunteers work with school directors to choose nine girls with exemplary educational records, but who exhibit financial need. The girls have to write an essay about their goals and aspirations for the future, complete an interview, and the volunteer follows this up with a home visit. All nine of the girls have their school registration fees paid, and three of them are chosen by the SeneGAD scholarship committee as winners, who will receive an additional gift of school supplies.

Now let's talk about why this is important. Staying in school is not that easy in Senegal. Back home, you just have to show up every year, your parents take you out for new school clothes, some shiny new binders, notebooks and pens. Here, if you are lucky, your parents will pay your school fee, and maybe you can get a notebook and a few pens from an older sibling. And if you have the good fortune of being a girl, it becomes just a little bit trickier.

One of my sisters, Awa, is about 12 - let me give you a quick run down of her day. She pulls water, she pounds millet, she does the laundry, she sweeps the compound, she watches over the younger children. And she squeezes a bit of school in the middle of all that. If her teachers show up that is. And let me tell you, Awa has it easy. She has grandparents who care about her, and her education (and, lucky girl, she has a PCV with a never ending supply of pens). Not everyone is so lucky.

So what does this scholarship do? It helps a girl stay in school for one more year that she might not have been able to afford. It gives her the tools that she needs to succeed in a system that is faulty in the first place. It shows her family that she is worth the investment. Because she is.

So instead of getting your daily Starbucks, or going to the movies, or out to dinner, send a few dollars this way and help us to fund the Michele Sylvester Scholarship for the girls across Senegal.

You can donate here, and please indicate my name in the comment section so that the money goes to scholarship fund. Thank you!

bintu

This is Bintu. She is probably the cutest thing under three feet that I have ever seen. While our dear friendship is not exactly based on communication as she has not yet progressed past baby talk (all I can ever make out is "andba da gu ta" which is not even Serere), she loves to pick up all of my belongings and show them to me, and this routine has bonded us for life.

babu

This is Babu. He is my best friend. He is four years old. We get along quite swimmingly through a relationship defined on me giving him toys and him following me around everywhere. But quite seriously, my best friend here in Senegal. He is adorable and I love him.

lightbulb debate

Electricity. Can’t live with it, can’t live without it?? I had an interesting evening several weeks ago. A car battery materialized in my compound, and out of nowhere my older brother produced a television set and jeri-rigged it to the battery and some sort of metal contraption that one can only assume was the antenna. And presto-chango, we had TV. Thirty or forty kids instantly rushed in to crowd around and watch. (Disclaimer: Senegal was playing in the Africa Cup, so this was a bit of an event) In sharp contrast to this scene, my friend Fatou, a young mother maybe in her early twenties, was sitting next to me with a dim flashlight, clearly running low on precious battery power, trying to read a basic French instructional lent to her by one of the children still in school in her compound. The television set’s sudden assault on my visual and auditory senses, paired with Fatou’s indifference to the show and dedication to her reading got me thinking. What’s so great about electricity anyways?

A year ago now, I moved to a small Senegalese village to live in a small cement hut with no electricity. Coming from our over-stimulated American culture of 24-hour news cycles, BBM-ing, and iPads, it was the antithesis of my previous lifestyle. Talk about being unplugged. It comes with its difficulties, of course.  I seem to be completely unable to keep my phone (a Nokia throwback to the 90s btw) charged, despite a solar charger and an ample supply of the blazing African sun (though in all fairness, I do talk on the phone a lot…), I have to hoard battery power on my iPod for emergencies, like the nights when the mosquitoes just won’t let up on the buzzing, and if I have a question or want to know something I have to actually write it down and google it later. What a life, right?

I should mention here, that this is, of course, a flight of fancy, an exercise in thought. Are any of those things that I mentioned hardships? No, of course not. I do just fine without having Kanye or Florence available to me twenty four hours a day. The reality of it is that life without electricity has an entirely different meaning for my villagers. It means that women in my village who go into labor in the middle of the night do so by flashlight; that children studying for their end of the year exams do so by a burning candle or the moon light; that radios are the main form of mass media; that women cooking after dark chop onions by the light of the fire they are cooking over. And it means that a moto with a broken headlight has a much harder time looking out for stray donkeys and children.

Electricity could fix this. But what has it meant so far? When a few affluent community members invested in the village’s first solar panel, instead of going to our dilapidated health hut, it went to the freshly painted mosque, so the call to prayer can echo through the village five times a day. It means when a car battery shows up, it’s to power up a TV or speakers for a ‘fete.’ So this brings me back to the original question. Would I like to see my village have access to electricity during the rest of my service here? No, not really. A bit counter-intuitive for a grass-roots development worker, no?

Let me explain that one a bit. In reality, of course electricity would be a huge gain for my village, and there would most definitely be increases in the standard of living here. But if economics taught me anything, it is that in the real world there is always a cost associated with a gain. And what exactly is that cost? My road town has electricity, and my visits with friends there have helped to illuminate what goes on in Senegal when cracking peanuts isn’t your only option for the afternoon. They watch TV. And then, they watch some more. And a little bit later, a little bit more. I have seen an eighty year old woman sit in front of a television and watch Indian soap operas for 4 hours. I have watched a group of people crowd into a dark room to watch TV while drinking the traditional tea, attaya, instead of sitting around and conversing, which, culturally, is the whole point of attaya anyways. I’ve seen a four year old kick and scream, and cry and wail because her grandmother won’t change the channel. You know what that sounds like to me? It sounds a bit like America…

I know that I am being a bit judgmental here. But it’s because I don’t like what I am seeing. I came here to delve into Senegalese culture, and when you see it being changed and altered like this, it makes you a little uneasy. I am also being rather hypocritical, because I love going into my regional house and watching a movie or two. But for me, it is an enclave into my own culture for a few hours, and for the Senegalese it is a new development that is being assimilated into their culture. And I am not saying that it is a horrible thing, that Senegalese shouldn’t have TV. They should. It’s great. But again, going back to trusty economics, there are costs involved. Culturally, family interactions are decreased; traditions like attaya are fundamentally altered. “Westernized” images pour forth from the screen. (Westernization is quite the buzz word nowadays, and I really don’t want to get into it here, let’s just say that they certainly aren’t watching portrayals of village life when they watch their soaps.) I’ve seen American, British, French and Indian programs shown. And, consequently, I see a lot of sai-sai high schoolers walking around in skinny jeans and halter tops – quite the opposite of a pagne. There is a health concern as well. Through some turn of events, as Senegal has progressed through the years, a sign of wealth has become the consumption of rice and oil. And anyone who’s ever witnessed the luxury of a Bollywood soap knows that when you got it, you flaunt it. That has led to a rapid increase in the consumption of white rice that is cooked with loads of oil (i.e. the national dish of ceeb u jen, pronounced cheb, that is white rice, cooked in oil with fish and some veggies on top). That can lead to increases in diabetes, heart disease, all of which are the sad consequences of moving from a locally based diet, such as millet, corn, vegetables, to an imported one (read: Thai rice). We make  jokes about ‘ceeb mamas,’ the women with jaifundes (big butts) that you always inevitably get shoved between in a sept place, but it is more devastating when it is a 6-8 month old baby who looks the same size as a five year old.

So why is this happening? Is there a solution? Because we all know electricity is the next step, that one day it will be ubiquitous. I can’t really answer that question. But when sitting and thinking about it (I have ample time to sit and think here), my mind led me to a theory that I learned back in school – the technology leap.

Basically, what the technology leap refers to is how developing countries are able to ‘leap’ over certain technologies to more current ones due to their availability in the world market. The perfect example of this is cell phones. You don’t see a proliferation of land lines in Senegal, because by the time that became something realizable, cell phones were beginning to take hold. What you see today is a very minimal presence of land lines, whereas everyone and their grandma has a cell phone. Of course, technology leap could also be used to mean that while they have to technology, the appropriate education for it was ‘leaped’ over. I thought my mom back home was cell phone illiterate (sorry mom!), but you should see my Senegalese mom here (part of that is because she is actually illiterate, in French at least, but you get my point). Both, however are fiercely possessive of their right to this technology, as they should be. The problem that you see here, and in much of Africa, is that these technologies are dropped in, made desirable and into status symbols, but with no explanation. Like I said, everyone and their grandma has a cell phone, but who knows how to use them? My seventeen year old sister who is in middle school knows how to use a cell phone here almost better than I do, but does she have one? No, of course not. She’s a child. Her fifty-something year old mom, however, has the means to purchase one, but is lost without someone to help her. I cannot tell you how many times a day someone from the ‘grandma set’ asks me to reset the time on their portables.

What compounds this is the fact that cell phone usage in developing countries has enormous potential. We all saw how new media, which included the wide-spread proliferation of cell phones, ignited the Arab Spring. While that is an extreme, it is a perfect example of the sudden onslaught of person to person communication. Ten years ago my mom here could only talk to her older sister by walking 5k to see her. Now she can call. It means everyone has access to an ambulance, that political rallies can be organized (something I have been witnessing first hand, as Senegal is just wrapped up a contentious election.). Banking is also a potential for cell phone usage. When I was in Ghana I learned that many people there are able to send and receive money through their phones, almost utilizing them as ATMs. (http://www.theafricareport.com/index.php/2012012450179876/technology/mobile-phone-banking-and-remittances-an-african-boom-50179876.html) The catch is that you have to be able to use them.

There is a recognized need for this education, especially because it mostly affects women, who either never made it past primary school, or are taken out at an early age for cultural reasons or marriage. Even in the older crowd, most men that you encounter know their way around a phone, as they had the advantage of learning some French in their youth. Tostan,  an organization that focuses a lot on women’s rights and works all across West Africa, but began here in Senegal, has a component to their program where they teach women how to use their phones, whether it be saving a number, writing a text, or checking how much credit they have.

Computers also pose a similar problem. In today’s world, if you want to move upwards and onwards exposure to a computer is key, even in Senegal. An impressive number of computer relics make it to Africa one way or another (http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/08/04/magazine/20100815-dump.html), and many are donated through programs such as the World Computer Exchange (http://www.worldcomputerexchange.org/). This is the type of technology leap that can produce positive results, again with the proper education. I am lucky enough to have had a computer in my house since as far back as I can remember. As a result, I could sit down at any computer, pretty much anywhere, and know how to use it. An indispensible skill in the modern job market. That’s not true of a fifteen year old girl in middle school who spends most of her time doing laundry. Teach her how to use a computer and she has a tangible skill that puts her far ahead of her peers, which can lead to remarkable places down the road. That is the rationale behind sending computers to places like Senegal, but in these cases, the education matters even more. Most teachers in Senegal don’t even have a high school degree, let alone exposure to a computer. Last fall I participated in an USAID sponsored summer camp for middle school kids, and one of the sessions was computer skills. It was all ‘back-to-basics,’ teaching the kids how to highlight, change fonts & sizes, colors, spacing, how to save and open. And this was with kids who had used a computer before. Programs that bring the technology need to bring the knowledge as well, otherwise they might as well end up in a spare-parts graveyard. 

So what does this rant on technology come down to? Not much. Unfortunately, there is no unifying theory of everything here. It means that everyone needs to keep doing what they are doing, pushing technology forward, and teaching the world how to use it to make all of our lives better. Will electricity come to my village? Yes. All I can do is hope that they use it to their best advantage. In the mean time, I can let Fatou borrow one of my flashlights, and help her to learn a little French. 

one year

What do I love:
1. Babies. 
2. Millet, rather unexpectedly. 
3. Fantastic fabric selections, and tailors
4. Teranga (hospitality)
5. My Senegalese family
6. My Peace Corps family
7. Ice. It has become the most amazing thing in my life
8. Working in my garden, i.e. getting anything to grow here
9. Crowds of children rushing up to me as I return to village, chanting my name, taking my bags, asking how I am, bringing me cold water, holding my name. Livin' the dream here. 
10. Babies. Again, awesome. 


What I don't love:
1. Babies. (read: pooping everywhere, screaming tantrums, fighting, hitting each other...)
2. The far, back middle seat of a sept place, shoved between two ceeb mamas
3. Fish bones. 
4. Stinging ants. 
5. Swass (sweaty ass, swamp ass)
6. The dust
7. The heat
8. The humidity
9. The sun. 
10. No iced coffee. 

a visit

My friend Lisa recently came for a visit, and gave me a lovely little shout out in her blog. Check it out.

Lisa did what?!?!

portraits

oh, the places you'll go

Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You’re off to Great Places!

You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.

You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.” With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.

And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town. It’s opener there in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too.

Oh! The Places You’ll Go!

You’ll be on your way up!

You’ll be seeing great sights!

You’ll join the high fliers who soar to high heights.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don’t.

Because, sometimes, you won’t.

I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.

You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.

You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.

And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.

No! That’s not for you!

Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t.

I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.

All Alone!

Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.

And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.

You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?

Yes! You will, indeed!

(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

Kid, you’ll move mountains!

So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!

Today is your day!

Your mountain is waiting.

So…get on your way!

let's do it for the girls!

The Kaolack region is currently gearing up for our third annual Girls' Leadership Camp this June, and we could use your help! The camp is a week long affair, where girls from all over the region come to participate in empowering and motivational sessions that encourage them the stay in school and become leaders in their communities. Activities like this are so important for girls in Senegal to take part in because cultural restrictions prevent many of them from staying in school past the primary level, and far too many of them are married off at an age when they should still be gossiping with their friends and daydreaming about their futures. The camp is a mix of educational activities, such as career and health panels with successful Senegalese women, and skill building activities, such as sustainable gardening, with a little arts and crafts, dancing, and interactive games thrown in as well. 

There is a great website, The Girls Effect, (http://www.girleffect.org/) that talks about the importance of girls' education and empowerment in developing countries today. The gist is, if we can support these girls through their education, they can help to break the cycle of poverty that their families, communities, and countries are stuck in. By staying in school, girls reduce their risk of HIV/AIDS, are more likely to marry at an appropriate age, and raise healthy children that repeat the process, helping to raise standards of living across the world. The Girl Effect has some great videos on their site that you should all check out.

We would love your help in making this camp a reality, and reaching out to the girls of Kaolack! There is a link to donate posted below, where you can also read more about the camp. 

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=685-198

gamou-ing

WHO: Myself and Team Linguere (a region holding a few of my favorite volunteers)

WHAT: The Mbeuleukhe Gamou. What is a gamou you ask? First and foremost, it is a "learning." The point of the celebration is two big gatherings where religious leaders discuss the Koran and Islam. But, being Senegalese, they make quite a party out of it. Everyone dresses up in their finest, with several outfit changes throughout the day, massive platters of rice and beef (a BIG treat) make appearances at every house you visit, and best of all, you are boisson-ing all day long (read: fancy drinks like soda and juice). The "learning" barely begins til dark falls, and they are lecturing, praying and singing til maybe seven in the morning. As far as I know, all villages celebrate gamou, and the celebration also has something to do with Muhammad's birthday, but every village has their own day, with no rhyme or reason, so we aren't really sure what is going on there. Fae's village turned out to be far more religious than most, so literally hundreds of friends and family showed up, and we had to cover our heads to attend the learnings. It was a jam packed couple of days, but so quintessentially Senegal, that you had to love every minute.

WHEN: A two day fete, going all through the night. The Senegalese know how to party ALL NIGHT LONG.

WHERE: The village of  Mbeuleukhe, in the region of Linguere. To give you an idea of what it's like up here, all the volunteers have these t-shirts with the quote "Where things go to DIE." It is phenomenally dry up here, pretty much nothing grows, rainy season is a blip for them, and hot season here is more like a vacation on Mars. They have lots of cows, herds of camels, and we sometimes refer to it as the Wild Wild West. These kids have some Peace Corps street cred.

HOW: This was probably my favorite part. Got to check a new form of African transportation off of my list - the bush taxi. I'm sure you've all seen pictures of them on the news before. Resembles a broken down pick-up truck, with metal railings going up the sides that have wooden flats laid across. Luggage is stuffed underneath into the bed of the truck, and when I say stuffed, I mean exploding out of the sides, and the passengers are launched onto the top to sit on the impromptu benches, squeezed in 4-6 to a row. As we sail through the bush, the only rule is to pay attention and occasionally suck for trees. I loved it, of course. 

nye in saint-louis

Rung in the new year in the lovely city of Saint Louis. Beautiful city, the former French capital, full of old, colorful colonial buildings. We had a great time out on the town, though we missed new years, or maybe celebrated too early? Turns out Peace Corps volunteers can't synchronize their watches. Inadvertently had an extended vacation due to a country-wide transportation strike. Even the taxis wouldn't take us! They just sailed right on past, wagging their fingers at us. Annoying at the time, but being stuck in a popular tourist destination with good restaurants, the beach and pelicans isn't the worst thing that can happen!

Happy New Years!

cuatro.cinco.seis

A flurry of tapas, sangria and Gaudi.
A lovely break, then back to Senegal.