Moving Day and A Bit

Oh la la, where in the world is my mind? Ho, hum. Well, actually, no ho hum at all. The past three days have been ridiculous.
So, lets start with my first french lesson with Madame Dianaba (Jana-baa). Before the lesson we had to take an exam to find out which class we would end up in and the exam consisted of a speaking conversation with the french teacher. Now in our group one person speaks impeccable french, Hilary is pretty darn good, I'm okay, and we have three who speak absolutly nothing. So we of course are like, no these people dont speak french. Instead of being like oh they dont need to take the exam Dianaba goes (in french) "super, lets start with them. To say the least, it was a quick exam. Anyways, Hilary and I are in the same class, which is quite a nice 1:2 ratio if I may say. Anyways, one of our tasks was to interview a man who works at the Baobab center in french. So we had gone through all the formal things-what is your name, occupation, where you were born, family, political believes, and so on. Anyways, he then states the question, a-tu un copain? Now litterally copain means friend, as in do you have a friend. At the current time I was exhausted, so of course I was like yes, I have tons of friends, and rattled off a bunch of people. Then he asks Hilary if she has a friend? Her respons? No. It was at this point that I remembered that in slang french, copain means boyfriend. To my horror, I had just told the man working at my 'school' that I had tons and tons of boysfriends. So I back tracked to say the least.

Yesterday was the official day that we got dropped off to meet our homestays! We got in to this massive van, that probably could have sat about 27 people or so comfortably. Off to each house we went, dropping fellows off to meet their new families. And then it was just me in the van while we were dropping Matt off. Side note, while sitting in the van a street vendor walked by with his box on his head. Now most of these people sell things such as cookies, batteries, t-shirts, or drinks. But this was not so for this special fellow, instead he had a box stuffed full of class-a lingerie on top of his head. Sadly, I have no photograph of the oddity.

Now a bit about my family. My last name is now Diallo (Jallo). I live in a neighborhood called SICAP Liberte, which is in the quartier next to the school. The home phone number is 011-221-33-864-0946. My cell phone number is 011-221-70-208-5693. -By the way, here, people dont say my number is two, eight zero.... instead they breat it up and say seventy, two hundred and eight, fifty six, and ninty three (which would be my number).. and in french. I knew I should have practiced the higher numbers more often. Okay, so officially there are three children in my family- Ama (26) is a female who works in her brothers shirt buisness. Khalifa (23) and Mamadou (20) are both in college. And then there are Karfa and another guy, who I think live there, but I'm not quite sure. See, in senegal, family if a very blurred line, so people just walk in like its no big deal. And to them, it really is no big deal. And there are Mama and Papa, but really I have no idea who is actually part of the family. Oh, and there is this french lady who works at the NGO with Karfa (who also owns the custom tailoring shirt buisness) and shes pretty cool. Ps, I totally think they have a secret thing together, but who actually knows? The whole family is pretty freaking smart too, we had discussions on the healthcare and politics of France and Senegal. Might I add, they dont really speak english, I mean Karfa can help me when I dont know a word in french, but litterally I now speak french 24/7 when at home or meeting people not with GCY. Well there was a big kerfluffel over the fact that the room I was supposed to be in had a bit of water damage, which had made it humid and with water stains/ mold on the walls. Eventually I ended up switching rooms with Ama, just for sleeping though so that I can still lock my room with all my stuff when I am no there. By the time all of this was sorted out, dinner was served- fried fish, yassa (onions & sauce), fries (dont even think about the word 'crunchy), and baguette. Until then, I had successfully avoided eating fish. This came to a tragic end though as I ate my first bite. I did only have one bite, but still, ew. And I know, I know, I'll have to start doing it sooner or later. As I was almost falling asleep as I ate, I then went to bed, reading my dear Dan Brown novel and writing in my diary. At about 3am, I woke up to the brilliant feeling of drowing... in the heat & sweat, even though I had a fan trained on me. Disgustingly hot to say the least. This morning I woke up with a beatuiful combination of: my eighth mosquito bite (even though i wore repellant & had a mosquito net) and a massive heat rash on the back of me legs, because it was so hot & sweaty when I was sleeping. Ick.
Today was safety and culture training. But I must go now, its getting dark at the Baobob.

Oh and P S. My house has wi fi!!! Karfa runs his shirt business online (and has a Macbook Pro might I add), so its all hooked up. Sweettttttttt! But I dont in the least expect this when I move out to the boon docks. Sending out letters tomorrow before a downtown sortie where were learning to barter!!

PSS.
So every morning we have the same breakfast of bread and stuff on it. Also, people drink really hot tea and coffee in the morning, which to me is ridiculous because it just makes you hotter! Back to the point though, send me Marmite. Besides the good nutritional value, its also something thats not always fo-nutella for breakfast. Its okay Heather, I know you think its ridiculous that I like marmite on bread.

-With love,
AD