Excerpt: Introducing Myself

I was asked to introduce myself in writing to the new group of volunteers soon to arrive.  So I took the opportunity to draw from my own past as a Peace Corps volunteer:

. . . .You will have wonderful times here.  But know that you will have bad days too.  Little things such as music, exercise, writing, visiting others will help.  But, as I remember all too well, some days are just useless.  Wait them out.  They too shall pass,  I promise.  And may I humbly suggest one thing:  try not to call home on these days.  Doing so tends to make everyone feel worse.   More importantly, the difficult moments are when you will make your most cherished, lifelong friends.  Reach out to your new Senegalese community.  Let them help you.  Trust them.  It is the best advice I have to offer.

 

As for the rest, the good times will take care of themselves!  And there will be many!  Work, take care of yourselves, take care of each other, laugh and have fun!   I will be here to help you in any way I can.

Dalem ak Diam!

Narda

Outside the Peace Corps Office

WHERE TO START??

I keep meaning to write, but there is so much to tell and I have started working  loooongggg days. 

My arrival corresponded with the arrival of a one of the regional doctor’s medical site visit in preparation for an evaluation of the medical unit by someone important and critical from Washington DC.  It’s a good visit as the MD conducting it is the Peace Corps MD for Morocco, has been a  PC doc in Kazakhstan, Moldova, Madagascar . . . and before that was a Soviet (medical) army officer for over 20 years.  He expresses himself . . .  clearly.   I like him a lot and he has fabulous suggestions but you know how inspections go:  meetings, changes.  It actually works well for me as I won’t have to learn the old systems AND the new systems.  Just the new.

Official work hours are 8 am – 6 pm (with 1 hour break), Mon-Thursday, then  8-12 on Friday.  But we all seem to be working until the work is done – or, in my case (as my official first day of work hasn't arrived yet) until the rain stops long enough for me to get “home.”

Yes, this is the rainy season.  I do not recommend it.  It’s hot, prone to flash floods and, when not raining, overcast, humid and mosquito ridden. Imagine Portland at it's worst with a temp of 100 degrees.  The mosquitoes are stealthy and small and their bites barely itch so I wouldn't worry about them except for the whole malaria thing.  So maybe a conference on the beach next week won’t be the tropical idle I was imagining. . .

The other bad thing about the rain is the internet.  It rains and Wifi shuts down.  Don’t know why, but it’s a fact.   Haven’t had any outside contact for over 12 hours – hoping to get some soon so that I can post this.

The Senegalese whom I’ve met are great!  Their height and stature makes me feel somewhat louse-like and positively squat (a pretty awful feeling),  but apart from that,  I enjoy the emphasis on personal relationships, respectful greetings, professionalism, pride in a job well-done,  as well as the importance of witty repartee and easy laughter.

 I can see that to join the “in” crowd I will need to learn Wolof sooner rather than later.   Yesterday  one of the guards greeted me in Wolof and I didn’t know how to respond so he said with exacerbation (in French),  “You can’t even speak Wolof?!”  To which I responded (in French), “Dude,  I’ve only been here 4 days,  you are lucky I can speak at all!”   The other neighborhood guards took my side and laughed hardily.

Not a shy people.    In fact, when we landed in Dakar, most people on the plane jumped up and started retrieving their bags.  We had landed.  We had not stopped – not for a moment.  Flight attendants (in Arabic, French and English)  repeated over the loudspeakers,  “Please take your seats.  Fasten seat belts.”   Over and over.  People listened, stopped getting out overhead bags, but did not sit down.  So we taxied for 10 minutes with the aisle full of people standing – very much like on a city bus.  Flight attendants gave up.  Me,  I thought,  “Cool.”

Another entertaining moment was on the flight between Madrid and Casablanca.  (One flight there, then a second from Casablanca to Dakar.)  It is Ramadan so no one who is Muslim can eat or drink from 5:30 am until 7:45 pm.   Almost everyone on the plane was Muslim so when meals and drinks were served everyone took them but no one ate them .  People just sat looking at their trays.  Next, the attendants passed out vomit bags – to be used as doggie bags.   Everyone packed up their meals, stuffed their cans of soda in their carry-ons  and that was that.

Madrid Day 1 . . or 2 . . . July 31, 2013

Madrid is very clean and full of parks and trees.  I’ve been walking all day.  Wandering, sometimes getting a very little bit lost.

It’s a very dry 105 degrees out.  As I stepped into the street, I felt my pores seal.  Tandoori Narda.  Which is good, because, if the oven is hot enough the outside seals and all the moisture is trapped inside.  So I should be young forever!  Or for another day.    Couldn’t stay much longer as I’m spending a fortune on cold bottled water (Did I mention the heat?), which gives me two ideas
1. Write a book with an entirely new slant on the practical travel genre:  “How to get by in Europe on $50 . . . .  an hour.
2. Invent personal misters:  umbrella contraptions with a reserve of water which sprinkle cool mist over you every few minutes.    Added bonus = back up water supply for when you run out of money.  Say, hour 5.

There’s an attitude here I cannot define.  It's relaxed -- very non Parisian.    People are very friendly, yet matter of fact.  Neither fawning nor rude.  As though we are all just neighbors – temporarily possibly, but neighbors nonetheless.

Incredibly easy to navigate with straight boulevards between circular parks, plenty of wide tree-lined sidewalks and green spaces.   I wandered my way to breakfast in an outdoor café and ordered the only option:  freshest orange juice, coffee with hot milk, toast with olive oil and a tomato-garlic puree.  Then I wandered my way into El Prado, reputed to be one of the best Western art museums.  It has earned its reputation.  It was easy to spend 5 hours there.   I particularly appreciated the commentary (Spanish and English) posted next to each painting, with a large summary at the beginning of each collection.

I like museums.  I especially like them when it’s 105 degrees outside (did I mention that?).

The accent here is soft.   Mismo is pronounced misthmo, but gently.  Not mithmo.  The Spaniards I’ve met so far seem happy to speak Spanish (R of 4). They may start with an English phrase but once I speak Spanish, we can all stick with it -- without fanfare – or pause.

That's it.  The attitude is "without fanfare" Very chill, actually. Is it too early to call Madrid a stylish, European Portland?   (After all I’ve been here for over 36 hours, some of them awake, which pretty much makes me a Madrilena, verdad?) Of course, I am staying in Salamanca, a "posh" part of town, butI get the feeling that other neighborhoods may be less expensive but no less dangerous.  Those who have been here even longer than me may mock my geographic/sociologic naïveté, but these are my impressions and I’m sticking to ‘em!

At this time of year the hotels are very affordable. I'm booked into a one bedroom apartment with little kitchen (breakfast items included -- yoghurt, water, cereal, fruit and weird individually wrapped Iberian twinkies).  Simple, comfortable (wood floors) with some unfortunately high windows -- but in this most expensive neighborhood all for less than $100/night with air con.

I am writing to you while dining on grilled octopus, traditional Spanish torta and halibut (traditional suggestions from the waiter) -- outside, on the sidewalk with potted lime trees between me and the street.   Every few seconds we get "misted" because it is, even now, 9:00 pm (early dinner), over 100 degrees!

PS  It’s really hot