100° in the shade

Even though the days are still roasting hot, I'm slowly but surely getting acclimated to the heat. Thankfully, it'll only get cooler from now on, and sometimes at night I can even comfortably wear pants.

Ramadan began today, which means that people are supposed to fast all day long. In family of 9 people (not including me), only 2 are fasting - everyone else is either too young, too old, or in the case of my sister, pregnant. Soon, come October, we leave for Yoff for 4 weeks, so we'll be spending most of Ramadan in a traditional fishing village - it'll certainly be interesting.

Yesterday I went with a small group of friends to the beach. It was amazingly beautiful: there is a steep, green bluff that crashes into the water, and the waves are more than enormous. I only went into the water up to mu knees and retreated when a particularly large wave left me staggering with salt water in my eyes and sand covering my body. Some of the more brave women in my group went all the way into the water, and bobbed about above the waves. I must admit, I half expected someone to drown. There was also a very intense game of soccer being played down the beach from us by men with heavily muscled upper bodies and the skinniest stick legs I've ever seen. That seems to be the prevailing body type here, though: very very slim legs with a more developed upper body. About 45 minutes before we left, as the sun began its descent, a drum circle started, so we watched the blazing sun reflecting in the giant waves and shook our burned shoulders to the music. The day was largely idyllic.

And two nights ago I got my first taste of the African nightlife. We began by going to a bar and sitting in the corner. The customers largely ignored us, except for an excruciatingly persistent Nigerian man who slobbered over each and every one of us. Then, several of us headed over to Cafè Madeline, a dance club. I'm not sure what I expected the dancing to be like, but it certainly wasn't what people were doing. Everyone did a simple step to the side and then a toe tap, with their arms generally hanging by their sides. There was no energetic hip thrusting, or high jumping like traditional West African dance. I would go so far as to say the dancing was demure. We danced a bit - I even danced with some Senegalese man for a song before leaving. I was glad I went out and felt comfortable in the city.

I think I'm really starting to enjoy myself here. My French comprehension is getting better in leaps and bounds, though I still have trouble forming even the simplest of sentences. My Wolof is coming along too, though it's the epitomy of the common saying here that it takes a long time to catch the monkey in the bush.

I also finally know everyone's names in my family. There's Mama Fatou, Papa, Cher, Dior (Cher's wife), Gatoo, Bijou, Samba, Talistou, and Amadou, plus the maid and the family who rents above us. It's a lot of people living in one house, but it really exemplifies the Senegalese ideas about family and sharing.

That's all for now.