Post-Trip Letter from Lindsey

Hey lady! I hope you were able to make it home without incident ordelay. I am soooooooooooooooo glad you were able to visit. Such a cool thing for me to have someone at home see my life here, especiallysomeone in my family. I feel like our trip was epic in so many ways and am so thankful that you were able to take everything in stride. I think you got to experience some of the best and some of the most uncomfortable aspects of this country and I'm super glad my host family here got to meet someone from my family back home. I'm in Sevare right now, and enjoying this little vacation break I've gotten to take from village. I think I'll head to Bandiagara later tonight.
Oh, so I guess I wanted to try to outdo you on barfing ability. You definitely won when it comes to frequency and force but I think I one-uped you on unfortunate location. Yesterday on the 9-hour bus ride I started to feel the urge, pulled out a plastic sack that unfortunately had holes in it, so dripped puke all over my bags, skirt and a little on the guy next to me :/ but luckily mine was a one time show and I'm feeling super better now. Hopefully, you have continued to feel in good health as well.
Your parents have been asking about your whereabouts, but I trust if you haven't reunited yet, it will be quite soon. And I was able to make all the last monetary calculations from our trip, and you had the equivalent of another $25 from my part, plus the$70, plus the $10 for mailing my box. So I'll have my mom send you a check for $105. So that should be enough for a tattoo and then some :) I want to see a photo! Oh, and don't delay in posting our pics. I hope to get mine up soon.
Ok, hope you're well and that you are able to stick to all the "life goals" you made while here. I want to hear about how all that goes too. Take care kenz and keep in good touch.
Konen

Lessons Learned

1. Life is too short to waste time suffering.
2. Don't be afraid to sound or look stupid; just try your best and smile.
3. It's better to love and get hurt than to protect yourself (poor Estella!).
4. Take risks - it's cliche but it's better to regret things done than things not done.
5. Not exactly a lesson but: When I move to New Orleans I will have an outdoor shower.
6. Food isn't recreation - it simply keeps you from dying.
7. Brush your teeth! Oh my god! Brush your teeth!
8. Your happiness is not contingent on how much money you make.
9. You can't neccessarily expect the unexpected but you can be a good sport.
10. People are people, wherever you go. They may have different customs or clothes, but we're all in this together.

Afterthoughts

There are a number of things that really struck me during my visit that I either forgot to mention or which I could not find a place for:-On our hike, a few men at a campemant were ribbing Emmanuel and calling him "Obama's brother" because, though he is of African descent, he is not as dark as the people here. Everyone was laughing and joking as Lindsey would translate the quipps: "Say 'hi' to your brother for me!" "Tell your brother I hope his family is well!" Then one man spoke and Lindsey just stood, stunned, with a blank smile on her face, unsure of how to react. We asked for a translation: "He said 'When you see your brother, tell him we need a hospital, here."-At the festival there was a guy in front of me who was certainly drunk, potentially high, and likely trying to show off for my cousin and myself by cursing in English. He seemed to have no grasp on what he was saying, like a child trying out "bad words," but one of his phrases stuck with me and seemed to well sum up my realizations, come to on this trip: "It's fucking life!"-There was something so meditative about the time spent in the shower in village. Draw up in your mind the beautiful landscape of Kanikombole; put yourself there and imagine feeling all of the magnificent liberation of skinny dipping, but you are alone so there is no room to be self-conscious, if you would have been. Out in the warm sun, in the mornings before it gets scorching hot, using a cup and scooping sun-warmed water out of a large, adobe pot to pour over your head. Feel the breeze blow and air dry you like the laundry on the line... Have I gotten you convinced, yet, to build up a brick wall in your back yard and baithe outside in the summers?-When I was sick, deep down, I wished I had my mom there to comfort me while I heaved into the blue bucket and my dad to come in, my hero, with my favorite sick food (chocolate pudding) like he always would.-Because I was sick, I wasn't able to get to the festival, save for the little glimpse I had mentioned. To add insult to injury to illness, the festival is where I was to get my scars. I'm none too dissappointed at the prospect of getting a traditional tattoo back in the states, though; it's just going to cost me a heck of a lot more than the less-than-a-dollar my cuts would have...-I adore the way interaction with strangers is approached, here. If there were only one souvenier I could bring back, this would be it. Here, everybody seems to treat everyone else like family. Every bus ride, the people squished up against me would smile and always try to say something in another language to me and I would smile and respond in English. Even in busy Bamako, in deadlocked traffic, our cabby accidentally cut off a moto driver and though I don't speak Bambara, the jist of the conversation was that both laughed at the misfortune - the driver apologetically, the moto-ist forgivingly.

2.22.12

Overnight flights and crossing time zones render me absolutely lost. I don't know exactly what happened but my name (or an attempt at it) was called over the intercom in Charles de Gaulle. I was offered a window seat on a plane that left in four minutes instead of four hours and which would arrive in Portland at 4:00 instead of 10:00, but for some reason the (rather attractive) man at the ticket counter was thanking me and giving me his love rather than the other way around ("We love you!" he said through a lovely French accent). I was too stunned to believe I could have heard correctly and too tired to think and walk at the same time. I just followed my feet to gate E34 and boarded. While everyone was getting situated on the plane, I overheard bits of conversation and put the pieces together: the flight to New York was fulll and so those of us going to the west coast were sent through Salt Lake City. I know that airport and it didn't strike fear in my travel-weary heart llike the letters J, F, and K did.On the plane, my luck was just as good. I wound up having no one sitting next to me so I had two seats and double the pillow and blanket all to myself. With ten hours of flight ahead of me and all the neccessary accoutrements to make sleep more pleasant in the little pouched I had swiped from First Class Airfrance, I was not feeling too bad about the lack of sleep I had gotten on the flight from Africa. I had sat next to a woman who could not work anything technological and so had a fun trip communicating through facial expressions and hand gestures trying to help this woman figure out her headphones, reading light, and touch-screen television. It is amazing how living in the world of iPods and satellite t.v. makes working technological devices second nature.I was dropped off at the Bamako airport just in time to check in, run through security, and jump on the bus that took me out to the plane where I was the third to last person to arrive before we took off. In Paris, I found my gate, just sat down to wait out my layover when I was rushed onto a plane. As soon as I got off in SLC I had to hustle to my gate with only fifteen minutes to clear security and jump aboard. I feel as if my torturous flight over earned me some air travel karma and the trip back was making up for it.It was wonderful to see my parents and their stupid, football-shaped dog! I talked so much I had a sore throat by the time we were home; they had so many questions and I had so many answers and anecdotes. All I wanted was a flush toilet and a veggie burger! My mom and I went out to eat and had a heart to heart and by the time we left Red Robin, though I was still filled with the excitement of all of the conveniences provided to me, here, I was already mostly adjusted to being home.

2.21.12

I wrote a poem about how today felt:"Goood morning and goodbye,My f*ck that flew by."But, my long-time friend, food, was there to console me. You know how when you start a day with a bad decision, it just snowballs and eventually there's no stopping the poor choices? I'm just glad that two days of sickness and almost no food had shrunken my stomach, lest I would have gained back the few pounds I surely lost being served food every day so bad I'd rather go hungry.For breakfast we ordered so much that it literally did not all fit on the table. The menu at the Sleeping Camel is quite extensive and quite Western. I ordered toast (with butter and jelly!), scrambled eggs (with ketchup!), tea (with cream and sugar!), and jus d'orange (I only know tht in French because of Flight of the conchords)! I could not finish half of any of it but I was happy!After returning to bed for a short food coma, we both awoke, refreshed, an hour or so later and both awoke with the same idea in mind: ice cream. And so we took a cab across the bridge and re-started the day with as much abandon as the first go at it. After ice cream, we were swallowed up in the smelly, smoggy mess that was the Bamako street market. People were yelling, everything stunk of fish sitting all day in the sun, there were things rotting in the ditches, and every one seemed to have the same hardened attitude as if they had been sitting out in the heat for years and and all of the kindness and hope had just baked out of them. Right when I wanted to give up, we turned a corner and found what felt like a secret paradise. We walked through a doorway and found ourselves in a cool, shaded courtyard full of friendly vendors and people playing music. I saw such strange things in our secret spot: musical instruments, a ten food statue of a naked woman, and smiling people who knew hardly enough English to greet me and who certainly had no grasp on the context of what they were saying (I was greeted with "Hello! Welcome! There is no revolution here!") but who smiled bright and reminded me of how homey this place once you are past the capitol limits. I saw one man vending miscellaneous animal parts: monkey hands, dead hedgehogs, bird heads and crocodile teeth! I replaced all of the souveniers I had lost (my bag of goodies disappeared from the Peace Corps house) and we caught a cab "home."I enjoyed the lovely, open courtyard of the Sleeping Camel for what I knew was the last time and then we walked up the street for dinner. We happened to be sleeping just up the street from the second best restaurant in Bamako (the best being the place we ate the night before) and again ordered almost more that would fit on our table and certainly more than could fit in our bellies! Pizza and crepes and french fries and a grilled cheese! The perfect departing feast!I heaved my pack onto my back and that was that. It was sad and simple and my cousin and I both said it all felt like a dream. It was as if I had never left the dirty Bamako airport and yet it was as if I hadn't been home in months. *Same dilema I always find myself in: "home", what does that mean? Everywhere is home.* But, I digress... It's all home but I miss my mom and dad and I look forward to seeing my friends. On this trip I have made changes in my life or made decisions about how I will live my life and I will come back to a different setting thanI left. That offers me much comfort as I say goodbye to my adventure.

2.20.12

I woke up well! I had so dreaded having to endure the long travel home weak and tired and vomiting. For our wonderful room, we paid about half the going rate and the two of us ventured through town to hop a bus to Bamako.
While we awaited the arrival of our ride, somehow, we stole the hearts of several Malians. As I read my book and Lindsey worked on her embroidery, two boys ran up and took turns posing with us and having their picture taken! Another approached us every five minutes or so, asking Linds for her number and asking her to be his wife; upon being shot town, he proceeded to ask me the same, at which point he would realize and re-realize that I did not speak the language and give up. ...for another five or ten minutes... Then launch another attack!
Once we were on the bus,my cousin noticed him chatting up another couple of toubab girls. She had the brilliant idea of caling out the window to him ''Oh! So I meant nothing to you?!''
The bus arrived safely in the capital and we hired a cab to take us to the Sleeping Camel (the same place we stayed the first night I slept in this beautiful country). There were two other passengers getting into the cab with us and as they battled to fit all of the luggage into the trunk, Linds thought to make a joke that perhaps a goat* was being put in the boot along with the baggage! As it turned out, her jest was an educated one and when the cab driver went to retrieve our luggage, upon arrival, there indeed was a goat staring up at us from among the suitcases and backpacks!
At check-in, we ran into Carrie and Emmy again (our friends fom the ride where I sat on the spare tire) and we followed them out into the city for dinner. Since I have experienced literally all Malian cuisine has to offer (toh with okra sauce or rice with red sauce), I did not feel guilty about indulging in pizza! Afterwards, we all celebrated the last two weeks with ice cream and I bid Emmy a safe flight home, that night, as she wished me the same for the following day!
*you will often see people riding motos with two chickens strapped to each handlebar or live goats put into burlap sacks and loaded under busses along with luggage

2.19.12

Morning came and my cousin called her doctor. Apparently, here, you don't need prescriptions, you just go to the pharmacy. Armed with her doctor's suggestions, Linds, my hero, left me miserable in our bed while she went out to find me a cure. At this point, I could have already sworn that this town was magic because, aside from my illness, things had repeatedly worked out better than they should have, but this day solidified that notion.
When Lindsey returned, she had another set of coincidences, too good to be true! The fact that it was a Sunday had slipped our minds and so, despite the bit of good fortune that there happened to be a pharmacy, literally, right across the street from the mission, it did us no good... until a man approached my cousin and said his sister ran the pharmacy and he could call her in! Within minutes the sister had come to my aid and the brother went out to find me some purified water for me to drink. Next my cousin needed to get our bracelets for our access to the festival As it turned out, the hotel where you redeem your bracelet happened to be the same hotel Emmanuel was staying at! After bumping into him and catching up, she went to speak to the receptionist but who said that the recipient had to be there in person to recieve the bracelet, but upon my cousin's explaining my plight, the woman bent the ules and let my cousin have it! After that, she had to get our bus tickets to get to Bamako, the following day. She ran into another friend and asked if he knew where the bus station was and he said the bad news was that it was terribly far away but the good new was that he had a friend with transportation and the better news was theat he was Dogon - the Dogon are all like family and so Lindsey, being just as much the Dogon man's cousin as she is mine, was happy to help her! With all tasks accomplished, Lindsey returned to me and quelled my rebellious insides.
And so I spent the rest of the day and night fading in and out and taking my medecine at the appointed intervals.Every time I was awake, all I could think about, in my delerious haze, oddly enough, was how much I miss playing the drums. I guess I know where my tax return is going...