Remember how I wrote you from town last week? Well I got sick the last morning I was there. It was an entirely unpleasant experience - yeah, I know being sick is always unpleasant, but small towns in Africa don't have public bathrooms. Also, until recently, traveling in packed station wagons with strangers wasn't part of my routine (that was scary prospect, a car trip while sick - luckily the worst thing that happened was the driver spitting out the window and it landing on my face.)
When I got back to my village everyone was very sympathetic. The next day I decided the residual sickness and stress merited a personal day so I locked myself in my hut and read. If you are one of those people who've never taken a personal day in your life I don't want to hear about it. I'll think less of you anyway. My special day did wonders for my moral and, despite the heat, I managed to be quite chipper for several days following that.
I'm finishing out another week and I have to say it was easier than the first. For example, I am counting in weeks now, not days. Also, I've developed a little bit of a routine. I get up at 7:30, choke down a few bites of breakfast (more on that later), do the breakfast dishes … on second thought, this isn't that interesting. Let's just say there's a lot of sitting around and talking, but it's pleasant enough and I genuinely like everyone I've met.
P.S. It's still really hot.
P.P.S. Book situation is dire. Despite everyone's claims there were no trash novels at the regional house. The best I could do were Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights. I don't know what these people consider trash, because their definition sure varies from mine.
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