Weekend Number...who knows.

It's a Sunday! Katy slept over last night and we slept in late. I've been making some good progress on my paper, and when I can't think about it anymore I take a break and read. I'm about three-fourths through with Sense and Sensibility and about the same in Guns, Germs, and Steel. It's nice to be reading more again, and it keeps me from feeling lonely more than most things.

Last night I went out to a bar and found myself chatting with a bunch of cool people. Notably, I met a guy who's a drummer from Philadelphia who has been living in Dakar for three years now. He happens to be close friends with my friend Chloe's older brother--Chloe and I went to Hebrew school together. It was pretty crazy to discover that some random guy I met in a bar has a common acquaintance with me. Apparently he and Chloe and her brother hung out in Dakar together for about a week last year and had a blast.

Tonight there's apparently a Peace Corps party, which I'm considering going to. Still, I don't really like dancing, and I do really like being well-rested. Why do I bother going out?

I'm on to the third page of my paper, and the still on the first page of my (5-page) outline. This bodes well for a 15-20 page paper. I just wish I was as eloquent in French as I am in English. Ah well, "ca va arriver". It'll come.

I leave now in just under two weeks. I feel like I've already plateaued, and I'm in a good place to go home. Especially with my stomach still not quite up to snuff, with the weather getting chilly, and actually having significant schoolwork to do, I'm looking forward to getting home. I'm looking forward to re-entry sessions, getting on a plane (this is the longest I've gone without being on a plane in years), and hot showers. Not to mention family, friends, and clean feet (okay, that last one probably sounds really silly, but you don't know how frustrating it is to NEVER have clean feet unless you've experienced it for an extended period of time).

Overall, feeling pretty content.

Oh, and an anecdote. Apparently Youssou got a job as a coiffeur (barber), even though he's never learned the trade. Rowan told Papa this over lunch (maffe! Delicious!), and Papa had been taking a swig of water. Papa lost it, spit water all over, and couldn't stop laughing. Everyone cracked up, and throughout the meal Papa would say, "Youssou, coiffeur?!" and lose it all over again. Papa has finally regained an appetite, plus about 10 lbs. He's looking great, and it's wonderful that he's back to his old humor.