Sunday, February 21, 2010
update on my non-Malaria sickness
I haven’t posted about how my heartburn is doing because it’s hard to tell. It’s been getting much much better, then the next day it will feel almost as bad as it did in the beginning. Usually, it’s there, but I can get along not thinking about it. I’m still on a restricted diet. A “salad” has turned into a peeled cucumber, “fruit” is now bananas, things like that. The doctor said it was going to take 2-4 weeks for the heartburn to completely go away, so I’m not so nervous yet. David, my stepdad, sent me more medication two weeks ago. A week and a half ago, the online confirmation said it was in customs. Every other day since then, I asked the CIEE office if it arrived. Eventually, on Thursday, the woman who works in the CIEE office called the post office. It took 20 minutes to communicate to them what I wanted, but in the end they said that the package was there. So there are two ways to get a package. The first one is if it’s small. It comes straight to campus, and a CIEE person picks it up and brings it to the CIEE office. We’ve gotten two packages so far, and they’ve both come directly to campus. However, if the package is a little bigger, it stays in the post office, and you have to pick it up yourself. They will only give it to the person who it’s addressed to. You need to bring ID. Going to the post office is supposedly a painful experience. You need to bring a ton of cash because they will charge you to pick it up. The officer brings you into a room in the back and makes you open it in front of him. He then tells you the price. If you’re white, he sometimes starts with a crazy amount like 400 cedis (about $300). It seems relatively easy to bring the price down, but you can’t lose your cool. You need to be really respectful or he will take the package back. I’ve heard real horror stories about people going to pick up packages from the post office in Accra. I need to go tomorrow because I’m on my last Malaria pill. Rivky can’t come with me because she has a class that she’s already missed too many times. I feel bad asking anyone else to come with me, but I am so scared.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Bear in mind- I wrote this on Saturday night. We haven't had internet since Friday.
There are plenty of other things I (Rivky) keep meaning to write about- the amazing banana bread we made for shabbos this week, my final class schedule, the awesome Ghanaian friends we made who live down the hall- but on my post-it (1), I have only two topics listed, so I'll write about them both in this post, even though they're totally unrelated.
This week, we lost water from Tuesday morning until Thursday night. Usually, when we're out of water, there's still water running in the spigot across the road, so we can fill up buckets and lug them back to the dorm to shower, do dishes, flush the toilet, etc. (2) However, sometimes there is no water at any of the spigots on our road, either, so we have actually no water except bottled and sachet water. (3) This week, when we lost water, most of the time, there was no spigot water, so we had to be very sparing with the water we already had in our buckets (4), which is especially annoying and difficult when doing dishes.
Thursday evening, when we got water back, was so incredibly exciting and obviously, I ran into the shower. I was literally grinning as I got into the shower and I literally squealed as I turned the knob and the water went on, I was so happy. The shower was so incredible and I was content and relieved, and I just thought to myself, how often do I appreciate this sweet simplicity of simple running water?
When it rains during the winter months in Israel, we are so happy because of the perpetual drought that we are always told about. I pray for rain in Israel because the agricultural economy depends on rain, obviously. But I've never felt a lack of water. I've never actually been physically unable to shower because there was a water shortage.
Appreciating a simple shower...there's something incredible about that. In America, people often asked, "Why Ghana? Why Africa, of all places?" And there are a billion answers, and they're all partial truths, but the emes of it all is that I don't really know. I wanted something, and I thought maybe I would find it in Ghana. And standing in that shower and feeling like I could not appreciate something more than running water, I think I grinned because I found it.
Okay, sorry for the melodrama about my shower. Sheesh. I'd smack myself if I were you.
Next topic! Last weekend, we went to Cape Coast. I wrote about it last week, I think, before we went. On Friday, we visited Elmina Castle (5), and then we spent shabbos in the hotel. Saturday night, the entire group had a 'conversation' about our collective experiences at the castle and our reflections upon it, and then went swimming, and on Sunday, we visited some sort of canopy walk. All of this was fun and interesting, but I just wanted to reflect a little bit about the 'conversation' our group had after the castles (6).
I guess if one had to, he could relate to the castle by calling it the African Auschwitz. Instead of being a concentration camp or death camp, it was sort of a stopping point for African captives- after having been taken captive, they were kept at Elmina and other castles like it before being brought to the Americas. Our tour guide estimated that about 15 million African captives had been kept in Elmina before being enslaved in the Americas, a figure that doesn't account for the millions who were killed during the middle passage and thrown into the Atlantic. There are tons of things within Elmina that deserve posts unto themselves- like the Christian passages written over door frames, or the strong smell of defecation in the dungeons, hundreds of years after the last prisoners, or the governor's quarters sitting right above the dungeons, where he could easily hear prisoners screaming.
Obviously, during our visit to Elmina, I kept thinking about the comparisons to the camps in Poland. And truthfully, they felt very different. While most camps in Poland were huge, miles, the castle was about the size of a large house, and it was all one building, with a courtyard in the middle. And 15+ million slaves went through this one castle over the course of hundreds of years, as opposed to smaller number of 6 million Jews who were killed in various camps and in towns, forests, and elsewhere. Europeans in the 1500s-1700s also kept horrible records, so it's almost impossible to trace one's family to the castle to which one's ancestor was taken, let alone from which town he came before that (7), as opposed to the Nazis' notorious diligence in record-keeping. And the most important distinction, of course, is that while many Africans died and were killed both by neglect and intention, they were not collected for the purpose of being killed, were never gassed or lined up and shot, as opposed to the Jews in death camps. I did feel, even through these differences, a strong kinship with Africans and African Americans, for having gone through, though vastly different, tortures of victimhood.
On Saturday night, fresh from the castles (8), our group sat and discussed a lot of issues that stemmed from the castle visit- racism, the role of religion in the slave trade, African Americans and their relationship to Africa, etc. I don't usually talk during these things, and I obviously didn't talk here either. But I felt that while I was unable to speak, I also felt really uncomfortable with the white Americans in our group talking about their feelings, about how they related to the camps. CIEE is a mixed group, obviously, and there are plenty of black Americans in our group. Not only was I much more interested in what they had to say, I felt so uncomfortable hearing the white people speaking- like, in my head, this wasn't about them. I imagined being in Poland with a mixed group of Jews and non-Jews, and imagined listening to the non-Jews speaking about their feelings, and I just felt like I would have been so uncomfortable and annoyed. How dare they try and speak as if they are our equals- when it was my people, my family and virtual family that were thrown into the ovens (9)? I imagined that, and then I heard white Americans speaking to black Americans as if they were equal and had equally valid 'responses' after visiting the castles, as if they were the same. Black Americans in our group, as some of them spoke about, came to this castle wondering if their ancestors had been here, if their roots led here (10). These castles ended life as they knew it for dozens and dozens of millions of Africans, and these kids', our peers' ancestors- how dare others speak as if they were affected in even close to the same way? Both in the castle, and sitting in this conversation, I felt an incredibly strong sense of humility, that I should shut up and listen, because this wasn't about me, this was much bigger than me and my 'impressions' and 'emotions.'
I'm probably too sensitive about this, as I am about many things. Even so, this is something I was thinking about. And that's my post. To sum up, I love water and I...feel for black Americans, both for having been victimized and for that victimization to then be trivialized? I know, I know- I'll take a number.
(1) Virtual, of course. I love macs.
(2) Obviously, because the filled bucket is the heaviest thing ever, I barely do it. And the times (time?) I have done it, I had to take breaks every five steps. It's so flipping heavy.
(3) Sachet water is water in plastic bags- mayim b'sakit, if you will.
(4) We keep our buckets full at all times, in case the water goes out.
(5) http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elmina_Castle
(6) Some of our group went to Elmina, and some went to Cape Coast, which I linked to in our last post. If I were super fancy, I could link to that post. However, links are beyond me. Sad times.
(7) Roots lied to me. I feel betrayed.
(8) While we went on Friday, the rest of the group went on Saturday- haven't you been reading past posts? Sheesh.
(9) I feel no qualms about sephardim and other Jewish groups speaking about the Holocaust because even though their families weren't personally affected, their larger community was, and their lives were forever touched because of how it's changed their larger community.
(10) When the Obamas came to Ghana last semester, the family visited Cape Coast Castle; scholars are relatively certain that Michelle Obama's great-ancestors had been through Cape Coast. There was an article about Michelle Obama's ancestry in the New York Times a couple of months ago, I think around October- I'll try to find it and update this blog when I do.
This week, we lost water from Tuesday morning until Thursday night. Usually, when we're out of water, there's still water running in the spigot across the road, so we can fill up buckets and lug them back to the dorm to shower, do dishes, flush the toilet, etc. (2) However, sometimes there is no water at any of the spigots on our road, either, so we have actually no water except bottled and sachet water. (3) This week, when we lost water, most of the time, there was no spigot water, so we had to be very sparing with the water we already had in our buckets (4), which is especially annoying and difficult when doing dishes.
Thursday evening, when we got water back, was so incredibly exciting and obviously, I ran into the shower. I was literally grinning as I got into the shower and I literally squealed as I turned the knob and the water went on, I was so happy. The shower was so incredible and I was content and relieved, and I just thought to myself, how often do I appreciate this sweet simplicity of simple running water?
When it rains during the winter months in Israel, we are so happy because of the perpetual drought that we are always told about. I pray for rain in Israel because the agricultural economy depends on rain, obviously. But I've never felt a lack of water. I've never actually been physically unable to shower because there was a water shortage.
Appreciating a simple shower...there's something incredible about that. In America, people often asked, "Why Ghana? Why Africa, of all places?" And there are a billion answers, and they're all partial truths, but the emes of it all is that I don't really know. I wanted something, and I thought maybe I would find it in Ghana. And standing in that shower and feeling like I could not appreciate something more than running water, I think I grinned because I found it.
Okay, sorry for the melodrama about my shower. Sheesh. I'd smack myself if I were you.
Next topic! Last weekend, we went to Cape Coast. I wrote about it last week, I think, before we went. On Friday, we visited Elmina Castle (5), and then we spent shabbos in the hotel. Saturday night, the entire group had a 'conversation' about our collective experiences at the castle and our reflections upon it, and then went swimming, and on Sunday, we visited some sort of canopy walk. All of this was fun and interesting, but I just wanted to reflect a little bit about the 'conversation' our group had after the castles (6).
I guess if one had to, he could relate to the castle by calling it the African Auschwitz. Instead of being a concentration camp or death camp, it was sort of a stopping point for African captives- after having been taken captive, they were kept at Elmina and other castles like it before being brought to the Americas. Our tour guide estimated that about 15 million African captives had been kept in Elmina before being enslaved in the Americas, a figure that doesn't account for the millions who were killed during the middle passage and thrown into the Atlantic. There are tons of things within Elmina that deserve posts unto themselves- like the Christian passages written over door frames, or the strong smell of defecation in the dungeons, hundreds of years after the last prisoners, or the governor's quarters sitting right above the dungeons, where he could easily hear prisoners screaming.
Obviously, during our visit to Elmina, I kept thinking about the comparisons to the camps in Poland. And truthfully, they felt very different. While most camps in Poland were huge, miles, the castle was about the size of a large house, and it was all one building, with a courtyard in the middle. And 15+ million slaves went through this one castle over the course of hundreds of years, as opposed to smaller number of 6 million Jews who were killed in various camps and in towns, forests, and elsewhere. Europeans in the 1500s-1700s also kept horrible records, so it's almost impossible to trace one's family to the castle to which one's ancestor was taken, let alone from which town he came before that (7), as opposed to the Nazis' notorious diligence in record-keeping. And the most important distinction, of course, is that while many Africans died and were killed both by neglect and intention, they were not collected for the purpose of being killed, were never gassed or lined up and shot, as opposed to the Jews in death camps. I did feel, even through these differences, a strong kinship with Africans and African Americans, for having gone through, though vastly different, tortures of victimhood.
On Saturday night, fresh from the castles (8), our group sat and discussed a lot of issues that stemmed from the castle visit- racism, the role of religion in the slave trade, African Americans and their relationship to Africa, etc. I don't usually talk during these things, and I obviously didn't talk here either. But I felt that while I was unable to speak, I also felt really uncomfortable with the white Americans in our group talking about their feelings, about how they related to the camps. CIEE is a mixed group, obviously, and there are plenty of black Americans in our group. Not only was I much more interested in what they had to say, I felt so uncomfortable hearing the white people speaking- like, in my head, this wasn't about them. I imagined being in Poland with a mixed group of Jews and non-Jews, and imagined listening to the non-Jews speaking about their feelings, and I just felt like I would have been so uncomfortable and annoyed. How dare they try and speak as if they are our equals- when it was my people, my family and virtual family that were thrown into the ovens (9)? I imagined that, and then I heard white Americans speaking to black Americans as if they were equal and had equally valid 'responses' after visiting the castles, as if they were the same. Black Americans in our group, as some of them spoke about, came to this castle wondering if their ancestors had been here, if their roots led here (10). These castles ended life as they knew it for dozens and dozens of millions of Africans, and these kids', our peers' ancestors- how dare others speak as if they were affected in even close to the same way? Both in the castle, and sitting in this conversation, I felt an incredibly strong sense of humility, that I should shut up and listen, because this wasn't about me, this was much bigger than me and my 'impressions' and 'emotions.'
I'm probably too sensitive about this, as I am about many things. Even so, this is something I was thinking about. And that's my post. To sum up, I love water and I...feel for black Americans, both for having been victimized and for that victimization to then be trivialized? I know, I know- I'll take a number.
(1) Virtual, of course. I love macs.
(2) Obviously, because the filled bucket is the heaviest thing ever, I barely do it. And the times (time?) I have done it, I had to take breaks every five steps. It's so flipping heavy.
(3) Sachet water is water in plastic bags- mayim b'sakit, if you will.
(4) We keep our buckets full at all times, in case the water goes out.
(5) http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elmina_Castle
(6) Some of our group went to Elmina, and some went to Cape Coast, which I linked to in our last post. If I were super fancy, I could link to that post. However, links are beyond me. Sad times.
(7) Roots lied to me. I feel betrayed.
(8) While we went on Friday, the rest of the group went on Saturday- haven't you been reading past posts? Sheesh.
(9) I feel no qualms about sephardim and other Jewish groups speaking about the Holocaust because even though their families weren't personally affected, their larger community was, and their lives were forever touched because of how it's changed their larger community.
(10) When the Obamas came to Ghana last semester, the family visited Cape Coast Castle; scholars are relatively certain that Michelle Obama's great-ancestors had been through Cape Coast. There was an article about Michelle Obama's ancestry in the New York Times a couple of months ago, I think around October- I'll try to find it and update this blog when I do.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Happy four weeks in Ghana
It rained today. It was heavenly. Rivky and I were walking back from Twi (thank God it’s almost over, only one more week!), and all of the sudden we were in a thunderstorm. We had about half a mile back to our dorm, so I made a run for it. Rivky was wearing flip-flops, and she was nervous about slipping, so I left her. Bad call on my part in retrospect because someone stopped for her and offered her a ride. By the time I got back to the dorm, I was drenched head to toe, dripping all over the place. In fact, I was uncomfortably cold. I hung up all my clothes and put on a SWEATSHIRT, SWEATPANTS, AND SOCKS! I haven’t worn any of these articles of clothing in a month. It was great.
We haven’t had water since Monday morning. But it rained. I’m getting sick of this.
We’re making real Ghanaian friends. They’re hysterical. They don’t get our humor, but they think we’re funny nonetheless. They’re really too much. One of them was runner-up to Miss Ghana last year. One of them was hit on by a girl at a party once and is still scarred. One of them is half Ghanaian, one quarter Lebanese, and one quarter Syrian. One of them is named Giselle. Everything in their suite is pink (down to the fuzzy toilet seat cover) and smells like a Victoria Secret store.
By the way, I’m doing much better. I switched malaria medicine and started taking acid reflux medicine. I’m on a relatively strict diet of no tomatoes or coffee. It’s a hard life. But I am feeling much much better. Still, not 100%, but I feel better each day. I’d even say I’m almost all better.
We haven’t had water since Monday morning. But it rained. I’m getting sick of this.
We’re making real Ghanaian friends. They’re hysterical. They don’t get our humor, but they think we’re funny nonetheless. They’re really too much. One of them was runner-up to Miss Ghana last year. One of them was hit on by a girl at a party once and is still scarred. One of them is half Ghanaian, one quarter Lebanese, and one quarter Syrian. One of them is named Giselle. Everything in their suite is pink (down to the fuzzy toilet seat cover) and smells like a Victoria Secret store.
By the way, I’m doing much better. I switched malaria medicine and started taking acid reflux medicine. I’m on a relatively strict diet of no tomatoes or coffee. It’s a hard life. But I am feeling much much better. Still, not 100%, but I feel better each day. I’d even say I’m almost all better.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Flat Stanley
Atara, our cousin in first grade, sent us a Flat Stanley. We brought him on our field trip. We got a lot of good pictures. This is just one of them.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
i'm sick though not with malaria.
It's Zahava. I'm not doing too good.
Finally, we learn to make actual good food, and I can’t eat any of it. I’m having incredibly intense heartburn, apparently. I called my doctor last night in tears. I told her that since Friday night I have been having really intense pain in my chest every time I swallow. I feel like I swallowed a pill wrong. It kind of feels like when you swallow a fish bone and for the next few hours you can feel it every time you swallow because it scratched you on the way down. Well, it feels like that plus really bad heartburn. She asked me to remind her which malaria medicine I’m on. Doxycycline. She said, “Oh no. Okay. You’re having heartburn. A side effect of Doxycycline is really bad heartburn. You need get off it now, and we’ll switch your medication. You also need Prilosec, an acid reflux medicine.” I said, “Okay. I can do that. Should I stop my current malaria medicine before I can get the new one, or should I wait?” She asked, “How long will it take you to get a prescription?” I said, “It doesn’t work like that. There’s a pharmacy down the street. You just walk in, say what you want, and they give it to you. I could get it tomorrow.” She said, “Okay. Good. So, yeah, don’t take the medicine tonight, and start again tomorrow with the new one.” (I was expecting more of a “What kind of crazy system is that that you don’t need a prescription?!” response, but oh well.) She said I should only get a week or two worth of each and have someone in America send the rest because she doesn’t trust Ghanaian medicine. (Email from my mom after she spoke to the doctor.) “If you were in a developed country, she'd want you to see a doctor, but since you're not, she doesn't think you should.” She also said somewhere in the conversation that I need to get off the medicine because “you will not last a semester on Doxycycline.” Thanks, way to freak me out.
Today Rivky and I went to the pharmacy. We got a week’s worth of each medicine. The acid reflux one they had was a generic brand made in Ghana. A little sketch, but I decided I’d buy it and call my doctor. An hour later, I was really in pain from the half liter of water I had been drinking, so I took the medicine. Then Rivky and I spent the next two hours walking all around campus adding and dropping classes. (Don’t even start with me about the stupid system they have in place with registration.) By the time we got back to the room, I was ready to faint. Because of the pain, I haven’t been able to eat much since shabbos. I barely ate anything yesterday. This morning, I had one slice of bread with a tiny bit of cream cheese and a liter of water. I tried to have potato chips, but it just wasn’t going to happen. I had absolutely no energy. Rivky went to drumming (which I couldn’t go to because it’s outside, and I would have fainted), and I collapsed into bed and called my doctor. I was going to ask her if the generic brand is okay, how many times a day do I take it, and what kinds of food does she suggest I eat in the meantime? The receptionist said she doesn’t work on Wednesdays, and no one else is available. I should find a doctor where I am. I hung up the phone and started bawling. I was so hungry and in so much pain. After about ten minutes, I had controlled myself enough to get up and eat something. I made a packet of instant oatmeal and cut a slice of bread. I forced myself to eat them because it hurt so much but I knew I needed calories. It’s now a few hours later. I’m feeling a little more energized, but my chest still hurts. The website of the acid reflux medicine says 1-4 days to see effects and 2-4 weeks for full recovery.
Finally, we learn to make actual good food, and I can’t eat any of it. I’m having incredibly intense heartburn, apparently. I called my doctor last night in tears. I told her that since Friday night I have been having really intense pain in my chest every time I swallow. I feel like I swallowed a pill wrong. It kind of feels like when you swallow a fish bone and for the next few hours you can feel it every time you swallow because it scratched you on the way down. Well, it feels like that plus really bad heartburn. She asked me to remind her which malaria medicine I’m on. Doxycycline. She said, “Oh no. Okay. You’re having heartburn. A side effect of Doxycycline is really bad heartburn. You need get off it now, and we’ll switch your medication. You also need Prilosec, an acid reflux medicine.” I said, “Okay. I can do that. Should I stop my current malaria medicine before I can get the new one, or should I wait?” She asked, “How long will it take you to get a prescription?” I said, “It doesn’t work like that. There’s a pharmacy down the street. You just walk in, say what you want, and they give it to you. I could get it tomorrow.” She said, “Okay. Good. So, yeah, don’t take the medicine tonight, and start again tomorrow with the new one.” (I was expecting more of a “What kind of crazy system is that that you don’t need a prescription?!” response, but oh well.) She said I should only get a week or two worth of each and have someone in America send the rest because she doesn’t trust Ghanaian medicine. (Email from my mom after she spoke to the doctor.) “If you were in a developed country, she'd want you to see a doctor, but since you're not, she doesn't think you should.” She also said somewhere in the conversation that I need to get off the medicine because “you will not last a semester on Doxycycline.” Thanks, way to freak me out.
Today Rivky and I went to the pharmacy. We got a week’s worth of each medicine. The acid reflux one they had was a generic brand made in Ghana. A little sketch, but I decided I’d buy it and call my doctor. An hour later, I was really in pain from the half liter of water I had been drinking, so I took the medicine. Then Rivky and I spent the next two hours walking all around campus adding and dropping classes. (Don’t even start with me about the stupid system they have in place with registration.) By the time we got back to the room, I was ready to faint. Because of the pain, I haven’t been able to eat much since shabbos. I barely ate anything yesterday. This morning, I had one slice of bread with a tiny bit of cream cheese and a liter of water. I tried to have potato chips, but it just wasn’t going to happen. I had absolutely no energy. Rivky went to drumming (which I couldn’t go to because it’s outside, and I would have fainted), and I collapsed into bed and called my doctor. I was going to ask her if the generic brand is okay, how many times a day do I take it, and what kinds of food does she suggest I eat in the meantime? The receptionist said she doesn’t work on Wednesdays, and no one else is available. I should find a doctor where I am. I hung up the phone and started bawling. I was so hungry and in so much pain. After about ten minutes, I had controlled myself enough to get up and eat something. I made a packet of instant oatmeal and cut a slice of bread. I forced myself to eat them because it hurt so much but I knew I needed calories. It’s now a few hours later. I’m feeling a little more energized, but my chest still hurts. The website of the acid reflux medicine says 1-4 days to see effects and 2-4 weeks for full recovery.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Faith and Practice of Islam
Rivky again- just wanted to add one thing about one of my classes here. I'm taking a class called Faith and Practice of Islam. It's a really interesting class, and I do learn a lot about Islam- specifically Sunni Islam, we barely speak about Shiah because my professor is Sunni.(1) But what bothers me/ cracks me up about the class is that it often ends up being an argument between the Christians and Muslims in the class, while I just sit there. Ghana is an incredibly religious country, and no one is afraid to argue and push their beliefs onto others.(2) As much as I have been learning, the shock of watching students arguing amongst themselves and with the professor about Jesus seems so unacademic to me- sometimes I wonder if I'm sitting in on a Sunday school class or if I'm actually in a university.
(1) Boy, is he Sunni.
(2) I don't remember if we wrote about this yet, but people walk into our dorm all the time giving us flyers and inviting us to come to church with them. We always say, "We're Jewish," and they respond, "That's okay, we don't mind." How thoughtful.
(1) Boy, is he Sunni.
(2) I don't remember if we wrote about this yet, but people walk into our dorm all the time giving us flyers and inviting us to come to church with them. We always say, "We're Jewish," and they respond, "That's okay, we don't mind." How thoughtful.
I can't believe I put off showering for 10 minutes to update this thing. Gross.
Okay, haven't updated in a while, so even though this is a light post, I thought I'd give it a go. (It's Rivky, by the way.) The truth is, not much is going on. Classes are good, my dorm situation is good. I went out for the first time this Saturday night- to a friend's friend's friend's birthday party. (Yes, that would be party-crashing squared.) It was a very interesting night. I can't really describe it here, because it's entirely too complicated and sort of bizarre, the more I think about it, but maybe we can talk about it in person if anyone reading this chooses to come visit!
I have three hours of dance a week, even though it's only two credits, so it's the class I spent most of my energy on. In the beginning, I was horrible, and two weeks in...I'm still pretty bad. But better! I know most of the moves, and I don't think I embarrass myself as much I did in the beginning.
This weekend, we have a tiyul to Cape Coast(1) and the central region of Ghana. We'll be touring the castle(2), etc. The rest of the group is doing a Saturday and Sunday trip, but because they love us(3), the director is taking me, Yamit and Zahava early- we're doing the entire Saturday tiyul on Friday before shabbos- while the group is doing the tiyul on Saturday, we are spending shabbos in the hotel, and then we rejoin everyone else on motzei shabbos.
Oh and last thing before I go shower(4)- I don't think Zahava or I wrote about food this past shabbos, but it was our most successful yet, by far. Zahava made two gorgeous challot- they were delicious and fresh and amazing. We had TILAPIA (cleaned/ cooked by yours truly)- broiled with onions. Yamit made yam balls and sweet potato balls both(5), we all made salad, and I made chocolate chip cookies. I can't even describe what a success this shabbos was. It was so much delicious food, and so satisfying- it was difficult but we really pulled it off.
Okay, now really the last thing- I'm so excited for the Super Bowl next week! We're not sure where we're going to watch it, but at least ten of us in the dorm are going to find a place- maybe Champs, this American-ish place everyone goes to(6)- to watch the game. It starts at 11:30 PM on Sunday night, but it's worth it. I'm rooting for the Saints, just because New Orleans hasn't been able to catch a break in, say, 8 years. But I'm really just hoping for a good game.
(1) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Coast
(2) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Coast_Castle
(3) i.e. they are the nicest, most accommodating people of life, they're really going above and beyond what we expected.
(4) for a recap of my daily activities- all I do here is nap and shower. You forgot?
(5) Turns out yam balls, which- don't forget!- are really potato balls, are better. Who saw that coming?
(6) shockingly, never been there.
I have three hours of dance a week, even though it's only two credits, so it's the class I spent most of my energy on. In the beginning, I was horrible, and two weeks in...I'm still pretty bad. But better! I know most of the moves, and I don't think I embarrass myself as much I did in the beginning.
This weekend, we have a tiyul to Cape Coast(1) and the central region of Ghana. We'll be touring the castle(2), etc. The rest of the group is doing a Saturday and Sunday trip, but because they love us(3), the director is taking me, Yamit and Zahava early- we're doing the entire Saturday tiyul on Friday before shabbos- while the group is doing the tiyul on Saturday, we are spending shabbos in the hotel, and then we rejoin everyone else on motzei shabbos.
Oh and last thing before I go shower(4)- I don't think Zahava or I wrote about food this past shabbos, but it was our most successful yet, by far. Zahava made two gorgeous challot- they were delicious and fresh and amazing. We had TILAPIA (cleaned/ cooked by yours truly)- broiled with onions. Yamit made yam balls and sweet potato balls both(5), we all made salad, and I made chocolate chip cookies. I can't even describe what a success this shabbos was. It was so much delicious food, and so satisfying- it was difficult but we really pulled it off.
Okay, now really the last thing- I'm so excited for the Super Bowl next week! We're not sure where we're going to watch it, but at least ten of us in the dorm are going to find a place- maybe Champs, this American-ish place everyone goes to(6)- to watch the game. It starts at 11:30 PM on Sunday night, but it's worth it. I'm rooting for the Saints, just because New Orleans hasn't been able to catch a break in, say, 8 years. But I'm really just hoping for a good game.
(1) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Coast
(2) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Coast_Castle
(3) i.e. they are the nicest, most accommodating people of life, they're really going above and beyond what we expected.
(4) for a recap of my daily activities- all I do here is nap and shower. You forgot?
(5) Turns out yam balls, which- don't forget!- are really potato balls, are better. Who saw that coming?
(6) shockingly, never been there.
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