My itsy-bitsy bedroom (mosquito nets included):

Is there anyplace on Earth that doesn't sell Coca Cola?

I think the yogurt speaks for itself:

There are goats everywhere; they're probably the best-fed animals in the whole country because they eat anything and everything:

We were eating lunch near at the Rec Center when this tortoise walked over. He probably just wanted our leftovers, but I convinced him to pose for a photo:

Africa:

The rooftop bar where we danced our troubles away:

Well, some people had drumming-related troubles:

This guy really wants you to use protection:

I've already had one dress made with fabric from the aforementioned market, although I don't have any pictures of it yet. I haven't yet had to haggle on my own, so it's anyone's guess how much the next dress will cost. We spent a lot of time last week visiting different NGOs in Niamey, trying to figure out our community placements. I started volunteering at a school for mentally challenged kids yesterday, but I still haven't figured out where else I want to work during the semester.

Classes started on Wednesday, so I've had a few days to get into a new, post-orientation routine. Taking classes in French hasn't been too bad thusfar, but my Zarma needs work. I'll have to gather a bunch of the neighborhood kids to help me practice it.

Well, that's all for now!

P.S. Since Clarissa asked, the yogurt here doesn't taste that different from American yogurt (as far as I remember), but it's of a thinner consistancy.

written by  The Boston Wanderer on September 12, 2008 from Niamey, Niger
from the travel blog: Sandstorms
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My name here is Tamumu, which is a Tuareg name and thus very special (or so I was told). Traditionally, it is the name given to a girl who has a twin brother, but I just like it becuase it sounds like Talulah.

We were given our names at the bapteme ceremony, and there was much dancing. I'll spare you the details, but I succeeded in reminding myself that white girls cannot, in fact, dance. Afterwards, we walked to the "bar next door." The whole place consisted of a bar underneath a thatched roof, a TV, and some tables and chairs in the sand. It was pretty empty because of Ramadan, but we were still able to meet a few people and practice our French. The bar was also the site of my first experience with an African toilet (hole in the ground).

To, kalatonton!
Goodbye!

written by  The Boston Wanderer on September 2, 2008 from Niamey, Niger
from the travel blog: Sandstorms
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