All before noon…

1. Woke up to a mosque’s call to prayer

2. Convinced 2 guys that discussing my weight is not an appropriate topic of conversation

3. Picked mangoes from a tree in my yard

4. Shook some eggs at market to see if they’re rotten

5. Ran from a crazy (or drunk?) guy asking for money

6. Recieved two limes as a gift from a farmer

7. Sat down with locals for a cup of fresh-roasted coffee

8. Planned a life skills training for a local Anti-AIDS club

9. Shooed a cow out of my yard

10. Wrote a blog entry on the craziness of life here

Sleeping with the enemy

I tried to convince myself these itchy bumps were mosquito bites. I really hoped mosquitoes were somehow infiltrating my net.  I can kid myself no more. Two days ago I spotted a leaping little speck on my bed. Later on I found another on my leg. Closer inspection confirmed my fears: I have fleas. I don’t know how these unwelcome little house guests made their way in, but they’re officially ruining my night’s sleep. Every little tickle sends me scrambling to the flashlight for inspection. Of course it’s futile since they’re almost microscopic and can leap over a foot. The only proof that I’m not going crazy are the tiny little bumps all over my feet and ankles. Their size is misleading: They itch like a bitch. Naturally I turned straight to Google for more information. The leading advice: Get an exterminator. I can say with straight certainty I won’t be finding one of those anywhere around here. So.. I guess I’m feeding a family of fleas for awhile. And another little fun bit of info:  They carry Typhus. I know a few volunteers in my group who have already had it. If the itching doesn’t keep me up at night, the thought of contracting Typhus will. I’m almost positive this will be one of those funny Peace Corps stories to look back on… almost.

Be grateful your laundry day doesn’t look like this…

When my clothes get dirty (which inevitably happens here quickly) I have 2 options. One: Go around town in search of someone who wants to make a few extra birr, set an appointment for them to come to my house, and wait for that person who may or may not show up. Possibly repeat.  Or two: Get out the buckets and start scrubbing.

I’m sure you’re probably thinking option two sounds simpler. My guess is, you’ve never had to wash a whole load of clothes by hand before. This is my most loathed chore, and if nothing else, has taught me what a miraculous invention washing machines are.

Baking and Plumbers

It’s about Christmastime… Two weeks, right? You could have fooled me. (Where does the time go?!) In my bright and sunny Muslim town, very few things say “Christmas” around here. I do have a little tree that helps, and some occasional iPod jams to invoke the spirit. I also made a grand attempt at baking yesterday. Mind you, we have no ovens. This endeavor was dutch oven-esque, using a big pot, some rocks and a smaller pot. I’m happy to say the event was a success. The best part was giving it away. Common as it may seem, banana bread is a novel treat here.

And speaking of cooking endeavors, I also made my first burgers yesterday. This is big for me. I’m not really a meat person in general, and especially not when you have to see the hanging carcass as you buy it. But I did it. And I’m not going to lie, it was an experiment. But I think they were OK. Peace Corps goal #3 is sharing American culture with Ethiopia, so I invited a habesha friend over to try them. And… he may or may not have eaten them to appease me.

The other fun news going on here is that I moved to a new house. Still in Agaro, just down the hill. The place is cute and cozy and I love it. Except for the plumbing. I was really excited to get an actual bathroom with a toilet, but I’ve learned to be careful what I wish for. After five appointments with the plumber (a term I use loosely), my toilet is still quite broken. The original problem was flushing… the new problem is leaking. A constant drip fills buckets on the hour. Guess I can’t complain about no water.