Is this worth blogging?

I’m in Saint-Louis, and there are all kinds of food options here.  But today I made my own lunch. What is it? Cheesy peas!! Aka, a can of peas cooked with two pieces of laughing cow cheese mixed in. A classic! This was sometimes dinner in Springfield and even once or twice back in Eureka.  So, why did I turn down an outing to get hamburgers or pizza?  Because last night I literally dreamed about eating vegetables.  It was a giant bowl of soup with large chunks of eggplant, carrot, broccoli, cauliflower, there was even blue broccoli. Definitely my body trying to tell me something. 

So, Cheesy Peas!!!!  And Fanta, which I’ve developed a love for.

Should I say something slightly more substantive? So, I’m here in the city for two and a half days, approximately.  Right now it’s the start of the second day. And I just already miss my village. It’s nice here, and there are great creature comforts, but on the island (the seriously touristy part of town), it’s all Africans selling touristy things to toubabs, or serving them their food and drinks for God knows how little money. And at night, it’s just one big part for the toubabs, and frankly, that scene largely just makes me tired anymore.  Nothing wrong with it, just I can’t seem to muster up any interest. I guess this is a good thing, but it just adds to the sense of isolation of being here. Which, don’t worry, is not a problem. It’s wonderful to truly experience the calm of just being okay inside yourself in new situation, and letting all the changing forms of emotion pass through. Feeling them, letting them go, all that.  So last night we were sitting at a bar called the Sputnik, this awkward Russian themed bar with a painting of Jimi Hendrix on the wall that almost looked like Michael Jackson, and more and more toubabs kept coming in, passing the Senegalese bouncers to do so. Strangely, there were several times where a Senegalese man would walk a girl in only to turn around and leave. It was tripping me out a little, wondering, “what’s going on here?” Then I saw a man walk up to the two guards with a tray of attaya glasses.  Such a lovely gesture! They must do that every night. Everyone here drinks attaya several times a day, including at about 10:00 PM. That’s Senegal. That’s where I want to be, not in a weird tourist bar. 

So, I’m here ‘til tomorrow, and I am excited to go to the Jazz Fest tonight and hopefully hear some lovely music.  But I’ll be glad to get back to the simple life of the village. Back to speaking Wolof and greeting everyone I pass. Back to the sheep and the chickens and the children who call me “Lama” (classic L-R phoneme jumble.) Back to my friends there. How lovely is it that this is already happening?  It’s lovely J