There's a gecko in my mosquito net.

If you are a naturally timid person, Peace Corps will either make you want to jump into a well, or it will bitch slap the shyness right out of you.

After three weeks in my homestay, I have reached a certain level of comfort with my family and in my community. I greet people in the street (aka dirty sandbox between houses), give the “death stare” to any person over the age of 13 who calls me “toubab,” and joke with my host siblings. While eating, I’ll give them a taste of their own medicine: “You need to eat more. Eat! Eat! Eat!” They get a kick out of it. The other day, my 6-year old host brother and I played a quick but furious game of hot potato with a piece of cow intestine. He would throw it into my section of the bowl; I would throw it back. This continued until he threw it at my host mom, who ate it with gusto. However, I still hear two things at the end of every day: “You didn’t eat today” (not true), and “You like to sleep a lot” (very true).

I still feel extremely lucky in my living situation. Many friends have disturbing stories of their own homestays, a few of which are simply too disgusting to put on here.

We're all back at the Training Center for a couple days, which is a relief. Also a relief: I just finished my first oral exam in Jaxanke. (Fun fact: I couldn't even find this language on Wikipedia. Try googling it) It's a little intimidating speaking with the microphone on the recorder staring you in the face, and I'm pretty sure I now have five new facial expressions that mean "???" because I don't yet know how to say "I don't know what you're saying; can you please repeat that?" BUT - it's over. 

Next on everyone's mind is site assignments. Yes, in 24 hours we will learn where we will be spending the next two years. Exciting times. The plan is to blindfold all 46 of us, position us on a huge Senegal map that they've got on the ground somewhere in the compound, then have us all take off our blindfolds at the same moment. The person you are nose-to-nose with will be your closest neighbor. If you are five feet from everyone else, it means hours of travel to see another American face. I'll try to do another quick update before we go back to village with my site name, which is hopefully google-able. What I do know: I will be in the southeast somewhere, and it will be hot. Very hot. Good news: I am unlikely to be stationed in the region where, apparently, "things go to die." (The volunteers there have made a shirt that says as much)

Wish me luck.