So someone told me that I haven't written often enough so I'll really try and pick it up. Sorry for my shortcomings. Things are still great. Life has really become routine. Up at 6:15, school from 7:30 to 5:00, cook dinner, eat, bed. Because of this really exciting pattern, it’s always really exciting when I get to do something different. The Thursday before last was a national holiday for the first Tanzanian president. Because everyone else had a free day, we went to CCT and played sports. Physical activity is good. My daily exercise has basically only consisted of walking to class and home every day. The Saturday before last, we joined groups with another Kihonda group and went to the market and cooked. It was so much fun to put our market-talk practice into action and I was able to score us some nicely priced cucumbers. We were out in the backyard of a friend's house for hours, learning to cook traditional Tanzanian dishes. We cooked beans, ugali (similar to tasteless mashed potatoes made from flour), pilau (rice made with spices like cinnamon, potatoes, peas, carrots, etc.), and a few other dishes. We then ate ourselves silly and then did dishes in the yard, which seems extremely counter-productive. Sunday, we got up early and climbed the mountain here in Morogoro. We met up with our guides, which you have to have or else you'll get robbed (story of my life here, basically if you are white you run a high risk of getting mugged everywhere you go). The mountain was awesome though. So beautiful. The mountainside is a covered with forested areas, farms, banana tree groves, and small villages. We hiked for a few hours and reached an old building that used to be a resort when the Germans controlled much of Tanzania. The building was beautiful, covered in flowering vines with awesome architecture and overlooking a cliff. We rested there for a while and then took off for a few more hours. When hiking, we passed through the type of villages I thought I would be living in when I used to think about coming to Africa. The houses were made of basically sticks and mud and the people spoke tribal languages. We finally reached a waterfall, rested for a while, and then headed back down the mountain. Overall, we were gone about 9 hours. I was so extremely tired, but so glad I did it. The 2 straight days of being outside took its toll though and I do believe that I got the worst sunburn I had ever gotten in my life. Having no lotion or aloe vera to relieve it, I had to take Advil in order to sleep. After the hike, we all headed home, but found out the next day that one of our fellow trainees got hit by a motorbike on her way home. She was walking, about to turn off the road, when she got hit from behind. She had on a backpack with a metal water bottle in it. The bottle is crushed pretty good, but absorbed a lot of the blow to her back. She is pretty bruised up and ended up with tissue damage to her legs. She is using crutches and got about 13 stitches in one leg and 3 in the other. From the looks of the stitch job though, there should have been about twice that in each leg. This last Tuesday I started teaching and my first lessons went awful. It turns out they were not where I was told they would be so all my planning went out the window. One of the classes also said that I looked like a baby, meaning I looked young. One kid even guessed I was 15-years-old...awesome. Last Wednesday, we had the written portion of our language mid-term. We had nothing to do after that so we played Pictionairy for hours. Our tactics got pretty ugly and nobody guessed a clue for about an hour. This was due to the fact we were giving each other clues like "Edward's Syndrome" and "Giarrdia." We left early that day though and took a daladala ride downtown. We all had some much needed banking and post office errands that needed taking care of. We then had time so we went to the market, visited my host mom's tailoring shop, and bought a birthday present for our friend. We then headed back to Kihonda to meet our friend, Veronica, for her birthday. We had a couple beers and then went to her house or a birthday dinner. Her host mom prepared both a "traditional cake" and a modern cake. The modern cake was just a regular cake. We sang, she cut the cake, and then Veronica had to feed everyone a bite in the order of importance to her. I was awesomely awkward. Then, her host mom unveiled the traditional "cake." This turned out to be a whole, raw chicken with a large number of hard-boiled eggs spilling out of its butt. Her mom had prepared a ridiculous amount of food and we ate an uncomfortable amount of food. Thursday, we had the oral part of our language mid-term. It actually went better than expected. I understood everything and was able to answer. I also taught again and it went tons better. We got out of class super early and I never thought I could be so content just lying on my bed, headphones in, staring at the ceiling. When I finished my staring session, I went and played cards for a couple hours. I honestly believe that meeting my friends, playing cards had helping keep my sane. I am becoming a pro at all sorts of new card games. After cards, went home, cooked, and had a Michael Jackson dance session with my host brothers. Friday at CCT, the Peace Corps Headquarters delivered all of our mail. I would like to personally thank each and every one of you for NOT sending me anything. It really made be feel all tingly inside. Just kidding...but really. The last weekend, we went to Mikumi National park, which was one of the coolest trips ever. We saw all sorts of animals: elephants, baboons, zebras, hippos, and giraffes. We were even lucky enough to see some lions feeding. We really lucked out. I took a ridiculous number of pictures so just let me know if you would like any of them. Well "Happy Halloween!!!" Kind of sad that I won't be celebrating it really, but Hamna shida (no worries). I'll try to update sooner next time...Peace out.

"Don't the sh*t bricks yet.."

Hello all!  So far, I haven't been stupendous at updating this thing, but I'm trying.  My days are incredibly packed.  I have a feeling it will be a lot easier to find the time to update after training is over.  Just to quickly catch you up.  I have officially moved to Morogoro.  When we got here, we stayed at another compound-like place.  We were sometimes allowed out of the walls of this prison at times though.  While we were here, we were split into CBT's (Community Based Training groups), and our language training began.  My group consists of Doug, Uma, William, and Carolyn and our legit language-culture facilitator is Rehema.  So we really dove right into language.  Since then, our days have pretty much consisted of nothing but language training from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.  I can honestly say that this method seems to be working.  I think I can officially speak Swahili better than Spanish, a language I studied for years, but with no real dedication.  I am loving having Rehema as a teacher.  She speaks mostly in Swahili and really has a calming presence.  This really became apparent when we had a sub one day when she was sick.  Our sub was great, but something about her teaching style turned me into a spaz.  I literally had a panic attack in class...awesome.  Needless to say, I was grateful when we got Rehema back.  During these days, we also had sessions about moving in with our host families.  They gave us the do's and dont's of living with a host family.  Some of them were pretty obvious, others were good tips, such as don't smell your food.  The entire time, they would get us worked up and stressed about moving in with our families only for the homestay coordinator, Jumapili, to tell us to "don't shit the bricks."

So the Sunday before last, we moved in with our host families.  That may have been one of the most awkward experiences of my life.  Basically, they load you onto a bus with all of your bags, knock on your family's gate, and leave you there with a Swahili-speaking family and a pile of bags.  So here is a run-down of the family.  My mama's name is Happyness and she is a taylor, or fundi, for a living.  She is married to my baba, Emmanuel.  He works for World Vision and is gone to Dodoma during the week.  My oldest kaka or brother's name is Felix, who is 16.  He speaks excellent English, which has been wonderful!  My next oldest kaka's name is Alex.  Alex is 14 and also speaks very good English.  I also have a dada, or sister, named Glory who is 8 and absolutely adorable.  When I first got here, she just wanted to follow me around and hold my hand.  We have a house girl who we call Dada named Sarah and a bibi, or grandma, who speaks not a drop of English and frankly frightens me a bit, for no good reason.  The family has 3 dogs: Jet, Kok Kok, and Jim.  And a week after moving in I found out we also have a cat, which really doesn't have a name, but people kind of call him Neow.  The food is amazing which I was really not expecting.  They have ways of using bananas that I could not even imagine.  There is also a lot of rice and beans, which honestly I am all about.  When I get home from school everyday, I help cook dinner and do homework.  By 9 o'clock, I am all pooped out and only want to go to bed.  I am actually breaking my strict 9:30 bedtime to write this and save to my hard drive so I can possibly post tomorrow at the Internet cafe (yea for sticky key boards and uber slow internet).  This last weekend marked my one-week anniversary of moving in with my host family.  I celebrated by learning to perform household chores.  I learned to sweep and mop (because I would have never figured that one out), light a kerosene lamp, and do my laundry in a bucket.  It took me about 2 hours to wash 3 skirts, 5 shirts, and 2 bras.  The result of all the hard work was clean clothes to wear, but also no skin on the knuckles of my left hand.  If I return home with only a nub for a left hand, you know why.  Also this Sunday, I rode the dala dala by myself for the first time ever!  For those of you that don't know, dala dalas are the buses around these parts.  Basically, they are the equivalent of a church van and seem to have all been imported from Asian counties (judging from the Chinese symbols on the sides).  The manufacturers seemed to design these vans having in mind that they would hold about 18 passengers max.  Once I was riding on one, and decided to count how many people were on the bus; I lost count at 30.  Every time you stop, you are thinking "there is no freaking way that we are going to get more people on this bus!" then 7 more people cram on.  People are crammed in, sat on, hanging from the ceiling and leaning out windows.  It is honestly hilarious mayhem.  So needless to say, my first successful solo dala dala ride made me feel incredibly accomplished. 

Well I'm exhausted...way past my bedtime.  I'll try not to wait so long to write next time. 

Tutaonana baadaye!!

(See ya later!)