Thanksgiving 2006...quite possibly the worst and most depressing holiday of my life. I promise I'll get over it shortly and will stop feeling sorry for myself, but for the moment I'll just let the depression sink in while my mind drifts towards thoughts of jello, mashed potatoes, orange rolls, and turkey sandwiches. In reality though, Thanksgiving (and any culturally unique holiday for that matter...only obviously including other things) doesn't really exist without family, football, turkey, and Katie Couric, so it's not so much that my Thanksgiving was shitty as much as it's that Thanksgiving for me didn't exist this year. Which I guess means I'd better do everything I can to make up for it next year, and in the mean time should do my best to not dwell on it's current absence from my life. I suppose I never really understood how wonderful Thanksgiving was and how much it personally meant to me until I realized how much my current Thanksgiving void blows. But I suppose there are worse things; thank goodness I'll be home for Christmas. Missing X-Mas would be more heartache than I'd be able/willing to handle right now...mainly because of the presents...only kidding, it's definitely because of Jesus. But anywho, Happy Thanksgiving everyone (lucky bastards); tis the season for stuffing your face, emptying your pockets, and most importantly, loving the shit out of your family (even if they're 12,000 miles away), so enjoy it while it lasts and may someone bless you. In other news, it's hotter than a George Foreman grill right now, t-minus 18 days and my body will go through the biggest and most ridiculous temperature change of my life, and if I sound like I'm at all pissed or annoyed it's because of everything I have to get done for this ridiculous University in less than 3 weeks (and mostly by Monday)...and who would have thought that attempting to buy X-Mas presents in Africa could be so damn confusing and stressful...it's admittedly kind of fun though and rather amusing too, I just hope it all gets done. Oh and with any luck (and with Megan's aid) we now have paragraph breaks, which in itself is another reason to celebrate...woohoo, go eat some more turkey...and I'll eat some rice... Hmm...what to say about my fast approaching departure...? Yep, still confused, missing the shit out of home, not sure if I'm ready to leave, kinda wish I had more time to get everything done, yet know that I'd probably shoot someone if it came to that. More on that later... Highlights of the last two weeks: 1. FIFA friendly between World Cup qualifier, Angola, and our very own Taifa Stars. The game was admittedly not as crazy as my first Taifa Stars experience (as that match was opening round of African Cup qualification and understandably more important/nuts), but breathtakingly sweet-ass nonetheless. In truth we should all just be glad that it happened. Tanzania's first attempt at getting the Angolans to show was a complete failure-something about missing a plane that never existed in the first place. All was reconciled, however, and in just four days after the originally scheduled date the two teams played what was possibly the Stars last game in the National Stadium (before they move to their new stadium being built by the Chinese that'll supposedly be done by January). The game was sweet, the first half was action packed and really exciting to watch (especially when TZ scored), but the second half trailed and at some point lost it's luster...probably when Maximo took his starting keeper out and the Angolans scored...game eventually ends in a draw. All in all, quite a peachy experience. 2. International dinner at our safari man's house: As a thank you to our safari guides for an amazing safari experience AND for inviting us over to Fikiri's the week before for some killer ugali na mbogaboga, we (meaning Karanga, Suzanne, Nina, Laura and I) decided to combine our various international meal-making resources and influence in hopes of whipping up a spectacular chakula cha jioni (dinner) for the guys. Being that we had no access whatsoever to cooking materials and equipment, we were allowed to use Gabriel's kitchen (he's the owner of the company and the one who Suzanne is sleeping with) under the condition that we rocked his world with our excellent international cuisine. In the end (and after nearly 4 hours of cooking...dinner was served at like 11:20pm...and spending entirely too much money on way more food than we needed...whatevs though), we treated them to generous helpings of Suzanne's authentically German potato salad, a sampling of Laura's meaty (and really salty...though excellent) Finnish meatballs, various portions of me and Karanga's vegan-chocolate-banana pancakes (Karanga's vegan, I can't cook anything except for steaks, burgers, ceaser salads, and macaroni n' cheese...and maybe spaghetti, but I haven't really tried...but whatever we both love pancakes...they're American, right?), and Nina's ridiculously delicious vegetable curry (although it's not Austrian at all...but I must say that the girl is talented...pole sana for screwing up your rice though Nina. Hopefully I'll master it someday...), and topped it all off with some fresh fruits and veggies (we diced up the largest and tastiest pineapple I've ever had/seen in my life). All in all an excellent night of fun-filled cooking with friends in a kitchen that was way too small and entirely too Tanzanian for what we were doing, but hakuna matata. Also, Gabriel's little brother, Brian, is a freakin genius who's entirely too cute for his own good, loves to dance to reggae music, and is going to be fat now that I've introduced him to pancakes. 3. A rememorable and interesting night to say the least (although genuinely unique and slightly weird), of watching the Michigan vs. Ohio State football game via satellite with the US Marines at their barracks/private frat-house/American college kid paradise at the US Embassy...stories to follow...I don't really wanna talk about it. 4. University Life:....no wait, University life sucks. Although I do look forward to frisbee-Wednesdays, volleyball, and Admin Lunch Thursdays. 5. If there's one thing I'll miss the most next semester, it'll definitely be teaching at Mlimani. Those kids freakin rock and I like teaching (allow I really can't say I've experienced the down sides and tough aspects of it, I've just been lucky enough to show up two times a week, entertain the kids for awhile, grade a few papers, and then leave) so much more than I thought I would...and to be honest I'm kinda good at it too. More later... Um...not really sure where I'm going with this right now, and considering that I have dance class in less than 15 min. I'd better consider wrapping it (whatever "it" is) up. I'd say you could look forward to some further elaboration about my life, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with promising things I can't fulfill. To be honest, I have no idea when I'll find the motivation, time, or even a reason to ramble some more. For now though, be comforted by the fact that I'll be seeing most of you real soon...and if not, go draw a picture and dedicate it to me. I'm not sure what that means. End random post now. Peace-boozie Okay...now.

5 weeks from yesterday and I’ll be freezing my ass off in Iowa while enjoying the unquestionably warm and hopefully unbridled reception (in whatever ways necessary to capture the true spirit of Luther love…specifically meaning copious amounts of American food and naked time…to be rivaled only by the similar experiences which will follow in Colorado in a couple days) from friends and lovers alike. And while I’m definitely looking forward with great anticipation to these future moments of ecstasy, comfort, and long awaited belonging it’s been somewhat difficult lately to figure out if I’m really ready to leave (despite being uncontrollably eager to see all of you and bequeath unto you my verbal diarrhea of cultural insight and ideological reflection…and rather anxious to finish all of my pesky school/project shit), and furthermore identify some of the more perplexing emotions I’m feeling right now about my study abroad experience as a whole. There are some days that I find myself wishing it were all over NOW and that at the snap of a finger I’d find myself back in the States. Only sometimes I’m convinced that what my mind may think it wants now isn’t right for what I actually need…and subconsciously want despite the inconvenience associated with being so far away from friends and loved ones in the first place. And when it’s all over in 5 weeks time and I’m sitting in Megan’s room at Luther, where will my thoughts take me then?, and will what I’m nearly convinced I want more than anything in the world right now be enough when it actually comes to be? There are so many questions that will undoubtedly have to linger unanswered for awhile and in reality may take even longer than I’d like to be answered, but I’m admittedly kind of frustrated at the stagnation…for example, have I taken as much out of this situation and this country as was personally possible?...or, given the amount of time I had at my disposal did I “make the most of it” and do enough “stuff” (whether crazy cool, shitty, culturally difficult and/or interesting to deal with, or just intellectually amusing…etc.,etc.,etc…) worth feeling good about and proud of in the end? And at the same time, will my experiences be significant enough to warrant any kind of respect, praise, admiration, or recognition from those that I’ve left behind? And do I love this place like I thought/hoped I would?…and what the hell am I going to do with my life?…haha, there’s a mystery…It’s hard to fathom how fast these past fourth months (nearly) have gone by and even harder to imagine what I’ll be thinking about in four months time when it’s all said and done and all that’s left are these words, my sporadic memories, and a few pictures…okay so a few hundred pictures but you get the point. And why is it that I’ve reached the point in my college career where I’m partially wishing my study abroad experience were over so that I could go back to the States (of all places…but hey, home is home and I love it…and considerably much more than I realized) and get on with whatever…I just wanna go back to sophomore year! (p.s. not really, although sophomore year did kick ass) Furthermore, it’s hard to find some peace of mind when part of your mind and half of your heart is 12 thousand miles away. I wonder what piece, if any, I’ll leave behind in Tanzania…anywho, there’s a nice pile of mind fuck for you to revel and roll in for awhile. Just some of my thoughts and a fraction of the previously alluded to “craziness” that’s been going on in my head. Additionally, before I forget, please everyone check out Kev’s blog (by clicking the little link to the right) and read the post entitled “Cutting the Cord…Reflection on Reflection” published on Nov. the 2nd. It’s a self reflective piece about the rigors, pitfalls, stimulations, triumphs, and expectations of self reflection as told by a fellow study abroader (and my personal friend), and it should provide some further insight into some of what I’ve been quarreling with in my mind. It honestly spoke volumes for me when I read it and I’m only using it because I know I wouldn’t be able to personally describe its significance any better. So yeah, even if you don’t know Kevin please read and enjoy…and read all his other stuff too (although it may take you ages) if you like, because it’s all really good shit. Sidenotes: for those who have read my previous post I apologize for the “confusing and stupid” numbering system as well as for all the mistakes. I thought it was rather clever, only recognize now that without the ability to insert paragraph breaks (which I’m still working on…although not very vehemently so get over it) it made for quite a mess…although if you’re at all interested in LOST and furthermore even just slightly intelligent you should be able to figure it out…no offense….oh and I fixed the mistakes so read it again because it’s just that damn good. Also (continuing with the sidenotes), I was able to email Megan some random pictures of myself and a few tidbits of Africa yesterday and she’s kindly posted them on shutterfly for me so that you may view them at your discretion. Just click on “boozie-pics” and it should take you right there. There aren’t very many but enough to at least whet your appetites…I hope. But enough with the sidenotes; on with the original point of this post…Selous. I’m sure you were wondering when I was going to get around to talking about the more important topic of the week (being my weekend safari), so have no fear because I’m now prepared to divulge.(*insert paragraph break*) The whole trip was possible because of a sweet deal we (meaning the 8 international students-including myself-representing Germany, Austria, USA, and Finland that made the trip) got from Suzanne’s (German friend of mine who’s from the same University as Arne…The Univ. of Bonn) friend-guy who owns his own safari company and agreed to help us out since we’re students. Okay let’s be honest, she’s sleeping with the guy and he hooked us up hard core because of it. Three days of kick ass safari adventure complete with three cooked meals a day, camping gear, park fees, gasoline, etc., etc. for 170 bucks…which believe me is the best deal other than Heritage Motel’s Indian buffet I’ve gotten in Tanzania. Anyway, Selous Game Reserve is Tanzania’s largest game reserve (and I think possibly the largest in Africa) and is located 330 km south of Dar, although not along the coast. The reserve is home to many types of antelope (impala, dik dik, Thompson gazelle, etc.), giraffes (sweetest animal alive), zebras, elephants, hippos, lions, leopards, water buffalos, hyenas, crocodiles, baboons, white and black colobus monkeys, thousands of crazy-cool birds (like Zazoo from the lion king…only cooler), and millions of creepy yet really cool looking bugs…as well as a ton of other things I’m sure I’m forgetting to mention. The place covers approximately 55 million square kilometers, which, sorry John, is roughly the size of Switzerland, and encompasses a plethora of breathtakingly pristine lakes as well as the Great Rufiji River. We by no means had enough time to cover all of that area (obviously), but more than sufficiently scratched the surface of this beautiful reserve in our fantastic three day safari. I should clarify that Selous, like other ‘reserves’, is special and/or unique in the sense that it’s boundaries are by no means exhaustive or exclusive to the animals’ natural migration patterns. Most of the animals do, however, tend to stay within the designated 55 million sq. km. of government protected land, but are essentially free to do whatever the fuck they want as its there home and they were most likely there first. ‘Reserves’ are different from ‘parks’ in this way because parks’ boundaries are there to prohibit unregulated exit and entry (by either animals or humans), and also because hunting is not allowed in national ‘parks’. Meaning that, unfortunately, really rich and obnoxious foreigners can pay thousands of dollars (try $20,000 for an adult elephant) to kill themselves a real African animal on a “real” African adventure…fucking ridiculous. They pretend to have an authentically cultural experience by flying into Selous via private jet, killing themselves a lion, and then flying back to wherever the fuck they came from and should have indisputably stayed. While the hunting is heavily regulated and controlled in the sense that hunters are only allowed to kill only what is “needed” by population control standards and initiatives and are accompanied at all times by a park ranger and a trained animal specialist, it makes me sick to think that there are actually people who are dense/self-absorbed enough to do that, and are furthermore allowed to…and I really wonder where the hell that money goes, because the average citizen certainly isn’t seeing any of it. Part of me feels like it’s even worse than poaching, which is also a problem that both ‘parks’ and ‘reserves’ alike often have to face…ah, but I digress. Anyway, since the hunting is so heavily regulated it only occurs in one specific portion of the reserve, and we were fortunate enough to be at the opposite end. As compared to my experience in Ngorongoro (which is a park) in July, this trip was so much more rewarding for a few reasons. For one, while I undoubtedly saw many more animals in Ngorongoro I by no means had the same engulfing safari experience…Ngorongoro is in many ways like a really big and glorified zoo, only still natural in the sense that the animals are still in there “natural” environment. We actually had to try and find the animals this time and do our best not to disturb them so as to observe their intense beauty for a few precious seconds (or in the case of the lions, minutes) instead of having to avoid running them over as was the case in Ngorongoro (which was kind of fun too, and especially neat when considering how many animals we actually saw in such a short amount of time, just slightly weird and sorta annoying). Plus, the mzungu traffic is close to non existent in Selous (which is refreshing when the point of your safari is to observe the animals instead of wazungu and you actually get to do so in peace) and riding around all day in a 4X4 Land Rover through the African bush with your head and torso sticking out of the roof is fun as hell…not gonna lie it kinda felt like an amusement park ride, only slightly crazier and much more real…obviously. All the animals were amazing, the experience was literally unreal at times, I enjoyed each of the three different safari experiences (boat, car, and walking) in their own uniquely cool way, and was tremendously grateful of the opportunity in general to get away for a few days and camp in the African wilderness, but there’s really no other way for me to properly describe the intensity and fascination of it all…so I guess just trust me that it was absolutely ridiculous and wickedly cool in every way possible. Highlights: 1. walking up on a collective herd of zebra, giraffe, and impala while on our walking safari, and then watching them speed off into the forest when we got too close…like I said before, giraffes are the coolest animal alive…did you know that they have the same number of vertebrates in their necks as we do? Crazy. They’re also really funny to watch right when they take off running; for like the first 10 steps it honestly looks like they’re running in slow motion until out of nowhere everything finally clicks and they take off like Michael Johnson on speed. 2. Happening across four young simba cubs who had apparently lost their mother. too cute…although I’m sure they could have shown us their ugly side too. 3. parking literally right next to a full grown male lion and three females who were far too lazy to care about our cars as they had just finished an afternoon hunt and were sprawled out in satiated agony. Mack Daddy simba’s (let’s be honest, he was a pimp with three ladies at his disposal) belly honestly looked like it was going to explode; I could totally picture an entire antelope carcass inside that massive frame. He was so tired and lazy from the hunt and impending afternoon heat that he didn’t even get up to piss. Just tucked it back let er rip, all while lying down on his side and without moving an inch. sweet. 4. enjoying our sack lunch by the lake while a pack of elephants enjoyed theirs on the other side. 5. sleeping in tents in our river-side campsite that was chalk-full of hippos (meaning the river, not our campsite. although, I hope you can imagine how ridiculously close these hippos were at times…ah, too cool) and falling asleep to the sounds of their evening migration. 6. laughing and carelessly enjoying the company of some quality international friends while on safari vacation in Africa….priceless. Well, now that I’ve topped this post off with a little cheesy yet sentimental insight, I’d say it’s about time for some dinner. Wali maharaghe should suffice. I’ll hopefully have some time this weekend to ramble a bit more about my continuous African adventure (that will soon be over) as well as further elaborate on the confines and entrails of my engaged and engrossed (and slightly looney) mind. As for now, enjoy the post, do your best to avoid any confusion, keep on keeping on with whatever you keep to, and peace.

I should preface by admitting that this post may not be as girthy or lengthy as previous posts have been due to my current lack of time and energy. It’s currently Thursday evening, I’ve had a long day (see “A Week in the Life” for further details), and even longer when considering how our dance teacher worked our sweaty butts into the ground today, am very wet (it’s been raining pretty much non stop all week-and by rain I mean absolute craziness that leads me to believe I’d better find Noah while there are still seats left…welcome to the short rains…and mind you I said short which means that it’s a good thing I don’t have to be here in April when the actual rainy season comes…ridiculous) and as of 7am tomorrow morning I’ll be on my way to Selous for a kick ass safari adventure with some fellow wazungu who will undoubtedly be going as nuts over the big, cuddly (although not too cuddly), and uniquely African animals as I will be…and I still have lots of shit to do before then. So, while I have the spare time I’m gonna attempt to hit on some of the finer points of my week in Zanzibar so as to hopefully give you an idea of the true magic that only Zanzibar can provide. In reality this is undoubtedly the best way to go about it whether I have a lot of time or not considering how long I was in Zanzibar and how impossible it’d be to do the island any justice, much less hope to captivate in blog form all that happened in 7 days. So here we go, Z-bar by numbers…and I think it’s fitting that we use these numbers being that I was on a tropical island in the Indian ocean…jealous yet?...and mind you, in no particular order…4) To describe the island in general it’s best to first picture in your mind the stereotypical tropical island, complete with white, powdery sand, turquoise water, and lots of rich white people with sun burns. Give it an African twist and throw in a heavy dosage of Arab and Muslim influence and you’ll start to understand the island’s complexity and mystery. Basically, the whole place functions off its main port and only accessible harbor in Stone Town (also known as Zanzibar Town). Everything and everyone (be it cloves, wazungu, or Pepsi…..which, interesting fact, Zanzibar is second in the world only to Indonesia in the amount of cloves they export each year…I think I may have said in a previous post that they were the highest which if I did was false and I apologize…they’re second) that comes into or leaves Zanzibar goes through Stone Town. There are a plethora of exotic/touristy little beach resorts all along the island's edges, especially to the north and east that can be accessed by dala-dala or taxi...but a beach is a beach and all we did was lay on them and sporadically swim in the clear cool water. So as to be politically correct I must clarify that when referring to ‘Zanzibar’ I should actually be referring to it as ‘Unguja’, which is the island’s proper name. The two islands of Unguja and Pemba (which is directly north) are collectively referred to as Zanzibar, only Unguja is more commonly referred to as ‘Zanzibar’ for commercial reasons and out of convenience. Anyway, Stone Town is an amazing little Arabic labyrinth with enough windy little by ways, ally ways, street vendors, markets, nifty shops, and eccentric restaurants to get comfortably lost in for hours…trust me, Arne and I did it and on more than one occasion. Wandering around in this fascinating maze of a city between creek road and the harbor road made for some excellent picture taking opportunities and some quality escape from the chaos and high pace atmosphere of Dar. Three things I loved about Stone Town and will most definitely miss (until I return someday, which believe me will happen): 1. Zanzibari pizza-which is egg, meat, tomatoes, butter, and cheese, cooked/fried inside a chapaiti…and there’s also a dessert version-chocolate, bananas, and milk syrup-kinda reminds me of crepes at the Farmer’s market; yum! 2. All the kick ass and desolately and meticulously designed doorways…pictures to follow…some day. 3. the best and cheapest samasos I’ve ever had in my life. So yeah, Stone Town was great but I still think that harbors smell funny; something about the mix of oil, fish, dirty sea water, and smelly Tanzanians doesn’t amuse me…hakuna matata though. 8: It took some hard convincing from Arne and Neli to get me back on a dhow headed for a snorkeling adventure in the open waters of the Indian Ocean, but boy am I glad they did. Key differences to my experience in Pangani that made this excursion easily a 100X better: the boat ride took only 20 min. in what was only slightly choppy water instead of 2 hours on the open sea; the dhow had a canopy; our “captain” knew what he was doing; it was less expensive; our lunch on “Prisoner Island” (where we also sow some really big and ridiculously old tortoises) included passion fruit and Nutella; and Nemo and about a million of his fishy little friends were waiting for us in their reefy wonderland of coral that rocked my world and left my pants wet…er. I have to admit that at first I really sucked at the whole breathing out of a tube while looking under water concept, but soon got the hang of it and was absolutely amazed at how truly fascinating and wickedly amazing coral reef ecosystems are. You can count that as another cherry popping experience for sure, and boy was it wonderful. 15: Eid-al-fitr, though not as crazy as I had expected, was definitely an interesting experience to partake in and one that provided a cultural experience I’m sure will never be experienced again in my lifetime. It’s cool to note though that whether you’re in po-dunk Iowa, Grand Junction, Colorado, or Zanzibar, a festival is a festival and always involves lots of music, food, cheap toys, silly games, hyper active children who’ve had too much sugar, and plenty of laughter. 16: Spice tours: comforting to the stomach and invigoratingly stimulating to the senses. Kind of full of wazungu but definitely worth the time and money, and cool enough that purchasing spice boats in order to commemorate your journeys is definitely worth the extra 1000 shilingi. 23: Freddy Mercury, arguably one of pop cultures’ most popularly recognized and idolized gay icons, was born on the most Muslim island in the world, and remarkably enough there’s a restaurant resurrected a few blocks from his old house that carries his namesake….I think it’s owned by a white guy though. Good food, neat atmosphere, over-priced, shitty service, lots of wazungu. 42: I have to admit that I’ve run out of time, numbers, ideas/memories, and motivation (yeah I know, pathetic). However, maybe after a few days on safari I’ll think of some more cool stuff worth enlightening you all to about my week in Z-Bar. As for now it’s again time for yoga, a few hours of hopefully checking more things off my never ending list of shit to get done, packing for safari, and then bed. These last few days have been kinda weird, really raining, and may or may not have included a head shaving that started out as the most radical mohawk Tanzania has ever seen. Needless to say I’ll be needing to take extra care when applying sunscreen to my body (meaning my head) these next couple weeks. Which in reality is almost only 5…holy shit it’s almost over….and since when did it become November? ahh, so many mixed feelings and so much cacophony in my brain. Craziness. Ok well have a nice weekend all and I’ll catch you on the flip side…assuming I’m not eaten by a lion. Salama.

Yes I'm alive, quite well, and in case any were worried about/interested in my life, here's a hefty dosage of Tanzania for ya. For those who don't know (which is virtually everyone considering how unreliable the internet/power tends to be here) I was in Zanzibar all last week soaking up some sun and experiencing what it's like to party with some Muslims on holiday. This post, however, is not about my trip to Zanzibar at all...hopefully that will come later today/tonight, but in case not I'd rather you have something to read instead of nothing...again. What this is though, is the post I had intended on publishing before I left for Zanzibar early last Saturday (the 21st) morning but couldn't when the power went out Thursday afternoon and didn't come back until real late Friday night, rendering me completely helpless and unable to publish until now, especially considering that because my floppy disc wasn't working I had to save it to this computer's C-Drive in the computer lab....man I need a flash disc...or better yet, my freakin lap top. But yeah, anyway, I originally hoped that I could have left this for you all to read while I was chilling on the beach in Zanzibar but unfortunately I had no such luck. So instead, read this now and wait a bit (not long I hope...although I know I've said that before...) to hear about my adventures in Zanzibar. So until then, Post #1 starts here--------> Welcome to a week in the life of me, Tanzania Zach. Believe it or not I've settled into somewhat of a routine here in Dar es Salaam; which in one respect has rendered me void a sufficient sampling of intriguing African tales one in my position might like to present to his loved ones back home (and as such that you've gotten use to hearing/reading in my blog thus far), yet has also given me this opportunity to elaborate, if you will, on the 'routine' happenings of my day-to-day life. While surely these insights in many ways are not quite as provocitively interesting as other's before them have been (like close-ups with lions, two-day Usumbara Moutain excursions, deranged monkeys with gin bottles, and late night beachy fires), they are all in there own way amply exciting, unique, and special and are all an important part of my overall African experience. Furthermore, I should heed your advice in retracting any statement(s) I may have made in my last post that attempted to define them as anything less. Which reminds me...thank you a thousand times over for the 15 wonderful comments you guys left (and now, post-Zanzibar, 17...). I realize that at least 6 were from a combined 3 people and that 1 was published then erased (what a tease), but all things considered they really made my day(s) and I appreciate it. African love stuff to all. But anyway, back to my life. Next week takes me to Zanzibar (actually last week took me to Zanzibar...craziness to come) and with any luck I'll be in Tanzania's largest game reserve, Selous, on the first weekend in November (still a go as of now, but keep your fingers crossed)..... but for now we're gonna role with this stuff. So here it is in all its glory, an average African week retold as could only be experienced by me... Monday: I’ve always thought it absolutely imperative to start your week off right; the tempo, style, and overall groove of your entire week can be established (or ruined) in the first few hours of Monday, so it becomes increasingly important in my opinion for one to kick things off with a bang in order to ensure a solid, enjoyable, and smooth sailing 7 days. That’s not to say, however, that by any means I’ve always done this or am in any way a model example of well managed Mondays, but I should point out that I’m not sure there’s a better way to do it then by teaching a group of 8 year old Tanzanian school children about the complexities of our English language. Actually there’s probably a ton of things I can think of that would be slightly more exciting (like that car commercial where the guy parachutes off his front lawn perched on top of this mountain into the canyon below where his car is parked so he can then drive to work), but so far this method has seemed to work pretty well for me. (Sidenote: starting Monday Oct. 30, I will no longer have the luxury of starting my Mondays in this fashion. My seminar for PS232 is finally commencing…go figure, it’s now freakin week 8 of the semester…and I will instead have to sit through various seminar presentations at 8 in the morning for the rest of the semester…pole sana to me.) After stumbling out of bed (ironically enough on the ‘right side’ of my bed due to the fact that the left side is adjacent to the wall) around 8:30 I usually then proceed to dump a half gallon of water on my head (which acts as a shower when the water isn’t running….which is a lot of the time), brush my teeth, put some clothes on (preferably the ones that smell the least like BO since laundry doesn’t happen all that often these days and really should considering how much I sweat…who would have thought that the tropic zone would be so hott?) and meander down to the duka for some breakfast which, conveniently enough, is right on the way to the primary school. I use to prefer an ndiziati (remember, an ndizi wrapped in chapati with a little sugar) and a samosa (a kind of miniature calzone only it’s fried and not baked…and it’s Indian not Italian…) , but I’m really trying to cut down on my carbs (I swear I’ve gained like 5-7 lbs. since I got here) so I instead opt for a couple machungwa (oranges) at shilingi hamsini (Tsh50) a piece and an ndizi (shilingi mia…Tsh100) sans chapati…sad day. It’s about a 15-20min. walk to school and my Monday morning class starts at 9:20am, so I usually eat my breakfast on the go. It’s always a random surprise as to what my Mwalimu, Philomena, will have me teach on Monday mornings, but with enough luck and a little b.s. I manage to piece a lesson together no prob…at least enough to occupy and entertain (mostly because my Swahili is bad and the students probably think I’m crazy) the kids for 40 min. This Monday we learned about how to use negatives in the future tense, and on Tuesday I prepared a special lesson about the body parts…complete with “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and mother f-in Toes”…word. Anywho, after class I make my way back up to the dorm and basically sit on my ass for about 2 hours. Occasionally I’ll decide to do something constructive with my time, but usually this portion of my Monday morning consists of stripping down to my boxers and laying sprawled out spread eagle on my bed so as to properly circulate air to my various smelly pits while listening to my i-pod (which on these occasions is more than likely Guster). My amazing dance class that meets on Thursday evenings has a boring and very random lecture period that meets on Mondays at noon. I’d be lying if I said I went every Monday, but then again when have I ever had a conscience…I go every Monday, take lots of notes, and learn tons about nothing. As for the rest of my Monday it’s always a mystery as to what I’ll do with my time. To be frank I have no other commitments or obligations whatsoever and usually don’t know what to do with myself. I’d spend time on the computer being productive and getting things done but since the city rations its power during the day on MWF there’s never any power until around 5:30. Often times I’ll persuade Sam to join me in a sporting round of frisbee toss, which most often leads to some basketball with the Chinese and an early dinner. Monday evenings have been excellent triple feature Film Festival days as of late, but due to the fact that it’s unfortunately over now I’ll need to instead come up with something else I can spend my time on. But yeah, Mondays are pretty chill. Tuesday: A rather early morning for me (yet late still in comparison to my roommate who gets up every morning at 5:30…freakin ridiculous) is again started with preparations for another morning of teaching at Mlimani. I usually try to be out of bed (key words ‘usually’ and ‘try’) by 7:15 in order to collect and arrange myself (in whatever ways necessary) before reporting to class by 8am. Depending on what Philomena has requested on Monday that I should prepare for the morning’s lesson, I give my lecture in much the same fashion as the day before…give or take a few songs and silly antics…and am amazed at how fast 40min. flies by. If there’s no work to be corrected I’m usually back at my room by 9:15, which leaves me about an hour and a half to do whatever before I leave again at 10:45 for my 11am boring history lecture. The professor is a nice enough guy who got his Masters from Iowa and the material is moderately interesting, but man do I love going to Luther where we’re privileged enough to not have to worry about having to sit through an insanely dry lecture given in a drab lecture hall that doesn’t have a projector and a shotty microphone and by a professor who never brings chalk despite numerous pleas from his 300+ student audience. Afterwards I break for lunch at Cafeteria 1 (wali na maharagwe, Tsh500…insanely cheap and surprisingly still tasty after all this time. It helps to change it up every once in awhile and throw in some roasty, but I often prefer to save the extra 300 shilingi for “Admin Lunch Day”…) and make my way across campus to Yombo 1 for Contemporary East African Politics (PS232). Fortunately the class has only 30 people in it, but it’s been pretty lame so far, the seminar is attempting to ruin my Monday mornings, and the professor, though really smart, is freakin weird and talks really quiet. As soon as class is over I usually decide to take advantage of how close the Hall 7 computer lab is (as in it’s right next door to Yombo) and being that I don’t have class again until Swahili at 5 and would rather not walk all the way back home end up instead working on internet stuffs for a few hours…and if I’m lucky, chatting it up like a pro with my skype buddies scattered across the globe. That is of course assuming the power is on and working like it’s suppose to be on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which in the often likely chance that it’s not I instead fall asleep somewhere for 3 hours…or do my Swahili homework that I have more than likely not done yet. Anywho, like I said, Swahili is at 5pm and because we only meet two times a week it lasts until 7. After which I have about an hour and 45min. before my Tuesday/Wednesday-biweekly Champions’ League date with Arne at Udasa (a moderately cool little outside restaurant with a big screen projector and the best chicken and fried ndizi in Tanzania for only Tsh2000…okay atmosphere, often times shitty service, good food, plenty of Fanta Passion, and excellent European soccer…hmmm). Sidenote: last night’s prime time coverage pitted Tanzanian favourite, Chelsea, against defending champs, Barcelona, in what was an exciting and virtually even keeled match that left Chelsea with yet another win and Barcelona wondering what the hell happened to their 15 game winning streak (again, this happened a long time ago and I apologize for the 'old news')-*..insert random thought...*-positive products of globalization in TZ that I like: British Premiere and Champions’ League soccer (thanks to South African ‘Sports Net’), Snickers, Fair Trade, health care, and the Internet. Others that are arguably counterproductive to “development” in the region and rather annoying: Celine Dion, SUV’s, 50 Cent, Coke and Pepsi, diesel fuel, and porn. But anywho, back to my life…. On off weeks with no Champions’ League coverage I would previously take in a couple Film Fest flicks in Mwenge, only now (like I said before) that it’s over I’m not exactly sure what I’ll do with myself… Wednesday: I promise this one won’t take as long as Tuesday did. Actually, there’s really only 4 significant things worth mentioning about Wednesdays. 1. no classes. 2. Wednesday is one of the three days a week that I visit Mzee Mbunju down-town for lessons in drum making (sidenote: I made/ruined an African marimba this last Wednesday-pole sana Mwalimu. man this shit can be tough) 3. Wednesday is also frisbee day-which means a chance to run around in the wind (it’s honestly always windy on Wednesdays) and heat with some missionaries for an hour and a half and pretend we know how to throw a piece of 175g plastic to each other up and down a dirt field. 4. Champions League/yoga/homework time…haha, yeah right. Thursday: By far my busiest and most “stressful” day-only, compared to what I’ve already described you’re probably wondering how my life could possibly get any more complicated and demanding than it already is. Thursdays start off around 8:30 or 9 or whenever the general dorm ruckus/my roommates’ inconsiderate morning clamour becomes too much to sleep through. I have my second two hours of Swahili from 10-12 followed by the previously alluded to “Admin Lunch Day”, which for those who don’t know is my weekly lunch date with Sam (who’s also in my Swahili class) at the pricier yet far tastier Café just outside the Administration building. Before my history seminar at 1pm I tend to make my way up to Mama Kaaya’s office to chat for a bit and check the International Student mail box that always has plenty of stuff for others but never for me (*cough*cough). Well, I mean besides the exhilarating Financial Aid letter I got from Luther the other day. After my scintillating seminar at 1 I have the luxury of sitting through another PS232 lecture at 2, and then am free to do whatever until dance at 5. Which, being that today is Thursday, consisted of me attempting to write a few emails and finish this blog post on the computer until the power went out and came back on three times in a span of 20min. and I decided to work by hand for awhile. Dance (at least the Thursday night portion) is by far my favorite class and it’s always really nice to get in a two-hour ass-shaking workout every week. We’re learning and will perform only one style/custom of traditional Tanzanian dance, but have already learned 4 “movements” and will learn at least a few more I think. Either way it’s pretty challenging and not to mention uber-tiring, but is also really rewarding and a quite a good time. After dance I often times make my way to the computer lab and, depending on the electricity situation and my motivation, get some stuff done until yoga at 10. I know that I have previously referred to our rooftop yoga as being “naked”, but unfortunately due to its growing popularity we (the governing body of Hall IV rooftop yoga) have decided it most wise of us to instead keep at least some of our clothes on so as to avoid deterring any interested parties and instead include all who wish to participate regardless of sex or clothing orientation. The yoga was originally started by four goofy, bored, and slightly immature Americans but has sense grown in both size, scope, and nationality so as to encompass a wider audience and facilitate a more profound purpose. Anywho, I need to move on to Friday because I’ll otherwise run the risk of being late for yoga. Friday: Friday is again a day of no classes yet full of drum makery. On Fridays I meet Mbunju around 11am, meaning that I need to leave chuo around 10 or shortly after so I’m not late. Fridays may or may not include breakfast (depending on how early I wake up or am woken up), but in roughly one hours time via two dala-dalas costing a total of 500 shilingi (that price also accounting for machungwa miwili-two oranges-if I’m in the mood) I can get from the bottom of the hill of my dorm to Mbunju’s workshop/office. After a day full of sucking at something that’s really hard but really fun I head home for dinner (unless I grab some food at my favorite hole in the wall place down-town-best damn beans and roasty I’ve ever had) and wander around campus in hopes of finding friends and something worth doing. Friday nights here aren’t really all they’re cracked up to in the States and it’s unfortunately often hard to find something un-lame and worthwhile to do that doesn’t end up costing lots of money. It’s times like these that I wish I were either in England with Kevin and Hilary taking in Nottingham’s seemingly entertaining and crazy club/pub scene, running around (most likely naked) in GJ with Nathan and Jamie, or playing an excellent board game/watching a quality movie with friends in Decorah...or, lest I forget to mention, possibly enjoying the quality, intellectually stimulating, and friendly atmosphere of our beloved Scoe’s. But yeah, no such luck for awhile but we’ll make due anyway. Late-night baboon chasing anyone? Speaking of late-night, I miss Wendy’...there’s definitely something to be said for greasy fries, 99cent frosties, and a Spicy Chicken sandwich at midnight. Saturday: Insert everything I just said about Friday here and you’ve got Saturday. Sunday: Think about what your Sundays consist of...insert Africa and minus homework and church and you’ve got what Sundays are like for me. Unless of course I decide to splurge a little and go to the beach, because in that case my Sundays are very different from yours and include a lot more palm trees, Fanta Passion, salt water, and skin Cancer then I’m sure you’re used to. But yeah, that pretty much sums up my “week in the life"...hopefully you’ve enjoyed my ramblings and find it at least somewhat interesting. I promise that for those of you who are bigger fans of tales/fables concerning epic Tanzanian adventure your appetites for the extreme will soon be whetted. Next week I’m throwing myself a little curve ball and have decided to spend it in Zanzibar. At some point next week Ramadan is suppose to end and I’ve heard that Zanzibar is definitely the place to be when all the Muslims (roughly 90% of the island) get to eat in daylight again...we’re talking serious island party. I say “at some point” because in reality no one actually knows when Ramadan is going to officially end. You’d think that a holiday (Eid-al-fitr, the end of Ramadan) whose date depends on the moon’s visability could be determined scientifically, but apparently it’s all up to some guy in Mecca to decide when the fasting is over and everyone can get there grove thing on again...and I mean that in more ways than one. Anywho, next week is Zanzibar week and with any luck I’ll have more craziness to throw your way in about a week. Until then, enjoy all that your respective lives have to offer and salama kabisa...time for some yoga. P.S. For those who thought they might at some point like to give me a call on my cell phone, don’t because for one skype is much cheaper (because it’s free!), two-you should send me a letter with the money instead, and three because my cell phone got stolen last week and when trying to reach me you’ll instead end up talking to the Tanzanian man who took it out of my pocket on the dala-dala and probably only speaks Swahili. Hakuna matata though, I didn’t like it that much anyway. Just get skype cause it’s cool and all the cool kids are doing it...just like speed, lot’s of fun, only much bigger pay-offs and less expensive. ok peace.

Well, it’s officially October and I officially have no idea what to talk about. I realize it’s been awhile….and quite a long while at that….since last I graced this blog with a new post, but to be honest I really haven’t had that much to talk about….I mean write about. Strange yes, especially when considering the plethora of crazy and strange adventures I’ve had since July 19, and even stranger when considering where I am and what I’m doing. Still, in comparison to what Kevin would call my previous ‘fables’, any attempted reconstruction of my Tanzanian activities as of late would seem rather boring. Furthermore, if anyone else has developed a keen interest in the blog ramblings of my fellow international study abroad-ers (that’s you, Kevin and John), you can understand how impossible it would be for me to top or even hope to contextually compare to these guys’ stories and respective European insights, much less compete and vie for our readers’ (that’s you) attention (too much blog, not enough time….although, I must say that Justin has been doing a rather stellar job….he must not have a life.) Actually, everything I’ve just said is bullshit. I mean, John and Kevin’s blogs are amazing (but there’s really no reason to feel like I in any way need to compete with their prose…however refreshingly good it may be and regardless of how jealous I become of their talents…by the way, good form gentlemen) and there really hasn’t been much that’s happened in my life these past two weeks that’s necessarily worth “writing home about,” but I suppose me living in a crazy place like Tanzania should enable me the ability to at least make something up without you knowing the difference. And in reality, considering how many randomly provocative thoughts I have whizzing around in my head right now I really shouldn’t have to make anything up, and should instead able my sore fingers (I’ll explain why my fingers are sore later) to conjure up something insightfully fresh and new for ya’ll, if only just slightly perceptively worth-while. Yet, for whatever reason, I just can’t seem to find the motivation...until now that is (check that, I found the motivation last Sunday but because of frequent power outages have been rendered unable to post until today, but whatever). It’s almost as if my brain has been running on information/provocative thought-overload, and instead of trying to release some of that “tension” I just don’t and instead let my mind continue to float…or maybe sink is a better word? Maybe it’s too immense or too complex to adequately “release” on paper and I should give myself a break; only problem is, is that everyone I think to talk to about it is a thousand miles away and one phone card (and lots of money) short of convenience. And not that there aren’t people here I can talk to and who can most definitely relate, but it’s just not the same kind of comfort and lacks a certain familiarity. Not to mention I’m a little behind in my LCCT work (what’s new). Here I go bitching again…point is, things are good, life is crazy, school is weird, I often feel stupid for how little I know about my country and at the same time really wish I knew more about this one, my mind is cluttered and for lack of a greater ability I have no idea how to either describe it or dispel it (but hakuna matata), and while my life really has not been all that “exciting” lately, I’ll do my best to hit on some of the finer points. Here it goes…and mind you without paragraph breaks despite my most recent request to include them from my favorite LUFDA captain ever (I love you sweety). Trust me, I’ve tried it already and for whatever reason the online template for my blog doesn’t allow it….or maybe I’m just too stupid. But whatever, deal with it. Anyway, about my life…concerning my passing reference to “sore fingers”: making African hand-drums is a bitch. A really fun bitch (what?), yet extremely tedious, hard, time consuming, and rather unfriendly to one’s hands (which is interesting considering how important a hand-drummers hands are to his art, but I’m really just convinced that Tanzanians are tougher than Americans…or maybe I’m just a wimp). Plus, wet goatskin smells horrible…imagine a mix between urine, my dog Hershey after a bath, and Frenchie. And how would I know all this you ask? Well, for starters I should explain why I’m learning how to make African hand-drums…aside from the fact that it’s really cool and I love hand-drums…which, in turn, should also key you into why I am “behind in my LCCT work.” So, on top of studying/taking courses at the University (hapa…that means here) for a semester, we (meaning the LCCT students…which for those of you who don’t know what that means it stands for Lutheran College Consortium to Tanzania…get with it folks) are required to submit either a research paper or a creative project and methodology paper on a topic/subject area of our choosing to the LCCT board in December and then give a presentation at St. Olaf for our “re-entry meeting” (lame) in Febuary, which all counts for a third of our total “program grade” that in the end earns us a total of 16 credits at our respective home institutions. Plus, we’re suppose to be “journaling” four times a week (yeah right) and are responsible for doing 30 reflective newspaper article responses…which I’ve done, let’s see, zero of…but that’s not the point. The point is, is that with a little help from my dance teacher and Thomas (oh Thomas, where would we be without you), I’ve contacted and developed a relationship with a charming little man by the name of Mzee James Mbunju who is the owner and artistic director of the Simba Performance Group stationed in down-town Dar. Mwalimu Mbunju has agreed to take me on for the remainder of the semester as his personal apprentice in the art of drum-making (and hopefully some drum performance too). On average I’ll be going down to his shop three times a week and am hoping that with a little creativity (and a little luck) I can pass this off as my “creative project”….I suppose now all I need to do is work my ass off and try to make a ton of drums as well as also figure out what to do for my methodology paper (that’s a big word, ‘methodology’… what does it mean?). I originally paid him 72,000/= to cover the cost of materials and what I thought was a little extra to compensate him for his time in teaching me this stuff, but I get the feeling that he wants more money for more materials and I’m afraid my budget may not allow it. If I could I’d pay him a ton more in order to show my appreciation for what he’s doing and buy tons of materials, but the reality is that I’m a poor college student with empty pockets and big aspirations…we’ll see how it all works out though. I know that we’ll at least be making one drum entirely from scratch together (and hopefully I’ll make one entirely from scratch by myself), so I imagine that that alone should count for something. I think it would be interesting to elaborate in my paper on the social and economic implications and taxations of making, playing, and performing drums and other percussive instruments as your main source of income, and examine how this trade and/or market has changed and evolved as a result of European colonization and imperialism. It’s amazing how hard this guy works and how much time he pours into his craft; I can’t imagine how he’s survived after all these years and am certain I’d be burnt out. There are so many other artisans in similar positions, only not as fortunate as Mbunju to own their own theater companies…but no need to elaborate on all that, I’m sure there will be plenty of time for that sort of mush and for now I really should move on. Aside from the joys and tribulations associated with making hand drums three times a week down-time, this opportunity has also given me an excellent chance to: a) associate and familiarize myself with this bustling yet highly impoverished coastal metropolis (with insane amounts of crazy Muslim influence); b) see first hand how unbelievably bad-ass my Mwalimu and his performance group really is; and c) experience the implausible perfection and sheer beauty that is Heritage Hotel’s 4500/= Indian lunch-buffet. The city itself is not all that big (in comparison to Chicago or New York, or even MSP for that matter), but is sufficiently complicated enough to thoroughly confuse at times even the most astutely spatially directional person like me. I’m getting better though and within a couple weeks I’m sure I’ll be just fine… but man can it be a nut house/rat race sometimes. If there’s nothing else to be said for big cities like Dar, I’d at least better mention all the crazy smells (some considerably less pleasant than others) that are constantly changing from one step to the next that one must become accustomed to when walking around. I first noticed this phenomenon when traveling around New York City for a couple weeks at the end of my senior year of High School. Dar is definitely no different when speaking in reference to the plethora of intriguingly sporadic smells big cities have to offer, only instead of pizza mixed with garbage and fuel exhaust (as is common in Chicago and New York) you experience samaki (which means fish) mixed with garbage, chipsi ma yai (which is french-fries sautéed, if you will, with eggs), cheap cologne, marijuana, car exhaust, and fesses….and let’s not forget the sounds of Dar: above the caustic and slightly overwhelming street vendor ruckus (trying to sell you mindless shit that you neither need or would ever want), you have a pleasant mix of car horns, what I like to call harbor madness, and the nearest Mosque’s call to prayer/three hour Islam-lecture being that it’s Ramadan right now. Another interesting thing about down-town Dar: privately employed “security guards” with sawed-off shot guns protecting the entrance to the classier/high quality joints….like jewelry stores, Chinese restaurants, and porn shops. Makes for quite the experience and man is it always one hell of a time. As for my Mwalimu being the world’s biggest bad-ass, there’s really no way I could hope to describe his company’s performance I had the pleasure of watching last Friday night, but let’s just say that an evening full of dancing, drumming, fluting, singing, acrobatics and fire-breathing like they provided is enough to make even a grown man wet himself and cry out of sheer disbelief and enjoyment. It was hard enough keeping track of what Mzee Mbunju was doing from one moment to the next (be it drumming, singing his lungs out, playing the flute like a mad man, or getting his groove thing on) much less trying to fathom all the other craziness happening on stage, but I must say that they put on one hell of a performance (to say the least) and I can’t tell you how honored I am to be his student. And for those interested in knowing more about cheap Indian buffet, just know that it’s the closet to heaven I’ll ever get…or should I say Mecca? As for the rest of my life…like I said, boring. Well not really, but it’s time that I actually get on with publishing this damn thing and if I don’t hurry and finish now I’ll be late for the 5:30 showing of the Swiss murder mystery about falling rocks and sex scandal going down at the “European Film Festival” in Mwenge (sidenote: the Finish Embassy has sponsored a three week long Film Festival highlighting some of Europe’s finest cinematography in the last few years. Admission is free, popcorn from Cafeteria 1 is 100/=, and I’m pretty sure I’d fail all my classes if the festival didn’t end next week….and Finland proves once again why they’re the coolest country in the world). sidenote mbili: I wrote that last part last night (it’s Friday now) just before the internet cut out, meaning that I’ve already seen the movie (along with a French film that reminded me of Megan and a horrible Polish flick), am very sorry to postpone yet again, and am now again headed back to Mwenge only this time in order to pick up a shirt I’m having made…pretty sure it’s gonna be the sweetest shirt I’ve ever owned. But yeah, toodles for now because it’s time for me to embark on my Friday journeys, which like I started to explain will take me to Mwenge, down-town for some present shopping (wouldn’t you like to know who for?) and Indian buffet (give me a break, it’s been over a week), and then onto more adventures in hand-drum making. With any luck you’ll hear from me much sooner than last time, but for now please enjoy the new post and salama kabisa. I love everyone…except those who have already seen the first episode of LOST: Season 3…I hate you and feel that I won’t be able to talk to you for at least a month. Kwaheri!

Time for Part-Two of the "Two-Part Thriller" that is my crazy Tanzanian life/weekend in Bagamoyo: Good news folks (sort of)...due to the kungi on campus today (otherwise known as, in english, a 'student protest'.....and for even more new swahili words: university=chuo kikuu, and today=leo) classes were canceled, which has enabled me to have an excellent day-off AND find some quality free time to continue my ramblings about this past weekend and my safari to the Arts Festival in B-Town (sidenote: no one really calls it that, i just made that up...). As a preface to my B-Town break down, however, I should first clarify that aside from the deranged men with sticks guarding the main entrance to the Univ. and most classrooms on the main campus in order to prevent any student and/or teacher from entering/learning today, everything is fine, I'm safe, and while I really have no idea what the kungi is all about I'm sure it'll all subside shortly. In other news, after a cold shower and a little chapati this morning, I headed down to the Primary School for my first day of volunteering/teaching. I was warmly accepted and greeted by the head administrator and my mwalimu (which means 'teacher'....that is to say, the teacher I'll mainly be working with this semester)and was quickly wisked off to meet the students as class was about to start. After greeting "my class" and stumbling through a short self-introduction in Kiswahili, I took my seat among the Standard IV students (between the ages of 8-11..?) in order to watch my teacher at work and hopefully get an idea of how best I'll be able to assist her this semester with her English lessons on Monday and Tuesday mornings. All I have to say about that is that English is freaking confusing. Try explaining to an 8 year old whose first language is kiswahili the difference between take, took, taken, and taking and you'll know exactly what I mean. Props to these kids for tackling a subject like that, and may God have mercy on my soul. I'll be honest in saying that I'm a little overwhelmed about the task ahead of me, but am optimistic about the students' ability to at least get something out of my meek attempts at teaching them a subject I don't even know that well. I feel stupid for thinking all these years that other languages didn't make any sense, and equally as ignorant for having already significantly failed twice at learning a second language in my educational history. Not to mention my grammatical and structural knowledge of the English language in the first place is rather sub-par, to say the least. Oh well though, these kids are resilient as hell and definitely brighter than me so I'm sure they'll soak up anything I throw at them like a sponge. Anywho, after Primary School this morning, the rest of my afternoon shaped out rather nicely, what with a trip to Mwenge for some lunch/market perusing, a little sporting round of frisbee toss and a strawberry ice cream liter-binge with Sam, and a short nap; all making for an excellent day-off. And being that I came straight here (to the computer lab that is) from dinner (which tonight was a plate chalk full of fresh pinneapple[nanazi], banana[ndizi], papaya[same], oranges[chungwa], and cucumber[tango].....ummm delicious!), this blog post, along with a little late night naked-Yoga on the roof, should just about round out my kick-ass Monday. But yeah, about this past weekend....like I said before, this weekend (and actually all of last week) was highlighted by the 25th annual Music and Arts Festival going down in Bagamoyo (about 45 min. to an hour north of Dar) at the Bagamoyo Fine Arts Institute; a nationally recognized and widely attended event...even the President showed up for the opening ceremonies last Monday, although, unfortunately, he wasn't there this weekend so I didn't get to see him for a second time in as many weeks....bummer! I had originally planned on going with Arni, but due to Arni's all too sudden bought with malaria (pole sana Arni), I was forced to change my plans a bit and instead go with the small threesome of my newest Norwegian friends from the Univ. of Trondheim (Sigruun, Malvin, and Eileen...way cool, way Norwegian). We ended up staying at this really nice beach resort owned by this crazy French couple, complete with beach side bandas, a nice big pool, and French-style continental breakfast, and all for only 12000 Tsh. a person, per night...kinda felt a little spoiled but oh well. Anywho, the festival itself was amazing and proved to be one of my greatest/coolest experiences thus far. Each day of the festival featured a sufficient sampling of nationally and locally acclaimed acts on the mainstage ampitheater and offered a chance at buying/perusing a wide array of hand crafted arts and foods. Plenty of good times, plenty of crazy-African artists, and all for such a ridiculously reasonable price. The standard admission price, for example (which wasn't even collected during the day at most times), was only 500 Tsh.! The acts, ranging from dramas, choirs, drumming ensembles, live bongo-flava bands, and dance troups, were all very entertaining (although, some for un-planned reasons as I'll explain in a moment..) and proved to be some of the most quality entertainment I've ever experienced (although, the cold cement ampitheater seats were hard and uncomfortable enough to make even the softest and biggest butts significantly sore...but hakuna matata!) Anywho, there was entirely too much that went on over the course of the 2 and a half days I was there, so I'll just hit on the main parts... my favorite act was this group of dancers decked out in these crazy flailing palm tree leaves attatched to their waistes and shoulders and all decorated with what I think must have been traditional face and body paint. Sweet dancing coupled with an amazing percussion ensemble, and topped off with some slightly insane snake-antics......and by that I mean they brought out three of the largest snakes I've ever seen, danced around with them, wrapped them around their bodies, and I think one of the dancers even put one of the snakes' ENTIRE mouth and head inside HIS mouth....all while moving his hips and body like Shakira. Complete craziness, but very cool. The Saturday night line-up made for an equally entertaining as well as hillarious display of events. Most of the acts were utterly amazing, but some were slightly less remarkable and would have been down right dissapointing had it not been for the sheer hilarity of it all. First shout-out goes to the group of dancers whose performance was slightly altered by the heavily intoxicated gentlemen who decided it was a good idea to wander up on stage and proceed to shake and shimmy what the good Lord gave him in front of everyone AND in the middle of the dancers' routine and formation. To top it all off, no one (including the dancers who just continued to dance around him) made any kind of attempt to get the guy off the stage so he stayed up their, in the middle of everything, disturbing the poor dancers' performance for the rest of the song.......and then came back during the next number to "entertain" us some more, again uninhibited! Someone probably should have done something about it, but boy was it funny! Definitely turned an otherwise average performance into an all inclusive, quality chuckle-fest...feel kinda bad for the dancers though. The act two acts after that takes the cake, however, for funniest act of the night. For what was the only magic act of the weekend, and probably all week, I've decided that, despite its hilarity, Tanzanians should definitely stick to dancing, singing, and drumming and should leave the "magic" to Siegfried and Roy....minus the getting eaten by a tiger part. This poor girl and her less than intelligent sidekicks started off bad enough with a lame rope trick that even I could figure out and ended off even worse with a botched attempt at the "stick a person in a box and then pierce the box with a bunch of swords" trick. Not only did the routine take forever (while the same lame song repeated 4 times), but the freakin box fell apart midway through the trick, exposing her scrunched-up-in-a-ball-well-below-the-swords sidekick and the true extent of her "magical" abilities. I was laughing hard enough as it was, but for awhile I honestly thought Malvin was going to wet himself. Good stuff. As for the rest of Saturday night, which keep in mind lasted until 8:30am when I finally went to sleep, was highlighted by the raging-reggae rastafari drum-love "beachy fire" beach party. Basically, after the last act the party (including any and all who were crazy/kick-ass/awake enough to join) totally moved from ampitheater to beach-side bon-fire, and in less than 10 min. everyone was down at the beach huddled around a big bon-fire, enjoying various fine spirts/tons of marijuana, and jamming out to some quality drum beats and randomly improvised reggae/bongo-flava singing. Needless to say I joined in on the drumming action and found myself drumming side-by-side with some insanely talented (and some, not so talented and sufficiently high) and wicked crazy rastas for most of 6 hours. The temperature was perfect and the beach-side star gazing (even with the beachy fire) was absolutely supurb. Anyway, after sunrise I proceeded to jump in the ocean for an early morning bath, walked back to the hotel with Sigruun, took a shower (not with Sigrunn, however), ate some breakfast, and crashed for about 4 hours before catching a dala dala back to Dar in the afternoon. Not much else worth mentioning about Sunday, but I think you all can get a pretty good jist of my fantastically fantabulastic weekend. Time for bed now, but I hope this new post finds all in the best of spirits and warmest of moods. Much love to all. Badaaye.

Yo yo, what up peeps?, this be Z-dizz coming straight to ya'll from the TZ fresh out of Bagomoyo! ....not really sure where all that came from, but I'll blame it on the heavy bongo-flava/reggae influence my brain has had this past week...and boy what a week indeed! In a perfect world I'd write a new post at least twice a week so as to better inform you all of my wild and crazy Tanzanian happenings instead of settling for this once a week stuff; seems like there's always so much to talk about and not enough time/technology to do it. Hakuna matata though, we'll stumble through another "week in the life" together as best we can; only I apologize ahead of time if it fails to satisfy and properly cleanse your palate. So where to begin...ah yes, last weekend. I think I last left you just before I headed to the Kununduchi beach-party-bongo-flava-fun-fest-thingy last friday night. Interesting night, good times....let's proceed. Kununduchi Beach resort is what you might call a miniature Water World/Vally Fair (minus the rollar coasters, of course); otherwise known as a mzungu tourist trap, complete with water slides, kiddy playgrounds, an arcade, souvenir shops, and overly priced water. In reality, it actually looks like a pretty cool place to hang out at during the day, where as a night when they shut off the slides and close up shop it turns into an empty, ugly, trendy piece of poop. Only, open up some of the bars, set up a couple 100 tables, mark out a dance floor, hire some locally famed bongo-flava talent, and invite an entire University student body and you've got a party and a half. In general, if you can imagine, it was pretty crazy; tons and tons of college kids all scattered throughout this moderately sized water park stocked with enough food and spirits to appetize and intoxicate all of Luther College. What was even crazier, however, was the dance floor that by the end of the night had turned into a man-lovin, booty-shakin mosh-pit of bongo-flava goodness. I say man-lovin because, for reasons I still have yet to figure out, it was probably 93% male on the dance floor for more than 93% of the night, and in more instances than I can count I was either grinding, jumping, bumping or pushing another guy, who, to be honest, was most likely either drunk or high (or both) but harmless and tons of fun! And I say mosh-pit because, while it wasn't violent or rowdy, it most definitely wasn't dancing either. I know how weird, scary, and/or slightly homo-erotic this all must sound, but believe when I say it was all about the music. The place was way too packed and everyone was entirely too engrossed in the music and mood of the night to care who they were dancing with and what sex they happened to be. Bongo-flava is like a religion to these people, and even more so to the young adult Tanzanian male populous who'll spend more money, if they can, on a stereo and CDs than they will on food in a year. Anywho, after a good 4 hours of on-and-off-again dancing/food consumption, Arni (my trusty German companion) and I grabbed a Fanta for the road and headed back to campus around 3:30am; completely drenched in a mixture of our own sweat and that of our fellow dance-floor companions, and sore enough you'd have thought we'd ran a marathon. Like I said, it definitely made for an interesting night, to say the least, but I was a little disappointed with the false advertising. Not only were we NOT allowed to swim or ride the slides like the flyer had said we could, but the supposed beach volleyball tournament never happened......bad form. But yeah, after a Friday night like that, you can imagine that Saturday was kind of a slow day; not much worth remembering at all. Sunday, however, proved to be an exciting day as I got my new and final roommate, Paschal (which, everytime he pronounces his name it sounds like he says Pasco, so I just call him dude). Interesting guy, kinda quite, but nice enough and chill enough that I don't forsee there being any problems reminiscent of freshman year. He does, however, enjoy watching bongo-flava music videos and Swahili-translated Spanish soap operas on his brand new TV late at night and early in the morning, which is pretty freakin annoying at times......boy do I miss john. Such a classy selection of TV viewing and stereo listenings from that gentlemen, and so considerate. Love and miss you buddy. Paschal also has a desk-top computer and printer though, and while we don't have any internet access at the dorm, being that he's said I can use either whenever I want I'm sure his appliances will definitely come in handy as the semester progresses. Which is an interesting subject by the way. Kinda weird to be in a country like Tanzania thinking you'll need to prepare yourself for the simple life when all the sudden your new roommate shows up with more crap than you yourself have in your dorm room back in the States. And not that it's normal by any standard for the average Tanzanian student to be so well equipped for school, but I'm not lying when I say that every room on our floor has a TV now (and most, if not all, also have stereos, printers, toasters, fridges, and scanners, etc.), when obviously non had one before Sunday when it was just us international students living there. Not that I'm complaining neccesarily, and not that I don't think people should have nice things, it's just interesting to finally see the other side of Tanzanian life.... But where was I...oh yeah, in Tanzania preparing to talk about the rest of my week. I think I'll echo last week's post in saying that not a whole lot happened during the week; my weekdays so far have been rather tedious and boring what with the chaos and confusion of back to school beginnings coupled with the pole-pole (slow) Tanzanian pace of life. I did play frisbee twice, however, which is always worth rejoicing over as frisbee is the greatest sport in the world next to figure skating. If I haven't mentioned it already, I play with some local Missionaries from New Mexico and Texas every Wednesday afternoon (and sometimes Monday....like last Monday:). Kinda crazy, kinda disfunctional, kinda frustrating at times, but fun nontheless. There always seems to be a random and sporatic international-student following from week to week (Tanzanians arn't much for ultimate frisbee), but lately it's been a similar bunch so I'm hoping that a regular group of us coupled with the Missionaries should make for some good times this semester (and quality handler practice and good exercise for me if nothing else). As you can guess, the Univ. is still pretty crazy and classes are still a little non-existent right now, but I can definitely see light at the end of the tunnel and suspect that by the end of the week I'll have a permenant, functioning, productive schedule lined out for the semester. More on that later though... Even better news than that, however, is how freakin sweet my African Dance class is gonna be. I have to be honest in saying that after the first two "lectures" I was a little apprehensive about taking the course and was beginning to wonder if we were gonna dance at all. To my pleasant surprise, we had our first "studio sesson" last Thursday night and man was it kick-ass. Kinda hard in the sense that while the choreography in traditional African dance isn't neccesarily complex and/or "technically challenging", it's SO hard trying to move like an African in a way that shows mastery of controlled bodily chaos and fluidity mixed with overall sexyness. And boy is it a workout! Totally stoked about the class though. In other news, this is post is getting ridiculously long. What to do says me? Time to whip out the double post! We're gonna go ahead and publish this little ditty, let ya'll read up on the week so far, then turn around and hopefully find some time tomorrow to elaborate on our week in progress with another post, most specifically talking about my most recent weekend in Bagamoyo at the 25th anual Bagamoyo Arts Festival. Due to last night's all-night moon-lit rastafari "beachy-fire" drum session, I'm currently rollin on 2 hours of sleep, so until next time....salama. p.s. ocean water tastes better at 5am and breakfast tastes better when you haven't gone to sleep yet.....just in case you didn't know. oh, and sunrises in Tanzania...sweeeeet! badaaye.