This bleach tastes like water! And other musings from just 1.5 weeks

Ok, so it is times like these that I really miss the beanery where I can sit, drink good coffee, and type on my own comfy computer. But cybercafes, as dirty and slow as they are, are not the worst in the world. I've been in Bangante for just about a week and a half. If there are some things I can say about the Peace Corps, it's that they actually really take good care of us now that we've begun. I've gotten some pretty good stipends so far, and they generally did a good job with the whole host family situation. So, my family: Mama, the grandmother to my siblings, owns a bar that is right in the middle of this compound near our house, but directly across from "la chefferie." Being the chief of the village. I can't say he runs this place, but he certainly has a large family with many wives, one of whom I have already managed to insult. I also have a little brother, a little sister, and 3 older brothers. Everyone is great, especially the little ones.

But boiling water to drink really makes me feel like I am asking too much. So I've resigned to just filtering and then bleaching. There is nothing like finding out the bad proportion of bleach to water but still knowing that it won't even really make me sick. So I've started emergen-C ing my water to make it more palatable. Although I'm not even sure that it really makes a difference, as I'm fairly certain I eat off of wet plates/snort water up my nose during bucket baths/and etc.

The issue of cleanliness is interesting. While many Cameroonians bathe multiple times a day, it isn't as common to find people washing their hands before eating. I am dirty according to Cameroonian standards, but I can't bring myself to augment my dry skin. Also, I got my hair did already. I now have a hairstyle that I liken to something out of Rugrats. But it'll be nice to not have visibly dirty hair, though I'm certain my family will notice. Another interesting thing is that we are in guava season!!! They are so good, and the best part is that Cameroonians LOVE green, unripe mangoes. This means that I only have to fight with the goats to eat the sweet, yellow ones.

Also, we were issued motobike helmets. Hoorah. This means I can ride a mototaxi if I need to. Only the day after we got our helmets, I realized, upon seeing a goat charging down the road after being scared shitless by a dog run into a mototaxi, that it is probably best if I stay off of those things for as long as I can. Besides, I'm really in no hurry as all I have to do is make it to class before 7:30 and be home generally around dark, I can take my time. Class is mind-numbingly long and if anyone thinks I want to go home to hang out in another french-only zone, you are seriously mistaken. I'd rather be drinking beer and eating popcorn/playing football.