24 Hour Party People - Part One

If there is one thing in Cape Verde they know how to do, it's throw a party. Festival season kicked off with Cocouli back in May, but the REAL event was in June, at the Festa de San Joao Baptista. Yes, that's right, all this excitement and hullabaloo over a saint. Officially, the festival started on May 30st with activities for kids and soccer tournaments, but the festivities kicked into high gear the week of the 15th with live music in Abufador (a zone in the city of Porto Novo). That lasted 4 nights, starting usually around 9pm and continuing until...uh...well after we went to sleep.

But even THAT didn't constitute the REAL festival, seeing as the ACTUAL saint day wasn't until the 23rd. So the weekend before, the entire zone of Abufador turned into a street party (though the street itself wasn't blocked off until Sunday, but what's a few cars driving down the road amongst a group of festival-goers, right?). Much like other festas, San Joao consists of lots of walking around, lots of food vendors selling grilled meats and french fries and drinks (out of little make-shift shack type restaurants and bars called "barakas") and lots of general craziness. On roof tops, discos magically appear for festa goers to dance the night away (by which I mean, around 2am folks start to GO to the discos and dance til dawn), there are fashion shows in the racinda (sort of like a small stadium) accompanied by live music some days, including big acts such as Gil (zouk singer that everyone loves here - we were too cheap to spend the $1000CVE to get in).


Our friend's aunts baraka (you can see how dusty it was!)

During the day, you can visit these same baraks and also ones that sell clothes, sunglasses, shoes, jewelery, sort of a flea market with both cheap products from China and stuff that has been sent over from Brazil and America...which probably were also made in China. On the weekend (19th - 21st) there was an agricultural fair, where - I hope you're sitting down for this - we found BROCCOLI! Now, it might have been the WORST broccoli I've ever had in my life, totally bitter, but we were in heaven. Santo Antao is well known for their cheeses, grogues, ponches and liquors (the last three all being forms of alcohol, btw) and some of the producers have learned some great marketing principles and bottle their wares quite nicely. We bought a few unique flavors of ponche and liquor, including passion fruit. We also had the privilege of trying bolacha liquor, which was AMAZING, and chocolate as well - sort of like Bailey's style drinks. Bolacha, btw, is a type of cookie/biscuit (Tarantellis - think Italian nothing cookies). Most days as well there were horse races by the ocean. We generally skip these - let's just say that animals aren't always well cared for here and leave it at that.


The agriculture fair




So we spent the days of the weekend shopping and doing agricultural stuff and the nights dancing our butts off, and come Monday...we were exhausted. We TRIED to head in early, but then my counterpart insisted that Monday was the best night! There was the Desfile de Grupos de Sao Joao! Huh? So out we went, no idea what to expect, other than it was "sort of like Carnival!" and we'd be walking with this group...er...ok...well, each zone that chooses to designs a float, has dancers and women walking around with fruit and statues of saints on their head and palm leaves, and everyone is danced in "old" aka traditional clothing of long black skirts (or pants for the men, with the pant legs rolled up), white blouses and lensus on their head (long scarves that you wrap your hair in).


Getting ready for the Desfile de Grupos

They dance in pairs, in sort of a...4 4 count...sort of like...er...well they walk up to each other, taking big steps, and then raise their hands and jump forward, slamming their pelvises into one another. I am so not kidding. Then they back up, some spin around, and then repeat. It is QUITE the site to see. Men do it with men, women with women, and men and women together.


Dancing the Coladeira :bump:



And here's where they randomly plop a church down...check out my counterpart with the drum...and the dude in the yellow - BEST outfit EVER!

Oh and one other thing. At ALL the festas we go to, there is always someone in the procession wearing a boat. Yes, WEARING a boat. We have tried to get to the bottom of this phenomenon to no avail. We've come to the conclusion that it must have something to do with the whole living on an island thing, especially before there were planes. We're still looking into it. In other news...my counterpart has enlisted yours truly to help with choreography for next years festa in our zone (Armazem). Stay tuned...


The boats

But wait, there's SO much more!

I know by now you're asking yourself "Wait wait guys, if you are out til 4 or 5am every morning at the disco and dancin' in the streets, and then getting up for daytime fun (oh yeah I should mention the heat here was in the 100s during S. Joao so there was no sleeping past 8am)...WHEN do you SLEEP!? Well...we asked the same question to several of our friends and co workers, and the response was always the same: SO FESTA!!! "So" in Kriolu means "Only" and "festa" of course means "party like a rockstar." So there you have it: no sleep, just party. And that is literally how it is. We tried really really hard to nap, but how could you when it was 114 degrees out? I think by Tuesday afternoon I was actually in tears I was so tired and hot and miserable...but of course Tuesday is the MAIN day, and we haven't even gotten there yet...

Tuesday is the actual Sao Joao Baptista day. What exactly does that mean? It means that everyone piles in cars at 7 30 in the morning from Porto Novo and heads up to the small town of Ribera das Patas, where we meet up with an actual statue of the saint and then WALK back to Porto Novo. Or, if you're like any reasonably intelligent (and lazy) person, you walk to Lagedos and then take a car the rest of the way down. So we did! Tons of people were there, lots of drumming and a couple of stops along the way for food and drinks (if you were fast enough to get your hands on it) compliments of the local government. We walked, we took pictures, we saw dancing in the streets, we bailed. Tried to finally take a nap but no, 114 degrees would not allow it, and so we struggled through the day (I think I took 4 showers that day) in order to party it up, again, at night. Of course that night was the biggest of the nights and we stayed out for all of it. Or at least all of it that I could stay awake for - I have a vague recollection of falling asleep at a table...the next night was more of the same: lack of sleep during the day, dancing all night until FINALLY, the final night of the festa arrived: Dia 25 de Junho, Sao Joaozinho, where the Saint returns to his home in Ribera das Patas to chill for another year.


The procession from R. das Patas to Porto Novo


Saint JB, up close and personal

That nights event was up in R. das Patas, and...of course...we dragged our butts up there around 4 30 to check it out. It was definitely smaller, but more intimate and more fun. We saw more people we knew and had fun laughing and talking and drinking and dancing. That day we actually sort of got a nap in at another volunteers house (sort of) and headed back out around 11. Little did we know...

Because we'd gone up so early, we grabbed a backpack with clothes to change and my contacts, glasses, random stuff. Because we were in Ribera das Patas, it never occurred to us that it would be a bad idea to take said backpack down to the party with us. We were obviously mistaken. After wandering around talking with friends and having a grand old time, we went up to one of the roof top discos (yep, they had them in RdP too) to dance. I was dancing with our friend Chuky when I saw Josh walk by with our friend Nany...and an open backpack. I grabbed him and looked inside - they'd taken almost everything. It was the most random assortment of things too: my glasses, my sun glasses, my make up case (?), our pen drive (damn), my brush, Josh's PC hat, Josh's shorts, his shirt...but they didn't take everything, and I still don't know why they took things like my comb...but alas, for the first time in Cape Verde, we were "cash or body"'d.

The expression "Cash or body" or, as they say it "cah sho baw dee" sounds like it is: it's what muggers say when they want your stuff - gimme your cash or I'll take your body. But people, especially in the fora (countryside) use it for any sort of pickpocketing etc. Apparently what happened to us, several young gentlemen from Mindelo (our friend described them as rastas) circled around Josh from behind without him knowing it and then unzipped his bag and robbed him. Because there were so many of them, they were able to cut him off from our friend Nany and cause a distraction so no one could either notice or stop them. Nany saw it happen (that's how we know who it was) but because he had been cut off from Josh, couldn't do much. Plus...they took his picture (Nany's), which is what they will apparently do as a threat, meaning If you tell who we are, we know who YOU are.

Okay this all sounds far more sinister than it really is, though I suppose I could be wrong and maybe it IS really that sinister, but in the end...it WAS the last night of Sao Joao after all...and there wasn't anything we could do about it...so we found a friend of a friend who had a baraka and stashed what was left of our stuff and went back to the disco to dance our cares away. And dance we did! It was probably (post theft) one of the most fun nights out I had had to date. There is nothing like being with a group of 10 Cape Verdean friends in the midst of a packed crowd dancing together, especially when you are the only white people there and you really, really like to dance. I admit it, we like the attention, but then again we like the attention we draw when we're dancing in America too!

Around 5am we took a Hilux home (open backed pick up truck with benches) and fell fast asleep. Thus ended what is truly one of the largest saint festivals in all of Cape Verde, and we could not have been happier.

Stay tuned tomorrow for another exciting episode of "24 Hour Party People." In the next installment, Dove and Josh go to Mindelo for a 10 day vacation starting with Love Feria and ending with the huge music festival Baia das Gatas!

Life's little pleasures

Well it's been a couple weeks since our last update, guess it's time for a new one!

Summer is in full effect here in Cape Verde. It is HOT, but usually not unbearably so (most of the time). Kids are out of school, folks are at the beach every day, and our new youth center is in full swing.

I've started working several days a week at the center, where kids ages 3 to 10 come to hang out and do structured activities. Mostly they do art projects or put together puzzles, play games etc. I've started teaching them English and will be starting a more structured program next week, with each week having a Theme and each day doing an activity related to the Theme. Next week is "ME!" so they will start out by making name tags that are decorated with pictures of things that could describe them...for example if they like music they could draw music notes, or books if they like to read.

I have a meeting on Tuesday to see about other activities I can start doing for older kids. It seems like the center was designed for a younger audience, but it seems a shame for that space to not be used to benefit the whole community. We'll see what we can do.

Josh is still plugging away doing programming for the Camara. He's also working at the youth center behind our house, teaching one of the women that work there basic computer skills so that she can teach other people (sustainability! ).

Last night, we were treated to a wonderful meal (and REAL wine!! OMG!) by the Country Director of the Millennium Challenge Corporation (a big deal in American foreign development work). It was wonderful to sit down and speak with him, about everything from development work to language, women's studies to wine. A big thanks to our Country Director Hank for mentioning our names to him, it was such a pleasure.

Today was a pretty big day - there were 3 "inagurations" today, all related to agriculture. The biggest one is right at the city limits of Port Novo and is sponsered by the Millennium Challenge Corporation . They'll be opening a cold storage facility that will help preserve the food that is grown and harvested on our island. In addition, there has been an embargo on the food produced on Santo Antao for the past umteen years due to a millipede problem. However, with the new facility they will be able to treat the produce, allowing it to be shipped and sold off island. Pretty cool.

The other cool thing about today was that here we are, in an African country, and on stage giving speeches is the Prime Minister (who we got to meet and speak with for a while) and the President of the Camara (local government). The PMs political party is PAICV, whereas the President of the Camaras party is MPD. In America, maybe this is commonplace, but looking at the history of many African countries, it's an amazing testimony to the democratic process in Cape Verde to see this.

The new volunteers arrived on July 15th, which also means that WE have been here over a year now. I honestly can't believe that I haven't been in America for a year - how fast time flies. We're still thinking about extending for a third year if we can, as long as we have enough work and projects to keep us busy and contributing to our community. We really do love it here (most days). It gets harder to blog though, as life here seems to be, well, normal to us. Trust us, there is still lots going on, we're just used to it by now.

Last month was the Festa de San Joao Baptista, but that will have to have it's own blog entry (I'll get on that). Its high festa season and we've been thoroughly enjoying them. Next week we head to Mindelo for a big party, then a week on the beach, followed by Baia, a huge music festival on the beach. It should be pretty crazy, and we're psyched to get away for a bit.

So, I guess that is it for now. Oh yeah, thanks everyone for the KoolAid! And in case you didn't know, my mom is coming October 2nd to visit for two weeks. WOOHOO!

Gus Gus

I hate to have to write this blog…but our baby Gus Gus died last Monday. We think that he had a bowel obstruction, no doubt caused by one of the many things he liked to eat while playing in the street or in the house. He was really the best puppy and brought a lot of happiness into our lives. He was not even 5 months old when he left us, far too short of a time for us to love him.


Our beautiful baby boy

One of the saddest parts of this for us is that you all will never get to meet and know our little guy. I know everyone must say this about their beloved pets…but he was really the coolest, most amazing dog ever. We wanted to share with you some of his amazing qualities in hopes that you can get a little taste of how great he was.

Our little guy on his first day with mom and dad

I met Gus when he was in utero I guess, and then again when he was only a week old. When he came to us he was the tinyest little thing. It took about 10 seconds for us to fall in love with him.

Our first meeting

Before too long he started to become our little “pog” (puppy-dog) and then “duppy” (dog-puppy). He learned to potty on his paper when we said “fazi shee shee” which in Kriolu means “go potty.” He learned to sit pretty, mostly in the hopes of getting our food, and when we said “mon” (hand) he gave us his paw…sometimes both. When he barked, we would tell him “kala boka!” which means, literally “shut your mouth.” He would bark again, softer, and still softer when we said it a third time. We couldn’t help but laugh. He was just so smart (and sneaky – he knew he could get away with anything).

Helping dad build his playpen

He loved to sit with us and on us, especially on his daddy’s lap when dad was reading. He was a good reader, helping dad turn the pages and point out where dad had left off…he never chewed our shoes (thankfully) but managed to get into everything else. He always loved to be near us, even when there were other dogs around (except his girlfriend, Feya, who was about three times his size). He liked cooking with mom, or rather sitting under my feet while I cooked, but I think that he was just hoping I would drop something. Actually, Gus had a thing about sitting. It was like he was never content sitting just on the floor, like a normal dog. He liked to sit on things. Like when we were sitting on the couch, he’s sit on our foot, like it was a chair, or he’d sit on our leg or really any part of us, so his hindquarters were elevated above the rest of him. He’s sit on bags or rocks or the power adapter, anything really that was above an inch tall, if he could, instead of just sitting “normally” like a puppy on the floor. It was as if he couldn’t fully accept that he was a puppy and instead though he was part human, and used everything he could to sit in like a chair.

Reading with dad

A new chair!

He was smart and industrious and it took us numerous attempts at a play pen before we could construct one that he couldn’t climb out of. That only lasted about 2 weeks, until he was big enough to just jump out of it. When we doubled the size, he figured out how to push it aside, and when we reinforced it, he just climbed out. Fortunately he was big enough at that point to let have a bit more freedom than his playpen.

Escape!

He loved his Kong, an indestructible toy we had mailed to us. I tied a rope to the end of it and used to go “fishing with him.” I’d launch the Kong and it would bounce and he would try and latch onto it. He always let me take it from his mouth without so much as snapping. He loved playing fetch with his little tennis balls (and he almost caught on to how to bring it back to us so we could throw it again) and tug with his “UFO” as dad liked to call it. Before he completely destroyed it, he would latch onto it and dad would run him round in circles til he got a little dizzy.

Recently he had taken to talking with us – making weird noises, not barks, like he was really trying to make human sounds. He made us laugh all the time. He had just learned the trick to getting to sleep with us over the past few weeks – at night he go into his kennel (all we had to do was lead him there, he never argued) and after a few hours, he’d whine a little. I reached over and let him out and he went right to his paper to potty, then would come back and look at dad to pick him up so he could give us kisses and squeeze between us to sleep. Of course our wiggle worm couldn’t stay still and kept us up most nights…that was ok though, it was worth it.

He was so different than all the other puppies around here…we taught him early not to bite, and so when the other dogs would “fight” with him, he always lost. We taught him to be calm when we tormented him a bit, by pulling on his ears or tail; we figured that it would prepare him for when we had kids and they started pulling on him – that way he’d never bite or even care much. When our friend came over with her baby, he didn’t mind when she poked and prodded him. He was a protective little guy, and every time he heard someone come into our building, he’d give us fair warning (until we told him to be quiet…then he’d give us another warning, just quieter).

Our little protector

Everyone in the neighborhood, and the city really, knew and loved Gus. If we went out without him, they all wanted to know where he was. I’m pretty sure they all like him better than us, or at least they all know him better than us. We took him into the grocery store with us – he had a human girlfriend there that he loved to see. He wasn’t very fond of mom keeping a tight rein on him when we were visiting the fish ladies – he would have rather been eating them (the fish, not the ladies). All the kids loved him even if he didn’t respond too well to them, and even the adults laughed at his antics and wouldn’t let the other dogs be mean to him.

He loved to watch movies with us…or rather he loved to stomp on the keyboard while we were watching movies. He didn’t need a leash, he always just followed behind us and came when called. He loved the beach but not the water. He wasn’t too fond of other people and was even scared of the neighborhood chihuahua, Simba. That was pretty funny to watch. His other favorite thing to watch was the girls, our guinea pigs. They were introduced at a young age, so they weren’t afraid of each other, and Gus always tried to sneak into their cage. We kept a close eye on him…and he sat outside their cage and kept a close eye on them too. It was pretty funny to watch him watch them…and he liked to eat their hay too. We never quite understood that, other than he liked to eat pretty much anything. Except ants, he wasn’t a fan of ants. We aren’t either.

Wishing he could play with his "sisters"

He used to sit so pretty, sort of with his legs to the side on his hip, and he’d cock his head at us and furrow his brow, deep in contemplation. He wore that expression often. One of his ears was “broken,” meaning that it flopped differently than the other, not so upright. It was just one of the things that made him awesome. Like many dogs here, he looked like he had Cleopatra eyes, lined with eyeliner, and it curled out to the sides and up toward his forehead. Also like many dogs here, he had 6 toes on each of his back paws. They looked so silly flopping about, but it was just another thing that made Gus, Gus. He was the most beautiful little boy.

Sittin' pretty, even at 2 months

Probably the funniest thing he did was sleep on his back, with his lower legs stretched out and his upper ones sort of flopped over and his neck totally leaned to the side. It always reminded me of a chicken. I can’t imagine how in the world that was comfortable, but he slept like that in his kennel, on the floor, on his pillow, on the couch…such a clown. Then again he could never stay that way for too long, he liked to wriggle around too much, getting up, walking around for about 10 seconds, flopping down again. I timed him once, he didn’t stay in one position for more than 28 seconds.

His favorite position

We called him, in the true Cape Verdean fashion of having multiple “nominias” (nick names) Gus Gus, Gus, Gustopher, Gusolupogus, Wiggle Worm, Worm, Stinker Butt, Monkey, Buddy, Bud, Pupper, Baby Boy…his dad loved to say “Such a puppy!” or “Such a boy!” as if there was anything else he could possibly be. I kept trying to get him to use an adjective in there, but it didn’t stick.

I had a special bond with my boy, but so did his dad, and both our hearts were broken when he left us.

When he was sick, we took him to the vet in town, who said he would be fine and that it was nothing. I knew the next day it was something more serious. He wouldn’t eat or drink and wasn’t going potty. I think we were in denial that it was a bowl obstruction because we knew that without surgery he probably wouldn’t make it. We went to the vet every day to try and help him…they told us that there were no vets with x-ray machines and no one to do surgery. We called the capital city to talk to the vet there, and they said the same thing. We had been all packed and ready to fly him there…but there was nothing we could do. We fed him water with a syringe to try and keep him hydrated, thinking that would be the worst of his problems…We stayed by his side day and night, not wanting to leave him, for four days. Monday night I knew it was bad – he was too weak to throw up any more and I told Josh we needed to sleep with him again.

He started to mess himself…at first I hoped so much that meant he was better. We took him in the shower with us, and before we had finished cleaning him up, he was gone. We buried him the next day on the beach by the ocean. I didn’t want to…I kept thinking he would wake up and give us our morning kisses. He didn’t.

Gus was like a baby to us, as silly as it sounds. Animals can be “pets” or they can be your little furbabies. I do feel a bit foolish comparing him to a child, but he came into our lives and stole our hearts in a way that I think surprised both of us. I can’t believe he is gone and that we won’t have more time to get to know him and love him, and that you all will never get the chance to fall in love with him either (as everyone did that met him).

Sorry for the blubbery post, I just wanted to share our joy and pain with you.

-Dove

Should I stay or should I go now? or...the Art of Txiga-ing

"Bzot kre mais um ponche?" he offered, the strong sweet liquid already starting to pour into the glass. "Si!" Josh replied; "No obrigada, m ti ta toma feria" I said...I'm taking a vacation. From alchol, that is. And so we sat, Josh sipping his ponche, me trying desperately to hold Gus in my lap; he wouldn't stop freaking out over the chiuaua Simba who, although twice his age but only half his size, would not stop mounting him.

This continued for about 20 minutes, with sporadic bursts of conversation intertwined, mostly about work and the upcoming huge festa, San Joao. Our neighbor, Arlindo, who had invited us to "txiga" was telling us about his band that would be playing on Monday night, and how we should come. And how it would start around midnight. On Monday.

"Txiga" technically means "to arrive." As in "Nos txiga!" - We've arrived! But as with all languages, there are nuances and alternate meanings, and txiga also means to come over and sit and visit for a while. So when someone says "Txiga, txiga!" and motions for you to come towards them, it is an invitation to hang out for a while. It's sort of rude to turn them down, although as typical Americans we are generally hurrying to and fro...except it's not like there's really anywhere to go in a hurry. It's something we're learning to adapt to.

But we have yet to really master the art of the txiga. Maybe it's because I talk so much, or because in America we like regular streams of conversation, but I find it sort of akward. Here you are sitting in someones house, usually with the tv on, and no one is really talking or you talk in short bursts but not about anything in particular. Small talk...but really, really small talk. And lots of misunderstandings, or at least a degree of difficulty exactly understanding what each other is saying.

"When is your group playing?"
"Last Monday, in Paul."
"Oh, ok so when do they play in Port again?"
"Monday."
"So they played in Paul last Monday and in Port this Monday?"
"No no, just in Port for the festa."
"But the festa is next week..."
"Right, we start early and someone will play every night in the praca."
"Oh down here?"
"No, the other praca."
"Ahh, ok."
*end*

It got even more confusing last night because apparently, in our neighbors first floor, the Camara and some other NGO's have build a community/youth center, with one small room that has computers and chairs for classes, and another open space for youth. I tried to figure out who paid for it, who was involved, who would be doing programming, what sorts of stuff they would be doing, how he was involved, why it was built at his house...I think I got most of it...but I'm mostly confused by the following:

1. The project somehow involves the Camara.
2. The project somehow directly involves my Counterpart...you know, the one who never has work for me or time to work with me.
3. My Counterpart is apparently involved in setting up programs.
4. My Counterpart has never mentioned ANY of this to me.

*sigh*

But I digress, as this is about the txiga.

The artful portion of this for a foreigner is how to exit. At what point is it rude to stay? At what point is it rude to leave? How does one gage this, and how does one artfully rise and exit? They already think we're nuts because we eat dinner at 7pm...apparently 9pm is a better time to eat and they think it's funny when we get up to go make dinner when we're hanging out on the street outside...or txiga-ing. But when you are sitting around, akwardly in someones house that you really only know in passing, and the conversation is halting at best and for the most part you are watching Portuguese soap operas on tv...well...what happens next?

I don't know. I'm not sure I'll really ever know. It's like the whole toilet paper thing - if you aren't supposed to put the TP in the toilet, but there is no waste paper basket to throw the TP into, where do you put it? (the answers I've gotten were "on the floor behind the toilet" or "in the toilet anyway." Verdict is still out on that one.) So in our akward foreigner way, we said we should go so we could feed Gus and plus he was being a total wiggle worm. They also thought that was funny, that the dog had a feeding schedule.

Oh well.

Ti logu,
Dove

Happy Birthday to MEEEE! (well, almost...)

Sooo...Friday is my 30th birthday. Just thought I would remind everyone, which might prompt some of you to actually send us an email or comment on the blog (*cough* hint hint *cough*). Just sayin...

Also, I've had a couple of you lovely readers ask me what stuff we need on our little island. We're pretty set here, thanks to the bi-weekly spice-and-snack contributions of my mother, who apparently has nothing better to do with her money than spend it on me (of which I am eternally grateful). However, it's always fun getting "stuff" from folks, so here is a super short list:

1. Kool-Aid packets! Just plain ol' Kool-Aid, those $.20 packets, in most flavors except maybe apple and grape. Oh and Purplesaures Rex. Never did like that one. Nothing with sweetener, we add it here. I'm not a big fan of the uber sweet stuff we have here, plus you can make a mean cocktail with some Kool-Aid and sweetener.

2. Flax seed meal. As some of you have followed my expanding and then shrinking waistline (btw I'm down almost 25lbs now), I've started using flax seed meal a lot. I think Wegmans sells it in the Nature's Market for $5.

4. OH! Adding another! Unsweetened gelatin. So much you can make with that.

That's it, I think we have everything else we could possibly want.

A "for real" blog update coming your way soon...

Making progress (Josh)

The old soccer stadium

A few weeks ago we had the pleasure of seeing a couple construction projects actually see an inauguration. Oh and how they love their inauguration parties. Especially when it's a soccer stadium. Nothing brings people together here like a game of soccer. So when the new beautiful stadium with artificial turf opened it was a big deal to say the least, and we were curious what it would be like. We were told to show up at 10 am and there would be a tour of the new stadium and so we did. Sure enough a fair number of people wandering around and checking out the new shiny stadium, but no real festa. We waited around in the heat for about 5 hours with nothing really going on but a steady growing buzz of activity. Then there was an announcement that everyone had to go outside for the ribbon cutting. We thought, great this is it! As everyone was piled around the flag poles that held oversized soccer flags trumping even the country flag, the ribbon was cut and we asked, "Ok, now what?" A youth soccer game of course, to come before the official game. Oh ... well since arriving, we've decided that soccer really isn't our thing, and to sit through two games, let alone one was a bit too much. So we decided to call it a day, a little disappointed that there wasn't more a party but glad to see a major construction project come to completion where so many languish. Oh and we came to find out later that we left at a good time, as we also missed a lengthy speech in between the soccer games that "officially" inaugurated the stadium; they like their speeches too. I guess some things are universal!
The new stadium

That brings me to our second construction project that was completed and inaugurated just two weeks later: The first paved road on our island. After our lengthy day of wandering the stadium and being underwhelmed by the activities, we decided to sit the actual inauguration of this one out, thinking the cool festa portion would take place later. This time the choice was not so well advised. It turned out that there was the mother of all parties at the end opposite end of the road, and by the time we decided to go, everyone was already there partying so getting there was out of the question. Ah well, that's life.


The new road

We've enjoyed the road since then. Just this past weekend I went with my counterpart and a group of others from the Camara to a "beach" (a place where the ocean meets land that isn't a cliff side). We had a cookout and just relaxed for the afternoon. Who knew that squid was such a grilling delicacy? Who knew I'd get so harassed about not having a "picania?" (ie a girlfriend on the side)

As far as my work goes at the Camara, that's making progress too. They have actually started to do some serious data entry in the program that I created for them after I gave them an update and opened their eyes to what the application could do. I love to see the excitement build as they roll ideas around in their head about what else it could. I've even taken the opportunity to publish some of the internationalization objects I've created for dealing with different currency formatting. (http://www.djangosnippets.org/snippets/1525/) It feels pretty good to be doing what I'm actually GOOD at while I'm here.

Anyone have a spare webcam?

So we have discovered the wonders of using Skype with webcam, talking with my mom today. We'd love to be able to chat with her and anyone else using video, but before we purchase a new webcam, does anyone have one that they're not using anymore? If so, we'd love to borrow it for a while!!!