I think that, perhaps, 7 weeks is a little too long. I am experiencing what may be called burnout. I am tired. I am stressed. I am not motivated to go out and do anything, which is unfortunate. I realize that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and that I should make hay while the sun shines and all that jazz. And yet, all I want to do today is curl up with a book (a book that's not about hate and the end of civilization) and drink cold water and listen to all the music I didn't get to bring with me.

I have been experiencing a sort of low-level culture shock the entire time I've been here. It's not a shock so much as a constant awareness, a constant jostling between my expectations from life and the reality of this place. Even very small things are subtly different, and being constantly aware of differences is exhausting. Awareness is something that we exercise selectively. I can't be aware of everything all of the time, but that's exactly what I've been trying to do for the past few weeks. I want to be able to relax. I want to be able to turn off my brain and not have to worry about offending anyone or making a fool of myself. I want to be around people who know me, people I don't have to explain myself to or guess what they are thinking.

I want to go home. I know, I know. I'll be home soon enough, and it's great that I'm in The Gambia. I kind of want to call home (or Paul) and be pitiful on the phone, but the time difference is iffy. I don't even know how I'd call. There aren't any landlines around here, and I don't want to borrow someone's cell phone for a call to America.

Whatever. I'll get over it. It's all in my head. I'm sorry to have such a whiny post. I hope the next one is more optimistic, for you and me both.