But.

I learned the French word for "goal." But.

I also learned the word for "to reach (a goal)," but I forgot it.

This week has been something I bitterly and affectionately refer to as "Fail Week." I'm on my fifth week into this adventure, and I admit it's been a difficult one. There have been the regular ups-and-downs, but maybe a couple stronger downs the past few days, what with the stress of starting to teach English next week, finding out that two of my classes switched their hours to conflict with each other, and also I feel pretty out of shape and awkward-looking with my slightly-too-grown-out short haircut. This all came after a really tough Sunday and Monday.

Sunday I got news that Nate Perkins, an old friend and somewhat of a spiritual leader in my life, passed away in a serious car accident last weekend. I really feel compassion for his life, and I wish I were in Springfield to give a hug, or at least get one.

Monday was a long day: Kira and I attempted an early morning trek up Le Maido, which is supposed to be a pretty impressive view on the western rim, 2000 some meters high. We woke up at 4:30 and took the first city bus of the day to the Car Jaune (inter-city bus) station, caught the 5:40 to St. Paul and arrived there at 6:12, only to find out that the ONLY bus going to Le Maido before noon had left at 6:00. Considering that the whole point of the hike is getting to the viewpoint before the clouds roll in between 8 and 10 am, we gave up on the mountain for the day.

Determined not to make a total waste of our Monday, we got back on Car Jaune to St. Pierre, on the opposite side of the island from St. Denis to wander around and see what this city has to offer. After a walk on the beach, a couple clothing purchases, and very long walk to NOT the bus station, then TO the bus station (Asking directions to the Car Jaune War/Guerre, rather than the Car Jaune Station/Gare=whoops) we finally got back on the bus home at 1pm. We hoped we'd finally get to see the interior of the island by taking the bus through the mountains, supposedly labeled "St. Denis par les hauts (by the heights)" Turns out that bus, the evil C route, is a three-hour jaunt up and down the exterior hills above the coastal cities. Gross. We got home tired, hungry, and very much defeated.

Speaking of defeat... last week I thought of trying to give up chocolate for Lent. I made it until 8pm of the first day. Last Sunday we went to a really pretty beach that is way better for swimming than the others I've been to thus far. The fish and coral were gorgeous and brightly colored, just like the blood that found its way out the top of my foot in SEVEN different spots from one very effective, comprehensive coral "bite." Ankle, top of foot, and all five toes on my poor little lefty all skinned. Aie. [The good news, though, is that the dreaded Staph has stayed at bay... or maybe at ocean. Either way, it's stayed there and not in my body.]

So moral of the story is? Next week, I declare, shall be better, starting tomorrow. Kira and I have plans to bus/hitchhike/hike to a Gite de la Montagne above St. Denis tomorrow afternoon, then get up really early Saturday to hike the 1.5 hours to La Roche Ecrite (Written Rock) for a view of the entirety of the Cirque de Mafate, then a four-hour return journey. Pray it goes smoothly, please. Alright, Fail Week, be over before we start this hike.

Now I'm just waiting to get to the "but."