Fire in the Iron Hole

Of course I miss home, but perhaps never more than when I end up talking about that certian gem of culture that is so near and dear to my heart, the epitome of what it means to be American... Along with descriptions of the Ozarks' unpredictable weather, my love of folk music, Thanksgiving dinner, and all sorts of other aspects of my life at home, my new friends are always most amused when I start recounting my obsession with one of the most enjoyable places in the world: Silver Dollar City. I mean, come on, who doesn't love screaming at the top of their lungs "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" while plummeting downwards in the darkness? Still, I'm not TOO anxious to leave here just yet...

Last weekend was another successful randonee (hike), this time to Trou de Fer, translated as the Iron Hole. The five-to-six hour round trip is mostly made up of steep switchbacks overlooking the Cirque de Salazie, or else just pure mud once the terrain levels out, but the view was very cool. We actually hiked in a group of six, but camped with a couple other groups of our friends - something like 18 people altogether.

Another lovely aspect of the weekend was that to access Trou de Fer, you depart from Hell Bourg, a little mountain town that has been repeatedly voted the most beautiful town in France. Imagine a quaint, sunny little town with big, bright, beautiful Creole homes with open doors and
open windows welcoming the late summer breeze. We didn't spend much time there, but the drive getting there was gorgeous enough to make you drop your jaw (and twisty enough to make
you want to loose your lunch)... From these little towns in the Cirque de Salazie, you see the mountains towering dramatically above you with impossibly tall waterfalls barreling down the lush green cliffs. Then of course we got to see more of these incredible cascades from our point of view at Trou de Fer.


A few other highlights from recent explorations: Last Friday was a girls' day out to a sugar cane factory in St. Leu, the seaside open-air market in St. Paul, and the dinkiest little carnival I've ever seen. The carnival was an utter waste, but the rest made up for it!

You'd think the weekends here are cool enough on their own, but I have one more gem to add to my recent recollections: PLONGEE BABY. That's right, I went scuba diving. In the Indian Ocean. With my friends. For 10 euro. I was underwater for nearly 45 minutes total maneuvering over, around, and between the coral, and I saw half the fish from Finding Nemo, nearly touched a green turtle, and sat on the ocean floor! It was just as incredible as it sounds.

Okay okay, I promise I'm almost done... but one last great thing I did this week: booked my flight to Madagascar! A few of my friends and I will be spending 18 days in May in the incredible country that has some of the most incredible biodiversity on Earth. All this, plus the fact that there's only 5 weeks left of classes, and I think it's fair to say it was an excellent week.

A few of my favorite things.

I have:

no classes this week except from 7-9h30 Thursday morning,
sunburned legs,
a fully stocked mini-fridge,
a trail to Trou de Fer (Iron Hole) to hike this weekend,
less than 12 hours until I go scuba diving,
a gecko living in my curtain,
a chou-chou (US: chayote) to attempt eating,
and plans to go to Madagascar.

I have read the first two chapters of my new library book, Un Si Bel Avenir. I have organized my thoughts. I have resigned myself to no more than 2 more ATM withdrawals in the next three months.

I have good friends here.
I have been here for two months.
I have come to understand that this world is not so big as I once thought it, and I am invited to discover more.

Oh Good God

Seriously.
How do I forget?

I have learned HOW many times that God answers prayer? Still, I manage to have doubt. Always, always... How He's proved Him o'er and o'er.

Today was a very intimidating day for me. I returned to the first of three elementary schools I teach at during the week, harboring memories of a chaotic hour of twenty 5-year-olds flipping out and shrieking last Tuesday. Luckily (actually, blessedly) today's experience was entirely different. My Mauritian partner and I had a class for 35 minutes, with only 9 or so students. It was very enjoyable, except that one little girl refuses to do anything we tell her because she "doesn't want to learn English." Cool.

After that, I had a three hour lecture, which is never fun, but ended up showing 3 videos of religious rituals on the island, very interesting, then the class was let out 30 minutes early!

Okay... haven't introduced the scary part yet. I had an interview. With people I'd never met. Who don't speak any English. In their home. Which I'd never been to before. After dark. Intimidated, much? Actually I had zero difficulty catching the bus from campus that took me very close to their house, was able to follow the walking directions they'd given me perfectly, and found their gorgeous mansion of a home with 15 minutes to spare! Seriously, this house is what comes on postcards and what you imagine when you think of living on an island... palm trees lining the drive way, multiple stories, wood-floor living room with giant sliding doors that open onto the pool deck. The family was extremely nice, the children well behaved and eager to learn, and the mom even corrects my French (which is GOOD since no one else here ever does.) On top of it all, she drove me home. I start the job in the morning! What's cuter than a ten-year-old introducing himself to you, shirtless, sleepy, and kissing you on the cheek?

All of this, I'm feeling great... and I still have a couple hours of Bible study to look forward to! Woo hoo!

Oh, what the Dickens!

If you've seen the entirely-too-brilliantly-indie Zooey Deschanel/Joseph Gordon-Levitt film 500 Days of Summer, you know what I'm talking about when I refer to the split screen separation between Expectations and Reality.

Today (that is, if you count 1:28 am as still belonging to the previous day's date) triumphantly marks the six week anniversary of my arrival here a la Reunion. This means that I am precisely one-fourth of the way through my six month stay on the island. I feel both accomplished and flabbergasted, like I predicted this and yet was surprised nonetheless. It's kind of like waking up the morning of your birthday to realize that at this moment here, right now, you've just officially begun the experience of being your new age. It's really no different from yesterday, but the very knowledge of your new state creates a difference nonetheless.

A few things I expected, but have learned that only experience can truly teach:
1. Tropical islands are HOT.
2. Body odor is no more pleasant when it's your own. If anything, it's more unpleasant. [Take this as you will, but I really honestly didn't know what my own sweat actually smelled like until living here.]
3. Life is going on without me at home.
4. I am making friends here. Real ones.
5. Home is absolutely precious.
6. I'm learning a lot of French.
7. I have a LOT more French to learn.

Things I knew, but forgot to expect:
1.God still answers prayer. He also provides in tangible ways.
2. I'm still the same me. I get bored, restless, hyper, tired, stressed, frustrated, affectionate, lonely, and goofy at various times.
3. Social interactions are seriously difficult when you don't feel confident with language skills.
4. A city can look entirely different and have a different personality to you depending upon your mode of transport. Foot vs. Bus vs. Car = three different things entirely.
5. Frequent exposure to sun makes pale people tan. Or at least less pale. This process may be gradual, or else painful.
6. French toiletries work differently from the way American brands work.
7. When I read, it makes me want to write. Unfortunately, this does not apply to French literature.

So basically life here is really good, a little challenging, and altogether quite livable. I feel the most striking thing I've noticed is that, while living among all these people of such different backgrounds from mine, I see that there is nonetheless this incredible commonality between people. It doesn't matter who it is: another American student, a Norweigan student, a Reunionais professor, the man who sits under the big tree in his tank top, a runner training for the Grand Raid, a little London-born eleven-year-old.... I see myself in all of them, and them in me.

One last note before bed: I began my first week of teaching English in the elementary schools this week. Day one was pure chaos, but today went very well. I also found out (two notes then, I guess.) that the week after next, all classes after 1pm are cancelled, for some sports something. Didn't think I would be getting a spring break, but apparently I'm practically getting one anyway!