Ov√° it

When I used to do silly things as a child, my mother would tsk tsk me, “Rootie Schtootie,” because schtoot in Hebrew means nonsense. Today I am Rootie Schtootie-ing myself on her behalf, because my idiocy / vanity has cost me my best West African adventure yet. (Though my mother – who is, to put it mildly, not a fan of my travels – will be thrilled.) Continue reading

the pleasures of uncertainty

jet trail

My lease is up this Friday, and I’ll be subletting apartments on a (crazy) month to¬†month basis so I don’t have to sign¬†a new lease that would¬†force me to¬†stay in the city beyond the end of my work contract. I’ve committed to leaving for Senegal within a month of the last day of my temporary – also month to¬†month – contract, which could be terminated¬†any time between October 1 and April 19. This means that¬†if I stick to my guns, I will be in Senegal in no more than ten months. (The hope is that by writing this in a public forum, I will stick to my guns out of pride, even if courage fails me.)

Apart from a¬†hefty dose of fear and dread, the thought of traveling¬†on a one-way ticket to West Africa also fills me with¬†a sense of freedom and excitement that I¬†haven’t¬†felt since right after college when I decided to move to Los Angeles on a whim, sight unseen, with one suitcase, without friends, without job prospects, and without knowing how to drive. That heady mix of euphoria and nausea is back, baby!

[Photo: Tarik Browne]

two weeks in a row, woot woot!

French meetup attendants

I made it to Meetup two weeks running, woohoo! Granted, I first wasted a half hour procrastinating across the street at¬†Macy’s, which is pretty much the most hellish place in New York City aside from Times Square. This says bucketloads about¬†how much I dread Meetups. Hopefully that feeling will subside once I make them more of a habit.

At this particular Meetup I spent most of my time talking to the two lovely folks above. One is the Chinese woman I had met¬†very briefly last week. Her name is Anney and I found out she works in financial services. The other guy is from Mauritania and he told me he would sue me if I used his name on my blog. I think he was joking but better safe than sorry. ūüôā

I was talking to him (let’s call him Pierre, because why not?) about our mutual love of West African music. Mine is a surface level love in that I only¬†listen via a¬†Youssou N’Dour Pandora station, and only once in a while – but I am transported when I do. Pierre¬†recommended Baaba Maal, who I’ve just spent the last half hour bopping along to at my desk.

For your own listening pleasure, I leave you with this gem: