17.11.05 - 18:52

This one's for Patty... I am OK! Just lazy.

I haven't written in a journal - neither this one, nor my personal one - for quite some time. I suppose that I had been both jaded and overwhelmed at the same time; I've lost the starry-eyed wonder that comes with a new experience, while being burdened by a mass of tiny, insignificant things.

Nouakchott is Nouakchott. I can not imagine thinking of it lovingly or with ownership, as New Yorkers and San Franciscans seem to do with their cities. Nouakchott is ugly and dirty and poorly-planned (like most places in Mauritania), but without the charm and hospitality of a village. I am loathe to leave my cosy little apartment to go to the concrete/sand jungle, where I am all too often prowled upon by hissing men and roaring cars. To accomplish anything, there must be foreplanning: a suitable wardrobe (throwing on a ratty old boubou no longer seems to work) and an itinerary, as each errand necessitates a certain amount of walking (unlike the compact center of Kankossa.)

I see Americans more than Mauritanians, speak more English than French. I've taken to listening to music with earphones as I'm walking long distance, so as to drown out the catcalls. I never did this in Kankossa; there were too many people to greet.

And then, there's food. I'm still not used to the bounty available in Nouakchott. I still have the village mindset, which was to gorge myself when there is good food available, as there was so often a paucity. I have to relearn the ideas of moderation and balance.

America doesn't feel like home anymore, and neither does Nouakchott. I suppose the closest thing is Kankossa... though when I go back after Thanksgiving, everything will have changed.

I am just so tired.

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