Bouvette?!? Oui!

Since the first 9 weeks of Peace Corps life are intense training, they bring in intense trainers who are current volunteers to help! Luckily, these people understand what we are going through and know just the thing to make us feel better: a few beers and lots of complaining. After training today (Tuesday July 27) we walked down the street to a local bouvette (read: shady roadside bar) and actually got to hang out and distress a little bit together. Our days basically consist of intense language and technical training and then sleep so it was a needed relief. It may have been the deux grand Beninoise talking but I really do love most of the people in my staging group for one reason or another. It’s actually kind of surprising how many different types of people and personalities are in our group. I was really worried before I came here that I wouldn’t be able to find people that I could connect with and I’m not really worried about that anymore, which is nice.
After a few hours at the bouvette I figured I should head home since it was getting dark and I cannot even express how many times we have been told not to go out at night. I discovered very quickly that a little alcohol can take you a long way in breaking language barriers. I had to take a Zemidjan home. Zemidjans are these motor bike taxis here that drive real fast and are pretty cheap. You have to “discuter” or argue for a price with them though and that it quite difficult with a limited French vocabulary. But, non, with a few beers, I am almost fluent! I held up my hand, hailed a Zem, and convinced him that he indeed wanted to take me to the school by my house for 200 CFA even though he suggested 300. I also was able to ride a Zem for the first time without being scared shitless. I was so calm on this Zem ride that I even had a moment of deep thought in which I considered how surreal it was that I was riding on the back of a Zemidjan in Africa going home to a family of Beninoise Muslims who spoke Hausa as a first language. After I got off the Zem I had to walk a few blocks to my house. Conveniently, the group of Mamas who I chat with on the road were out so I could try out this new and improved me on them. It was a success! Then I went home and chatted up my family like never before. My sisters appeared to love me more than ever and my mama was glad I was using more French.
This amazing evening came to a skidding halt when my dinner was plopped down in front of me. It was pâte. Pâte (pronounced “pot” ….cue jokes) has become the bane of my existence here in Benin. It is a pasty corn meal business that has the consistency of disgustingly dense mashed potatoes. I have not yet come to love or even like it. I have eaten it twice and gagged like 20 times in the mix. It doesn’t help that it is typically eaten with an accompanying sauce that is slimy and stringy and looks like boogers. I will have you know that in the space of several weeks I have become dramatically less picky about what I eat, but pâte has not made it off my hit list yet. What?! A plate of spaghetti noodles with mayonnaise on top? Wait? Is that a plate full of super spicy whole fish (eyes included)? I’m down. I have managed to convince myself that the mayo spaghetti is just like a casserole that my family makes at home. I even play a little game with myself where I see if I can make myself like something by making pleased noises as I am eating it. That doesn’t work. Saying “yum” and “mmmmm” while eating something you detest just serves to make you bitter and to convince the people around you that you do like the food and that they should make it more often. One thing I do love here is the chicken, the avocado sandwiches, and the bread. I love the fresh made bread they make here. It is delicious. There is a lady that sells avocado sandwiches from a stand near my school and they are delicious. I don’t even like avocados and I am sold. The chicken here is probably the best chicken I have eaten in a while. It is so tasty. My family often gives it to me with a plate of rice and red sauce that they make that is made out of onions and tomatoes and spicyness.
Note: In addition to the cocktail of shots I am receiving I am also eating about 3 oranges a day, so if you have fears about me going pirate and acquiring scurvy you can rest easy. I may be at a high risk for various parasites and “monsters inside me”, but my teeth shouldn’t be rotting out due to a lack of vitamin C.
Second note: After dinner I had a talk with my maman in which she gave me a curfew (8 o’clock) and told me not to come home drunk. I wasn’t sure if she added the “drunk” part because 1) the volunteer they had last year was maybe a drunk, maybe they think all Americans are drunks, or perhaps because she smelled alcohol on my breath and assumed I was drunk and that’s why I was so chatty. Either way it was super awkward and I never want to do it again.