Yassa Poulet

There are some extraordinary dishes here in Senegal, known for the perfectly spiced meats and rice. I must share this Yassa Poulet (pronounced yeah-saw) as I have become addicted to this meal.

Yassa Poulet:
10 limes
5 tbs. Peanut Oil
2 chicken bouillon cubes
5 onions, thickly chopped
2 (3 lb.) chickens divided into 8 pieces
1 cup water
1 habenero
4 cups cooked rice *See below special Senegal Rice recipe
Optional raisins and olives
S&P

1. Grate zest of all limes and transfer to a bowl with juice. Add 2 tbs. oil, bouillon cubes, onions, s&p, and optional raisins and olives. *Some restaurants also mix in pieces of orange and fruit.

2. Rub this mixture onto chicken. Marinate in refrigerator at least 2 hours. Strain chicken, reserving onion marinade.

3. Grill chicken, or sear in a pan, until both sides are crispy and brown. Do not cook chicken all the way through. Set aside.

4. Heat remaining 3 tbs. oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add reserved onions and cook, covered, until caramelized, adding 1/4 cup water at a time to avoid scorching. About 30 minutes.

5. Add any remaining marinade and chicken. Season with s&p and boil. Then simmer on low for 20 minutes.

6. When chicken is fully cooked transfer chicken to a platter with onion sauce. Serve with rice. Mmmmmm. Wicked good.


Senegal Rice (Nyankatang)
Most Senegal rice is made from African Djola red rice from Casamance and guedji (a flavorful dried fish spice). More than likely you will not be able to find these ingredients. A great substitution is to use basmati cooked in low sodium chicken broth.

The Count of Monte Cristo

There are only French channels on the cable TV here. I tortured myself when flipping through the stations and excitedly found an episode of 'Friends'. Shock hit me when Ross began speaking to Rachel in French.

For 3 weeks, I have not seen any television as our TV in NYC was packed early. I got a quick fix in NYC when I was able to watch the premiere of 'Grey's Anatomy' at our hotel. Other than that, nothing.

Evening hours in Dakar have been enjoyed with lots of reading, knitting, and long lasting dinners with Rich. The first few days were quite nice and somewhat 'cleansing' to exist without the 'boob tube'. However, it's been 3 weeks now and I would give anything to turn my brain off and veg-out to some TV.

Tonight is Movie Night at the Club Atlantique. The movie starts at 7 showing 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. We have absolutely no idea what the movie is about; all we know is that we are going to enjoy the sweet sound of an English movie....

Je m'appelle Madame Kelly

Today was day 1 of intensive French class at the Alliance Francaise. The 10 mile drive took over an hour as there was a lot of traffic in the middle of the day.

There are 12 students, with classmates from Germany, Brazil, Paraguay, Guinea, Angola, Spain and Gambia. There was another American, Alicia, who was born in Uganda and raised in Indiana. In fact, she arrived in Dakar the same day I did.

I knew that she and I would hit it off when it was my turn to introduce myself to the class in French. Alicia leaned over and whispered, 'You go girl'. As of yet, I have not found too many English speakers here in Dakar, and those that do have a beautiful and quite 'formal' tongue as it is usually their second language. 'You go girl' meant that she and I would be able to talk casually and relaxed, which is exactly what we did.

I had always wondered how language teachers teach a specific language without knowing the students native language. Now I know. Our teacher only speaks French. She talks and talks with lots of hand signals and drama to her French words. If you don't understand something you have to shake your head and she will further elaborate in more French that you may, or may not understand.

I have never been so lost. But, I found comfort when I looked around the room and saw 11 other blank stares with jaws touching the ground. At the end of class, Alicia and I left the building together and could not stop laughing. This type of teaching is called immersion; it is the fastest way to learn a language.

Classes are 3 times a week for 3 months. I have only been home and hour and have already completed my homework. Au revoir.

Elisa's Tote

Before I left NYC, some dear friends got me a gift card to my favorite knitting shop, Knitty City on 79th btw Amsterdam and Broadway. I found this lovely Euroflax yarn, which is strong and made of hemp and linen. Of course I bought green and purple (those of you that have been around me the last few years know that I am crazy about these colors)!

I am working on this market bag and will probably give it to our innkeeper when we leave the hotel. Ann is a lovely woman who has taken good care of Rich and I over the last week.

Above is a pic of the original pattern example from one of my favorite sites http://www.purlbee.com/ . The pattern is free and is quite fun with lots of yarn overs and k2g's.

Thank you Norah and Barb!

Here Comes the Sun...

The last few days here in Dakar have been wonderful. Things have really taken a turn. The airport trauma has finally left our systems, and we are both starting to see the incredible beauty in this foreign land.

Rich has surfed the last few days head high waves and is in heaven. We have both started to feel better about this move for various reasons...

• Our house is lovely. We are so excited to get it up and running.
• Our doctor here in Dakar is incredibly knowledgeable, caring, comforting, and reassuring with this pregnancy abroad.
• I have signed up for intensive French Language classes starting tomorrow.
• We have found an American Club for US citizens only equipped with a gorgeous pool and... lots of ENGLISH SPEAKERS!
• The traveller's stomach has left my system.

Not to mention one important thing: The Senegalese are EXTREMELY friendly. Once you leave the airport gates, people will wave and smile at you from across the road. Waitstaff at restaurants shake your hands and welcome you into their restaurant. If I could describe the Senegalese right now with one word, I would say 'friendly'.

Today for the first time, I drove around this city while Rich was at work. This may seem like no big deal...but to me, it was quite the accomplishment. There are few street signs here, I do not speak the language, and before today, I was scared to death of getting lost. How could I ask and understand how to get home? But, today was a success. I got my bearings, and spent a few hours cruising around with the windows down, ocean air filling the car, and rocking out to the most wonderful African music on the radio. I discovered many markets with local goods, some French bakeries, practiced driving to my French school, and even managed to locate Rich's office.

Today was a very good day. I think I am starting to appreciate being here.

ox

PS. Please know that if you visit us here, Rich and I will make sure we are at the airport before you arrive so you do not experience what we did:)

The Twins

2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 boys. 2 BOYS!

Reminders that you live in a Third World Country

Just a few things we have noted over the last few days we thought were quite funny...

1. A donkey will deliver your brand new refrigerator.
2. Some of the potholes are bigger then your bathtub.
3. Cars that should reside in a junkyard, don't.
4. Local fruits and vegetables are unrecognizable.
5. Dust, dust, and more freaking dust.
6. A simple errand can take hours. And hours.
7. The locals can't speak English but when they see your Martin guitar, they say 'Ahhh Martin'.
8. Yes means maybe, or yes, or no.
9. You can park anywhere you want. You can drive however you like.
10. Sleeping with a mosquito net around your bed is a necessity, rather than to have a stylish romantic feel.
11. You need to iron your clothing, even your panties, after it dries on the line outside to kill the bugs.
12. You can light a fire on the sidewalk to make tea in the afternoon.
13. You are encouraged to light your paper garbage on fire, rather then disposing of it.
14. You will not have an address, and will get used to drawing maps for people. No postal service either.
15. You may lost your routine parking spot in front of the office to a puddle of raw sewage.
16. People that make less than $10 a month can still have ocean front property.
17. The lights go our every night for a few hours, whether you want them to or not.
18. You will no longer wear your favorite perfume, as bug spray will be your new scent.
19. You will get used to sleeping to the sound of generators.
20. From now on, every time you get sick, you will not wonder if its simply a cold or flu, but rather if it's yellow fever, malaria, meningitis, or typhoid.
21. No matter how careful you are with drinking bottled water, washing fruits and vegetables, enjoying drinks with no ice...you WILL get travellers diarrhea. It hit me on just day 4 here.

To be continued.

Love to all,

Kelly and Rich

Welcome to Dakar

I suppose some would say that our homecoming to Dakar was the worst welcoming possible.

Despite the 2 hour wait on the runway at JFK, we managed to enjoy the 8 hour flight to Dakar with constant smiles and pure excitement.

Rich had carefully organized transportation from the airport to our hotel as he knew the Dakar airport experience was quite scary. He followed up with our hotel driver with numerous phone calls and emails to ensure a car would be awaiting us, and not vice versa.

Because of the 2 hour delay to our flight, our driver was nowhere to be found. Rich and I had 6 suitcases and a guitar between us to manage.

Immediately after leaving the baggage carousel, we were surrounded by 10 men who were touching our bags and wanting to 'help'. It's amazing, not one person spoke a bit of English, but all saw the guitar and said 'Martin' with big smiles. It was quite alarming to see all of these men touching our bags; Rich stayed calm and politely discouraged their help.

This went on for an hour and a half, and complete darkness. Please keep in mind, that I am pregnant (with ankles the size of watermelons), jet lagged, sick with a cold, and scared to death of the goings on at the airport.

Finally, as the sun began to come up, our driver finally appeared. All of the men began to run with us, trying to grab our bags....always touching them in some way to remind us they were the ones that were 'helping'.

Our driver's car was extremely old and full of dents and rust. The trunk had to be wired shut. This car would have been scraps in the US.

After we were all loaded, Siso, a local Senegalese deemed himself to be 'in charge of our stuff'. He was quite friendly, and we got a good feeling from him. He decided he would escort us out of the airport in the taxi along with us.

And that's when the yelling began. The men outside the car began to yell at Richard as soon as the engine started. Not able to speak French or Wolof, I could not understand a word. They would not let him, or Siso, shut the car door. The driver began to drive...slowly at first just to scare them away, then faster and faster.

Rich still could not close the door as these men were running with our car and hanging on to the car door for dear life. Eventually the men fell to the wayside and the car was able to slow down which I was quite relieved about as we were not driving on smooth pavement, but rather a dirt track. Dirt tracks are far different from dirt roads; they are quite bumpy, littered with rocks, wrecked from flooding, and full of pot holes the size of bathtubs.

There were 2 thing I prayed for in the cab after that. 1. Not to vomit. 2. Not to cry.

Resigned

Last week, I handed in my resignation letter.

That sucked.

I walked to the principals office twice before handing it in. Denial.

To most, it doesn't seem like a big deal. To me, it felt like it was the end of something truly incredible.

I was one of those lucky people that had a career that I absolutely adored. Being an art teacher at a public school in NYC is a dream come true. Making that dream come true of switching careers wasn't easy of course. Rich and I both made some temporary sacrifices that allowed me to get my masters in education to make this dream possible.

Teaching art daily to children under the age of 10 was heavenly. Not only do I have a thirst for art, but I adore children. They fascinate me. They entertain me. But most of all, they teach me.

Being a teacher is so much more than teaching a subject matter. Its about socializing children and showing them the human-ness in our world. It's about raising kids to be good, and being the best person they can be. Its about love, honesty, emotions, communication, and being a good role model to children.

On a daily basis I have helped children work out disputes, understand their emotions and behavior, helped children talk about familial issues, and encouraging friendship with each other. I have taught lessons not just on art, but about sharing, being kind, respecting one another, and communication.

During my years at PS 6, a beloved colleague, Eric Dutt, passed away. He was our science teacher, and was loved by all. When the students were told of his passing, grief and sadness poured through our classrooms like a tidal wave. All of us, were hit hard by this loss. The hardest part was consoling our children and trying to answer their many questions, while we ourselves were devastated and pained from the loss of our friend. The children were so young, and most had never experienced death before. The art room turned into a safe room, where students could come in and grieve, or talk about Eric and their feelings. As a teacher, I felt absolutely unprepared to help these children. They looked to us for answers with tears in their eyes.... There was nothing in a book, or an education class that could prepare you for this. Most of the time, a long lasting hug was the only answer we could offer.

My goal as an art teacher was to excite students about art and make everyone feel successful. My goal in the art room was to create a safe environment and a sacred space that encouraged creativity.

However, the thing that always meant the most to me...was for each child to know that I cared. When I told my 500 students that I was moving to Africa, a student raised her hand and said, 'But Ms. Valdmanis, nobody is going to love us like you did'.

I know now that I can't walk out those big red doors on Wednesday, knowing that I made a difference.

26.2

For 5 months, I have been banned from running. This may not seem like a big deal to some of you, but for me, it has felt like something in my life has been missing. There is nothing better, than waking in the morning and starting the day off with a nice long run.

My favorite runs were those when I was by myself, without headphones, with drizzle soaking me, and the repetitive sound of my sneakers hitting the pavement consuming me. My love/hate runs were those during marathon training seasons...squeezing in 22 miles along the Hudson was a long, straight, and boring run. Starting in Harlem, I would follow the Hudson along the west side of New York City, past Chelsea Piers, past Canal, as far as I could go. Turning around, I would retrace my steps and head all the way up to the Cloisters and home. Those runs mentally killed me but always left me feeling like superwoman after.

Running is my Zoloft. It keeps my head relaxed and makes me feel invincible. It is my therapy and keeps me sane.

Because I am a high risk pregnancy, running is a no-no. In fact, yoga and walking are my only escape. Anything that breaks a sweat is out.

After months of feeling sad about this 'ban', I realized this week why banning high impact activities during pregnancy may be a good thing. Thanks to the Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy.

1. Let's face it, no matter how much you exercise, you are still going to get HUGE.

2. Even though you may love showing off that baby bump, you will look absolutely ridiculous in your spandex to others.

3. The old expression goes like this, '9 months up, and 9 months down, NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO'. Hopefully that holds true.

4. You might endanger the pregnancy. In fact, I remember a friend of mine bragging about how she was 8 months pregnant and still took spin classes. Biting my tongue, I held back the word 'Idiot' that kept running through my head.

5. If something terrible happened to the baby after an aggressive workout, you will forever wonder if your desire to exercise caused it. This to me, is reason enough, to slow down and relax.

6. 9 months is not a long time to nurture this beautiful growing baby. You can give up anything for 9 months. So lets curb those addictions and think of that sweet little baby we are responsible for.

Last night, I dreamt of being a long run in Central Park.

Tomorrow, my Bob Jogger Stroller will arrive. Rich has 4 months to put it together.