I’d like to think that I do a fair job of keeping my blog real. Before leaving for Trinity, I remember reading a study abroad report submitted by now Boston Globe columnist Kevin Cullen, who advised all American students bound for Ireland to “remove the shamrocks from your eyes.” He was right, and indeed I went to Dublin without any expectation of encountering Darby O’Gill or retracing my roots. Ireland met (and exceeded) my expectations.

In Dakar I’m trying to maintain for you that same level of realism. There is no Lion King-esque landscape (head for east Africa if you want animals) and I don’t try to shield you from the obvious disparities that I encounter each day. It would be too hard for me to take strategically-framed photographs depicting only Disney-approved beauty, and I’d be flat out dishonest in doing so. Instead, I like to talk about the everyday things that pass for normal. Like this:

The sign pretty much says: “Be kind, don’t throw trash over the side of this scenic vista so that it rains on a magnificent house of worship.” This spot is one of the most picturesque in Dakar, and yet this sign was still deemed necessary to put up.

And while we’re speaking about trash, this is how my body feels at the  moment:

You didn’t see this subject coming did you? That’s right we’re talking about my digestive tract.

Since moving to Senegal I have experienced more bouts of “I don’t care if I ever eat again” than I ever have in all my life. Perhaps this is a product of getting older, and no longer being able to throw down a night’s worth of fish and ships, seven pints of Guinness and a deep fried Mars bar for a nightcap. That’s all followed by a mid-morning wake up that calls for an Irish fry that someone told you soaked up all the badness from the night before.

I can’t do that anymore- but even when I could, I never had any complaint from my iron stomach. But now, that’s all changed.

Man, why didn’t somebody tell me I’d be moving to an orange country?

I don’t really need to tell you that among some of us toubabs, this evil stomach trauma is lovingly referred to as the ‘Hollywood Diet’: “I’ve lost 5 pounds in 24 hours by eating this unexpectedly toxic combination of food!” This has been my exact Hell over the past day, and the side effect of walking around like a dessicated lizard certainly isn’t glamorous. 

But bathroom horrors are just another aspect of living here- and that’s why I keep a stash of nuuns and Immodium to keep me hydrated as well as mobile. You have to take the good with the bad (and yes, I believe that this is about as bad as it gets) if you want to scratch past the veneer of Wikipedia and really experience something. 

And there’s still plenty of crazy food out here for me to try. Just not today. Instead I’m going to go look for some rice…