You just got to roll with it.

Last weekend was one for the books. It started Friday morning with our last French class. I love my French prof, Candice and she is sincerely one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, but its nice to have my Thursday and Friday mornings free to explore the city or cook with my host Mom. Anyways, in honor of the occasion, the French professors (terribly) organized this plan for us to cook a Cameroonian meal. I’m not exactly sure what they were thinking -- initially plans involved us killing a chicken, preparing dishes that take more than a day to put together, and cooking in strangers homes but we modified so that we just cooked in the apt. and prepared fish instead of slaughtering chickens. Highlight here was scaling, gutting, and cutting the fish. I’m proud to say I’m not squeamish and I’m looking forward to the day when I can use this new “skill” in the states. Felt like I was Bear Grills (Grylls?).

Then on Saturday, I picked up a dress Sarah’s host mom made for me and it is without a doubt the coolest thing I will ever own, even beating out my Quebec sweatshirt. It’s that great. It is a strapless dress and the fabric is a scene of the African landscape filled with lions, hippos, giraffes, rhinos. I definitely could keep writing about the dress, but that is 1. boring 2. superficial so I will stop here.

After picking up The Dress, Grace’s host Dad, Papa Martin, brought us out on...well, I don’t really have words for it...but it was nothing less than a tour of the city. First he brought us to this restaurant where we had the best salads. I use to hate salads, but now that I am thousands of miles away from pizza and buffalo fingers, salads are quickly becoming my meal of choice. Clear example of the positive benefits of study abroad. Then, he brought us around to his friends homes where we would visit for no more than ten minutes while Papa Martin said a quick hello. This is very Cameroonian to just stop in and say hi without much ado. The last home we went to was his elder brother which was incredibly different than any home I have seen yet in Yaounde. We were in the city, but after following a steep dirt road, it felt like we were in the village and the houses were made with wood with tin roofs and dirt floors -- a far cry from the cement and tiled homes of our host families. The family was so happy to see Papa Martin and with good reason. He is a well to-do doctor but his personality is that of a lovable five year old -- jumping up stairs one foot at a time and teasing everyone. He also adores Grace and when a men shouted “Madame!” at Grace, he shouted back “Pas Madame! C’est ma fille!” (Not madame, it’s my daughter!).

Finally, Papa Martin brought us to a “cow market.” These cows are not your pretty black & white diary cows, but look more like what I pictured ox to look like. Of course, I have no idea what the difference is between cattle/cow/ox so this simply me projecting my city-girl perception...But it was unreal to see these hundreds of cows just roaming a hill in the center of the city. Yaounde never ceases to surprise.