Heaven is a place on earth...

...but you leave with mosquito bites and dirt in every possible crevice. A little more than a week into our time, and we've gradually sunk into a routine. My work at Bridge Nursery School is going well--I love the children, and I know most of the names in my class. Names from Brian, Irene, Melissa, to Farashia, Queenie, and Ninali, (which means, literally, "to have God," from Nina, which means to have, and Ali, which means God), and distinct personalities to match. My Swahili is improving slightly, and I can now ask someone their name, say hello, how are you, fine, thank you, crazy cool like a banana, and, stop, please get off me. This last phrase is especially useful in the school. Many children come up to Madison (a girl placed with me from Miami) and me, and touch my hair, and are particularly fascinated with my watch, which is a novelty item as Tanzanians run on a completely different clock. They tug on my hair, skirt, shoes, and fingers. I've already developed a deep affection for a few.
This weekend, many of the younger girls in our program took a trip to the Hot Springs, a local and tourist destination an hour and a half from Moshi. Our van arrives, with stickers and pictures of Jay-Z, Kayne, Lil Wayne, and other rap groups plastered onto every available surface. Our two guides and cooks love loud music, and the bass was shaking the car, drowning out all lyrics for the entire drive.The first half hour was on paved roads, which are infested with speedbumps and contain no traffic lights or limits. We then turned onto a dirt path that snaked its way though the rural countryside of desert Africa, passing hut after hut, and miles of uninhabited bush. After finally arriving, I almost kissed the ground, and swore to never ride in the very back of that van again. We were brought to our campsite, stationed next to a crystal blue lagoon, with monkeys and bushbabies hiding in the trees, and locals staring from the bank at the troop of white girls in one-pieced bathingsuits. We swam for an hour to scrub the dirt off our bodies, and swung on the rope swing into the perfect water. Later, Lydie, I and a few other girls went adventuring into the desert, searching for elephants, due to a faulty tip from some mischievous Swedes. We then drank boxed wine into the evening, ate better food than I've ever had while camping, and danced to hip hop on folding chairs. We woke up the next morning at eight, and went on a scorching hike to visit waterfalls and caves, and cross a bridge out of an Indiana Jones movie. We returned, jumped into the beautiful abyss again, tried to get a little of the dirt off our bodies, and headed home, bass still pounding across the safari land. Unfortunately, some of the girls, me included, have over fifty mosquito (or some insect) bites all over our ankles and feet. I'm running out of hydro-cortizone cream, and am very uncomfortable. Hopefully, they'll get better in the next day or two.
Still haven't had a chance to upload my posts from the past week; I'll put them up soon.
Looking at the top of Kilimanjaro, visible for the first time since our fateful bus ride: the harmony of celestial ghosts, the oblong expansion of stardust.