Post 1.. its been two weeks!

I've been in Dakar for two weeks now. Already there is so much I could write about! Since arriving, my time, my thoughts, my curiosity have been filled, challenged, and expanded. Already I have done things I never thought I would. Yet out of fear of butchering these experiences, I will begin this blog from this moment - as I sit on the couch, below a fan, in a comfortable abode only 5 minutes from the Atlantic ocean, having only an hour ago swam her waters at the beach nearest my house. This beach is fantastic. Though she is not pristine and you would not find her listed in Travel Channel's list of best beaches, she is enhanced by vibrant activity and diversity every evening. Away from the waters edge are women preparing and cooking fish on the bbq's. Children run about, splashing in the shallow waters. Young men play a game of soccer on the sand. Others just sit and enjoy the view. A makeshift beach club, structured with what looks like driftwood, hosts a group of Senegalese men. Here they keep kayaks, paddle boards, and what nots. This is the group that has come to accept me and that has allowed me to fall in love with this beach.  Every evening this week I have taken part in their work out and swim. I  now get the head nods, the hand shakes, the "ca va?". During this time together we complete hundreds of sit ups and push-ups, and more... no exaggeration! They don't let me give up. They don't treat me any different. There is no talking. Its strict. Its focused, except for my occasional bursts of laughter as I struggle to lift myself off the sand. Only the one in command, a thick man with bulging muscles wearing a speedo and a baseball cap, gives orders and counts each set out loud. This man in command who appears so intimidating has an incredible smile, gentle eyes and is extremely welcoming. While he gets in my face if I lose my balance or let my feet touch the ground, its take all that I have to not to smile back a him, for I know his intensity means he respects me. Its dark by the time our exercise is over, we all jump in the ocean. I float and stare up at the mind boggling moon. Eventually we all slowly depart with the "A demain, insh'allah" (see ya tomorrow, god willing).  I walk home with Roch (my classmate), wet, sandy, and so soar but so happy. I take a much needed bucket shower. I attempt to wipe away the layer of sweat that has accumulated from the days unforgiving heat, to scrub away the sand that has wedged in those unpleasant crevices of my body, and to rinse away the not so clean ocean water that I throw caution to wind and swim in every evening.   
A demain, insh'allah