31 July 2007

like echoes or ripples on pond.

I met a prostitute tonight. Walking down the road trying to hail a cab, one pulled up next to me and a young woman stuck her head out the door. She was very blond, quite pretty, and wearing a high-neck overcoat in the 90+ degree heat, which can only mean she was concealing an outfit not fit for Ammani streets. She said something in Russian, a language I recognize but don't speak (Nick, where are you when I need you?), and when I looked bewildered, she asked in English, "Where is the Rasputin Club?" Not being a frequenter of brothels, I didn't know, so she went on her way. Turns out, it's one of the lowest of the low down by the university, which is not a neighborhood you'd associate with anything positive. I met a real live prostitute. Combine that with the disturbing number of Holocaust deniers I've met here, and it's been a half-year of new experiences.

My friend James, the Peace Corps volunteer who just left, is having allergy issues with his malaria medication and is sick and alone in Benin. Send some love his way.

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