On Monday, classes got out at noon, and so I arrived at R's house (where I live) at about one. I didn't see R when I came inside from the chapa, but after setting my things in my room, I found her in the backyard eating pasta with two men or boys. I have a hard time telling he ages of people I've never met, especially in a place I've never been. The guys were chatting with R and stopped when she got up to get me a bowl of pasta; then, they began talking to me. They were shelling peanuts from a large tub - B-Roy, age 18, and T, age 15, I soon learned. And soon, so was I, talking all the while, eating pasta, and shooing the roosters who came looking for food.

B-Roy, R's brother, spend the rest of the evening with me. We talked about the school system in Mozambique, he helped me with my Portuguese homework, and we visited his girlfriend's house, where we played guitar and ate bananas from her tree.

I went to bed that night reassured - not only of my own ability to integrate and interact in my new environment, but also that I enjoyed that environment. By taking part in some normal daily activities - shelling peanuts, playing guitar, eating bananas - I was able to glimpse life beyond, "Where on Earth is Mozambique?", "Woah...two years is a long time." and "I know exactly what you should bring with you..." For the first time in weeks, I took respite from the pending uncertainties of leaving, the discomforts of living in transit, and the pressures of training. It felt good.