Gorging

Today I have been reading David Sedaris, a hilariously good short stories writer. If you haven't read anything by him you either, haven't heard of him before, or don't enjoy laughing. As with most times that I read I am inspired to write similarly to that which I had been reading. I almost completely filled my journal with the description of the corn stalks in Mali after finishing John Steinbeck's “East of Eden”. And as I would love to think of myself as extremely hilarious, I have discovered however, that I am just very good at knowing what my family and close friends find funny. This tends to get me in trouble when I assume everyone has this same sense of humor at say, a dinner party of fellow volunteers and our Country Director (my boss' boss). At any rate, in a house where I usually have electricity and cable and screaming children to keep me entertained, I found myself bored enough to go to my emergency stash of reading. I am currently out of books to read and, because Sedaris is both hilarious and in short story form, I have been trying to savor the book by only reading a short story here and there with breakfast or before my afternoon nap. So today I gorged, I blame it on the rain.

            The rainy season has started and I am loving it. Except of course my clothes not drying all the way, the humidity wringing the sweat out of me like I'm a sponge, water dripping through the adobe tiles onto my face at night, being woken up by claps of thunder that feel like they will bring down the house and only having slightly reliable electricity for about 5 hours a day. But, hey, at least it's cool until about 8 am so I can get my morning run in. Today the rain started mid afternoon and I was ready for the power to go out but just as it seemed safe, I sat back to enjoyed an old episode of “The Big Bang Theory” only to have my host grandma busted in and tell me to unplug the TV immediately. Although it seemed like just another irrational nicaraguan-ism to me, like not eating limes when you are sick or not showering when you are warm to prevent getting a cold, apparently a house just down the street was struck by lightening because of the TV being plugged in and shattered all of the tiles of the roof. Because I could see the evidence around the corner and really it wasn't my house to gamble I complied and sat out to enjoy the storm rolling in. The quiet crescendo of drops and rolling thunder however were overcome by the unnecessarily loud evangelical church next store. Apparently they weren't worried about shattering tiles, with or without lightening. I am generally pretty tolerant of religion, even when it is almost pushed upon you with their outward, in the community practices but I really don't understand the need to broadcast bad singing and electric key boards. Although God may appreciate them in their own house of worship, a electric sound system that engulfs the whole neighborhood is quite unnecessary. Especially when it is at 4 in the morning, five days in a row, for two hours at a time. I asked my host family what holiday or event could possibly necessitate a 4 am church service for almost a week. When I was answered that there was none, they just wanted to pray to god, I retorted with, “Well don't they think that God can hear them during the day? I mean he is God after all.” Seeing as though the power wasn't going to conveniently go out so I could enjoy the weather, I retreated to my room, put in my much appreciated ear plugs and gorged on my bit size nuggets of laughter. Happy Rainy season everyone. 

Up swing

Despite what my friends and family might think, doing a third year has been harder than I thought it would be. I didn't realize how much longer it would feel. In addition to starting all over the experience has only been made more difficult when I see other fellow volunteers from Mali moving on with their lives back in the US. My friend from Mali, currently living in New York, came down to visit, and we had an excellent time. But when she left, it just reminded me how much I miss those friends I had made and how out of place I felt in my new environment. I was starting to have serious doubts as to if I had made a mistake in coming here. My work seemed as crusty as the dried up Nicaraguan earth at the end of the dry season. I had unexpectedly hit a 6 month slump. Slumps are tricky things. They are hard to spot, hard to avoid and, even once they have been identified, hard to fix. The business volunteers had yet another in service training planned and I was not looking forward to it. In the end however the training, and the return of the rain, are what I think ultimately pulled me out of my slump. I felt as refreshed as the returned green leaves on the trees lining my drive back to my town. I was able to look at my next 6 months and make goals and project ideas that I was excited about. It makes the remaining time seem more manageable. When I started to look at the list of things I want to do, the 6 months seem almost too short again. Life no longer seems stagnant and dusty, but busy and exciting. And as I looked out the window of the bus on my ride home with the volcano as the background I was reminded how full of energy I had been when I first arrived.

My house is full of 2-5 year olds who are always bipolar with their emotions, as those of that age tend to be. Crying fits suddenly burst into smiles, a party could end in screams of exasperation. During one of these flash flood of emotions I was reminded that as an adult I am in charge of how I feel about things, so I better start feeling happier or the next few months are going to be miserable.

I had a meeting in Managua, 10 am to 1 pm. After a short amount of sleep the night before, the 3 hour meeting, and the rushed 6 hour trip back to my town, exhausted I was greeted by a quiet town, because the power was out again, and food my host family had saved for me from lunch. I eagerly ate my dinner and with a full belly went to bed happy. It was good to be home, and I for the first time I truly realized I will miss them when I have to go back to the US.

Happy Birthday

There are tons of things that happen every week that I look around for someone else to find what is going on as ridiculous as I do, and then realize I'm all alone in that assessment and end up laughing to myself. Like the one time I saw a skinny man who spoke no English wearing a shirt that said, “I (heart sign) my curves”. Generally when this happens I think of you guys and make a mental note to tell you next time we talk, but of course my memory isn't what it use to be. I blame the malaria meds. Instead we talk about gossip and family and how I'm going to the beach again on a break from work. Well lucky for you I went to a anniversary of a high school with a note pad and this blog in mind. Apparently Nicaraguans find every possible reason to have a party. It's like being in college again, but less functional. Instead of having a super hero pub crawl just because it's a random Tuesday in January and we haven't gone out in awhile, it's a annual rodeo weekend that takes a week to prepare for, which of course means no school or work. At least the end of the pub crawl ended with us crawling to the library to print out a paper for Monday morning. This week's distraction was a high school anniversary in a neighboring town. We already had the one for our town a couple of weeks ago so I knew what to expect, lots of kids, no classes, fried food and, of course, a beauty contest. Really I can't think of a better way to say “Happy Birthday” to a high school than to parade awkward adolescences in front of all of their classmates in little skirts and judge them. And apparently neither can Nicaraguans. Actually a beauty contest seems to be the preferred activity for every event. I've already been to 4 and I've only been here for 6 months. Usually the contestants are 13-16 years old, skinny and really good at popping their hips to accent their cat walk. The pageants also usually invite the old winners to do a dance. Trying to get all the time out of these girls that they can. Today's event started with such group of girls doing a dance with short shorts, belly showing tops and a cowboy hat. Generally I would think this is awkward enough, but one of the girls was slightly heavier than the rest. I'm not trying to discriminate against fat people, but I know I wouldn't want to be in that outfit, well, ever. I couldn't stop staring at that one unlucky girl. And her belly kept winking back at me. It was like those jean commercials where the belly buttons are singing “I'm coming out”, only less singable. I broke my stare to look around and, per usual, no one thought it was weird. I had myself a chuckle and looked forward as the actual contestants came out. The pageant went on like all the rest, traditional outfit, “sports wear” which is pretty much just a sports bra and jean shorts, “fantasy” where the girls get to make their own dresses and at last the evening gowns at 11am. I didn't stay to see who won because the noon bus came and I was more interested in getting back for lunch. And that was my “work” for the day. Bonding with my co-teachers and learning a little more about the Nicaraguan psyche.

Hokey Pokey

So the week did not have a stellar start. The business adventure that I had embarked on with the women's group was not successful on Monday. They didn't sell all of their cupcakes and, from my observations, didn't really try that hard. As a result they had to pay for most of them themselves. Wednesday's class was out of control and the kids didn't seem to care about the material. They were shocked when I took away the notes they were passing and the photo album they had their noses in. Worst of all the teacher didn't seem to care either. On top of it all, my teacher canceled the class for next Monday because she's "sick" again. I keep trying to tell her, she's not sick, she's pregnant and they're called appointments, because you can schedule them, like for when you don't have class to teach.... Wooo sah, wooo sah. So I decided as a way to keep myself from spontaneously combusting, I would cancel English Club on Thursday afternoon and just take a moment to catch up on my reading. Just as I was easing into my hammock 6 little girls showed up at my house. "Carolina, are we having class today?" I told them no and thought they would just run a long, but they were persistent. I figured since I usually complain about not having enough work, I should take advantage of work when it is knocking on my door, or in this case surrounding my hammock. I changed out of my soccer shorts and headed to the school. Since I wasn't planning on having class that day, I didn't have anything planned, but I could tell these girls were pretty much starting from square one. We pronounced "Hello How are you?" and "My name is..." for about 20 minutes. When I could tell they were as done with that practice as I was we started with another topic, body parts. I asked one girl to draw a picture of a person on the board and then labeled the important parts. I could already tell their minds were saturated with "Hello, how are you?" so we ended the day with a fun song, the "Hokey Pokey". They put their left foots in, their left foots out, and really got into it when they shook it all about. I'm pretty sure they didn't memorize all of the body parts there and then, but then I also realized that wasn't the point. They did the hokey pokey and that's what it was all about. I know, I know really cheesy, but it really turned my week around. I can't make kids memorize all the common parts of the body in 5 minutes, or 5 hours, but I am helping in a little way and maybe not even in ways I can see now. And now friends and family that is what my life in Nicaragua is all about.

Rabayah's visit

Sorry for the lack of witty commentary, but I promise to have a wonderfully witty blog up shortly.

The Hat!

Somoto Canyon and other fun sights of Nicaragua

A brand new year, a brand new hat

Back in Nicaragua. It was a little harder to leave the US this time. Not only was my little sister telling me how awesome it would be if I just lived in San Francisco, and it would be, but I also had a crippling pain in my back which made traveling for 9 hours seem that much more daunting. Luckily I was able to sleep most of the way. I even got to practice my Spanish with a lady, sure to get lost in the Houston airport without me she told me, on her way home to Nicaragua. It was nice to chat for a little while, but as soon as I got back on the plane I was fast asleep again. I arrived safe and sound in Managua ready for a smooth transition back to my site, but my pain didn't go away so easily. After a few tests it was concluded that I had a UTI, but just to be safe I stayed an extra day to get an ultrasound of my kidney too. I was told by the doctor that I should drink plenty of water so it would be easier to see my organs, including my bladder. So with a full bladder I went to the doctor, only to have him push the ultrasound wand into my bladder making me have to pee. As I'm holding it in, he asks me to describe my illness to him in Spanish. At this point I had spent 3 days in Managua watching cable TV in English. The most Spanish I had used was in the Houston airport, but even at that he said my Spanish was good. I think he was just being nice, hoping I wouldn't pee all over his floor. While his assistant was typing up the report to be sent back to the Peace Corps, he explained to me that everything looked fine. Then he went on to tell me that I should get a hat, a large hat. My skin is very delicate, he told me, and the sun is clearly damaging it, he could see from the redness in it. I didn't really know how to respond. How does this have to do with my kidney? And how can you even see in the lighting of the ultrasound room? And more importantly, don't you know I hate hats?! Hate them, on me, on other people, in movies flying away inciting a romantic dash to retrieve it. Good riddance I say, let the hat fly free! So I got a hat. But I was determined not to spend money on a hat, so I just found on in the Peace Corps office. Of course it was the windiest day in the history of Managua and my hat flew off as soon as I left the building, but no romantic ran after it, just me, looking like an idiot who wears a hat on a windy day. I carried the hat all the way back to my site, only to leave it on the bus on accident. Maybe it was fate, but now I was committed to making this hat thing work. So finally I did the unthinkable, I bought a hat. I bargained the lady down to a dollar thinking she'd never go for it, and before I knew it she was shoving it on my head and taking my money. So now I have a new look, a new hat, and hopefully less skin cancer. Happy new hat!

In the Vos

This weekend wasn't great. I missed the bus to the city on Saturday which means I still don't have a phone. Staying at home, I was pretty bored and realized I haven't really made friends in the community yet. We did go to the river which was fun, but I got sunburnt even though I put sunscreen on. I watched way too much TV, in English and in Spanish. The only upside was that I didn't feel too bad about not getting anything accomplished work wise because it was the weekend. But after that nothingness of a weekend, I had a mini break through tonight with my host family. On Sunday night for whatever reason, my host family decided to ask me all those questions you usually ask when first meeting someone. We talked about my family, my education, plane ticket prices, future plans and, my favorite topic, Africa. I answered all their questions easily about myself and family. When we got to talking about Africa, I told them as much as I could and then, when my vocabulary started to fail me, I shared videos and pictures. All gathered around my computer to see videos of Dante dancing and the women making shea butter. It was great to share this with them, something unique to me, which is some what of a challenge being the 4^th volunteer here. There's the first volunteer, the one that is getting married to a Nicaraguan, the one that's already here and now the one that's been to Africa. The best part about the whole evening was the switch from formal to informal, something not as recognizable in English. They started using “vos” (what they use instead of “ch”) tense with me and dropped the “usted”, a sign of closeness. This was something easily adapted by the teenagers in and out of my classes, but until now had been reserved by my host family. With the intensity of the rapid fire questions and the excitement of African photos, I didn't even realize the “vos” until after we were done talking and I was on my way to bed. Did they just?....Yes they did I'm in the “vos”!

Blue skies!

My role as good weather fairy continues as I bring sunshine to Nicaragua. I was informed on our way to the capital from the airport that Nicaragua had enjoyed record breaking rainfall every day in the previous week. I prepared myself for the worst. On the news my host mom and I watched the floods that affected communities across Nicaragua due to the rain. In spite of this, I have yet to see rain during the day. It rained a few times at about 4am, but that was it. It's been beautiful and sunny everyday! But I heard it was a little rainy in the capital, but I didn't see any when I went in last Monday. I've been told that the region I'm going to is suppose to be the hottest in the country, but we'll see. It can't be worse than Mali right? Come to think of it, everything here must be an improvement right? I observed a class today that another volunteer was co-teaching. Afterwards we talked about the challenges and he's experience so far in his town. “So you have teachers that care about teaching? And they don't hit the kids here? And all of the kids have notebooks and pen? And they don't have to pay for school?” Other than large class sizes, I don't see a problem here. They could improve their class management a little maybe... I guess my standards are a little low. We'll see how long that lasts too. I'm sure my optimism will be dampened, just like the weather can't stay beautiful forever, or maybe it can... I'll work on it.

Also I have a phone finally. Let me know if you want the number.

And even though I am really loving it here so far, I do still miss you guys! I think about you guys a lot.

The Mali of Latin America, 2nd poorest but just as Awesome

Wait you guys have paved streets here....?

So how different is Nicaragua from Mali? Well other than being on different continents, they already seem figuratively oceans apart. Let me give you a comparison as an example. My third night with my Malian host family during training consisted mostly of my host mom miming everything from “You want food?” to “Do you want to throw water on yourself out of a bucket?” I remember singing “Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur” to the kids because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I couldn’t wait to get back to the other PCVs and speak English. The night ended with me lying in my mud hut thinking, “What did I get myself into this time?” At the end of all that, I ended up loving my time there.

And then there’s Nicaragua. On my third night, in Nicaragua, my host mom took me to hang out with her friends. This is where my Spanish was really tested. I justified a beer with the fact that it would improve my Spanish, which it did of course. So instead of trying to act out shower in mime, my widowed host mom and I joked about her getting a “gringo” boyfriend, me trying to translate Kenny G and then trying to explain in Spanish why I wanted to do a third year in Nicaragua. When asked, I found that I had already forgetten how to say amigo in Bambara. As it is only my third night I think I’m off to a good start. I can already see myself staying longer…. Sorry mom.

On to the Next Adventure

So as many of you know, I am going to Nicaragua at the end of the week. I know that I was slacking a little as I was leaving Mali, but with all new experiences should come newly enthused blog posts! My visit to Ameriki (last time I will use that I promise) was made amazing by many friends and family. I earned a few free beers and much needed shopping trips. It was like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into 3 weeks, minus Mindy's wedding which was just like a family reunion on the beach. Anyway... thank you all for your continued support and enthusiasm. I promise to stay safe and keep in touch.

Stay tuned for more.... but until then enjoy these facts on Nicaragua, now you know as much as I do!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicaragua

https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/nu.html

http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_985.html

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/country_profiles/1225218.stm

Closing Time

This last week was our “Close of Service” Conference. I went into it with little expectations apart from all of my training group and then some (about 60 PCVs) getting together and staying a a hotel; AC good food, a pool. In the beginning it felt like an over exaggerated high school graduation party complete with drinking by the pool and listening to old favorites. By the third day I realized that's what it really was. We were all just over grown adolescence unsure of our futures. The speaker and organizer of the conference started us off just like any speaker should with enthusiasm and random stories. She promised to make sure we knew by the end of the conference how valuable our service really has been not only to Malians but also to our own future. She was going to pump us up and make us even more self center than we could ever imagine, that is of course if we didn't make fun of her ice breaker games... Half way through the conference we started to make some head way on resumes and what to do with our futures and what paper work we have to do before we leave (one of the beauties of working with the US government). I was feeling pretty good about my resume and my future in general, as one of a few that has a solid plan for next year, and then we heard the career panel. The guests on the panel were obviously living abroad in Mali, and as RPCV (return peace corps volunteers) had chosen to work in development, all but one who was an international school teacher. I'm not sure if I want to live abroad or even do development work, but they all, including the school teacher, made it clear that it is near impossible without a graduate degree in something, anything really, and that made me reevaluate my position on furthering my education. Not now of course, but now the “definitely not” has turned into a “maybe”. I still want to have a better idea of what I want to do first.

As the days turned into hours I was in denial about my two best friends, Hunter and Rabayah, leaving. They both chose to leave early for different reasons, Hunter a Peace Corps extension in China starting now and Rabayah grad school. Although I, and most of my other friends, don't leave the country for another two months we were force to realize what the ultimate outcome of the conference was, the end of our time here in Mali. Of course Hunter was busy trying to finish all the last minute paper works and goodbyes, leaving the best for last, so it seemed so abrupt, rushed. The Peace Corps driver came 30 minutes early to take him to the airport, the only time something ever happens early in Mali. Because he was leaving from the hotel of our conference there was a large number of people there to see him off, but only a few of us were actually crying. And before we knew it our big white hunter was gone. Rabayah left not a week later. By then, most people had gone back to their sites so the group was smaller, but still the best of the best. More crying... Like high school graduation or even college, I know that the most important friends that I have made here will keep in touch but it's going to be harder since most of us are internationally minded. I am very excited to see my family and friends back home, and I know I am ready to leave Mali but I guess I wasn't ready to be sad about leaving, and maybe that's good. Maybe that will urge me to return, urge me to make even more of a difference somewhere else.

And now I go back to my site reluctantly. I don't feel refreshed or re energized to finish up my service. I feel more unsure and out of control of my last 2 months. I have seen two other services end and it's only 2 short months until I too will leave and that is a struggle not to dwell on, to not be overwhelmed by. But maybe Mali will surprise me again.

Every new beginning come from some other beginnings end, or at least that's how the song goes.

Paris

So with my busy months head of me, I decided to flee the heat and meet Mindy in Paris. It was a much needed vacation (my last out of the country was September 09) and I took a lot of wonderful pictures. They can be found on facebook with the following link:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/album.php?aid=2057001&id=17700453

Now it's back to the mangoes and hopefully our building will be done soon.

May not be appropriate for the easily worried... mom

Although there are a lot of drawbacks to not having internet or even electricity for that matter, there is one thing that I have come to really enjoy, the BBC on the radio. Every night at 8 they have "News Hour" and I frequently listen to it. Most of the time it's British soccer matches, something about the middle east and something about the EU or UN. Most of these things will not directly affect my daily life, but serve as topics of discussions to make me feel just a little more smart and worldly. Last night, however, was heavily weighted on African happenings. 3 of the 7 countries that border Mali were in the international news for political unrest. Niger, the latest to join West Africa's list of politically unstable countries was taken over by a coupe de taut. They took the president, who recently changed the constitution so he could stay in power longer, hostage and took over the national radio station to announce the take over. The African Union has temporarily suspended Niger's membership. A UN commission has just declared that the coup that over threw the government last year in Guinea committed crimes against humanity. And in the Ivory Coast, police shot people who were protesting/rioting in the capital. Now only 2 of the 7 countries are Peace Corps friendly, 3 politically unstable, 2 that don't give visas to US citizens and volunteers are prohibited from going to 3 of the northern regions of Mali. Don't worry I still feel safe. It would be as if I lived in Reno (a stretch of the imagination I know), and there were riots in Phoenix, crimes against humanity in SF, Oregon is still friendly, but the government in Salt Lake City was over thrown and Wyoming and Montana are controlled by rebel groups that kidnap white westerners for ransom and they are slowly taking over Ely and Eureka, but New Mexico it ok. The geography isn't a perfect comparison, but it's close. But don't worry, the Peace Corps would make all of us leave if anything remotely dangerous happened.

The Last 3 Months

The new group of Peace Corps Volunteers had just had their in service training, which I tried to help as little as possible. Before I knew it, it was the holiday season. I wasn't constantly bombarded by peppermint mochas or Frank Sinatra that usher in Christmas starting after Halloween, so I had to work really hard to get myself into the holiday spirit. I started by taking a long trip to meet up with some of my favorite people in Mali. I took Peace Corps transport from Bamako to Mopti. Other than the ac not found in public transportation, this turned out to be not as convenient as I thought it would. The Peace Corps bus was actually slower than the Malian bus due to the unnecessarily long stops and the frequent detours. But after all of this I arrived at Rabayah's house in time for a late dinner made by Dave and his sister. The next morning we went up to Dogon Country which is completely different than the rest of Mali. After speaking and getting use to knowing the local language in and around my village, it was strange to have to depend on my limited French as the Dogon don't speak Bamabara. Christmas day we had dinner at a small campement with our group of 10 and 2 PCVs from other countries traveling in West Africa. It is amazing how just being fellow volunteers instantly builds comradary. The next few days we spent hiking through the Dogon villages. Even though I had done a hike similar to this before, it was still breathtakingly beautiful. When I imagined living in Africa, this is what I had pictured. Afterwards we made our way back to Bamako for New Years. We opted out of the Lebanese sponsored booze-fest and instead had a nice BBQ at Hunter's. We rang in the new year with Malians, music and meat. After the New Years, work started to pick up and it seems like the last 3 months have flown by. We receive the first wave of funding for the Shea Production Center, but of course it has taken us 2 months to actually start building. Village politics prevented us from building on the land that was previously given to the women from both the mayor and the chief of the village, but after many village meetings and endless waiting, we broke ground! Currently we have foundation rocks and gravel but are waiting on cement. They have dug out the perimeter of the buildings and the surrounding wall and it is all starting to take shape. My homologue is more than excited. As I expected she is being very professional and motivated in all of this. I still trust her more than anyone else in Mali. I do feel like this is more her project than mine, which ultimately is the goal of a Peace Corps Volunteer. While all of this was going on, Hunter and I did our own project. In the mid January we held a “Take Our Daughters to Work” camp. We had 16 girls and 4 chaperons from surrounding villages come to the regional capital. They participated in various team building activities, did a work shadow, went to a technical school and went to the zoo in Bamako. Although it was a huge group effort, I was stressed out the entire week. Even now I am shocked that it all went so well. When all was said and done, I put together a packet to help volunteers in other regions hold their own camp. From that I know of at least 6 other camps being held around Mali.

Hot season is in full swing. I'm taking 2 showers a day, maybe should be 3. I'm now biking to and from my homologue's house instead of walking 15 minutes in the the hot sun. Last week it was up to at least 106 degrees everyday and the chilly morning was down to 77 (thank you grandma for the outside thermometer). My favorite part of the week is when I buy ice at the market and make an iced chai and hide from the kids in my hut. Although hot season seems terrible, it brings good things too. I now sleep outside with my host family which make me feel more apart of the family. Although the grandma wakes us all up at 1 am to go sleep inside. Apparently the "bad things", robbers, spirits, donkeys, are only out between 1 am and the call to prayer from the mosque, 5am. And before I know it, we will be practically swimming in mangoes! I will be able to buy a pile of freshly picked 8 mangoes for the equivalent of 50 cents, and that's considered pricey. I will be making plenty of mango jam and dried mangoes that will hopefully make back to the US this time. But most importantly for us stir crazy volunteers, hot season justifies a trip to the coast. This year, after everything has settled, I will be going to Ghana, Inshallah! March is going to be action packed with the International shea conference and at least 2 other “Bring Our Daughters to Work” camps. Then there's easter, another training, and before I know it, it's my birthday, cinco de mayo, and then the Ghanian beaches and the best sushi in west africa! I just have to make it through 2 months of ever increasing heat...

"Take Our Daughters to Work"

A Dogon Christmas

I know it's the end of February and I am just now posting Christmas pictures, but better late than never right?
For Christmas we went to the Dogon region of Mali . We did a hike to see the villages in the cliffs! Enjoy