It was a summer of muddy commuting, bars with messages like "enjoy your salf" painted on their doors, guys with names like "culture" and "bass man" and living in a hostel where volunteers would watch entire seasons of Sex in the City while soaking their fungal infections. Coming back to site was culture shock all over again. I barely recognized the path to my home, where corn and millet were growing above my head. The kids all screamed when they saw me. I'd forgotten half of the language and it hurt to carry a bucket on my head. Getting to know the place green for once makes me wish I'd spent the rainy season here- listening to rain from my porch and sipping Crystal Light. It also makes me think I'd like to stay and get a little better at this living here.