It's a hot, noisy night here in Freetown: no power, so the few better equipped houses have generators rumbling and humming across the neighbourhood. It sounds like sticking your head behind a dying refrigerator echoing off the surrounding kitchen walls; there are a few crickets and cat fights, too. I've played and lost many games of solitaire waiting for this humble picture to load. The fact that I won two games means I must have played for over an hour. I do think my computer takes pity on me after I lose a dozen or so times, and thus throws me a victory so I can watch the playing cards turn into confetti. (I love that part.) I've also managed to read a few NYT articles. There was a gem on Liberia a few days ago for those of us desperate for a sign we're not running the earth and humanity into the ground full-tilt after months of oil spill time lapse images: "Liberia Aids US in Drug Fight." Or something to that effect.
So, this is my wonderful view. In the distance you can see Lungi, the island where the airport is inexplicably located. The water in the middle ground is ocean and is more or less a shipping channel into the bay-type water formation that is on the inland side of the Western Area peninsula (at the tip of which Freetown sits). Maybe 'tamarra' or 'next tamarra', as they say in Krio, I'll be able to post a picture of my balcony, which is actually envious. Needless to say, my number one extra curricular activity is watching boats pass, and taking their pictures as I mentally make a boat taxonomy and keep track of which ones would be most likely to have pirates if this was the slightly more rambunctious Gulf of Aden. (At the top of the list: old trawlers with flags and rags, and local wooden fishing boats outfitted with heavily polluting but impressive sounding motors.)
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