I haven't posted in quite a while, and probably I would continue procrastinating for a bit longer except that today marked two months that I've been here. And that seemed to be of enough import to spur me into writing. Two months is a funny milestone. I'm not quite sure whether that's still only little time... or actually a long time... or something in between. Most likely something in between. (Aren't most things?) So it's a strange point of evaluation because I'm not entirely sure what I should have accomplished by this point. I have a tendency to think that surely I should be doing more than I am. Surely I should know more than I do. But two months is only two months... 9 or so weeks... 61 days... not so long after all, perhaps.

I've come to the conclusion that the most culturally inappropriate thing I do here has nothing to do with my hair or the length of my sleeves or how late I'm out at night. It's very simple and much more difficult to control. I laugh and smile. In public. Out on the street. When men are around. I can't help it. Things strike me as funny. The simplest task can become so ridiculously difficult here. Taking a 15-minute taxi ride can quickly turn into a riotously funny adventure. Not to everyone, maybe, but I find that my first reaction is usually amusement rather than anger or frustration. Praise Him for that. I pray every day that I don't lose my sense of humour here. Even if it does mean inadvertently smiling at inappropriate moments.