Actually, you can get almost anywhere from here, but it’s usually going to take at least two flights.

Which is fine, except for some reason my ears won’t pop after the second flight. They’re fine after the first one, but not so much after the second.

I’ve been to Africa. Once. For a couple months during the summer.

In my dreams I’ve been back several times. But not to the continent I came to know. My subconscious has transformed it into a collage of extremes, juxtaposing tropical coastlines with Middle Eastern cityscapes. It’s nothing like the blend of African, Arab, and Indian cultures I encountered in the waking world.

But I know it’s Africa, because in every dream I’m just arriving, and there’s chaos. Uncertainty. Who is meeting me at the airport? Where am I staying? Why am I there at all?

When I arrived in Dar es Salaam, in real life, my host was not at the airport. Nobody answered the phone. The first hotel my taxi driver took me to didn’t accept credit cards. The place I ended up staying cost more than I would normally spend in the United States. And even then I had no guarantee of ever contacting my host. I was frustrated and more than a little scared.

By the time I left I felt differently about Africa. But at night, when some part of my brain is trying to transform the fear, uncertainty, and doubt of everyday life into the stuff of dreams, I’m transported back to that Africa.

Fruit is different, though. Fresh strawberries are so much better than frozen. Same for blueberries, though at this point fresh are too expensive. Of course, when I blend them all together in a smoothie it’s kind of a moot point.

So I approached the opening of the farmers’ market season here with mixed feelings: excited at the prospect of fresh fruit, but unsure of whether or not I wanted to bother with the vegetables. Unfortunately, I didn’t really get a chance to make a choice, because the vendor turnout was rather limited. I was tempted by some lettuce, though.

Shopping local is great and all, but I also don’t want to spend a whole lot. Seems to me the stuff the farmers actually grow is priced competitively, but the baked goods we spotted seemed a little overpriced. I think that’s just the difference between cutting out the middle man (fruits, vegetables, meats) and reselling store-bought ingredients in prepared form (baked goods).

The more often Americans go to church, the more likely they are to support the torture of suspected terrorists, according to a new survey.

Apparently it’s even worse than I thought…

Seems to me they have it backwards.

Then again, if this is my competition on the job market, I’m encouraged.

Funny thing is, I don’t eat cake that often. Not even at the birthday party I was at yesterday. Didn’t even have one of the cupcakes. But I do love me some pancakes. That’s why every Tuesday and Saturday around these parts it’s pancake day.

Can’t wait for tomorrow morning.