(maybe you will think of this next time your less-than-instant internet connection in your own home makes you sigh in frustration.)
step one. wake up at 1 AM.
step two. wait half-asleep until i hear the honking of a deisel truck horn in the village which indicates it is time to wearily climb aboard; this could be anytime between 1:30 and 5:00 AM.
step three. sit squashed on a bench with no cushions, inhaling fumes and wishing i could sleep, stopping to pick up other folks along the sandy, gutted road, loading the truck with buckets of fish caught the day before, rice, peanuts, baskets and other wares to sell at the market. this process can take upwards of four hours, depending on how many people and how much stuff must be strapped to the truck.
step four. arrive in diego, my banking town in the north, sometime early morning. pay the not-yet-drunk driver 5000 ariary, the equivalent of $2.50.
step five. take a taxi to the peace corps office, hoping the taxi works and we don't have to get out and push it.
step six. hope the internet is working; it's a 50-50 coin toss. even if i can connect, it doesn't mean the connection will last long, or work properly. last time i was here, i spent the entire weekend waiting for the internet to do its thing.
step seven. the return trip to my village. often worse, because it means waiting for many hours for the taxi-brousse in the stinky, hot market, never knowing when we're going to leave, or if the driver will be sober-ish.
step eight. ah, home sweet home. no internet, just me and my trusty journal.
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