I learned to cook and how to live on five dollars a day. I let my curls go wild and bonded with people from all walks of life. Single for the first time in years, I dated all sorts of men: the Brad Pitt-lookalike from the bike shop, the angry lapsed Catholic from Ohio, an identical twin from La Crosse who had never been on an airplane. I hung out with the lead singer of “Poopshovel.