Who is this guy?

If you've written to me and not yet recieved a reply, it's not because I'm ignoring you (*cough*KateandAmanda*cough*). Much of my mail was stuck in Georgetown after I moved to Region Nine, and I only got it right at the beginning of December. Then it takes about a month for my letters back to get to the States. They're on their way.
Packages are like Christmas: it doesn't really matter what's in the box, we're going to get ridiculously excited anyways. Pretty colored duct tape and paracord in the box was like finding treasure. The candy was shared with my closest neighboring volunteers, and you'd have thought I was handing out cocaine. My host sisters play with the cards every single night, and I gave out the teeshirts (except for one, because I realized I needed a NH teeshirt too!) and it makes me smile to see people walking around emblazoned with NH slogans.
Oh, by the way, did I tell you I got to see Prince Harry? Yeah, that happened. He came to Guyana, flying in to a town not far from me, so I tagged along with the local school children. There weren't many people there to see him, which goes to show how remote everything is here. If he'd landed in New Hampshire, the entire state would have come to gawk. As it was, I was close enough to pat him on the head (I didn't, don't worry).

It's hard to top that for news, but I'm heading back to Region Four for Orlenna's wedding, which will be the first wedding I've been to outside of North America. It will be strange going back to our training site, but being the only volunteer there.
At some point soon, I'll head to Lethem, and pay for internet at one of the hotels so I'll have enough to post more pictures, and maybe get to actually call people back home. The hotels are really the only places where you can do that: everywhere else, if you can GET wifi, it's too slow or too little. Uploading this one picture took nearly half an hour.

Hi Honey, I'm Home!

I've made it to my permanent site! We're down to 80% in our cohort, as one of the boys (Matt) had to go back to the States, hopefully temporarily. Two months in, and two down. I hope this isn't developing into a pattern for us, because we only HAD ten to start with. 

The biggest downer for me was that he was going to by my closest neighbor of the whole cohort. Now the next closest is probably Thomas, who is about 5 hours away. I suppose it doesn't matter all that much, since I haven't heard from any of the others who came with me to Region Nine since we all got dropped off, but it was at least a comforting thought to know one was (sort-of) nearby (3 hours is close, right?).

As for me, I'm probably dying of sun poisoning, but before it actually kills me, I'm having a great time. There are horses to coddle, programs to design, my house needs some setting up, and I just bought a bicycle so that I can explore a bit. My hammock on the back porch, which was the first thing I set up of course, is getting plenty of use. The bike, in the first day that I've had it, has been ridden enough that I think my bum has a permanent indent from the bike seat. No, not the other way around. The bicycle seats here I'm fairly certain are made of cement, and we rode about three million miles today on the only road which is made up entirely of potholes and bumps.

My host family here has about seven horses, and I've already become very fond of one in particular, only to find out he had never been named! They looked at me like I was slightly crazy when I said he OUGHT to have a name, and so now he's Merlin. I'll have pictures of him soon. Maybe after I've given him a badly-needed bath. The family ALSO thinks I'm totally bonkers for wanting to give a horse a bath, but he's pretty badly chewed up by bugs, and has a big open wound on his leg that isn't healing well, so a bath is a good place to start.

Internet will be spotty at best here, but I'll do what I can for pictures and updates. For tonight, since it's well after midnight and everyone gets up around four AM here, I'm merely posting the only two pictures of Region Nine wildlife that I have at hand right this minute:

A beautiful rattlesnake (beautiful because I was out of striking-range)

Proof that Nature hates you and wants you to die of nightmares.

Okay, listen: I know environmentalists are supposed to love ALL of nature, but no. I do not do creepy crawlies. Snakes, sure, as long as they're not in my house and preferably not close enough to bite me. Lizards? Love 'em. Bats? I think they're cute. But bugs are gross, and most of them are trying to kill me or at least drink all of my blood, and they just give me the heebie-jeebies. Giant spiders as big as my hand are things that should only exist in horror movies, and yet here they're in your shower sometimes. Back at my training site, Daniel had bug-duty. Here? I'm on my own. It's the only downside to having my own house.

The local students have been viewing me as some sort of novelty. I've been asked to have my picture taken with several, and they're always calling out to me when I'm outside. I went to town for one morning, and got a chorus of "Welcome back, Miss" on my return. On the other hand, it's a little disconcerting to constantly be the center of attention. Every single move I make is under a spotlight. Remember: it's not paranoia if there really ARE people watching you.

It's Official!

It's been a roller coaster, but we're finally sworn in as Volunteers rather than Trainees. Nine out of the ten of us swore in today. Ellen made the decision to pursue other adventures. We're sad to see her go, but she's going to do great things. PS, if you know of a mammal research position open, she's your girl. She's incredibly qualified, bright, and a pleasure to work with.

Left to right: Sam (Region One), Ellen, yours truly (Region Nine), Kirsten (Region One)

Despite the fact that the other two girls are going to be far away, we've become very close, and you'll hear about their adventures often, I'm sure, whenever my own are too dull to bother writing about.
All the boys made it through to swearing in, despite five of the six of them having to be brought low by illness during training. Apparently the boys are a bit more fragile than us hardcore ladies. Most of them will be heading to Region Nine on a tiny little bus with me at 4am tomorrow, although Dan is heading to Region One, and Matt is staying behind for a little while to recover from an injury.

Left to right: Thomas (9), Dylan (9), Lance (9), Matt (9), Jon (9) and Dan (1)

Of course, the downside to being done with training is that I had to say goodbye to my host family. I've become ridiculously attached to them over the last two months, so I didn't want to let them go. We spent our last evening at the training site splashing about in the creek (my favorite spot. Becky has decided I'm some sort of mermaid who will die if I dry out, so that's why I play in the rain and insist on going to the creek every day).

Our farewell to our little swimming hole

Also, for those of you who have never seen a parrot dance in the rain, you're welcome:

Daniel, despite thinking I'm completely nuts for running OUTSIDE whenever the rain starts, came out to play with Kevin (the parrot) and I as we danced around getting drenched. If nothing else, I've convinced an entire town that Americans can't let a rainstorm pass without being out in it. I don't think this is quite what Peace Corps meant by "share your culture" but I'm having fun with it.

Here's the highlight reel from Pre-Service Training:

Lance and his adoring Pup

Mitchell posing with his mom (Pauline)

Becky and Daniel posing for a "nice" picture

Since Becky is my host-brother's cousin, and she's Thomas's host-sister, I'm pretty sure that means Thomas is now my cousin.

My two favorites: Danny and Orlenna

How to acquire coconuts

Kirsten's host-brother Shown being camera-shy

Awww, I'm gonna miss this kid (my own host-brother).

Not how you play volleyball (Noel)

Maybe how you play volleyball? (Carey)

Sam trying to be intimidating (and failing miserably-- Pup got all excited to play)

More creek time (my favorite thing!)

Okay, I know that as an Environmental Peace Corps Volunteer, you were all expecting more nature, and less volleyball. Fair enough. Play time's over now, and a very soon post will have tons of outdoors-y pictures for you!

Another Day in Paradise

I know some of you were getting a bit worried that I hadn't survived the trip out to Region Nine, since no post followed the next week, but I did! In fact, the whole trip was shockingly devoid of disaster. Lethem is not my favorite, but as the sort of central hub of Region Nine, I'm going to have to get used to it. My own town (at least what I saw in my short week there) is tiny and sweet, my new house is perfect, and the family living nearby who are "attached" to me are kind and affable, and even have horses.
My "Counterpart" (read: new colleague who agreed to put up with me for two years) is a young guy who teaches at a school for kids ages 15 to 22 which mainly focuses on Natural Resource Management,  Forestry, Agriculture, and things like that. He seems bright and competent, and I think we're gonna get along just fine.
Midway through the week, I got a garbled sat phone call from another volunteer posted in a village a few hours downriver. Turns out the last boat was coming out on Wednesday, so I had my first houseguest from Wednesday night till we left Friday morning. Lucky for him, I'd just bought myself a hammock. We strung it up on my back porch, and I think he hardly left it. Fun fact: if you're a girl and a guy is seen going into your house, the rumors start immediately. He joked about how it was probably assumed we were married, but he must have done something bad to get kicked out to the porch. I told him that if that were the case, he'd have been sleeping out in the yard instead of in my comfortable hammock. He laughed, so I think we're gonna get along fine too.
I made it back to Region Four by myself without incident, but we didn't pause in Georgetown, so no internet to post. I spent another blissful week back at my home-away-from-home with my wonderful host-family, and this week the whole crew of Environmental Volunteers (minus one who has been sick since his site visit) are back in a different part of Region Nine for Field-Based Training, which today involved climbing into a waterfall. Unfortunately, I'm having to type this all on my phone, so you'll all have to wait for pictures, but trust me, this is about as good as it gets. Welcome to Paradise.

Finally Getting Somewhere

We're finally around internet! The Environmental cohort has come to Georgetown to meet the people we'll be working with for the next few years, so we've all been busy making use of the precious internet to call home and post ALL THE PICTURES.

Since we've been here almost a month, I feel like there is almost too much to say, so in honor of my favorite host-brother's birthday (which is today), we'll start with him:

Here he is laughing at the Volunteers' efforts.

Check out that sweet pass to Ellen.

That's Daniel. This is actually how you'd see him 90% of the time, because if he's not working or sleeping, he's on the volleyball court, killing it. Volleyball is the main past-time for the volunteers when we're not in our training classes.
I've got five host sisters who don't live at home: June, Denise, Vanessa, Esther and Orlenna, but I've only met the youngest, when she came for a visit. I can't even begin to tell you what a great cook she is, or how nice she is, but both of the host-siblings I've actually met are wonderful people, so I'm assuming the other four are as well.

Orlenna, who is also a badass on the court.

Usually it's just Daniel, his parents (Michael and Jenny), and me. They spoil me rotten. My host-mom, Jenny, is teaching me how to cook so I won't starve when I leave for Region Nine. I don't think I'm in danger of that. My host-parents feed me enough for about six people, and although I sweat through my clothes on a daily basis, very little of that is due to any actual physical exertion, so barring some sort of horrific parasite, I'm going to get SO FAT here. Luckily, we're told "fat" is a good thing. If you're "fine" (meaning skinny) they assume you're dying. I love this place.

Speaking of both eating and horrific bugs, I did promise I'd tell you about the worms. The first thing on the first day that anyone wanted to know about me was if I'd "try the worms." At first I thought they were messing with me, but I was assured that it was actually a delicacy. I shrugged and said "sure, no problem," thinking I'd be tossing back some tiny fried mealworm or something. No big deal.

Pictured: A big deal.

They're as big as my thumb, make a horrible squelching noise as they move, and smell bad enough to clear a room when they're fried, but they're actually really tasty. Nine out of ten of the volunteers tried one, although not without quite a bit of cringing. Matt even ate a live one, because Environmental Volunteers are hardcore.

Ellen eating her worm with probably more grace than I managed.

The best part of the house I'm staying in is the hammock on the porch. Since we're right in the thick of things and directly next to the church where we've been doing our training sessions, my porch is the central hub and hangout spot. The hammock is conveniently strung up right out front so I can see everything without ever having to get up. I could happily spend every minute in that thing, if it weren't for the mosquitoes. They're negligible during the day, but come out in swarms as soon as the sun starts to set.

A niece? Cousin? Something. Practically everyone in town is related to my host family. This is my little shadow, Tiffany, hanging out on our porch.

I have my own room, which is way bigger than I'd expected, and with the giant mirror they put in there for me, and the mosquito net turning my bed into a canopy, and the pink sheets my family set me up with, it's a princess room. That's right; I've moved to Guyana and now I'm a princess. And they'd told me this was going to be rough...
The other host families are very kind too. Kirsten's host parents are constantly sending me home with more fruit than I can carry from their gorgeous farm. I've never eaten better than I have since I came here.

Oranges (that are ripe when they're green like that. It's weird, I know.)

Coconuts

Custard apples

Whatever these things are

I've got Kevin the parrot to keep me company, and his friend the Kiskidee, whose whistle he mimics. He doesn't talk yet, because he's still very young, but he loves having his neck scratched, and his favorite treats seem to be cucumbers and hot peppers. 

I wasn't kidding about the peppers.

We finally found out where we're going to be posted for the next two years. I'll be out in Region Nine. This week we've come to Georgetown to meet our "counterparts" (the people who agreed to work with us) and they'll show us how to get to each place, and then we are spending about a week there to check out the set up, before finding our own way back to Region Four. If I survive, you'll hear from me again before too long, because I'll update when I stop back into Georgetown on the way home. Wish me luck!

This is it

I've been in Guyana nearly two weeks now, and this has been my first chance to post. I'm in a van crushed between 13 other people, desperately trying to type up a little update on my phone before I lose service again.
Since I don't have much time, here are the highlights:
I adore my host family, and they've been spoiling me rotten. My host-mom is quite possibly the best cook in the village, and all the food is amazing. My host-brother is a doll, and I'll tell you all about him and the rest of the family as soon as I get a chance.
I've sweat more than I ever have in my life, and the mosquitos are horrendous.
I hand fed manatees, saw a tarantula, had run-ins with snakes and lizards and frogs, and ate fried worms.
I'm alive and well and already love it here.  If my permanent site and host-family are as wonderful as the training town and people,  I may never leave Guyana.
Oh yeah, and we have a pet parrot named Kevin, whom I adore, and you'll hear about him ad nauseum I'm sure.
Details and pictures to follow as soon as possible!

I've met my people!

I spent a gorgeous few days with my grandparents on my way out, in order to spend some time with them, and then say a proper goodbye. Grandma and I went to the beach, where I stepped on the business end of a jellyfish, and half-drowned myself in waves because, like a six-year-old, waves are the best thing ever. Grandpa, after making fun of me for my obsession with lizards, helped me spot them.

Here's one!

Another one!

Can't hide, silly lizard.

I can't tell if this one is flirting, or telling me to back off.

The short hop-skip flight over from Orlando to Miami was delayed slightly due to a storm, which we then flew right through. There was some turbulence, as might be expected, and a few short drops. What wasn't expected was the screaming. The dips were just enough to put your stomach up into your throat, but not plummeting-from-the-sky type falls, though from the reactions of the passengers, you'd certainly have thought we'd been struck out of the sky by lightning. There was screaming and sobbing and hysterics, and the most frantic praying I've ever heard coming from one of the seats behind me. We landed safely and smoothly about fifteen minutes later, none the worse for wear.

Now I'm at "staging" for the next few days, to meet my cohort, fill out some paperwork, sit in conference-style information sessions, and drink obscene amounts of coffee. My luggage is scattered all about the hotel room, despite my best efforts. Repacking is going to be a nightmare. 

My cohort is lovely. There are ten of us; six boys and four girls. The girls are all tattooed. Not that it makes any difference, but it gave us a bonding moment as we all showcased our artwork. One of the boys is also from my grad school. So far (and yes, it's only been three days, so in a week or a year I may despise them all) they've all been fun, funny, intelligent, and friendly.

Even better, we're all complete animal/environment nerds. A lizard skittered by as we were all walking out for lunch, and ALL TEN OF US got all excited and jockeyed for a better look at it. I have found my people, and we're all incredibly weird.

PS: This is the view from my hotel room balcony. Be jealous. And yes, of course I suggested holding the informational meetings IN the pool. 

Correction: goodbyes are in fact worse

Now that the horrors of stuffing too many things into suitcases is over (and yes, I'm already discovering things I've forgotten) it's time to say all my goodbyes. I've left my home in NH, and cut a swath of teary-eyed farewells as I make my way from NH to NY and finally FL before the final plane ride to Georgetown, Guyana.
Some of those goodbyes were harder than others, because they might be permanent. Ajax, the 150-pound lapdog extraordinaire, is 8-years-old and the model of a perfect dog. I'm holding out hope he'll still be around when I get back, but two years is a long time for an old dog.

 My favorite chicken (yes, that's a thing you can have. Some chickens are particularly cool) is even older than Ajax. Here you can see Vacuum Chicken eyeballing my phone and wondering if it's edible. I wonder if pet chickens are a thing in Guyana. I'll keep you updated if I manage to acquire one. Be assured that I will get way too emotionally attached to it if I do.

I'm now off on the final round of goodbyes: family. My dad gave me a machete lesson (the agricultural tool of choice in many subsistence-farming regions) and a sharpening tutorial. He told me to make friends with someone who is good at that sort of thing, because it takes hours. I'd hate to spend three days grinding away at an edge, just to ruin it and start all over, but it's a good thing to know, and I guess I need the practice. More on that later. Also, he says that's the souvenir he wants. I guess when I come home in two years, my suitcase will be stuffed full of machetes. Aaaaaaand I'll have to be prepared to be detained and searched repeatedly, because that looks a bit suspicious to airlines.

As a going away gift, my dad gave me a magnifying glass. Why? They're light and easy to pack, and very useful. You can use them to read, or look at bugs, or dig out splinters, or start fires. I was never the burn-ants-with-a-magnifying-glass type kid, so this was my first attempt. Turns out, that's something that you can need practice at too. Let's hope I don't need to start any fires out in the jungle in any sort of emergency situation.

My mother gave me a vegetable peeler and a can opener. Why? Because they were on the list, and I'd neglected them. I can almost hear her rolling her eyes at me. I read that list through a hundred times, and even had it out when I was stuffing my suitcase, and I STILL forgot things. She's probably pretty convinced at this point that in my 100 lbs of luggage, I've forgotten everything useful. She's probably right.

I come with baggage

Between my two bags and my two carry-ons, I have exactly 100 pounds of luggage, if the bathroom scale I borrowed is to be believed. This seems a bit extreme. I just finished a book about the history of Mountain Men, and I can't help feeling they would think I was incredibly vain and excessive.
Speaking of mountains, I still seem to have an unusually large pile of stuff still to get rid of. I would like to just throw it away or have a huge bonfire, but I can't shake the guilt about how wasteful it is, and probably not environmentally friendly.
Since I'm being sent to an impoverished area to do environmental education, it seems like a bad way to start is "yeah, so I had a TON of perfectly good stuff, so I just set it all on fire to make sure that silly ozone hole doesn't get any funny ideas about shrinking."
One more day before I leave my house. Exactly when should I begin panicking?

Hey look, you can keep in touch!

Directly from the information packet they sent me:
"Communications

Mail service between the United States and Guyana is fairly reliable. Airmail letters from home usually take two weeks to arrive in Guyana and four to five weeks to arrive in the United States from Guyana. Surface mail may take months. The further Volunteers’ sites are from a large city, the less dependable and frequent the mail service.
During training, your address in Guyana will be 

Carolyn Rohdenburg, PCT

Peace Corps

PO Box 101192

Georgetown, Guyana

South America

Some Volunteers and their families sequentially number their letters to keep track of how many were sent and received. This is one way of knowing whether someone is just too busy to write or if letters are not arriving. 
As for packages, Volunteers are responsible for paying import duties on items mailed to them from outside the country. The customs process for obtaining sent items is often lengthy, although the duty on items is generally minimal. Customs will notify you directly if you have been sent a package. Peace Corps/Guyana cannot help get these packages released from customs. Small padded envelopes are recommended over boxes.
One alternative to shipping packages through regular mail is to send items through a service, such as DHL International or FedEx. Both companies have offices in Georgetown, but their services are expensive. You can have items sent through these companies to the Peace Corps office in Georgetown, but you must provide the street address and phone number. (The street address for the Peace Corps is 33A Barrack Street, Kingston, Georgetown, Guyana. The phone number is 592.225.5073.) Another alternative is a local company, Laparkan, which offers relatively inexpensive air freight service to Guyana from New York, Toronto, and Miami. Surface mail for packages takes four to six weeks.
We do not recommend that family or friends send money, airline tickets, or other valuables through the mail. Airline tickets can be paid for in the United States and picked up in Guyana by using a reference number. There are also several travel agents in Georgetown to facilitate the purchase of airline tickets. "

Packing is the Worst

The general rule of thumb with packing is pack what you need, then take out half of the clothes, and put in twice the money. That'd be great, if I had any money, and I hadn't been given a list three pages long of things I'm going to need.

As it is, for the first time ever, I'm bringing two full checked bags and both the allowed carry-ons, so I look like some sort of crazed, traveling hoarder, hauling more luggage than person around.
Included in the myriad of things now stuffed into my over-stuffed bags are a full-sized pillow and a set of sheets. Yes, they were both on the list. I basically have a whole bed in my suitcase.
A bit of traveling advice: If you are going for less than a month, there's no reason for a checked bag. Six months: one checked bag and one carry-on. Two years in who-knows-where, and I'm going to pack whatever the Peace Corps recommends... plus a kite. Because you should always bring a kite. You never know when kite flying will be necessary.
They also said to bring a few things to remind you of home, so I brought two tiny stuffed birds (a chickadee and a purple finch of course) that make bird noises.
I have enough sunscreen to drown in, so I figure that'll last me a week or so. Not on the list, but definitely in my bags are a mosquito net to go over the bed I'm hoping fits the sheets they told me to bring, and a water purifier. Nothing takes the shine off a new adventure like getting horribly sick from sketchy water. Other than those two things, I didn't go too overboard with the survivalist gear. This isn't camping: I'm going where people live all the time. If they can do it, surely I can, right? If not, don't tell me, because that's not helpful. Just be on the alert for the SOS signal I'll have to send message-in-a-bottle style, and then come rescue me.

This is what two years of clothes looks like, according to the Peace Corps:

Here's what that same pile looks like when you're severely limited on packing space:

Packing tip #3: 

Split your clothes between your bags. That way if they lose one of your bags, you're not stuck with all your tee-shirts, but none of your pants. Also, put at least a day or two in your carry-on, and your toothbrush. No one likes stinky breath while they're waiting for the airline to maybe find the suitcase that has the pants. It's bad enough you'll be standing around in your undies. Have some dignity and some toothpaste.

Well, I've got my flights, I've got my luggage, and I sort of have a half-baked plan. Now all that's really left to do is say a bunch of goodbyes. 

Welcome to my page!

A couple years ago, when I worked at an elementary school in New Hampshire, I was teasing one of the kids on the playground by pretending I didn't see her on the swing. I acted like I was going to sit on her and flatten her, because seven-year-olds find that sort of thing hilarious. I pretended to sit on "my surprisingly cushy swing" as she giggled and shrieked, and then, amazed that she was not immediately crushed, she exclaimed "you're so light!"

"Well of course," I answered. "I'm filled with helium. What did you expect?"

She frowned disapprovingly at me, and you could see the wheels turning in her first-grade brain as she sought to catch me in my lie.

"If you're filled with helium, how come you don't float away?" Touché, little kid. 

"I'm also filled with pudding. It keeps me from floating like a balloon, and makes me all squishy."

She thought about that for a minute... and then licked my arm.

"Ewww! What'd you do THAT for?" I yelped, wiping the toxic child-slime off my arm.

"I wanted to know what flavor of pudding."

I'm fairly certain there must be more than helium and pudding, so I've set off for the Peace Corps, to find out what I'm really made of. Probably just the standard fragile bones in a meat-suit, but maybe we'll all be surprised and there will be something worth writing about in there too. In the mean-time, if you're reading this, be prepared for the musings of a slightly terrified grad student with no clue what she's doing, and only a vague idea where she is.