We've come back to Georgetown for our three-month check in! The eight of us converged on the capital city, which, honestly, terrifies me. Georgetown is not my cup of tea. So far the cab drivers have been nice, but walking anywhere subjects you to some of the most horrible cat-calls I've ever come across. These guys call out things I can't repeat, so trust me that it's the sort of comments that make a girl instantly gag.
The hotel they put us in was great. Sam and I got "the party room" (aptly named). All of us had SO MUCH to catch up on, that I think none of us slept all week. I'm fairly certain that none of us have any secrets anymore, and every weird illness, parasite, pick-up line, or awkward situation has been hashed out. Lance and Thomas have proven to be the funniest of all of us. I'm pretty sure Lance could talk about a nap, and it would still leave the rest of us in tears laughing. Also, I can't remember the last time I had so many burgers or pizza. It's not that we don't like Guyanese food, it's just that for the last three months, we haven't had anything BUT Guyanese food. Pizza and burgers are the closest we can get to a home-comfort, and the search for the best version is like a PC-wide treasure hunt. I honestly get whatsapp updates on it.
I got to Skype my mother and two of my aunts back home (I tried to call my dad, but for some reason it wouldn't work). I haven't been homesick much, but I do miss my family. It's so good to hear from them, and see their faces. Even better when it's snowy and cold there, and I can rub in the fact that it's never been below 70F here.
Since the whole point of bringing us back to Georgetown was so we could sit in on more "trainings" and present our ridiculously long reports about our sites, I have surprisingly little that I want to say about that.
I fly back to Region Nine tomorrow morning, and it will likely be another 9 months before I see the other seven members of my cohort again.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Saturday, February 18, 2017
The long-awaited wedding post
And now the news you were all waiting for: Orlenna's wedding. Traveling in and out of Region Nine is time consuming and expensive, so the less said of that part, the better. Of course, Orlenna was a stunning bride. We'll get to that. Her husband's whole family came from England and Canada to be there, and were very amiable and welcoming. I have to admit, it was refreshing to talk to someone who was feeling as out of place as I've been for the past four months.
I met the rest of my training host-family (all four of the other sisters!) as well as a few of the husbands, and (I think) all the kids. Vanessa's daughter, Chelsi, without a single question accepted the introduction of "your new aunt" and from that moment all of her demands for attention were precipitated by yells of "Auntie!" which took a bit of getting used to. The four-room house was full to bursting, with me, my host-parents, five sisters, brother, two of the husbands, and (I think) five of the kids packed in (it's hard to tell how many were actually there, since most of them were under 10 and impossible to keep still for any sort of head count).
I've gone from being referred to as the "fair-skinned daughter" to the "sister from Region Nine" which either means I'm getting tan, or they're tired of pointing out that I'm so pale I practically glow in the dark. Either way, it means I'm listed as part of the family in all introductions, which is both confusing to other people, and flattering to me. In fact, I was allowed to help the bridal party get ready. Orlenna, her sister and Matron of Honor Vanessa, the two other bridesmaids (Becky and another young teen), and both little flower girls (Chelsi and her cousin Julia) get dressed and all dolled up.
Exasperatingly, Chelsi insisted on constant confirmations that she was the most beautiful of everyone except the bride, whom she gracefully exempted.
When both the little girls were having their hair done, Chelsi kept up a constant chatter of:
"My hair looks more beautiful than hers. Auntie, doesn't my hair look more beautiful?"
"You both look lovely."
"Yes, but I look MORE lovely."
"You are both beautiful girls."
"My dress is prettier, though. Isn't my dress pretty?"
"You both have very pretty dresses."
"But mine is PRETTIER. And my shoes. My shoes are nicer."
"You're wearing the same shoes."
This went on for at least twenty minutes. Five-year-olds are hard to please.
For days it had been raining nonstop. We were beginning to think the whole wedding would have to be held in a boat (my own surmising, which the bride laughed at, but made the parents of the bride look slightly ill at the very idea). Tents for the reception had been set up, but none of the crepe decorations could be put in, because the wind would blow them into the rain and soak them. The church was decorated the night before, but about three balloons in (out of what I'm guessing were approximately a million), the air pump broke, leaving us with no option but to blow up the balloons ourselves. We corralled all of the small children and put them to work. Most of them couldn't tie the balloons after blowing them up, so had to be assissted, and many of the balloons were probably at least half-filled with kid spit, but they still looked pretty. I was moderately concerned that a few of the kids were going to pass out from the effort, and from lack of oxygen, but luckily none did as far as I know.
The rain stopped the morning of the wedding, with just enough time to decorate the tents and for the sand to soak up all the water so no one had to walk in a puddle. Although the service was supposed to start at 11:00, we were delayed until noon, but everything else went exactly as planned.
A few minor differences from US weddings that I've gone to:
1) shouting *helpful* advice (and some catcalls) at the bridal couple during the service was not unusual, nor really frowned upon even.
2) the bridesmaids and groomsmen sat in the front row, rather than standing up with the couple
3) The family was just scattered throughout the seats, rather than sitting together at the front
4) climbing up on the stage, and on the benches, and clamboring all around the couple as the service was going on, in order to get pictures, was actually encouraged, even though it got in the way of the professional photographer. I couldn't do it. I just could not convince myself that it was okay to walk up on stage and get in the middle of things for a photo.
5) the paperwork was signed and witnessed during the service
6) drinking and dancing weren't a thing, but that was probably because the bride's family doesn't approve of alcohol
Orlenna was stunning, like I said. Vanessa did her hair and make-up, so kudos to her, because here's the result:
One amusing hitch: the ring-bearer panicked at the last minute, cried, and refused to walk down the aisle. Here he is, about a minute before he fled back to his mother:
The reception was nice, and food was carried around to all the guests by the family of the couple, and was fairly informal. There was enough food to feed an army, and the population of chickens in the area was decimated. There were actually two receptions, one hosted by each family. The bride's family (my host family) held the reception with lunch in the tents next to the church, in front of their house, and a few hours later, the groom's family hosted another party (more cake!) in Georgetown. Only Daniel and I went from the bride's family, although a whole bus full of other party guests went. Oddly, the group from my training town seemed almost afraid to go inside and mingle, so the party had two sections: inside was the grooms family, the couple, and the Georgetown and foreign guests. Just outside was the group from town. I floated back and forth, because I didn't really know anyone inside except Orlenna, who was busy being the bride, but it seemed silly to hang out in the road just NEXT to the party.
And now, my favorite picture of the day:
I met the rest of my training host-family (all four of the other sisters!) as well as a few of the husbands, and (I think) all the kids. Vanessa's daughter, Chelsi, without a single question accepted the introduction of "your new aunt" and from that moment all of her demands for attention were precipitated by yells of "Auntie!" which took a bit of getting used to. The four-room house was full to bursting, with me, my host-parents, five sisters, brother, two of the husbands, and (I think) five of the kids packed in (it's hard to tell how many were actually there, since most of them were under 10 and impossible to keep still for any sort of head count).
 |
| So we gave them a job picking over rice |
I've gone from being referred to as the "fair-skinned daughter" to the "sister from Region Nine" which either means I'm getting tan, or they're tired of pointing out that I'm so pale I practically glow in the dark. Either way, it means I'm listed as part of the family in all introductions, which is both confusing to other people, and flattering to me. In fact, I was allowed to help the bridal party get ready. Orlenna, her sister and Matron of Honor Vanessa, the two other bridesmaids (Becky and another young teen), and both little flower girls (Chelsi and her cousin Julia) get dressed and all dolled up. |
| Julia was content with "you're both very pretty" |
Exasperatingly, Chelsi insisted on constant confirmations that she was the most beautiful of everyone except the bride, whom she gracefully exempted.
When both the little girls were having their hair done, Chelsi kept up a constant chatter of:
 |
| Here she is, already bored with the wedding. She does look pretty, though. |
"You both look lovely."
"Yes, but I look MORE lovely."
"You are both beautiful girls."
"My dress is prettier, though. Isn't my dress pretty?"
"You both have very pretty dresses."
"But mine is PRETTIER. And my shoes. My shoes are nicer."
"You're wearing the same shoes."
This went on for at least twenty minutes. Five-year-olds are hard to please.
For days it had been raining nonstop. We were beginning to think the whole wedding would have to be held in a boat (my own surmising, which the bride laughed at, but made the parents of the bride look slightly ill at the very idea). Tents for the reception had been set up, but none of the crepe decorations could be put in, because the wind would blow them into the rain and soak them. The church was decorated the night before, but about three balloons in (out of what I'm guessing were approximately a million), the air pump broke, leaving us with no option but to blow up the balloons ourselves. We corralled all of the small children and put them to work. Most of them couldn't tie the balloons after blowing them up, so had to be assissted, and many of the balloons were probably at least half-filled with kid spit, but they still looked pretty. I was moderately concerned that a few of the kids were going to pass out from the effort, and from lack of oxygen, but luckily none did as far as I know.
The rain stopped the morning of the wedding, with just enough time to decorate the tents and for the sand to soak up all the water so no one had to walk in a puddle. Although the service was supposed to start at 11:00, we were delayed until noon, but everything else went exactly as planned.
A few minor differences from US weddings that I've gone to:
1) shouting *helpful* advice (and some catcalls) at the bridal couple during the service was not unusual, nor really frowned upon even.
2) the bridesmaids and groomsmen sat in the front row, rather than standing up with the couple
3) The family was just scattered throughout the seats, rather than sitting together at the front
4) climbing up on the stage, and on the benches, and clamboring all around the couple as the service was going on, in order to get pictures, was actually encouraged, even though it got in the way of the professional photographer. I couldn't do it. I just could not convince myself that it was okay to walk up on stage and get in the middle of things for a photo.
5) the paperwork was signed and witnessed during the service
6) drinking and dancing weren't a thing, but that was probably because the bride's family doesn't approve of alcohol
Orlenna was stunning, like I said. Vanessa did her hair and make-up, so kudos to her, because here's the result:
 |
The reception was nice, and food was carried around to all the guests by the family of the couple, and was fairly informal. There was enough food to feed an army, and the population of chickens in the area was decimated. There were actually two receptions, one hosted by each family. The bride's family (my host family) held the reception with lunch in the tents next to the church, in front of their house, and a few hours later, the groom's family hosted another party (more cake!) in Georgetown. Only Daniel and I went from the bride's family, although a whole bus full of other party guests went. Oddly, the group from my training town seemed almost afraid to go inside and mingle, so the party had two sections: inside was the grooms family, the couple, and the Georgetown and foreign guests. Just outside was the group from town. I floated back and forth, because I didn't really know anyone inside except Orlenna, who was busy being the bride, but it seemed silly to hang out in the road just NEXT to the party.
 |
 |
| Father-of-the-bride loves bubbles |
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Happy New Year!
2017 is going to be weird for me. It's the end of my twenties, it's the first year of my life I won't step foot on my own continent (probably), and *comments about the presidential election redacted*.
The holidays were very quiet, with only four of us on campus: me, the principal of the school, and two students who stayed behind to take care of the grounds. On Christmas, I walked with my host mom and the two youngest girls (Zena, 9 and Esther, 7) to the nearby village where they were having a community lunch. The walk took about an hour, but was fairly cool with lots of cloud cover, which doesn't seem like a big deal, but here in Region Nine, that's halfway to a miracle during the dry seasons. The lunch was unremarkable, except for the introduction: one of the town leaders gave a prayer and then a long speech, which started with something about Jesus's birthday, and continued into "We're all Amerindian here... except Miss (pointing at me)... we're glad to have her here. I think she's a student or something..." and at that point I couldn't hear anything else he said because all of the stares were drowning him out. It was similar to wearing a Batman costume and a tutu to a friend's fancy dinner party: no one's mad, but it's a bit uncomfortable and people keep whispering about you.
New Year's was pretty similar, only there was a 3 1/2 hour church service before the lunch, which seemed a bit backwards, since back home my mother always insisted on church on Christmas, rather than New Year's. Presents were exchanged on New Year's instead, too. This lunch was devoid of awkward speeches about my shocking paleness, although it was brought up in several conversations. Not only do I stick out like a sore thumb, but I have the alarming tendency to go very red in the face from the heat. What can I say? At least I'm never at a loss for conversation. Forget ice breakers, most people just introduce themselves to me by going "you're turning pink!"
I'd love to tell you all about Orlenna's wedding, but I have gorgeous pictures of it that won't post, so I skipped that entry (still in draft form) to post this one, so you wouldn't all think I died.
For those of you who care about my Masters Degree Program, the first report's comments have come back, so ... so far so good I guess? I haven't figured out what I'm going to do for my Capstone/Thesis Project (which I'm putting in capital letters, because it is Wicked Important).
In other news, my host-family here has been trying everything I can think of to cook. Garlic bread was a huge hit, although pineapple upsidedown cake was a surprising disappointment (apparently the "cake" part was good, but the "pineapple" part they could do without.)
Iguanas have become my favorite thing here. Zico (my host-dad) manages to catch them somehow, and now brings them to me so I can carry them around for a bit. I get as excited as a five-year-old who is presented with a 10 pound candy bar. Stay tuned for WAY TOO MANY stories of iguana chasing. I'm pretty sure that's going to take up a lot of my time. Iguanas are the best.
I need a hobby (other than lizard spotting). I have more free time than I've had in years, and all I have to do in that time is write reports, which is terribly dull (though both my Peace Corps supervisors, and my Masters adviser tell me that reports are necessary and important), but no hobbies. Any ideas?
The holidays were very quiet, with only four of us on campus: me, the principal of the school, and two students who stayed behind to take care of the grounds. On Christmas, I walked with my host mom and the two youngest girls (Zena, 9 and Esther, 7) to the nearby village where they were having a community lunch. The walk took about an hour, but was fairly cool with lots of cloud cover, which doesn't seem like a big deal, but here in Region Nine, that's halfway to a miracle during the dry seasons. The lunch was unremarkable, except for the introduction: one of the town leaders gave a prayer and then a long speech, which started with something about Jesus's birthday, and continued into "We're all Amerindian here... except Miss (pointing at me)... we're glad to have her here. I think she's a student or something..." and at that point I couldn't hear anything else he said because all of the stares were drowning him out. It was similar to wearing a Batman costume and a tutu to a friend's fancy dinner party: no one's mad, but it's a bit uncomfortable and people keep whispering about you.
New Year's was pretty similar, only there was a 3 1/2 hour church service before the lunch, which seemed a bit backwards, since back home my mother always insisted on church on Christmas, rather than New Year's. Presents were exchanged on New Year's instead, too. This lunch was devoid of awkward speeches about my shocking paleness, although it was brought up in several conversations. Not only do I stick out like a sore thumb, but I have the alarming tendency to go very red in the face from the heat. What can I say? At least I'm never at a loss for conversation. Forget ice breakers, most people just introduce themselves to me by going "you're turning pink!"
I'd love to tell you all about Orlenna's wedding, but I have gorgeous pictures of it that won't post, so I skipped that entry (still in draft form) to post this one, so you wouldn't all think I died.
For those of you who care about my Masters Degree Program, the first report's comments have come back, so ... so far so good I guess? I haven't figured out what I'm going to do for my Capstone/Thesis Project (which I'm putting in capital letters, because it is Wicked Important).
In other news, my host-family here has been trying everything I can think of to cook. Garlic bread was a huge hit, although pineapple upsidedown cake was a surprising disappointment (apparently the "cake" part was good, but the "pineapple" part they could do without.)
Iguanas have become my favorite thing here. Zico (my host-dad) manages to catch them somehow, and now brings them to me so I can carry them around for a bit. I get as excited as a five-year-old who is presented with a 10 pound candy bar. Stay tuned for WAY TOO MANY stories of iguana chasing. I'm pretty sure that's going to take up a lot of my time. Iguanas are the best.
I need a hobby (other than lizard spotting). I have more free time than I've had in years, and all I have to do in that time is write reports, which is terribly dull (though both my Peace Corps supervisors, and my Masters adviser tell me that reports are necessary and important), but no hobbies. Any ideas?
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
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.
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.
Saturday, November 19, 2016
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.
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. |
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.
Monday, November 7, 2016
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.
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.
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).
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:
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!
 |
| Left to right: Sam (Region One), Ellen, yours truly (Region Nine), Kirsten (Region One) |
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) |
 |
| 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: |
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!
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)